I don't do well sitting still. I'm always looking for what needs to be done; always attempting to stay ahead of the game, ahead of the day, ahead of my schedule. I find comfort in movement, in engagement, in planning. I find connection in relationships, in novels, online.
Stillness scares me. Or at least it used to.
Stillness.
Time to reflect. Time to confront emotions, both ugly and pure. Time to confront reality, the good and the bad. Time to confront intentions behind actions, hidden meanings behind words, desires behind facades.
Time to wrestle. Time to fight. Time to defend myself against the lies that beat on the periphery of my heart all day long; the ones I keep at bay by staying busy. Time to open myself to truth, no matter how painful or overwhelming it is. Time to allow the gaping hole in my heart to make its face known, time to be honest with my God.
Stillness.
Time to know. Time to love. Time to learn. Time to appreciate. Time to pray. Time to grow. Time to reflect. Time to heal. Time to confront. Time to change. Time to be alone.
Time to settle.
Time to stop looking for whatever it is that's coming next; to stop living as if life will begin when...fill in the blank. Time to be comfortable in my own skin, to be comfortable in my own company, to be comfortable in my own silence.
Time to simply be still.
Stillness.
I belive it's an important skill, I believe it's a necessary skill, and I believe it's a learned skill.
It makes me smile to think I'm only getting better at it.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Struggling.
I'm angry, and I'm finding myself in full-on "mama defense" mode.
My children and I have been on a wonderful vacation with my family for the past week. Their father was kind enough to give up his Wednesday evening visitation for our trip, and I worked hard to make sure we were home in time for his Saturday "parenting time" today.
He brought them home early. So he could see her.
He, of course, didn't tell me that (oh, the wonders of Facebook), but I'm not sure it even matters how he was planning on spending his evening. He gave up time with his kids, and it's not the first time a scenario like this has played out.
Maybe I'm blowing things out of proportion, maybe it's not really that big of a deal.
Or maybe I just can't help but think of things from my perspective: if I knew I only had limited time with my kids, I'd indulge every single second of it.
It comes as no surprise to me, and honestly doesn't phase me (much), that he would do something like this. This has, after all, been my life for the past year. What does surprise me, though, and what does get me deep in my core, is the fact that my precious children are now playing second fiddle to his relationship with her, to his "new" life.
My kids deserve so much better.
He has no idea that I know where he is tonight, and he'll never tell me. I can live with that. It is, after all, not really any of my business. I'll take the steps I need to take tonight to limit the information I receive via Facebook, and while the fighter in me longs to confront him on the issue, I'll probably just let it go.
I've got enough stuff of my own to work on.
This forgiveness gig isn't easy.
My children and I have been on a wonderful vacation with my family for the past week. Their father was kind enough to give up his Wednesday evening visitation for our trip, and I worked hard to make sure we were home in time for his Saturday "parenting time" today.
He brought them home early. So he could see her.
He, of course, didn't tell me that (oh, the wonders of Facebook), but I'm not sure it even matters how he was planning on spending his evening. He gave up time with his kids, and it's not the first time a scenario like this has played out.
Maybe I'm blowing things out of proportion, maybe it's not really that big of a deal.
Or maybe I just can't help but think of things from my perspective: if I knew I only had limited time with my kids, I'd indulge every single second of it.
It comes as no surprise to me, and honestly doesn't phase me (much), that he would do something like this. This has, after all, been my life for the past year. What does surprise me, though, and what does get me deep in my core, is the fact that my precious children are now playing second fiddle to his relationship with her, to his "new" life.
My kids deserve so much better.
He has no idea that I know where he is tonight, and he'll never tell me. I can live with that. It is, after all, not really any of my business. I'll take the steps I need to take tonight to limit the information I receive via Facebook, and while the fighter in me longs to confront him on the issue, I'll probably just let it go.
I've got enough stuff of my own to work on.
This forgiveness gig isn't easy.
Monday, July 13, 2009
My Place.
I'm a planner. Calendars, dates, lists, organizing...it's in my blood. I can multi-task with the best of the best, and not too much excites me like a brand new agenda book. I live in structure and thrive on routine. I could plan an entire year of events in one evening; I like to expect the expected.
Except sometimes, the expected doesn't happen.
And so I switch to Plan B.
For example:
"God, I really want to be married. More than anything, I want to provide my children with a daily example of what godly marriage looks like. I want to learn to love a man in a way that brings glory to Your name and produces a partnership that will rock this world with the love of Jesus. And it sucks that it's not happening with the father of my kids.
That's okay, though, God, because I believe You can redeem all things. I believe You can restore my life. I believe that You will return the wasted years. I believe that You are still in control."
So far, so good. But then I turn around and immediately try to take that control from His hands by telling him how and when and why and a million other details of how I think things ought to be done. I start planning.
It's like my survival mode.
And then I read this:
Then the LORD answered Job out of the storm. He said:
"Who is this that darkens my counsel with words without knowledge?
Brace yourself like a man; I will question you, and you shall answer me.
"Where were you when I laid the earth's foundation? Tell me, if you understand.
Who marked off its dimensions? Surely you know! Who stretched a measuring line across it?
On what were its footings set, or who laid its cornerstone-
while the morning stars sang together and all the angels shouted for joy?
"Who shut up the sea behind doors when it burst forth from the womb,
when I made the clouds its garment and wrapped it in thick darkness,
when I fixed limits for it and set its doors and bars in place,
when I said, 'This far you may come and no farther; here is where your proud waves halt'?
"Have you ever given orders to the morning, or shown the dawn its place,
that it might take the earth by the edges and shake the wicked out of it?
The earth takes shape like clay under a seal; its features stand out like those of a garment.
The wicked are denied their light, and their upraised arm is broken.
"Have you journeyed to the springs of the sea or walked in the recesses of the deep?
Have the gates of death been shown to you? Have you seen the gates of the shadow of death?
Have you comprehended the vast expanses of the earth? Tell me, if you know all this.
"What is the way to the abode of light? And where does darkness reside?
Can you take them to their places? Do you know the paths to their dwellings?
Surely you know, for you were already born! You have lived so many years!
"Have you entered the storehouses of the snow or seen the storehouses of the hail,
which I reserve for times of trouble, for days of war and battle?
What is the way to the place where the lightning is dispersed, or the place where the east winds are scattered over the earth?
Who cuts a channel for the torrents of rain, and a path for the thunderstorm,
to water a land where no man lives, a desert with no one in it,
to satisfy a desolate wasteland and make it sprout with grass?
Does the rain have a father? Who fathers the drops of dew?
From whose womb comes the ice? Who gives birth to the frost from the heavens
when the waters become hard as stone, when the surface of the deep is frozen?
"Can you bind the beautiful Pleiades? Can you loose the cords of Orion?
Can you bring forth the constellations in their seasons or lead out the Bear with its cubs?
Do you know the laws of the heavens? Can you set up God's dominion over the earth?
"Can you raise your voice to the clouds and cover yourself with a flood of water?
Do you send the lightning bolts on their way? Do they report to you, 'Here we are'?
Who endowed the heart with wisdom or gave understanding to the mind?
Who has the wisdom to count the clouds? Who can tip over the water jars of the heavens
when the dust becomes hard and the clods of earth stick together?
"Do you hunt the prey for the lioness and satisfy the hunger of the lions
when they crouch in their dens or lie in wait in a thicket?
Who provides food for the raven when its young cry out to God and wander about for lack of food?
And I'm reminded that I'm not the Master Planner. Almighty God, the Maker of heaven and earth, is still operating in Plan A. He's better at it than I am.
I'm put in my place.
I surrender it all, Father. Every dream, every desire, every detail. I believe that whatever it is You have in mind for my life, no matter how different it looks from my original plan (or my back-up plan, for that matter) is so much better than anything I could ever produce on my own.
I love You, Lord. Thank You for loving me.
Except sometimes, the expected doesn't happen.
And so I switch to Plan B.
For example:
"God, I really want to be married. More than anything, I want to provide my children with a daily example of what godly marriage looks like. I want to learn to love a man in a way that brings glory to Your name and produces a partnership that will rock this world with the love of Jesus. And it sucks that it's not happening with the father of my kids.
That's okay, though, God, because I believe You can redeem all things. I believe You can restore my life. I believe that You will return the wasted years. I believe that You are still in control."
So far, so good. But then I turn around and immediately try to take that control from His hands by telling him how and when and why and a million other details of how I think things ought to be done. I start planning.
It's like my survival mode.
And then I read this:
Then the LORD answered Job out of the storm. He said:
"Who is this that darkens my counsel with words without knowledge?
Brace yourself like a man; I will question you, and you shall answer me.
"Where were you when I laid the earth's foundation? Tell me, if you understand.
Who marked off its dimensions? Surely you know! Who stretched a measuring line across it?
On what were its footings set, or who laid its cornerstone-
while the morning stars sang together and all the angels shouted for joy?
"Who shut up the sea behind doors when it burst forth from the womb,
when I made the clouds its garment and wrapped it in thick darkness,
when I fixed limits for it and set its doors and bars in place,
when I said, 'This far you may come and no farther; here is where your proud waves halt'?
"Have you ever given orders to the morning, or shown the dawn its place,
that it might take the earth by the edges and shake the wicked out of it?
The earth takes shape like clay under a seal; its features stand out like those of a garment.
The wicked are denied their light, and their upraised arm is broken.
"Have you journeyed to the springs of the sea or walked in the recesses of the deep?
Have the gates of death been shown to you? Have you seen the gates of the shadow of death?
Have you comprehended the vast expanses of the earth? Tell me, if you know all this.
"What is the way to the abode of light? And where does darkness reside?
Can you take them to their places? Do you know the paths to their dwellings?
Surely you know, for you were already born! You have lived so many years!
"Have you entered the storehouses of the snow or seen the storehouses of the hail,
which I reserve for times of trouble, for days of war and battle?
What is the way to the place where the lightning is dispersed, or the place where the east winds are scattered over the earth?
Who cuts a channel for the torrents of rain, and a path for the thunderstorm,
to water a land where no man lives, a desert with no one in it,
to satisfy a desolate wasteland and make it sprout with grass?
Does the rain have a father? Who fathers the drops of dew?
From whose womb comes the ice? Who gives birth to the frost from the heavens
when the waters become hard as stone, when the surface of the deep is frozen?
"Can you bind the beautiful Pleiades? Can you loose the cords of Orion?
Can you bring forth the constellations in their seasons or lead out the Bear with its cubs?
Do you know the laws of the heavens? Can you set up God's dominion over the earth?
"Can you raise your voice to the clouds and cover yourself with a flood of water?
Do you send the lightning bolts on their way? Do they report to you, 'Here we are'?
Who endowed the heart with wisdom or gave understanding to the mind?
Who has the wisdom to count the clouds? Who can tip over the water jars of the heavens
when the dust becomes hard and the clods of earth stick together?
"Do you hunt the prey for the lioness and satisfy the hunger of the lions
when they crouch in their dens or lie in wait in a thicket?
Who provides food for the raven when its young cry out to God and wander about for lack of food?
And I'm reminded that I'm not the Master Planner. Almighty God, the Maker of heaven and earth, is still operating in Plan A. He's better at it than I am.
I'm put in my place.
I surrender it all, Father. Every dream, every desire, every detail. I believe that whatever it is You have in mind for my life, no matter how different it looks from my original plan (or my back-up plan, for that matter) is so much better than anything I could ever produce on my own.
I love You, Lord. Thank You for loving me.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Prodigal.
My three-year-old is sick. He's throwing up everywhere, he can't get comfortable in his bed, and he is (understandably) clingy and whiny and glued to my hip.
I love him.
But I'm exhausted.
And just a little bit angry.
And I'm about to launch into what may seem like a laundry list of complaints, but I need, more than anything, to get this bitterness out of my soul.
I feed my kids. I clothe them. I bathe them. I schedule therapy sessions and doctor's appointments. I read to them and discipline them and love on them and keep them entertained. I pray with them. I kiss their boos boos and I deal with their tantrums. I tuck them in at night and I rise with them every single morning. I take them to church. I take them to the park, to the pool, to the playground. I change diapers. I change underwear. I worry about them. I mother them.
I keep my house clean. I do laundry and I vacuum and I dust and I (sometimes) clean the bathrooms. I grocery shop. I pay the bills. I make and keep the budget. I get the dogs to the vet, I remember birthdays, I cut the grass. I pick up prescriptions. I remember to have the oil changed and the tires rotated. I try to shower.
I work outside the home, too.
And so sometimes, even though I wouldn't trade places with my ex-husband for anything, I feel an anger--a jealousy--rising up from somewhere deep within. I am here, at home, with my children, working my butt off on a daily basis, while he's relaxing at the beach on an adult-only vacation. I make decisions regarding faith, discipline, education, and family rules on my own; he plays with our children once a week and every other weekend. He has the opportunity to go to bed when he's tired, wake up when he feels like it, and catch a movie whenever it strikes his fancy. He can head to the gym without having to worry if his baby girl will cry in the nursery. He has someone to laugh with, to cry with, to listen as he bares his soul...I don't even know how to start dating. Somedays it just doesn't seem fair.
What an ugly paragraph.
I get how that older brother feels, though. It's not a pretty place to be.
How easy it can be to feel wronged, slighted, cheated out of what is rightfully mine. How simple it is to let jealousy take over, to chase after the wrong things, to think that this life is, indeed, all about me. How quickly I fall into the lie that I deserve more, that I deserve the party, and it is him alone who deserves the punishment. Not even close to being true.
What is true, though, is that God is telling me, just as he told the older brother, that He is always with me, and that everything He has is mine. And that is, most definitely, more than enough to keep the house clean and pay the bills and discipline the kids and build a godly family. It is better than an adult-only vacation, better than a boyfriend or a husband, better than sleeping in on a Saturday morning. It is the promise of provision, of sustenance, and of mercy. It is more than I could ask for, and so much more than I deserve.
And it's a perspective I'm working hard to adopt every minute of every day. It's not always easy, and I don't always get it right, but that doesn't make it any less true.
Hallelujah!
I love him.
But I'm exhausted.
And just a little bit angry.
And I'm about to launch into what may seem like a laundry list of complaints, but I need, more than anything, to get this bitterness out of my soul.
I feed my kids. I clothe them. I bathe them. I schedule therapy sessions and doctor's appointments. I read to them and discipline them and love on them and keep them entertained. I pray with them. I kiss their boos boos and I deal with their tantrums. I tuck them in at night and I rise with them every single morning. I take them to church. I take them to the park, to the pool, to the playground. I change diapers. I change underwear. I worry about them. I mother them.
I keep my house clean. I do laundry and I vacuum and I dust and I (sometimes) clean the bathrooms. I grocery shop. I pay the bills. I make and keep the budget. I get the dogs to the vet, I remember birthdays, I cut the grass. I pick up prescriptions. I remember to have the oil changed and the tires rotated. I try to shower.
I work outside the home, too.
And so sometimes, even though I wouldn't trade places with my ex-husband for anything, I feel an anger--a jealousy--rising up from somewhere deep within. I am here, at home, with my children, working my butt off on a daily basis, while he's relaxing at the beach on an adult-only vacation. I make decisions regarding faith, discipline, education, and family rules on my own; he plays with our children once a week and every other weekend. He has the opportunity to go to bed when he's tired, wake up when he feels like it, and catch a movie whenever it strikes his fancy. He can head to the gym without having to worry if his baby girl will cry in the nursery. He has someone to laugh with, to cry with, to listen as he bares his soul...I don't even know how to start dating. Somedays it just doesn't seem fair.
What an ugly paragraph.
I get how that older brother feels, though. It's not a pretty place to be.
How easy it can be to feel wronged, slighted, cheated out of what is rightfully mine. How simple it is to let jealousy take over, to chase after the wrong things, to think that this life is, indeed, all about me. How quickly I fall into the lie that I deserve more, that I deserve the party, and it is him alone who deserves the punishment. Not even close to being true.
What is true, though, is that God is telling me, just as he told the older brother, that He is always with me, and that everything He has is mine. And that is, most definitely, more than enough to keep the house clean and pay the bills and discipline the kids and build a godly family. It is better than an adult-only vacation, better than a boyfriend or a husband, better than sleeping in on a Saturday morning. It is the promise of provision, of sustenance, and of mercy. It is more than I could ask for, and so much more than I deserve.
And it's a perspective I'm working hard to adopt every minute of every day. It's not always easy, and I don't always get it right, but that doesn't make it any less true.
Hallelujah!
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