The good news is, the bites and welts all over my body are NOT from bed bugs.
The bad news, is they are from the MITES.
From the MICE.
And let me just say, I will no longer sleep in a short sundress type of night down ever again.
These mites should be arrested.
But let's look on the bright side, shall we?
Steve from Terminex?
An awesome guy. Gift from God really. He not only found all of the dead mice in my bedroom, but he removed them too.
And this is nothing like the rats we had in our cupboards in Los Angeles.
Or the maggots I found all over the kitchen floor.
Or those roaches that held nightly dance parties on my kitchen counter on the upper East side.
Or even the man that took his pants off outside of my bedroom window in the "mixed neighborhood" we moved to, right by Olympic and Pico, with the daily helicopter search light over our apartment.
People, I have been trained for this.
And He does that, doesn't he?
He send us all sorts of tests and trials and like an American Ninja, we train and grow stronger.
We learn to cope.
Because I am.
I am stronger.
And although my husband says I am spiraling, I do feel that in my own way, I am coping.
One might look at our short life here in Connecticut of just five years and think, "When are you heading back to L.A.???"
Because truly, it has been a collage of the totally unimaginable.
Disaster upon disaster.
But it has also been beautiful.
Perhaps the beauty is not always obvious, but I am learning to seek it out.
Patience. Endurance. They have been a running theme, bashed over my head, at the request of God, by every angel and saint looking out for me. And when I keep my eye on the prize, and remember what this race we call life is all about, I am good. Itchy, but good. Because I remember, this house is not the home I am aiming for. My goal is to make it to the house of my Father. And from what I have read about heaven, I don't think there are mites in heaven. Or strange men in bedroom windows with their pants down.
Last night Nick and I sat and poured two glasses of chilled red wine. Chilled, because I thought I bought white wine, and well, honestly, that was almost as upsetting as learning about the dead mice I was sleeping with. But Nick and I are not quitters, and so we drank it anyway! We are determined, like that. You see, there is still good stuff here. There are still good people here. There is still a beautiful marriage here. And there is still a beautiful home to be made. And as soon as we kill the pests, and paint the walls, and fix the toilet, and clear up my rash....it will feel just like home.
I am running this race, and I will not give up. Here I am, Lord. Patient and willing to take on what you throw me. I trust in you, and I know you know the plans you have for me and that they are GOOD. I just pray that this awesome plan of yours does not involve my having to run into that spider in the basement again. Because he was the size of my husbands head. And I am not sure I can handle that.
Friday, July 10, 2015
Tuesday, July 7, 2015
in this spot
As it turns out, I like routine.
I like getting up at 5am.
I like praying with the sun rise and morning birds.
I like my kids knowing what is expected, what the day holds, and where they need to be.
I like going to daily mass.
I like the boring things I need to do to keep this family of mine moving forward.
I swear, moving from L.A. to Connecticut was easier and smoother than moving down the road.
This house....that we love...this spot we are in...it is just so unfamiliar.
And this weather...it feels like rain everyday.
The change in routine and the boxes in rooms and the mantels that are holding tools, and all these odds and ends that have yet to find their forever place, and the toilet that won't flush and the water pressure that seems to have gone on vacation, and the SNAKE in my garden....
it is a little unsettling.
and it does not feel like summer.
it feels like chaos.
and I want the simple and often boring order of my life back.
and I would like the snake gone, but let's be honest...I moved to a FARM....me, the city girl, is now a farm girl....and that snake is just one of many.
And isn't it so easy to slip into darkness when things start to feel hard?
How crazy easy it is for me to throw my hands up, embrace doubt and regret, and give the devil exactly what he wants: the lack of faith and trust that I am exactly where God wants me to be.
The devil does that.
He makes us question ourselves.
He makes things look worse than they are.
He really is a piece of work.
He would love for me to sit and despair, doubt and cry.
He would delight in my sadness; my failing faith.
He wants me to believe that I made a mistake.
He wants me to feel alone, and abandoned.
He wants me to give up on prayer.
He wants me to curse this house and everyone in it.
But he can't.
He won't.
Because only Jesus Christ has a hold of me.
This old 1800's farm house IS what I love.
These kids of mine, frustrated and insecure ARE who I love.
These boxes and mess and total chaos WILL find their place.
This spot we are in is exactly where we are meant to be,
And God is RIGHT HERE IN THE MIDST OF IT ALL.
My exercise for today is that when I hit a bump or am faced with an obstacle, or hungry bored child, or a broken appliance, or an angry teen, that I will not raise my voice, or allow evil thoughts to occupy my mind, but rather...I will stop and LOOK to find Jesus. And when my head hits the pillow, I will not give in to tears of frustration and worry, anxiety and fear, but rather, I will recall the many messengers that God sent my way...like the friend who dropped off chocolate and wine at my door, or the lady at the pool who simply listened to me, or the e mail from the woman who had just been on my mind, who wants to meet for coffee, or the butterfly resting on top of the Saint Francis statue that rests among bird feeders and wild strawberry patches. It is just too easy to be stupidly blind to all of the life boats God sends my way, day after day. It is shameful, really, when you think about it...how much beauty and goodness God showers us with, and how narrow our minds and hardened our hearts can be.
I pray I journey through today with my eyes, ears and heart wide open, and I am truly excited to look for Jesus in every moment of this day...because although I miss him often, no matter how obvious His presence is...I do believe He is here. He is in the boxes and chaos, He is on the crazy mantle of assorted items, He is in the garden with the snakes. And His arms are stretched wide, and His wounds are a safe place for me to crawl into and find comfort. His heart is on fire with love for me, and He is throwing me life line after life line, as only He can. He does not take away my present trouble, but like a champ of a leading man, He is there, right here...in this spot...in His great glory, to guide me through it. He is sending me chocolates and wine, listening ears, invites and butterfly wings. He assures me I am not alone.
"Truly, the Lord is in this spot, although I did not know it!" - Genesis 28:16
I like getting up at 5am.
I like praying with the sun rise and morning birds.
I like my kids knowing what is expected, what the day holds, and where they need to be.
I like going to daily mass.
I like the boring things I need to do to keep this family of mine moving forward.
I swear, moving from L.A. to Connecticut was easier and smoother than moving down the road.
This house....that we love...this spot we are in...it is just so unfamiliar.
And this weather...it feels like rain everyday.
The change in routine and the boxes in rooms and the mantels that are holding tools, and all these odds and ends that have yet to find their forever place, and the toilet that won't flush and the water pressure that seems to have gone on vacation, and the SNAKE in my garden....
it is a little unsettling.
and it does not feel like summer.
it feels like chaos.
and I want the simple and often boring order of my life back.
and I would like the snake gone, but let's be honest...I moved to a FARM....me, the city girl, is now a farm girl....and that snake is just one of many.
And isn't it so easy to slip into darkness when things start to feel hard?
How crazy easy it is for me to throw my hands up, embrace doubt and regret, and give the devil exactly what he wants: the lack of faith and trust that I am exactly where God wants me to be.
The devil does that.
He makes us question ourselves.
He makes things look worse than they are.
He really is a piece of work.
He would love for me to sit and despair, doubt and cry.
He would delight in my sadness; my failing faith.
He wants me to believe that I made a mistake.
He wants me to feel alone, and abandoned.
He wants me to give up on prayer.
He wants me to curse this house and everyone in it.
But he can't.
He won't.
Because only Jesus Christ has a hold of me.
This old 1800's farm house IS what I love.
These kids of mine, frustrated and insecure ARE who I love.
These boxes and mess and total chaos WILL find their place.
This spot we are in is exactly where we are meant to be,
And God is RIGHT HERE IN THE MIDST OF IT ALL.
My exercise for today is that when I hit a bump or am faced with an obstacle, or hungry bored child, or a broken appliance, or an angry teen, that I will not raise my voice, or allow evil thoughts to occupy my mind, but rather...I will stop and LOOK to find Jesus. And when my head hits the pillow, I will not give in to tears of frustration and worry, anxiety and fear, but rather, I will recall the many messengers that God sent my way...like the friend who dropped off chocolate and wine at my door, or the lady at the pool who simply listened to me, or the e mail from the woman who had just been on my mind, who wants to meet for coffee, or the butterfly resting on top of the Saint Francis statue that rests among bird feeders and wild strawberry patches. It is just too easy to be stupidly blind to all of the life boats God sends my way, day after day. It is shameful, really, when you think about it...how much beauty and goodness God showers us with, and how narrow our minds and hardened our hearts can be.
I pray I journey through today with my eyes, ears and heart wide open, and I am truly excited to look for Jesus in every moment of this day...because although I miss him often, no matter how obvious His presence is...I do believe He is here. He is in the boxes and chaos, He is on the crazy mantle of assorted items, He is in the garden with the snakes. And His arms are stretched wide, and His wounds are a safe place for me to crawl into and find comfort. His heart is on fire with love for me, and He is throwing me life line after life line, as only He can. He does not take away my present trouble, but like a champ of a leading man, He is there, right here...in this spot...in His great glory, to guide me through it. He is sending me chocolates and wine, listening ears, invites and butterfly wings. He assures me I am not alone.
"Truly, the Lord is in this spot, although I did not know it!" - Genesis 28:16
Thursday, July 2, 2015
paralyzed by sin
Today’s Gospel: Matthew 9:1-8
There was a stretch of time in my life where I found myself confessing the same sin, over and over again. No matter how many times I was forgiven, I was not convinced it was true. In a sense, my sin had paralyzed me. One night my parish had a visiting priest come to give a talk on reconciliation, and afterwards, he offered confession. I told him this sin of mine. Not the original sin, but the sin of not believing I was forgiven. And at the end of our time together, nearly an hour, I looked out the church hall window and discovered it had begun to snow. Huge, white flakes were dancing in the sky and falling gently to the ground, and the priest smiled at me and said, “Now go! You are brand new, white as snow; it is your baptism day!”
I will never forget that moment. I will never forget my parish community that carried me, paralyzed, to confession. And I will never forget the grace I felt poured upon me; that amazing moment I felt that I was right there with Jesus, that I believed I was forgiven. No longer paralyzed, able to move forward, ready to share the good news.
Sin does that to us, you know. It keeps us right there, in the dark, on the stretcher. It tries so hard to convince us there is no moving forward, that we are not worthy of healing. But we can move forward, and we are never too ill to be cured. If you are too stuck to move yourself, I promise, there is someone out there who will pick you up and carry you. Do not lose faith. Take it from me, a hopeless sinner, who has been forgiven, who was blanketed in the whitest of snows, who picked up her stretcher and found her way home.
Tuesday, June 30, 2015
don't look back
In about my fourth hour of labor with my first child....after pushing and pushing with nothing to show for it, I asked the nurse if I could stop and go home. All the months of joyful planning, the Kate Spade diaper bag and the Ralph Lauren layette, waiting tiny and folded in an over priced yellow and blue distressed dresser at home, meant nothing. I changed my mind. In that difficult dark hour, when I felt farthest from ever seeing the fruit of my labor, I had a fast change of heart. Forget the baby. Forget the layette. Screw the Kate Spade diaper bag. I was done. Just let me go home and sleep.
We were in that dark hour yesterday.
We are down to the wire with this move, and despite the hours of packing and tossing, and the excitement over our new space and beginning, I had that feeling. Just forget it....it is too much work...too much stress....this house...it is not worth it. Let's just stay.
Well, I ended up having that baby after all.
I even kept him.
And today, we move.
Despite the last of the little odds and ends that sit on counter tops and rest in corners and mock me, we are still moving.
And it is good to be reminded that when things feel the hardest, when you are at the end of your rope and can not keep your eyes open....that is the time to push forward. This is exactly the time to persevere.
Like Dori..just keep on swimming.
Push through the crowd...eye on the prize.
No sense ever in looking back.
Just look at Lot's wife...she looked back and turned into a pillar of salt! (Genesis 19)
We are all moving, really....maybe not literally, but certainly figuratively. We are constantly moving. And I pray that we do so not in fear, or full of anxiety, but rather with hope and peace and trust in the God that is leading us the whole way.
...and with coffee. A whole lot of strong coffee.
We were in that dark hour yesterday.
We are down to the wire with this move, and despite the hours of packing and tossing, and the excitement over our new space and beginning, I had that feeling. Just forget it....it is too much work...too much stress....this house...it is not worth it. Let's just stay.
Well, I ended up having that baby after all.
I even kept him.
And today, we move.
Despite the last of the little odds and ends that sit on counter tops and rest in corners and mock me, we are still moving.
And it is good to be reminded that when things feel the hardest, when you are at the end of your rope and can not keep your eyes open....that is the time to push forward. This is exactly the time to persevere.
Like Dori..just keep on swimming.
Push through the crowd...eye on the prize.
No sense ever in looking back.
Just look at Lot's wife...she looked back and turned into a pillar of salt! (Genesis 19)
We are all moving, really....maybe not literally, but certainly figuratively. We are constantly moving. And I pray that we do so not in fear, or full of anxiety, but rather with hope and peace and trust in the God that is leading us the whole way.
...and with coffee. A whole lot of strong coffee.
Saturday, June 27, 2015
#Godwins
I can imagine what life can feel like if you remove God from it, because I have done so myself. It is pretty awful. I don't think people have any idea how deadly sin is. I don't think people really understand that when you put yourself and your own feelings first, you are setting yourself up for disaster. And I am wondering this morning, what will it take?
What will it take for those who claim there is no God, or those who think God doesn't matter, to allow themselves the chance to encounter him? Because that is all it takes. One encounter. One touch. Remember when Jesus enters the house of Peter, to find his mother in law in bed with a fever? Remember how all he had to do was touch her, and she was healed? And do you remember what the mother in law does? She rises and immediately waits on him. Because this is how it goes-once you are touched by Jesus, your desire to get up and live for Him is bigger than the original sin that had you lying sick in bed. Suddenly, getting up and doing for God, not yourself, is more than your priority...it becomes your desire.
People are losing sight of their Creator at rapid speed. I am astonished at the way so many people think they know better! Can you imagine? People actually believe that they know better than God. We are living in a throw away culture, be it material goods, wasted food, babies, or marriage, and we thrive on doing what feels good. We have no idea of the true definition of love, the true definition of life, the true definition of marriage, and so is it any wonder we are living dissatisfied lives?
I have lived with out God and I have lived with God. And I am here as a witness. The only way anything will ever make sense...your life, your purpose, your marriage, your vocation, is if you acknowledge the One who created you. And I promise you-if you give God a chance, if you invite Him in...He will show up. And He will touch you, and He will take all of the crap you are currently drowning in, all of the dirt that has buried your soul, and He will remove just enough so that you can see clearly. Never before was I so miserable as when I lived my life for myself. The key to a life of happiness? Live it for the One who gave it to you in the first place. Because in the end, no matter how you choose to live your life, for God or for yourself....God wins.
What will it take for those who claim there is no God, or those who think God doesn't matter, to allow themselves the chance to encounter him? Because that is all it takes. One encounter. One touch. Remember when Jesus enters the house of Peter, to find his mother in law in bed with a fever? Remember how all he had to do was touch her, and she was healed? And do you remember what the mother in law does? She rises and immediately waits on him. Because this is how it goes-once you are touched by Jesus, your desire to get up and live for Him is bigger than the original sin that had you lying sick in bed. Suddenly, getting up and doing for God, not yourself, is more than your priority...it becomes your desire.
People are losing sight of their Creator at rapid speed. I am astonished at the way so many people think they know better! Can you imagine? People actually believe that they know better than God. We are living in a throw away culture, be it material goods, wasted food, babies, or marriage, and we thrive on doing what feels good. We have no idea of the true definition of love, the true definition of life, the true definition of marriage, and so is it any wonder we are living dissatisfied lives?
I have lived with out God and I have lived with God. And I am here as a witness. The only way anything will ever make sense...your life, your purpose, your marriage, your vocation, is if you acknowledge the One who created you. And I promise you-if you give God a chance, if you invite Him in...He will show up. And He will touch you, and He will take all of the crap you are currently drowning in, all of the dirt that has buried your soul, and He will remove just enough so that you can see clearly. Never before was I so miserable as when I lived my life for myself. The key to a life of happiness? Live it for the One who gave it to you in the first place. Because in the end, no matter how you choose to live your life, for God or for yourself....God wins.
Wednesday, June 24, 2015
the power of the cross
I can be a bit dramatic. Take last night for example, when 15 minutes into having no power due to some freakishly fast and destructive storm, I announced to the family, "I feel like Job!" Ridiculous, really, considering no child or pet of mine was struck by lightning, and with the exception of a few bug bites, my skin had no lesions. I was in no way close to being Job. Or Mother Theresa, who I will periodically announce I am exactly like, when I choose to wear my boots with the sole coming undone. Am I the only one who sees so clearly what a SAINT I am????
Teenagers are dramatic too. My teen girl had her father brave the roads with knocked down trees and wires, just to reach her friend, who by the grace of God, did not lose power, all in the name of taking a shower. Believe me, I too, enjoy a shower. But a teen girl?? It is the air she breathes.
And my teen son? Well, after one hour of no power, he declared (and by declared I mean screamed in his loudest, biggest man voice he has), "This is the worst summer ever!!!!" He hasn't been off from school for a full week yet. But to a teen boy trapped inside with his family and no X Box? An hour feels like an entire summer.
And I am not mocking, nor being sarcastic. I remember what it was like; when everything mattered a lot. I remember struggling hard in my college years, battling an eating disorder, questioning my purpose and wrestling with meaning in my life, and my father asking me, "What is your problem? Are you dying??" Those words...they stung. I knew he didn't believe I was dying, he was just sick of what was probably an obnoxious remark or eye roll from yours truly. But to me??? Yes. I was dying. And I needed my parents to be mind readers. I needed them to feel my pain. I needed them to point me in the right direction, because the path I was on was wide and crooked and headed in the absolute wrong direction.
In a very concrete and absolute way, parenting feels like it has just begun. Power or no power, it is clear that these seemingly unimportant things to me, or my husband, are everything to a teenager. And I mean Everything, with a capital E. Their troubles are bigger, their mountains are higher, their fears are stronger. It is all that every John Hughes movie was about; teen angst and raging hormones, only in todays world, it comes with the added bonus of ear buds, social media, and all kinds of evil at the press of a button. These beautiful mysteries of unspeakable joy that I carried so carefully in my womb, are out, and no longer swaddled up safe. Joy turns quickly to fear as they pull away, noses in screens, their arms flailing in all directions. Their moods are shifting at rapid speed, and although they choose to run miles from me, they manage to drag my mommy heart along for their wild ride. Like the storm that blew in last night, cutting the power, and stealing our comfort, you never know what is coming your way, and how it will leave you feeling. These teens of mine that I love. They leave me feeling powerless.
Because we are in the middle of a move, and God has an awesome sense of humor, every single book, board game, or activity that requires no power, was already moved to our new home. We even moved our outdoor deck furniture, which would have been nice to sit on in the moon light last night. We were stripped of every immediate comfort. And this world we live in...it thrives on instant gratification. Take it away, and we become that newborn baby, un-swaddled for the very first time. Boredom hit an all time high. Restlessness settled in fast.
And so I did what I know I am supposed to do in times like these, but very rarely feel like doing. I grabbed my rosary beads. And I will be honest. I had already had the last beer because there was no more wine. So really, what was there left to do, but pray? And my nine year old joined me...followed by my husband. And we did it. Every single bead. And this is big for me, because while Mary is my homegirl, and I love my beads, I have great difficulty when it comes to praying the rosary. My mind wanders, and I can not sit still. And so the only way to explain last night? Well, I am pretty sure the Blessed Mother had everything to do with it. I have been talking to her a lot lately. Mom to mom. I totally get the images of her with her heart pieced on the outside. I have her to thank for leading me to her. And it was the sorrowful mysteries which we meditated on, which truly, felt just about right.
Bed time came early last night, because all there was left was hope for tomorrow. A day with fewer storms. A day full of light. And I slept on a mattress on the floor of my little boys room, because we moved the bed frames, and although the lights go out at night anyway, for some reason, just knowing we can not turn them on, makes the night that much scarier. And as I looked out the window, to the sound of neighbors generators running, I swear, the tree across the street was shaped like God. And I know, I shouldn't swear, but whatever, I am sorry, just go with it. This tree...this God like tree...it was looking at me. Down on me. And I could make out a stern face, and honestly, I would have liked it to look friendlier. And I could make out a crown, even. And beside it, much smaller, appeared to be someone...a saint or an angel, or quite possibly me, kneeling, head bowed down in prayer. And yes, go ahead, and tell me I am crazy. But I saw it. And this is interesting, because when I run for cover and comfort, I usually leap onto the shoulders of Jesus, and imagine I am the lost lamb. But last night? Last night, I felt the strong presence of my Father. And he was large, and he was serious, and he was powerful, and he was there with me...over me, around me, everywhere.
I woke up to find that truly, what was outside my window, was just a large tree. I also woke up to the silencing of generators, clocks flashing, and a coffee pot that praise God, had already been filled by an awesome man that I love. The skies have cleared, and the lights are back on. And I am here, with these teenagers...who need me, no matter how they push, and who are loved, no matter how much they claim to hate. And I am reminded that I never have power, unless I remain attached to Christ, and when I feel most alone in this parenting, all I need is to bow my head in prayer, and He is there. Like a tree out my window, sheltering me from the storm, He is there. And my prayer today is not for God to take my cross, or even to take my teenagers crosses...but rather, I beg for His mercy and grace. I pray not for us to lose the cross, but rather, to learn how to carry it. That is the power I want. That is the power that keeps me going. That is the power my teenagers need to seek out; The power of the cross, and the grace to hold onto it.
Our crosses are not what weigh us down. Our crosses are what hold us up.
Teenagers are dramatic too. My teen girl had her father brave the roads with knocked down trees and wires, just to reach her friend, who by the grace of God, did not lose power, all in the name of taking a shower. Believe me, I too, enjoy a shower. But a teen girl?? It is the air she breathes.
And my teen son? Well, after one hour of no power, he declared (and by declared I mean screamed in his loudest, biggest man voice he has), "This is the worst summer ever!!!!" He hasn't been off from school for a full week yet. But to a teen boy trapped inside with his family and no X Box? An hour feels like an entire summer.
And I am not mocking, nor being sarcastic. I remember what it was like; when everything mattered a lot. I remember struggling hard in my college years, battling an eating disorder, questioning my purpose and wrestling with meaning in my life, and my father asking me, "What is your problem? Are you dying??" Those words...they stung. I knew he didn't believe I was dying, he was just sick of what was probably an obnoxious remark or eye roll from yours truly. But to me??? Yes. I was dying. And I needed my parents to be mind readers. I needed them to feel my pain. I needed them to point me in the right direction, because the path I was on was wide and crooked and headed in the absolute wrong direction.
In a very concrete and absolute way, parenting feels like it has just begun. Power or no power, it is clear that these seemingly unimportant things to me, or my husband, are everything to a teenager. And I mean Everything, with a capital E. Their troubles are bigger, their mountains are higher, their fears are stronger. It is all that every John Hughes movie was about; teen angst and raging hormones, only in todays world, it comes with the added bonus of ear buds, social media, and all kinds of evil at the press of a button. These beautiful mysteries of unspeakable joy that I carried so carefully in my womb, are out, and no longer swaddled up safe. Joy turns quickly to fear as they pull away, noses in screens, their arms flailing in all directions. Their moods are shifting at rapid speed, and although they choose to run miles from me, they manage to drag my mommy heart along for their wild ride. Like the storm that blew in last night, cutting the power, and stealing our comfort, you never know what is coming your way, and how it will leave you feeling. These teens of mine that I love. They leave me feeling powerless.
Because we are in the middle of a move, and God has an awesome sense of humor, every single book, board game, or activity that requires no power, was already moved to our new home. We even moved our outdoor deck furniture, which would have been nice to sit on in the moon light last night. We were stripped of every immediate comfort. And this world we live in...it thrives on instant gratification. Take it away, and we become that newborn baby, un-swaddled for the very first time. Boredom hit an all time high. Restlessness settled in fast.
And so I did what I know I am supposed to do in times like these, but very rarely feel like doing. I grabbed my rosary beads. And I will be honest. I had already had the last beer because there was no more wine. So really, what was there left to do, but pray? And my nine year old joined me...followed by my husband. And we did it. Every single bead. And this is big for me, because while Mary is my homegirl, and I love my beads, I have great difficulty when it comes to praying the rosary. My mind wanders, and I can not sit still. And so the only way to explain last night? Well, I am pretty sure the Blessed Mother had everything to do with it. I have been talking to her a lot lately. Mom to mom. I totally get the images of her with her heart pieced on the outside. I have her to thank for leading me to her. And it was the sorrowful mysteries which we meditated on, which truly, felt just about right.
Bed time came early last night, because all there was left was hope for tomorrow. A day with fewer storms. A day full of light. And I slept on a mattress on the floor of my little boys room, because we moved the bed frames, and although the lights go out at night anyway, for some reason, just knowing we can not turn them on, makes the night that much scarier. And as I looked out the window, to the sound of neighbors generators running, I swear, the tree across the street was shaped like God. And I know, I shouldn't swear, but whatever, I am sorry, just go with it. This tree...this God like tree...it was looking at me. Down on me. And I could make out a stern face, and honestly, I would have liked it to look friendlier. And I could make out a crown, even. And beside it, much smaller, appeared to be someone...a saint or an angel, or quite possibly me, kneeling, head bowed down in prayer. And yes, go ahead, and tell me I am crazy. But I saw it. And this is interesting, because when I run for cover and comfort, I usually leap onto the shoulders of Jesus, and imagine I am the lost lamb. But last night? Last night, I felt the strong presence of my Father. And he was large, and he was serious, and he was powerful, and he was there with me...over me, around me, everywhere.
I woke up to find that truly, what was outside my window, was just a large tree. I also woke up to the silencing of generators, clocks flashing, and a coffee pot that praise God, had already been filled by an awesome man that I love. The skies have cleared, and the lights are back on. And I am here, with these teenagers...who need me, no matter how they push, and who are loved, no matter how much they claim to hate. And I am reminded that I never have power, unless I remain attached to Christ, and when I feel most alone in this parenting, all I need is to bow my head in prayer, and He is there. Like a tree out my window, sheltering me from the storm, He is there. And my prayer today is not for God to take my cross, or even to take my teenagers crosses...but rather, I beg for His mercy and grace. I pray not for us to lose the cross, but rather, to learn how to carry it. That is the power I want. That is the power that keeps me going. That is the power my teenagers need to seek out; The power of the cross, and the grace to hold onto it.
Our crosses are not what weigh us down. Our crosses are what hold us up.
Thursday, June 18, 2015
packing light
Little by little, I have been moving into our new home. Slowly clearing out this space, and filling up another. It has been a smooth transition so far, and considering the amount of experience Nick and I have at moving, it should be. For instance, the time we hired strangers outside of the Home Depot on Sunset Boulevard to pack our things, we learned a very valuable lesson: Don't hire strangers outside of the Home Depot on Sunset Boulevard to pack your things. Don't get me wrong, they were hard workers. And I was pregnant with two toddlers. And I had a broken toe. And we were rushing to get out, and totally overwhelmed, and I threw all organization out the window and focused on simply getting every item in the house in a box and into the truck. The workers were polite, and did what they were asked. I was just not a fan of the fact that they packed chicken cutlets in the box with a Christmas tree stand, nursing bra, and kitten hand puppet wash cloth. Had I known they had packed actual chicken cutlets, in the box marked "Christmas tree stand" I might have opened that box first, rather than waiting for Christmas.
This move feels different on so many levels. First of all, I am not making any chicken cutlets. Just to be safe. But I am also not feeling the need to bring everything I own. This house of ours? We have lived here just about five years, and the amount of stuff we have managed to fill closets, drawers, and cabinets with is astonishing. There is just too much.
Which is funny, or ironic, or whatever you may call it...because I do not consider my family as a family that has too much, but rather, as a family that struggles to meet our basic needs. And yet, as I fill trash bags and boxes and make countless trips to the dump and Good will, it is undeniable that for even this family who lives pay check to pay check, we are living a life of horrible excess. And I want to lose it. I want to rid us of it all.
As I sit on my closet floor and sift through papers and art work, old letters and photos, it has become apparent that there are things I hold onto that I can certainly live without. Things and clothes and souvenirs that are dust covered and out of date, but still hang and take up space because of some emotional attachment, as if my throwing them away means I lose that memory, a piece of myself. As I held in my hands the Spiderman backpack that my son innocently wore to first grade, the day of the terrible tragedy that happened at his elementary school, a rush of grief and horror, sadness and pain washed over me. The thought of throwing this back pack away took just that...thought. And why?? What would holding onto this item do for me, other than focus on the terror of that day? Certainly, my throwing it away will never cause me to lose the memory. Things attached to circumstances are nothing other than things. If I lost my wedding rings, would I not still love my husband? Would I cease from being his wife? Of course not. It is not about what I store in my closet, but what I store in the depths of my very soul. And how beautiful and efficient the God made heart is! It is large enough to store everything we need, and yet light enough to bring it with us everywhere we go.
I have approached this cleaning out method in this way: Can I live without this item? More specifically, can I live freely by holding onto this item? Because I believe we hold onto a lot of things we think we need to live, that in truth, are holding us back and keeping us from moving on and living as we should. In many ways, I have hoarded material memories, believing they were an anchor, a way for me to hold onto the past.
Of course, there are those memories that are bitter sweet. The things you discover at the bottom of the crate that cause your heart to skip a beat, and your eyes to well up. The hand writing of a loved one who has gone home to Jesus. The photo of the grandfather, with his arms wrapped around a much younger you. These are keepers. These are the things that absolutely must be packed up and moved along with you. These are the mementos that take you back to that time for a brief moment, fill your heart up, and then send you along, back on the path you are meant for. These are also the things that when I am gone, are worthy of my children stumbling upon. If you are ever unsure about whether or not you should hold onto something from your past, ask yourself, "Is this something I want people to find, discover, read or see, when I am no longer here?" What you hold onto now is the trail you will leave for your loved ones. When I think this way, it is amazing to see how my vision changes.
I love our new home. It is an antique with a great story, on beautiful acres of land that I fully intend on filling with many of Gods creatures. There is a pond for fishing and a greenhouse for me to do all of that gardening that I admit I have never done. I have big ideas and beautiful plans for what a life in this new space looks like. I have imagined garden parties under twinkling lanterns, and kids around the fire pit, my parents sitting in the quiet surrounded by roses, my sister at the table with a cup of hot coffee. Nick went as far as to say, "this is my dream house", and despite the teenagers arguing over a certain prized bedroom, I have to say, this all does feel very much like a dream.
But I am careful. I am trying to remember that this house is just that...a house. It is walls and floors, and a place to protect and shelter the actual gift I have been given: my family. Yes, my husband and I have waited nearly 20 years to dwell in a place like this, and I would be lying if I did not admit that I love it and am over joyed. But there is so much more to love in all of this than just the house. What I am most loving is the process of letting go; throwing away the waste, and giving away what I do not need. The physical act of tossing aside and traveling light feels like prayer. I do not want to simply live, I want to live simply. I want to unleash what holds me down, and rid myself of baggage. I do not want to fill our new home with things and stuff; the very things that keep me from where God wants me, because I am too busy idolizing and focusing on what is material and earthly. I want less of the earth and more of heaven. I know from previous fasting, prayer and almsgiving that it is only by losing and letting go that we are able to make room for God. I want to pack light.
It is true. We have moved a lot. But this time is different. I am more than ever, incredibly aware, that my true wish in life is not to live in the dream home here on earth, but rather, to dwell in the house of Lord; the ultimate move I will make where I need not pack a single thing because He will give me all that I need.
This move feels different on so many levels. First of all, I am not making any chicken cutlets. Just to be safe. But I am also not feeling the need to bring everything I own. This house of ours? We have lived here just about five years, and the amount of stuff we have managed to fill closets, drawers, and cabinets with is astonishing. There is just too much.
Which is funny, or ironic, or whatever you may call it...because I do not consider my family as a family that has too much, but rather, as a family that struggles to meet our basic needs. And yet, as I fill trash bags and boxes and make countless trips to the dump and Good will, it is undeniable that for even this family who lives pay check to pay check, we are living a life of horrible excess. And I want to lose it. I want to rid us of it all.
As I sit on my closet floor and sift through papers and art work, old letters and photos, it has become apparent that there are things I hold onto that I can certainly live without. Things and clothes and souvenirs that are dust covered and out of date, but still hang and take up space because of some emotional attachment, as if my throwing them away means I lose that memory, a piece of myself. As I held in my hands the Spiderman backpack that my son innocently wore to first grade, the day of the terrible tragedy that happened at his elementary school, a rush of grief and horror, sadness and pain washed over me. The thought of throwing this back pack away took just that...thought. And why?? What would holding onto this item do for me, other than focus on the terror of that day? Certainly, my throwing it away will never cause me to lose the memory. Things attached to circumstances are nothing other than things. If I lost my wedding rings, would I not still love my husband? Would I cease from being his wife? Of course not. It is not about what I store in my closet, but what I store in the depths of my very soul. And how beautiful and efficient the God made heart is! It is large enough to store everything we need, and yet light enough to bring it with us everywhere we go.
I have approached this cleaning out method in this way: Can I live without this item? More specifically, can I live freely by holding onto this item? Because I believe we hold onto a lot of things we think we need to live, that in truth, are holding us back and keeping us from moving on and living as we should. In many ways, I have hoarded material memories, believing they were an anchor, a way for me to hold onto the past.
Of course, there are those memories that are bitter sweet. The things you discover at the bottom of the crate that cause your heart to skip a beat, and your eyes to well up. The hand writing of a loved one who has gone home to Jesus. The photo of the grandfather, with his arms wrapped around a much younger you. These are keepers. These are the things that absolutely must be packed up and moved along with you. These are the mementos that take you back to that time for a brief moment, fill your heart up, and then send you along, back on the path you are meant for. These are also the things that when I am gone, are worthy of my children stumbling upon. If you are ever unsure about whether or not you should hold onto something from your past, ask yourself, "Is this something I want people to find, discover, read or see, when I am no longer here?" What you hold onto now is the trail you will leave for your loved ones. When I think this way, it is amazing to see how my vision changes.
I love our new home. It is an antique with a great story, on beautiful acres of land that I fully intend on filling with many of Gods creatures. There is a pond for fishing and a greenhouse for me to do all of that gardening that I admit I have never done. I have big ideas and beautiful plans for what a life in this new space looks like. I have imagined garden parties under twinkling lanterns, and kids around the fire pit, my parents sitting in the quiet surrounded by roses, my sister at the table with a cup of hot coffee. Nick went as far as to say, "this is my dream house", and despite the teenagers arguing over a certain prized bedroom, I have to say, this all does feel very much like a dream.
But I am careful. I am trying to remember that this house is just that...a house. It is walls and floors, and a place to protect and shelter the actual gift I have been given: my family. Yes, my husband and I have waited nearly 20 years to dwell in a place like this, and I would be lying if I did not admit that I love it and am over joyed. But there is so much more to love in all of this than just the house. What I am most loving is the process of letting go; throwing away the waste, and giving away what I do not need. The physical act of tossing aside and traveling light feels like prayer. I do not want to simply live, I want to live simply. I want to unleash what holds me down, and rid myself of baggage. I do not want to fill our new home with things and stuff; the very things that keep me from where God wants me, because I am too busy idolizing and focusing on what is material and earthly. I want less of the earth and more of heaven. I know from previous fasting, prayer and almsgiving that it is only by losing and letting go that we are able to make room for God. I want to pack light.
It is true. We have moved a lot. But this time is different. I am more than ever, incredibly aware, that my true wish in life is not to live in the dream home here on earth, but rather, to dwell in the house of Lord; the ultimate move I will make where I need not pack a single thing because He will give me all that I need.
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