Heaven on my Mind

Recently, I've been struggling through some dark places again.  Thankfully not the deepest darkest ones, but dark none the less.  Anxiety/depression is a weird thing.  That most certainly is something I have realized.  Just when you think things have turned a corner, and life might be a little different, you get hit again, with the realization that this is something I will struggle with constantly.  And no level of meds. or Scripture reading will ever make it go away.  (Thankfully both of those thinks help me walk through those times, but they don't erase them.)

Having lived far away from my family for the last 32 out of 50 years, I have often gone through times, where I desperately wanted to move back to Ontario.  Sometimes it's a fleeting thought - other times its an all consuming desire for weeks on end.  I miss being near my parents.  I miss being near my siblings.  I hear of friends who go to Mom & Dad's for Sunday lunch, and I wish I had the opportunity of doing that.  I hear when friends children get to have sleep overs at Grandpa & Grandma's and I wish my kids had that.  The longing for "home" never goes away.

But, I have never been as homesick as I was when I was 17.  During that summer, I had the privilege of being at a leadership camp at Bark Lake in northern Ontario.  This was not a Christian camp, but a friend of mine & I had been chosen by the camp we counselled at to go and learn for 3 weeks at this camp.  It truly was a privilege, but after several days of no other Christian friends around, no family and feeling so utterly alone, homesickness started to settle in.  The ache that I felt in my heart was actually painful.  It was so strong, and so all consuming.  It was all I could think of.  I missed home so much, I could feel it in my throat - in my stomach.  Phone calls were not always possible and while we did receive mail, and a visit from our boyfriends, nothing eased the ache of just wanting to be home.  I will never forget the moment, when I & my group of friends that I had made there, were sitting waiting for our parents, and I realized it was my parents who were driving up to pick me up.  (They had purchased a new car while I was gone, so it was only when I saw their faces that I realized it was them.)  Oh the feeling of relief when I was back together with them.  I can't say I was close to my parents (I was a teenager after all!), but that feeling of security and safety and relief to see them again was incredibly powerful.  I learned so much that summer from my time away and have never forgotten that feeling of "coming home", even if it was not really home, but simply being in my parents presence.

My brother Brian (he also lives far away from family) & I often talk about that feeling of going home.  The feeling of being back on familiar ground.  The feeling of being "home".  For both of us, even after so many years, the moment we drive up near Kitchener, or drive on roads we used to, we are home.  There is just something comforting and familiar, and it gives us a sense of peace.

Brian & I also often talk about Heaven.  For so many years, regardless of how our lives have been going, we have often talked about that desire to leave this world behind and spend the rest of our days in Heaven.  We often chat abou
t the feelings we will have worshiping.  Adoring. In complete Awe.  Recently as I've struggled through these dark places, that feeling of homesickness has been getting stronger and stronger.  Not going back to my Ontario home, but my heavenly home.  Don't get me wrong I wouldn't do anything to make that happen, but that feeling of knowing that someday, I will get to leave this life behind is so comforting.  The yo-yo of emotions that I feel will be completely replaced with being in Jesus' presence.  The intense loneliness and sadness I feel will be replaced with joy unspeakable.  The overwhelming feeling of homesickness that I feel will be filled with overwhelming awe and adoration for my Jesus.  I will get to sit at His feet and praise Him.  I will get to be in His presence and know that "I am Home".

As I've struggled through these lonely days, that feeling of homesickness has intensified.  I cannot wait!!  I cannot wait to be consumed and flooded with joy at being able to see Jesus.  In our church services recently, we have been doing a series called "Legacy of the Shepherd".  Yesterday, we sang an old hymn called "Who is on the Lord's Side?" and it had a verse that went like this:

1. Fierce may be the conflict, strong may be the foe,
   But the King’s own army none can overthrow;
   ’Round His standard ranging, vict’ry is secure,
   For His truth unchanging makes the triumph sure.
   Joyfully enlisting, by Thy grace divine,
   We are on the Lord’s side—Savior, we are Thine!

It got me thinking again about how thankful I am that I have Jesus.  That I have Him to be my anchor.  My strength.  And no matter how homesick I get here on earth, I know I have the hope that the darkness I feel, the loneliness I experience, the sadness and disappointment that surrounds me, will all someday be gone because Jesus has taken all that away for me.  I will get to see Jesus face to face.

I found this song written in the '90's by Danny Plett (who ironically is now our church's Worship Ministry Pastor) and it made my heart sing.  The thought of Heaven and going there is written so perfectly in this song and it has been going over and over in my head, so I wanted to share it with you.

If you are struggling with life here on Earth, just know that if you know Jesus Christ as your Savior, you have a hope that will take this all away.  Jesus died for you, and He knows the pain we are going through here on an imperfect earth, and He wants you with Him one day.  If you don't know Jesus personally, or want to find out more about Heaven and the confidence I have that one day I will be there, I'd love to chat with you  about it.  Or find someone in your life that knows that without a doubt they are headed there too.

It's a hope we can each have that can take away the deepest ache, the sharpest pain, the darkest night.  Because Jesus took it all for us.  And I personally can't wait for the day to see Jesus face to face and thank Him for the gift that He has made available to each one of us.  What a day that will be!!!!!

2 Corinthians 4:7-10

But this precious treasure—this light and power that now shine within us—is held in a perishable container, that is, in our weak bodies. Everyone can see that the glorious power within must be from God and is not our own.

We are pressed on every side by troubles, but not crushed and broken. We are perplexed because we don’t know why things happen as they do, but we don’t give up and quit. We are hunted down, but God never abandons us. We get knocked down, but we get up again and keep going. These bodies of ours are constantly facing death just as Jesus did; so it is clear to all that it is only the living Christ within who keeps us safe.

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.

When there are no words

As I sat in my counsellor's office trying to put together the words to share with her what was going on inside my heart, my head, I realized that sometimes, there really just aren't the words to express what goes on inside me.

When I tried to share with her that my world was turning dark again, it didn't seem right.  It wasn't the same as several years ago, but it was stifling.  When I tried to share with her how dark my heart was feeling the words just didn't feel right.  What I was feeling couldn't come out.  I couldn't seem to express precisely what I was feeling.

I went away from my appointment feeling deflated.  Feeling more empty than when I had gone there.  Feeling like it was an impossible task to actually express what I was feeling.  As I drove home, I thought about the many times that I have felt that way in my prayer life as well.  The times that I've wanted to pour my heart out to God, but I just couldn't muster the words.  I couldn't put into words the things I was feeling.  Or quite truthfully I couldn't speak out the words because the feelings I was having were just that awful.  I thought about my session that day.  Was it more because I didn't want to admit some of the things I was feeling?  It certainly was partly that.  The truth was that I was feeling so guilty about what I was feeling inside, that each time I tried to form the words to say it, the words that were there would show the ugliness I was feeling inside.  And admitting that I was feeling those things was too much.  It would confirm to me and to her that I was broken.

At times as I've prayed, I've felt those same things.  How could I go to God and share what I was feeling when the things that I was feeling were so ungodly?  How could I tell God, the creator of the universe that He had made a mistake.  How could I tell Him that this person He had created in His image, for His glory, didn't want to go on, and just wanted to die.  How could I tell the Being who sent His Son to die for me, that I wasn't worth it?

Many times I have sat staring out the window, on chair in my yard, on the edge of our lake and my head is filled with thoughts and feelings that I just can't put into words.  That I dare not speak out loud for the shame I would feel just voicing them.

And that day after being in the office, unable to find the words, not daring to speak them, I sat on the chair in my office and stared outside at the leafless trees.  I watched a blue jay vie for his position at the bird feeder.  I stared at the squirrel making his way along the tree branches.  My heart was so full of sadness.  So dark.  And it dawned on me, that even without the words to speak, God knew.  God knew.  He knew my heart.  He felt my anguish.  He knew my struggles.  And while there were no words to speak.  No eloquent prayers to be prayed, I knew God heard me.  I knew He held me.  I knew He felt what I was feeling.

As I gulped in air, trying to clear the weight I was feeling compressing on my chest, the heaviness, I realized that even without the words, God was hearing me.  He was right there.  Things didn't miraculously change.  The weight didn't clear.  The pain didn't go away.  Truthfully nothing changed.  But I did have a sense of peace that even without the words to speak, God knew.  And He was going to see me through it.  When words failed, God presence didn't.  There were no eloquent prayers, believe me.  But I know that in the stillness of those moments, with no words to speak, God heard me.

Falling Short

Over the last several months, I think the thing that I have struggled with the most, is the feeling of "falling short".  Trying, but never succeeding.  Wanting to do something, but never quite attaining it.  Or reaching your goal, only to fall backwards.  The quote of 3 steps forward, 2 steps back?  Well, it has felt more like 2 steps forward, 3 steps back!!!

I've had moments where I have been proud of my accomplishments.  I've aimed for a goal, and reached it.  At least for a moment.  I've been the kind of mother I am proud of being.  The kind of wife I feel I should be.  The "godly" Christian I think God would be proud of. . . .

and then. . . . life took over. . . and those things that I put so much value in, started to slide.  They slipped backwards, far beyond my grasp - or so it felt.  The mountain stood in front of me once again. I've let myself down.  I've let others down.  I have fallen short of all that I thought I should or could be.  I can't even bring myself to face those that I've let down.  Or at least be honest with those that I have.  I've put a mask on to hide my hurt.  To hide my embarrassment of not being what I thought I should be.  I've tried to cover my short comings.  To hide my failures.

As I've done so, the slide gets slipperier.  It gets more difficult.  And the anxiety and depressions starts to kick in once again.  Those same familiar feels of panic and stress that I felt 3 years ago, start to resurface.

So I sit and try to focus on who I am.  My kids and husband love me.  But I feel inadequate.  The girl that everyone was amazed by who lost "the weight and changed her life" well, she is gone.  And as students drop out of piano through though the first few months of change, I even begin to question whether or not I am doing what I should be doing.

Over the last few months, those are the lies that have been creeping into my mind.  You may not see them.  You may not imagine that those thoughts are there.  The happy (albeight overweight!) face is what I can show to most of you.

And as I write this, I can't help but think "But hey!  There have been SO MANY joys come across your paths too!"  And there has!! Reconnecting with a dear friend from many years ago.  Seeing my children excel in school. Having 2 wonderful vacations to our families this summer. Watching my husband take a strong leadership role in our church.  These are all amazing things that bring me such joy.  For all intents and purposes, joy should be oozing from my pores!!

It wasn't until this week that I started to truthfully take a good look at my life.  Re-evaluate my responses.  Re-evaluate my focus.  Re-think what is important to me.  Those things that I had focused on, that were now gone, were they really SO important to me that when they were gone, I could feel this empty?  I read about and messaged one of our former youth girls who is now going through one of the biggest battles of her life - watching her husband struggle for his health in a hospital bed.  My heart ached for her.  I remembered those dark days of when Keith was in the hospital.

But I also remembered how at those times, I truthfully felt the best.  It wasn't easy, but every fibre of my body was focused on getting a grasp of God's strength to make it through each day.  And it hit me.

I.  WAS.  DOING.  THIS.  ON.  MY.  OWN.

The reason I had been feeling like I had fallen short was because I was using the wrong measuring stick!!!!!  I had focused on a human measuring stick.  I looked at those around me.  How skinny they were.  How happy they were.  How great a mother they were etc. I was using the world's measuring stick.  Not God's.

So I sat down and read Psalm 139.  About how amazing I am to God.  Believe me, I have read it several times over the last few weeks. In fact, when I can't bring myself to read anything else, this is the passage I go to.  I figure, I might as well read it and try and get it into my head even if at that moment my heart wasn't believing it.

As I sit here and type this, I don't for a moment claim to be on top of the mountain.  What I do claim is to have fallen short.  Fallen short of seeing myself in God's eyes, and in turn seeing myself through Satan's filter!!!  At this very moment, I struggle with even thinking about pressing the "publish" button because I don't feel worthy of anyone reading my thoughts.  But I will.  And I also will try to focus on what God is doing in my life.  I think back to 1993 and how far He has brought me from those dark days in the hospital. And all the dark days in between.  I'm still standing right?!?!?! It's not b/c of me - but rather the strength that God has given me.  God is creating me into something amazing, if I only let Him.  He sitting there at the Potter's wheel working on my masterpiece.  But if I keep getting in the way, I will only amount to a clump of clay.  So I am going to give it over to Him.  I'm going to use HIS measuring stick.  And there are no numbers on His measuring stick.  There is only one big HEART on His measuring stick.  And it tells me He loves me no matter what the numbers on the scale say.  He loves me no matter how many times I falter and fail.  He loves me no matter how many times I have to take medication for my anxiety and panic attacks.  I am not a failure to Him.  HE LOVES ME - and that is my measuring stick.

And because He loves me and died for me, I measure up in His eyes.

Been a while. . . .

So recently I had someone comment about how they had missed my blogs. . . .

So today I looked back to when my last post was. . . . JULY!!!  Okay, the truth is, I'm a bit surprised it was that recent.  That's only four months.  Mind you the previous one was also a month before that.

I have to say, that the last half a year has been . . .

crazy

unsure

undecided

difficult

good

confusing

chaotic emotionally

draining

tiring

exciting

some of the best times

some extremely difficult times

I think you get the picture.  My life has felt like a yo yo!!  And yet. . . here I sit November 11.

Remembering.  Thankful.  Grateful.  Proud. . .  so many emotions.

I am thankful for my friend who at least prompted me to write this entry.  Ang - you have always been an encouragement in this blog journey of mine.  Thank you.

I am feeling like I am coming out of a difficult emotionally draining time.  Perhaps in the next little while I will be able to share more of my journey these last several months.  Things even I haven't necessarily processed. But I know that when we share our journeys our burdens get lighter.

Fellowship has been a big word for me in the last week.  Hopefully we can "fellowship" together as we share our hearts together.

Pray for me, won't you?!?!?!

To trust or not to trust. . .

. . . . That is the question.  Well, actually it's not quite the question.  The truth is I WANT to trust, but can I let it go?

The verses are all there:  Trust in the Lord - over and over again.  It sounds easy.  The words - and the promises if I do - are all there written in black and white.  They are etched into my memory from days gone by.  If I trust in the Lord, He will direct my path.  I will be blessed if I put my trust in God.  So WHY CAN'T I?!?!?!

Yesterday, I dropped my daughter off at camp.  She was so excited.  She was going with another friend, knew the layout of the camp, had been there before and was so confident about going.  In other years, she had been a bit cautious which caused me to fear, but this year was different.  She'd been there several times since winter with her youth group, and for a different camp retreat, and so she was confident going.  Before she left, my husband and I prayed over her and her friend.  As I prayed, one of the things I prayed for was that the group dynamics in her cabin would be good.  I mean you are living with 2 counsellors and 7 other campers so you want to be able to get along.  She has been struggling with not being included in groups of friends these past several years, and while she has a solid group of 2 or 3 friends, she has always felt left out of the bigger group of girls at church or youth.  It has been difficult for her, to the point that she stopped going to group events because of feeling left out.  My son too has struggled this past year with friendship issues, so I had prayed that God would give her a great group of girls in her cabin that she could make friends with. (Please don't think that the group of church girls aren't great.  They are amazing.  Good Christian girls from good homes.  Just that T has never felt a part of the main group). So I prayed God would bring her a new group of girls that she could connect with and be a part of.  Going into high school I knew how difficult it was to not have good Christian friends around and with T heading into high school in fall, I prayed for a group of friends that she could really lean on besides her 2 other close friends.

As we arrived, one of our first great surprises was to find out that her youth leader from church would be her counsellor, along with another girl that also attended our church.  As a mom, I was comforted knowing that the girls were in good hands.  (Okay, so the truth is I know that the camp has high standards about their counsellors and regardless of who was going to be her counsellor she would be in good hands - but you know what I mean :-)   )  As they started to unpack, I was thinking that God was really going to "come through" for me. As I was about to leave, my "trust" in God fell through the floor.  The very thing I had worried about had happened.  Some of the girls that T felt separate from in school were going to be in her cabin.  Half of her cabin were girls that she didn't feel a part of.  My heart sank.  I started questioning God.  How could He do this? He knew that T felt intimidated by these girls.  He KNEW she always felt like an outsider.  He knew that this would make her week difficult.  As I walked away from the cabin, I felt sick.  T had worked so hard to raise money to go to camp.  She had done so much and had been looking so forward to this.  How could God have done this?  There would only be 2 other girls that Taylor wouldn't know in the cabin.  How was this all supposed to work?

As I walked towards my vehicle, I met up with another mom that I knew from our cottage at the lake.  T & her daughter had gotten to know each other as well, and when she asked me which cabin T was in, I was excited to learn that indeed the two girls that T would not have known, were actually her friend from the cottage.  Whew. . . at least God came through for me there.

As I drove back home, I wrestled with all sorts of thoughts and fears.  I had PRAYED that God would work this out.  As I thought about what I had prayed, I remembered in my prayer I had told God that I knew He had gone before the girls and had laid things in place for them.  He had gone before them to camp and had been there and knew what their week would be like.  As I drove home, I struggled with that thought.  I prayed it in the morning, but did I really believe it.  It was easy to believe that when I envisioned a week of sheer bliss for my daughter.  But now when it wasn't going to go the way "I had planned", did I still trust it?  And as I thought about that - MY plan vs. GOD'S plan - did I trust God or did I just really want my way.

As I went through my day, I continued to pray for T but truthfully, prayed more for my own unbelief!  I prayed for the trust that I longed to have in God.  I prayed for the assurance that He would give my daughter a good week at camp.

This morning as I scrolled through the pictures the camp had posted of the week so far, my heart sank.  Pictures of my daughter alone.  Pictures of my daughter on the swings without her friend.  Pictures of her friend with other girls.  The grip of anxiety and dread swept over me.  I started to get angry with God.  This is NOT what I had prayed for!

As I sat and talked with - okay more like TO God, I started to think about how this might just be okay.  God started showing me that this might be exactly what T needs.  This might be God's way of working in T this week.  By not being distracted by friends and all the other issues, God might be using that to speak specifically to her.  As a mom, I want to be able to provide a path that is smooth sailing for my kids.  I want to take all the bumps in the road away and make it as easy as possible for my kids.  But the fact is, I didn't learn that way either.  I have had to experience some awful bumps in the road in order to learn some very valuable lessons.  Do I really want to take those lessons away from her?  Don't I want her to be the very best girl growing up that she could possibly be?

So as I sat and thought about my prayer yesterday morning: about God going before her to camp.  About God paving the way for her.  About God providing my daughter with the best possible experience at camp, I realized that I was wanting MY best possible experience for her.  So as difficult as it might be, I am going to trust that God is in charge of this.  That God has this.  He has my daughter.  And that whatever the outcome of this week, God has it in His hands.  It's scary to give it over to Him.  Okay, so what else can I do 200 km away from her?!?!?  But as I pray for her, I am going to also give my mistrust over to God.  I want to fix things to be "perfect" for her.  But do I think I know perfect better than God knows perfect?  I don't think so. . . . okay, well sometimes I think so but I know that's not the truth. . . :-(   

Trusting is hard.  Trusting is letting go.  Trusting is giving over to God and letting go of me.  God's proven Himself to me over and over.  I have been playing the age old hymn - Tis so Sweet to Trust in Jesus.  I am going to claim this song this week.  I am NOT going to let the fear that Satan is trying to deceive me with plague my thoughts!  Trust is hard.  But it really is all I've got.  I WILL trust that God has this and that He has my daughter.

Singin' in the rain

As I shuttled the kids off to school today, the rain was coming down hard.  It was pouring over the curbs of our street and the ditches were beginning to get fuller and fuller.  Once we were at the school, the kids quickly hopped from the truck and sprinted to the school doors.  As I started to drive away, I noticed one little boy reacting quite differently to the rain than all the other middle schoolers that were rushing inside.   You see, at our children's school, there is a daycare housed under the same roof as the grade 5 -8 children.  As the Mamma struggled to get the backpack out of the vehicle, I watched as this little boy was twirling around in circles, with his arms wide open and his face turned up to the sky, just letting the rain wash right down over his face.  Skipping along the fence, he seemed oblivious to the negative affect the rain was having on the others.  He was just enjoying the coolness on his face and the trickles of water running down his cheeks.

As I watched, I was reminded of our days living in B.C.  Having lived in Saskatchewan for 3 years previous to that, the coastal weather in BC was drastically different than the dry prairie weather I had experienced.  When the locals in BC were complaining about the long, dreary, overcast days in BC, my husband and I were embracing them.  Newly married, the cloudy, rainy days meant time to snuggle into our one bedroom apartment and just be together.  We loved going for walks and seeing the clouds hovering in the valleys.  Or the clouds just clinging to the tips of the mountains, waiting to open up and water the earth.  Like today here in Manitoba, the BC rains were generally gentle rains.   Washing away the dust and business of life.

Today as I looked out at the little boy literally soaking up the rain, I was reminded again about perspective.  This little guy was just loving the rain that was coming down - as compared to the teens who were racing inside to avoid the drops coming down!  What a difference.  As I look outside of my window now, I see how green everything is in contrast to the grey skies.  Even my fish look more orange against the raindrops on my pond.

Sometimes God brings moments - raindrop moments - into our lives.  Moments that make it difficult to remember the sunshine.  Moments that cause us to crawl into ourselves and get cold and shiver.  Some of those moments remain longer than others.  Some moments turn into long chunks of time.  We've experienced some of those moments.  We've experienced some of those chunks of time.  Our raindrop times will be different than yours - and not for a moment do I believe that your raindrop moments are something I can ever understand.  But I do understand the struggle of perspective.  It's not always easy to look out through those windows of life and see the raindrops clinging to the glass - or streaming down for that matter.

But today, I encourage you to look beyond the raindrops.  Look past the dreariness of a rainy day and look through - out onto the other side.  Try to think of the beautiful affects that this rain will have.  The greenery that will emerge once the sun takes hold and grows those little flowers into blooming beautiful masterpieces.  Not every day is a rainy day.  But not every day is a sunshiny day either.  We really do need both.  We need both the good and the bad/sad days to really appreciate one from the other.  We need both in order to give us perspective.  We need rain to really be able to appreciate the sunshine.  And we need the sunshine to really appreciate the rain.

I'm not sure the little boy I watched really cared if tomorrow was going to be sunny or not.  He just twirled around in the rain like today was the best day ever!!  He was soaking up the goodness of the day and not just making the best of it, but really enjoying it.

Even in our rainy moments of life, let's try to get that perspective.  No matter how big the rain storm that has come our way, let's try to remember this, shall we?

Psalm 5:11
But let all who take refuge in You be glad;    let them ever sing for joy.
Spread your protection over them,    that those who love your name may rejoice in you.

Praying that your rainy day is filled with joy.

And because of the rain, I can't help but share this song with you.  It is a song that was often played on our record player at home many many moons ago.  Sung by the Medical Mission Sisters, it reminds me that the rain doesn't stay!  Eventually those wet dreary days are gone, and the sun comes shining.   Enjoy a little memory from my growing up days!  :-)

I have a tween. . . . . .

Enough said.   I am sure.   For those of you who have gone through these wonderful, muddy 10 - 11 - 12 year old stages with your children, I am sure you understand.

I love my son.  I love him dearly.  He is our miracle that doctors told us would never happen.  He is our gift from God - Nathanael - his middle name - that's what it means GIVEN OF GOD!

But I have to be honest and some days I wonder.  I wonder what God was thinking!!  Is this a mean trick?  That precious bundle of baby boy joy. . . . where did he go? Don't get me wrong.  I'm not thinking of giving him back - well not most days anyway ;-)  But a gift from God is supposed to be easy right?  It's supposed to bring joy, not struggles.  Not arguments.  Not frustration.

So what to do?  What to do when I am faced with this son of mine whom I know not!!!  This little boy trying to come into his own.  Trying to navigate the waters of growing up.  What do I do with this little bundle of joy turned independent almost teenager?

Well, for the next two days, he stays home from school . . . with me.  Together we will try to figure out this crazy thing called growing up.  Together we will learn how to make better decisions.  Together we will read scripture in the hopes of God's Word speaking to Him rather than me ranting on and on.  Together we will meander these waters to figure out the path for this ever growing up bundle of baby boy joy.

And rather than reflect on the behaviours that keep him in my home these next two days, I will focus on the joys that he has brought me these past 11+ years.  Because in my heart of hearts, despite the anger, defiance, arrogant "know it all" attitude, he is my baby boy.  And I love him more than I did the day he was born.  he really is GIVEN OF GOD!!!

       

Mamma Bear Learns a Lesson. . . .

For those of you who know us personally, you know our family is so proud of the diversity of our family.  Keith and I are from two different provinces and two different cultural backgrounds, we have two children one of whom is adopted, one biological, etc.  We kind of like that we aren't the cookie cutter family.

Recently one of those things that makes us unique felt like it was being challenged.  For you moms out there, you know that when one of your children has been hurt - whether emotionally or physically, the momma bear claws come out and you want to protect your baby!  Well recently that happened to us.  Without giving you all the details, I just want to share with you what happened.

Our daughter who happens to have come to us by way of adoption (if you want, you can read about that journey here), recently felt her adoption story was being challenge.  Not whether she was adopted, just the value of the actual adoption itself and the place she had in our family.  She came away from a group conversation where an adult was speaking and made her feel like she didn't matter and that we only adopted her out of desperation to have a child.  She was hurt and deeply affected by the comments that were made.  So much so, that after the conversation, she came and talked to me about it.  For those of you who know our daughter, she tends to hold feelings close to her chest and so the very fact that she shared how she had been hurt showed me just how deep this had gone.

In the following days, she and Keith and I discussed the scenario.  We know that sometimes when we speak, things come out that are not intentionally hurtful.  Sometimes people say things that hurt us because of lack of education on the subject.  Sometimes people say things that they don't realize would even be a hurtful comment.  So having thought all these things through, I decided to address the issue with our daughter's blessing.

After praying about it, we decided to share our adoption journey with this person.  We wanted them to understand why the comments that were made (whether intentional or not - and we believe strongly they were not!) had hurt our daughter and made her feel awkward within her own surroundings - so much so, that she did not want to face this adult again.  Unfortunately, it was not well received by this person. In the course of the conversation that ensued, my intentions were challenged, my integrity was challenged, and my Christianity was challenged.  I was in tears and couldn't believe how a genuine desire to have this person understand our daughter's journey and the reason for her hurt had turned into this turmoil.  I was being attacked and it didn't feel good.  As I struggled through the emotions of having my intentions challenged, of being told this person had never said the things about adoption to our daughter, and of feeling like a failure for trying to have addressed the issue in the first place, I realized, that right at that moment, I had a choice.  I could stay hurt and angry.  I could forgive this person for the way my daughter was hurt and offended and for the way I had been hurt.  So many options for a response.  Ironically, just a few hours later we had our small group Bible Study and the topic of conversation was about how we as a Christian judge others and can cause hurt to others when our own lives are riddled with things we should be taking care of ourselves.

As I lay in bed last night rehashing the conversation I'd had with this person, I realized that the very thing this person had been doing to us was something I have long since struggled with.

Admitting. When. I've. Been. Wrong.

Ugh.  How I have struggled with this.  In our early years of marriage, I can tell you, I was never wrong.  Okay, so you all know that is DEFINITELY not true.  But truthfully? That is how I lived my life.  Every little problem was my husbands fault.  If I ever "reacted badly", I was only reacting to his load of mistakes and of course had full absolution of my behaviors! (said VERY much tongue in cheek!!!)  As we worked through our early years of marriage, I sensed a trend.  One I had long ago vowed I would never be like - I was incapable of saying that I was wrong.  I was incapable of saying "I'm sorry" with no strings attached - no "but" that would follow those words to justify my actions.  Just an admission that I had made a mistake.

As we grew in our marriage, I realized it was becoming more and more difficult to admit when I was wrong and the very person I vowed I would not be like - I had become.  First of all it was not how God had called me to respond to things.  And secondly, if I was supposed to be an example of who Jesus Christ was, I had failed miserably.  I was reminded of this last night.  I was reminded how Jesus was attacked, beaten, humiliated and yet He spoke not a word.  He didn't try to justify who He was.  He didn't try to stand up in His defense to clear His name.  What did He do?  He loved them.  So much so, that He died for those very insults that had been hurled at Him.  Can you imagine?  He was the God of all the universe.  He had never sinned.  Not once.  He was perfect.  He was GOD!  And yet, He continued.  He didn't judge.  He didn't wallow in the injustice of it all.  What did He do? He loved those people so much that He died on a cross for them.  He went to hell to cover those very sins that were committed against Him.

As I lay in bed I realized I really did have a fork in the road as far as how I would react to this situation.  I had a teachable moment to share with my daughter.  I could let this sit and fester in my heart causing who knows what kind of negative reactions, or I could be silent, and not judge this person and love them the way Jesus did His accusers.

Here are a few of the things in the video we watched last night that has cut through my thoughts like a knife, albeit a bit paraphrased from what we heard.  1.  When I judge someone, it's likely because it's the same thing I struggle with.  2.  How is their sin reflected in my life.  What does God see in me that I see in the other person?

As I reflected on those thoughts, I didn't like them at all.  They hit a little too close to home.  I wanted to nurse those hurts that I had felt a few hours earlier.  I wanted to nurse my daughter's hurts.  I wanted to assure her that it was all the other persons issues - not mine.  And yet, as I sat and thought about those two points, i couldn't help but realize 1. I did indeed struggle with the very issue I was seeing being portrayed to me by this person and 2. God looks at me and sees those very things in me as well.  I am not without fault.  It is true - what this person said to my daughter was incredibly hurtful.  And when addressed couldn't admit that perhaps there was some truth to how they had hurt her. But my reaction came yes, as a momma bear, but after our conversation yesterday, became about judging.  And why?  Truthfully because it is something I struggle with - to admit that I was wrong.  The very way that my daughter and I had been hurt by this person, was the very same issue I struggle with.  I didn't like it at all.  It was hurtful.  It was painful to be treated this way.  And I realized, that is what it feels like when I do that to my husband, my children, those around me.

And most of all, it's not what Jesus Christ exemplified to me.  When He was wrongly accused, beaten, humiliated. . . He didn't speak a word in His defense.  His response?  Loving them.  Dying for them.  What's my response?  Retaliation? Anger? Defiance? No, my response needs to be that of Jesus Christ.  Love.  Forgiveness.  Understanding.  Not belittling what happened to my daughter, but helping her too, to love - forgive - and understand.  It's not easy.  It most certainly isn't my first reaction.  But another ironic thing that happened yesterday even before I had to deal with this was a quote that I came across earlier in the day.

Rather than let this eat at me.  Rather than judge this person.  Rather than grow anger and bitterness in my heart - I need to get on my knees and pray for this person.  I have to say, it's really hard to bring someone before God and pray for them, and still feel angry.  (Its something I have tried to do when my husband and I have been in an argument.  WOW!  is that hard! Haven't always been successful, but it HAS curbed a lot of fits of anger!)

Jesus' was the prime example of this.  Despite everything the people did to Him, He loved them and He forgave them.  He is the example I want to follow.  He is who I need to be like.  I need to love like He did and I need to forgive like He did.

I am thankful for how God directs our paths.  I do not think it is coincidence that I came across the hurt quote from earlier.  I also don't think it was coincidence that our small group decided to go with the video about judging rather than the other option.  I also don't think it was coincidence that yesterday was the day that I ended up talking to this person about all of this.  I believe God had some things to show me.  I believe God had some things for me to learn.  And I KNOW I needed to change my attitude!  So thankful that God knows exactly what I need and provides it - even before I know it!

Now to do it. . .