Happy 80th Birthday to my Mom (January 1)

My Mom. . . . .💖💗💕

Why is it that sometimes we girls have a love/hate relationship with our mothers.  I KNOW I am not the only one.  And if you add in our mother-in-laws. . . . well, that goes far beyond what this post can get into!  😏

But I want to tell you about my Mom.

My Mom is not my best friend.  She is not my closest confident.  She is not someone who I run to any time I am struggling.  Some of you might have that kind of a mom.

HOWEVER!  My mom IS someone who I admire.  My mom is someone who I respect.  My mom is someone who has endured the test of time.  My mom is someone who has given up everything for others.  My mom loves fiercely.  My mom is a protector. And my mom is someone who I am so thankful to say has always supported me in everything I do.

She is also someone who I have run to when I am in a pickle.  She is THE ONE PERSON I called when my husband had an accident and I didn’t know who to turn to.  She is also the same person that when I went home to the camp on my very first night alone after Keith had said accident, and I found every single door locked to every building on the camp site (including my own home!) that I called and talked to on the pay phone for over an hour as she prayed and comforted me. . . . assuring me that things would be okay.  She is also the one person that I was eventually able to share my broken heart with when I found that pornography had entered into the life of my marriage.

My mom has cried with me.  My mom has ached with me.  My mom has cried tears of JOY with me. My mom has sung with me.  My mom has laughed with me.  And (truth be told) my mom has cried, screamed and passed out when she birthed me.  So truthfully????  My mom has been there for every spectrum of emotion in my life.

I can’t say my mom and I see eye to eye on all things.  But the older I get, and the older my kids get, the more I seem to understand my mom.  As a teen I DIDN’T GET HER!!!!  As a young married girl, I thought she just wasn’t patient enough (lol).  As a mom, I thought she figured she had it all figured out b/c she had all the answers on how to raise my own kids.

And now as a daughter whose mom is turning 80, I realize I am the luckiest girl alive.  It has been difficult knowing I couldn’t be there to celebrate my mom’s 80th birthday.  Many times, I have had to let others share the joy that is my mom. I have had to trust that all the work and good she has done in the last 80 years will be celebrated because MY MOM IS AN AMAZING WOMAN!!!

Here are some things that you might not know about my mom:

- My mom came to Canada to care for 4 children whose mother died, and came only to care for them – not knowing what the future would hold.
- My mom came from a life of luxury (single working girl, in an office that made her lots of money) to a farm girl’s life where there was a highly mortgaged farm, four children without a mother, a man who had recently lost his wife – trying to care for said 4 children, run a farm AND provide a home for this city girl, not to mention the lack of luxuries that she was used to in Rotterdam!
- My mom decided I was good enough to birth me breech – without medication!!! and still laugh about it to this day.
- My mom left her home again for me and spent several days with me when I found out my husband would no longer walk.  She rubbed my back, held my hand, and took a lot of anger, insults and frustration that was not directed at her, however, at that time – landed on her.
- My mom is a breast cancer survivor!!!
- My mom has done more in her life than I can ever imagine doing in mine.
- My mom is the youngest looking 80 year old I know – or at least who hasn’t had surgery to alter anything!
- My mom knows how I struggle with the distance between us, because she too had to live many, many miles apart from her mom.  History has repeated itself.

I love my mom and am so proud and thankful that God gave her to me to be my Mom.  God has given my mom 80 years!  She is an amazing woman and I love her so much!  Life has dictated that we live far apart.  But life has also allowed for letters, occasional visits, and many phone calls to breach that distance.

Thank you, Mom for all that you do for me and my family.  We love you very much and hope you have an amazing birthday on January 1.

XOXOXO Mom

Misplaced expectations. . . and how to find joy

Several months ago, I spent some time at the lake by myself.  I had just completed a year of piano teaching, and I was tired.  So I decided to go away by myself to spend some time with God.  I didn't know what I was looking for, but I was searching.  Searching for some answers.  Searching for a sign.  But maybe most of all, searching for peace.  

I had been struggling with many different things personally.  And I wanted to go to the lake to "find God", and to find out what He had for me.  I think the bottom line was that I was unhappy, and discontented.  I needed some guidance.  So I went to the lake, and in a variety of ways found what I was needing.  I found a peace that I hadn't had in a very long time.  I found the recipe for joy that I had been missing.  And it was simple.  It was something I've known all along, but quite honestly couldn't put into practice.  You see, I had been looking for joy, for peace in all the wrong places.  I was looking to others to make me happy.  I had expectations of what others should be doing. . . . being. . . . for me, that ultimately ended up bringing more pain and tears than anything.  My expectations weren't being met, but it's because my expectations were in things that couldn't bring me joy.  That couldn't bring me peace.  I realized that my joy ultimately was up to me, and between me and God.  And the only place I could find that joy was to completely put my trust and hope in God.  He was the only one who could never - who WOULD never - let me down.  

I was reading a book called Turn Your Mourning into Dancing by Henri Nouwen when I was at the lake.  (I HIGHLY encourage you to read it.  You can find it here:  TURN MY MOURNING INTO DANCING ) It truthfully has been a life changer for me.  Nouwen writes "We have hope and joy in our faith because we believe that while the world in which we live is shrouded in darkness, God has overcome the world."  Hope has to do with God.  Joy has to do with God.  Not anyone or anything else around me.  And it's when I trust in God, and am going to Him for my joy, it allows me to live with expectations, but expectations of what God will do for me, not what others will do for me.  I can trust Him implicitly because I can know that beyond a shadow of a doubt, He has my best interests at heart. 

I will be honest.  I still go back.  I still conjure up expectations for those around me of how they should act.  How they should be for me.  What they can provide for me.  How they can bring me joy.  But thankfully, God continues to remind my that my joy comes from Him and none other.

As I sat doing my devotions this morning (have I mentioned how I hate that word??? For me it has such guilt associated with that word because as I was growing up devotions were something I HAD to do.  And if I didn't I must not be a very good Christian! ☺ ), but as I was spending time with God this morning (much better term!!) I was reading about how Christ's sacrifice was once and for all.  I was reminded about how the high priests used to have to make daily sacrifices to cover the sins of the people.  In verse 14 of Hebrews 10 it reads, "For by one sacrifice he has made perfect forever those who are being made holy." 

What a thing of joy.  We are being made holy because of Christ's sacrifice.  That is something I can put my expectations in.  THAT is something that when I think of it, brings me such joy.  I know I fail, but I don't have to make any sacrifices.  I know I go back to putting my expectations in people instead of God to bring me joy.  But this morning, as I read and was reminded about the sacrifice that God gave to me by sending His Son, I couldn't help but feel a joy.  I couldn't help but again be amazed that regardless of how I back track, regardless of how far I fall, regardless of how many times I put my hope in something or someone that doesn't bring me joy, God is still there for me.  God has allowed me to have full expectations in Him.  I can be guaranteed that HE will bring me the joy, the peace, the hope I am looking for.  Philippians 3:20 tells us "Our homeland (our citizenship) is in Heaven, where our Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ, is;  and we are looking forward to his return from there."  What an expectation I can have.

My brother and I were chatting this weekend about how, for so many reasons, we cannot wait for Christ's return.  I know I wish for joy, and peace, hope, in my life.  Can you imagine when we are in Heaven how we won't have any expectations not met?  Can you imagine the awe we will feel when we are sitting at Jesus' feet worshiping Him?  It gives me goosebumps just thinking about it.  

Now there is something to have expectations about.  There's something that will bring my joy.  There is something that I can place my hope in. 

What a day that will be!!!

He is there. . . . .

As I sit here on a Friday evening and peruse through the abundance of Facebook comments and pictures, I am struck with a thought. . . . again. . . of how each of us live in our own world.

Yes, we live together, and sometimes our lives do intersect at various moments.  But essentially our lives are our own.

Tonight my mom shared with me a tragic event that happened in a community they (my Dad & mom) once served in.  (Stanley Mission Deaths ) Several years ago, God blessed them with the opportunity of ministering to people in Stanley Mission.  This week, Stanley Mission was rocked with the information that 3 of their youths committed suicide.  Two of these little girls (12 and 14) were granddaughters of a woman that my parents had befriended years ago.  This woman had sought out my parents several times, calling our home to find out when “John & Gretha were getting to Saskatchewan”.  This week she found out that 2 of her grand babies died by suicide.  I cannot imagine her grief.

As I contemplated what this dear Native grandmother must be going through, and as I saw the different scenarios being played out on my Facebook screen – a precious daughter of friends dying of cancer, a family enjoying an evening on their acreage, a family divided because of sin that has caused pain, a family connecting from continents apart because of the luxury of the internet, a marriage vow broken, a family grieving the diagnosis of their father. . . . and the list continues -  I wondered how it all played a part in MY life.

Each entity unto its own.  Each desperately trying to conjure up the strength to continue.  Each calling on Jesus to take their pain.  And in these moments of joy and anguish, I again was reminded of the incredible gift that we have been given of being able to talk to our Creator. 

We can go to Him with our joys, our sorrows, our anguish and our elation.  He is waiting for us to come to Him.  And He is waiting for us to come to Him on behalf of those that – for whatever reason – cannot even emit the words to God. 

I was also reminded that so many times we see the façade that people present to the “world”, yet their hearts are breaking.  I see the happy smiles on FB, yet I know the hurts run deep.  I see the family or school pictures and yet I know that beyond the smile, is a sadness or a desperation, or an anguish that is unspoken.  A difficulty unshared. 

And so tonight I encourage you to pray.  Pray for your loved ones close to you.  Pray for those that you know are hurting.  But maybe more importantly, pray for those that don’t appear “to need it”.  Sometimes it’s those happy faces that we see that need prayer the most.

Tonight, I am so grateful for a Father that knows our heart.  That knows the needs of us that cannot be spoken.  I am grateful for a God that has gone ahead and knows precisely what we need.  But more importantly, I am thankful for a God that listens.  That hears the anguished cries of each of our hearts.  And hears the unspoken cries of those of us that don’t have the words to speak.  And also hears the cries of the broken hearted, before we bring it to Him, but also WHEN we bring it to Him.

 

I encourage you that tonight, as you sit in the quiet, or as you lay quietly awaiting sleep, listen to the names God brings to you tonight.  Listen and bring them to God.  You may be the one who is interceding for someone who can’t even speak the words to our Lord.  YOU may be the one who is praying on their behalf. 

What can you do tonight?  Who can you pray for tonight?

The Eye of the Beholder

The last couple of days have been rough.  Rough b/c I’ve been looking in the mirror.  Not at what makes me beautiful – truly beautiful, but the outside.  The covering.  The old, raggedy, saggedy covering.

A couple days ago, a friend of mine tagged me to post 4 pictures of myself that make me feel beautiful.  Then, another friend posted a picture of her with the comment that she didn’t feel like a good friend b/c of situations in her life.  Both of these posts made me tear up.  Not b/c they hurt me, but b/c it made me take a really difficult look at how I see myself.

Truthfully, I can’t find 4 pictures of myself in the last 4 years or so b/c I have made sure that there are very few pictures taken of me.  I might have some with my family, but none of just myself.  Because, plain and simple, I really don’t like who I see in the mirror.  I really don’t like me.

Then when I thought about what kind of friend I am being, again tears, b/c in so many ways I feel like I have failed in so many ways.  Please don’t get me wrong.  No one has made me feel that way.  These are my feelings.  These are the things I see, and not what others have told me. 

I also saw a post recently “We all know mirrors don’t lie. . . . I’m just thankful they don’t laugh.” It was meant to be funny, but it struck me that it was too close to the truth about how I felt – okay feel!  I’m afraid my mirror would just shake it’s head in disgust.

I read Psalm 139 over and over again.  I am fearfully and wonderfully made.  I read Ephesians how I am God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus.  I KNOW these things but how do I resist the urge to listen to Satan’s voice in my head that I am none of these things?  I see the weight gain and know that it is from medications and steroids I need to be on for health reasons, but it just makes me ashamed of who I have become.  I know that the outside is not who I am inside, but truthfully, if I don’t like myself on the outside, it’s hard to love the inside.

I know there are those of you who know how I feel.  You’ve felt those very things.  And when you feel them, you aren’t looking for confirmation from others.  Because, like me, you know you are good at things.  I know I’m a good piano teacher.  I know I am a great cook.  I know I am a good mom (well, most of the time). I know I have lots of good qualities.  We don’t dispute that.  It’s just that I don’t FEEL it.  I know God has created me to be this way.  I know God loves me just the way I am.  But how do I get that head knowledge to coincide with my heart?

Someone else recently requested prayer for her relationship with her kids.  That she would be able to take the next several days and just pour praise into her kids b/c it was something she wasn’t feeling at the moment.

Can I be so bold as to ask you to pray for me?  I’m praying that the things that I know to be true about who I am as a woman in Christ, will somehow meet with my feelings and I can get my head and heart in synch.  And please.  Let me know if you are struggling with those same thoughts.  Because I’d love to pray for you! 

And believe me.  I know it’s not easy to say these things out loud.  To admit when you are in a dark place like this.  I know the things/thoughts I’m feeling these days are not Godly, but rather lies from Satan.  So I’m praying that as we progress into fall, my head will join my heart and say thanks to God for who He has made me.  Weight/hair and all.  Because my value in Christ doesn’t come from those outward things.  It’s who I am inside and that’s what counts.

I’m praying that the beauty God sees in me is what I can see in myself.  

Clearing out the clutter

Many, many years ago, when I was growing up, an annual event at our house was SPRING CLEANING.  Even the thought of it causes me to shudder.  Not only were our lives turned upside down during our week of "vacation" during spring break, but our house was too!!!  Seriously.  There truthfully was not an inch of our home that did not get cleaned.  Dishes that had not been used once during that entire year, were taken out of cupboards, washed and bleached and returned to their spots.  Closets were completely emptied and wiped down and purged from whatever items weren't needed.  Curtains were removed from every window and washed while each window was cleaned inside and out.  Walls, floors, doors, windows, furniture. . . . it was all cleaned.  Then, everything was returned to it's original state - only cleaner.  I will be honest.  I never quite understood that whole concept, and I certainly didn't enjoy it during my week of holidays from school.  I will also tell you that spring cleaning does not occur in my house!!!

But usually 2 or 3 times a month, I walk into my office and feel stifled.  You see, my office becomes a dumping ground for things that "I will do later".  My desk gets piled higher and higher with papers, books, clothes etc.  And finally, one day, it all gets to be too much.  The anxiety that this clutter brings is palpable at times, and so today was one of those days when I "took charge" of the disaster that I called my office.

My office also doubles as our prayer room.  But lately, it hasn't been a prayer room.  It's been a place where I work, where things pile up, and where chaos has reigned!

This morning I decided to take back this space.  Granted, I know things will pile up, but for today, my office is calm.  It's a place where the worship music plays continuously day and night, and a space where (NOW!) I can sit and look outside and be still.  Be quiet as I think, pray and just listen.

As I sat at my desk and thought about this process of cleaning up and spring cleaning and de-cluttering and living minimally, I started to think about my spiritual walk and how it could stand to use some SERIOUS spring cleaning!  My world has been filled with schedules, due dates, appointments, meetings, agendas and somewhere in the chaos I have lost the moments of stillness that I have so desperately needed.

As I've thought about how to spring clean my spiritual life, I realized it all came down to figuring out what matters.  It's not about the doing, it's about the being.  It's about spending that time with God.  It's about the relationship that I have with Him, not what I DO "for Him".  Over the last little while, I think I've lost sight of that.  I've lost sight of my need for a relationship with God.  A deep rooted relationship, not one that "looks" right, but one that is right.  One that is continually seeking a deeper truer relationship with Him.  One that focuses on what God has for me, rather than on what I have for me.

And while this may not be the same for you, the place where I generally spent those quiet moments with God had become cluttered and busy, and in turn, my relationship with God had moved to the bottom of those big piles that filled the desk and chairs in my office.  So today, while the calendar might not say it is spring, my office is cleared and my heart space is cleared and ready for renewing a relationship that needs some serious work!

There are so many areas of my spiritual walk with God that need some spring cleaning - certainly rearranging at least.  And it feels like spring is just the time for that. . .

Broken Pieces

As I've watched 2016 come in and slowly sift through the timer, it amazes me that somehow we are already almost to the end of February.  It feels like I've been in a bit of a haze.  It feels like the year has started without me in many ways.  Let me explain.

I had high hopes for 2016.  I imagined that all the broken pieces of the last few years would somehow fix themselves and with 2016 being a new year, it would feel different.  It would be a new beginning.  I would be able to start fresh and it would all be okay.  I've been waiting to feel differently.  I've been waiting to feel whole.  I've been praying for changes and healing.  Instead, it feels like I'm just sitting and waiting.

The quote "time heals all wounds" doesn't ring true for me.  It doesn't.  It may help me forget the past, but it doesn't heal.  The passage of time doesn't automatically make you trust.  Time doesn't help you figure out how to put the broken pieces back together again.  Quite truthfully, with time, more difficulties have come.  Struggles have become bigger.  The pain has settled into a place that at times seems lessened because it doesn't stick it's ugly head up every day, but when it does, it almost seems bigger somehow. There are days when God seems more distant than ever.  There are days when the darkness seems darker than ever.

Over the last several months, I have realized that time doesn't heal all wounds.  And it doesn't erase the past.  However, I have also been resolved to hold out my hands to God and ask Him to put the pieces back together into whatever He has for me.  I will never be that un-shattered person that I used to be.  I will never be unbroken.  I will never be able to walk away from the scars in my life that I have encountered over the years.

At first I was looking at that as a negative thing.  But recently, I have been looking at them differently.  I saw a quote on Facebook that I had seen before but struck me so differently than it had in the past.  I know I have looked at my past experiences as places I've come from.  Episodes I've walked through and grown from.  But I hadn't really been looking at them like a badge of honour.  I was looking at some of my "war wounds" as something to be ashamed of.  As times when I had been weak.  Times that I was embarrassed about.  But as I have begun to look at them as "survival" stories, it's given me a different perspective.  Those scars whether they be stretch marks, healed skin scars, or scars on the inside in the deepest parts of my heart, they are still badges that show me I survived.  Even in those deepest darkest difficult spots of my life, God brought me through them.  He didn't take them away from me.  And he doesn't take those scars away either.  They are reminders to me that He stood there with me in those difficult moments.  Every wound, visible or hidden, are scars that have been stitched back together by God.  The raw wound has been healed, but the scar will remain.  And I can look at that scar as ugly or with anger or disappointment that I have it at all, but the truth is, I HAVE that scar.  The wound didn't consume me.  It didn't take me down.

Recently my sister was visiting for a week and it was so refreshing to chat with her.  She looked at our family and saw hope.  She saw potential.  She saw the hurt, the ugliness and pain.  But more importantly, she reminded me that despite all the pain and raw hurt that has been and is there, God is still there.  And the scars we have are just signs that we have survived and that God is still doing a work of restoration.  I'm not sure how or what that looks like yet, but He is there.  He has been there.  And He will always be there.

The images that the Bible shares with us of Jesus after His crucifixion are not images of Jesus made physically completely whole again.  The Bible tells us that the disciples put their fingers in the holes made by the nails.  Jesus' scars remind me that He "survived".  He conquered death for me.  He has walked beside me and watched as my life has developed scars.  But He has always been there reminding me of the scars He encountered for me.  Without HIS scars I wouldn't have the hope of an eternity in Heaven.  And without my scars, I wouldn't be the person I am today.

So today I claim the promise that God is in the business of restoration.  It might not always look the way I envision that restoration to be.  And it certainly won't take away the scars that have already been created.  But I DO know that God can and will use those scars to bring glory to Him.  I need only to keep holding out my hands to Him and waiting for what He has.  It might not happen today.  It might not happen tomorrow.  But when it does, I know that God will restore me, despite the scars that exist.