31 Days: #27 Falling short as a mom

The other morning we got half-way to school and I noticed that #4's hair looked like a bird's nest. So if his hair was undone I figured other things were, too. I soon found out he didn't brush his teeth, either. I didn't check to see if he was wearing socks because I didn't even want to know.

Those what-kind-of-mother-am-I thoughts hit me hard during moments such as these, thoughts like how I've not taught my children great organizational skills. How I've not modeled wise time management. How I fear they'll grow up to freak out the in the same ways I do.

I worry when they grow up their houses will look like their rooms. And smell like their rooms. I cringe thinking their socks might be pink for the rest of their lives. And how when they think back to Sunday dinners they might only remember bowls of cereal.

But later in the day I read a prayer a mother prayed over her children and one line moved me to tears. May they be Your disciples.

And I realized then that this is all I really want for my kids. May they be His disciples. Even if I do fall short as their mother, what does it matter because all I really want is for them to know Jesus and to follow Him all the days of their lives. 

And by the grace of God they will, in spite of an imperfect upbringing filled with pink socks, bird-nest hair, and cereal for supper. Lord, may they all grow up to follow You.

*This post is part of a series running through the month of October 2011. Read from the beginning here.  Find the other 31-Dayers here.

31 Days: #23 The burden of unforgiveness

I got an email recently from a reader that said something like, "I read your stories, but I still don't know exactly what happened."

That's because I've never written about what actually happened. And I'm not sure why because if we could meet for coffee I would tell you everything. I would tell you that it wasn't an accident or an illness, but a choice. A selfish decision that wrought untold devastation upon our family. A hasty act that left me a widow and his children fatherless.

He took his own life. And when he did, it changed ours forever. I couldn't have known how hard it would be to forgive something so huge. Hurting me is one thing, but hurting my children? The agony of that reaches depths I never imagined.

I couldn't have understood how it feels having a wound that never really heals. A wound where you never know who or what is going to knock the scab off and then you have the mess to deal with all over again. A thousand times over, again.

I couldn't have realized how utterly beyond my control this life really is. How people you love and need and depend on can leave you in cruel ways, just like that and it's over and there's no hope of closure.

Yet the Lord says I must forgive, and I know it's more for my good than for the good of a person who'll never know this side of Heaven. Unforgiveness is an awfully heavy burden to carry.

So I ponder how my children have suffered, and then I remember how I hurt His Child but how He forgives me for it. I think about this wound that wears no band-aid and how it keeps me running to the Great Physician whose healing love does miracles. I reflect on how the pain of it all has taught me to relinquish control to the only One who knows what He's doing.

And one thing He's doing now is teaching me to be more like Him. So I will follow my Healer's example and forgive. Not only for one selfish act on one day, but for all future hurts, holes, sorrows, anger, bad memories, everything yet to happen as a result. I forgive him for it all, in the name of Jesus.

{I feel lighter already.}

"...Forgive, and you will be forgiven .... A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you." Luke 6:37-38

*This post is part of a series running through the month of October 2011. Read from the beginning here.  Find the other 31-Dayers here.

31 Days: #10 Legalism

This past Wednesday night I stayed home from church, and I didn't really have a good reason to except that I was tired and just wanted some time to myself.

So I sent the kids on and settled in for a relaxing evening, but it wasn't long before the guilt crept in. It's the same guilt that has kept me faithful as a church attendee for my entire adulthood.

So as that oppressive cloud settled in over me and squelched my plans for the night, I pondered what was really going on and thought about all the ways I've let this guilt control me in the past. It's a wonderful thing to attend church every time the doors are open. And I suppose that if one has no other motivation, going out of sense of duty is better than not going at all.

But guilt as a motivator doesn't set well with me anymore. I'm tired of failing to measure up to this unspoken list of legalistic standards. I'm weary of trying to adhere to the very rules Jesus died to obliterate. Who is this judge that guilt-trips me, anyway?

I'm thinking it's me. So I hereby reject legalism in favor of just plain loving Jesus.

Lord, may I pay my tithe not out of obligation, but because I love You and want to further the ministry of Your Kingdom ...  

May I serve You not because I can't say no, but because it brings me joy to use the gifts You've given me ...  

May I find my identity not in my past, but in You. So what if I've been divorced before? Your blood has washed me holy-white and I don't have to answer to anybody for it (including the Church) ...  

May I look at others not in judgment, but with eyes of compassion. May I see them as You do and love them with Your love ... 

May I never again drag my exhausted self to church out of guilt, but let me go instead because I crave fellowship with Your people and I'm absolutely desperate for Your rejuvenating presence ...

So bring on the conviction, Lord, but may the self-condemnation be gone forever, in Jesus name. 

I'm done with religion. You don't need it when you have relationship.

For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus has made me free from the law of sin and death. Romans 8:2

231. I gave my talk and God showed up

232. three-day weekends

233. thundershowers

234. new friends

235. welcoming hearts

236. friends you can text "PRAY" to and they will, even if they don't know why

237. new curtains and how they can transform a room

238. His leading

239. quiet days to myself

240. Pier One and Pottery Barn catalogs (I can always dream)

241. He set me free

245. reconnecting with old friends

246. pears

247. seafood enchiladas at Rockfish (heavenly)

248. deep, dreamless sleep

249. a rekindled desire to eat healthfully

250. the sound of RAIN hitting the roof, and once again drought is ended. Amen.

.

*This post is part of a series running through the month of October 2011. Read from the beginning here.  Find the other 31-Dayers here

31 Days: #7 Hiding my mess-ups

Big Brother came into the room and asked Little Brother, "Did you take the batteries out of my remote?". His "no" came a little too quickly, and I smelled a rat. Batteries are a precious commodity around our house, especially to my video game-loving boys.

So I went to questioning. "Did you take them? Think hard before you answer. It's better to admit what you did and then say you're sorry."

He paused and I stared harder, and then came his barely audible "Yes" ... and off he went to set things right. It's comical sometimes, seeing what they try to get away with. Still, stealing isn't funny, and neither is lying about it.

Why is it so hard to admit it when we mess up? Why do we scramble to hide the truth when the agony of trying to cover our mistakes is such a poor substitute for the benefit gained in saying "I'm wrong"? Burying things can make us miserable.

I was ten years old and a friend and I were in a K-mart restroom stall together when she took a marker out of her purse and went to writing on the stall door. I couldn't believe it! I was scared to death and should've run, but I stayed. And helped out a little. I don't remember what we wrote, but I do remember it was quite thrilling despite the butterflies in my stomach.

But the thrill came to a halt when we saw a K-mart worker approaching us a few minutes later. As it turned out, she'd been only a few stalls down and heard the "squeak" of our marker moving across the wall. So she walked right up to my friend's mother and accused us of vandelism. I wanted to die a thousand deaths on the spot. But then I looked over at my friend and her response dumbfounded me. She simply said, "Nope, it wasn't us." She sounded so innocent, and again, I couldn't believe it.

So moments later I followed her into the suitcase department and watched her glance both ways then poke that marker between two bags so we wouldn't get caught with the evidence. And somehow or another, we got away with the whole thing.

But I didn't, really, because I worried about it for years. I'm sure I told the Lord I was sorry, but I definitely didn't tell another human soul. And I lived in terror that my friend would. So I learned even then that there is no peace in burying our mistakes.

Something supernatural happens when we admit we're wrong. Somehow it helps us make peace with the consequences we're likely to suffer, and it releases us from the turmoil of hiding our mess-ups.

I wish I could go back and make amends for the the countless apologies I should've made but didn't. And I'd love to have back even a fraction of the energy I've wasted trying to cover it all up. But what relief it is to know I don't have to hide from the One who sees all, knows all, and whose Grace freely flows into the deepest recesses of my shame-filled heart.

So I can't go back, but from now on I can make it my mission to say "I did it, and I'm sorry". It's just easier.

*This post is part of a series running through the month of October 2011. Read from the beginning here.  Find the other 31-Dayers here.

31 Days: #3 Lamenting my past

I loathe it, I will always loathe it, and seems at times I'll never find peace for all this loathing of it. I never, ever wanted my past to look the way it does. A little girl doesn't grow up expecting to one day bear the shame of two failed marriages. Yet here I am, and in a few days I'll be forty years old and single.

Single. Much of the time my heart yearns to know why. What's wrong with me that they didn't want to stay?

But I know exactly why so I go listing the reasons and they are endless. Then I curse my imperfections and I dwell and I blame myself, even for things that happened beyond my control. So many mistakes, and I suffer and my kids suffer and I don't want to swallow any of it but it's like the vilest liquid being force-poured into me and it burns all the way down. And the question haunts me again, Why didn't I do things differently? 

But then ...

I remember Grace. Peace fills me as I think of that blessed day when my past was nailed to the Cross. I weep thankful tears because of what the deepest part of me knows, that His Blood covers it all, both the things that were my fault and the things that weren't. I rest in that promise He made me--beauty for ashes. I hope again as I claim His plans to prosper me and not harm me. And I know He meant it for my kids, too, and everything has to be alright because He's always working.

Then I hear that familiar, unfailing whisper, only this time I really listen. Let it go and look at Me, beloved.

So once again I fling those chains off and run to Him with all the strength I can muster, and I do let it all go because He doesn't remember it anymore so why should I? Then I'm a bride all over again and I turn my eyes toward the face of the Husband who loves me so, and all I see is the only Thing worth remembering.

Behold, I will make all things new. Rev. 21:5

216. amazing, matchless Grace
217. curly pumpkin stems
218. the Fort Worth stockyards
219. Christian musicians who aren't afraid to be bold about their faith in secular settings
220. the wisdom of God-given friends
221. new boots
222.Target clothing sales
223. beautiful fall produce
224. HEB's free sushi samples
225. and their curbside grocery-loading service
226. fun new 31-Dayer friends
227. the way He works it all out how you least expect Him to
228. it's October! (my fave month)
229. the way writing about your battles help you figure out ways to conquer them
230. sitting outside on these cool mornings and how it feels a little bit like Heaven on earth. Amen.

*This post is part of a series running through the month of October 2011. Read from the beginning here.  Find the other 31-Dayers here.

Loving when it hurts

We have a really cute miniature Schnauzer puppy named Samson. But poor Samson encountered a misfortune in the cuteness department this week. His fur had gotten really long and scraggly, so one of my daughters trimmed his beard and eyebrows a little. I thought she did a really good job, so I asked her to even it up just a wee bit more.

The next time I saw Samson, he had no beard or eyebrows left. 

I have to be honest. It hurt to look at him. He was ugly as sin! A Schnauzer without a beard or eyebrows is one dawg-ugly dog. And it was like he knew it because he hid under the piano for a long time afterwards. But ever since his little mishap, he's seemed sweeter to me. He comes up to me and puts his little paws on my legs and just looks at me, saying with his eyes, "Please love me anyway!".

Sweet little doggie. It's not his fault he's ugly. But even in his pitiful state, he just wants to be loved. Aren't we all that way? We just want others to love us, despite our ugliness. Despite the mistakes we've made. Despite the imperfect love we have to offer in return. 

It seems everywhere I turn, I see people who are unhappy with each other. I go to the grocery store and hear parents and children talking disrespectfully to each other. In Starbucks, I hear a husband berating his wife. Outside a restaurant, I hear a boyfriend calling his girlfriend ugly names. In my own life, I see people I love letting anger, pride, and unforgiveness come between them. I have dealt with relationship problems for much of my life, but these days, seeing others hurt from the same kind of pain just breaks my heart.

A while back I wrote a post on unforgiveness, which fostered some good discussion in other venues. Admittedly, I'm not very merciful by nature...but I wish I were, because God commands us to forgive. It seems people just want to blame each other. It seems they just sit around waiting for the other person to apologize. But I have learned the hard way that showing mercy has nothing to do with my offender, and everything to do with me.

What if the offender isn't sorry? What if their pride stands in the way of an apology? What if their anger is masking the truth and they can't even recognize their part in causing the strained relationship? Is there ever a good reason to deny someone mercy? 

That isn't the example Jesus set for us. He loves me no matter what I do--and I know I must be hard to love, for reasons that go far beyond a bad haircut.

I want to follow His example. I want to love others with the agape of God. He is the One True Example of what it means to love. He loves me when I'm ugly. He loves me when I make bad choices. He loves me when I hurt Him. He loves me when I'm blind to my own faults. He loves me even when I haven't yet realized all that I need to be sorry for. His love is real, steadfast, and unconditional. It's the kind of love I pray we open up our hearts to receive, and may it flow freely out of us and into the hearts of others. 

I believe that His love is the key to getting along with others. May His love cover the ugliness in our relationships. May His love cover our mistakes and theirs.

Love (the agape of God, that is) never, EVER fails. (1 Corinthians 13:8)

Grace that covers my messes

The other day my younger daughter got in trouble because of her messy room. It was a catastrophe in there, and things got even worse once she started cleaning. At one point, when I looked in to find that the chaos had multiplied, I almost blew a gasket. Just seeing it sent my blood pressure soaring.

But she really does have an affinity for organization (if rarely tapped into), so after working on it for awhile, she cleared a lot of the clutter away, and things started looking pretty good. The next time I walked by, I saw quite a lot of improvement, so I let it go.

Sometimes I look at my life and see that the mess I've made of things is pretty unbelievable, too. One poorly made decision can lead us down a path of untold heartache. Then we try to fix our mess the best we know how, but we make things worse instead of better. Maybe we don't seek the Lord's help, for whatever reason (shame, pride, ignorance, etc.). In fact, I've known a lot of people who've actually been mad at God because of their circumstances. I empathize with irrational thinking of various types, but so far I haven't gotten mad at God.

The person I blame for my mess is me. I'm the one who didn't always seek His will for my life. I'm the one who failed to choose the route leading me to a life of His very best for me. I really have messed up in a big way, and it overwhelms me often. Sometimes the consequences of an ill-chosen path are enough to chasten us into doing better next time, because it's never fun to clean up a mess.

But I serve a gracious God. I can go to Him with my catastrophes and beg Him to help me fix things. And He shows me His abounding grace time after time and leads me out of the mayhem. He clears away my clutter, He helps me figure out how to go about reorganizing and prioritizing things, and He gets me back on track (His track).

Thinking back, I wish I'd shown my daughter grace the other day. I wish I'd helped her clean up the mess instead of getting upset about all the bad choices she'd made to let things get to that point. What would my life be like if the Lord came down as hard on me for my bad decisions?

I'm definitely not my children's best example of how not to make messes, nor am I skilled at cleaning them up. But my Gracious God accomplishes His purposes in me anyway--in spite of me.

And He said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness...."   2 Corinthians 12:9a

What's in the heart?

Recently someone wrote something mean about me---something that suggested that I don't live the things I write about. When I read it, my heart sank and I got that cannon-ball-in-the-stomach feeling. But a scripture instantly came to mind:

But You, O Lord, are a Shield about me, my glory, and the One who lifts my head. (Psalm 3:3)

I tried for days to dwell on this scripture and not be hurt by the cutting words. I tried very hard---and I did well in the beginning. I do believe He is my Shield. If He wasn't, I'd be in trouble. I realize that I can't put myself out there the way I do on this blog and not expect readers to take issue with me at times, or to see that I fall short regarding the topics I write about. I know that people who open themselves up publicly like I'm doing need a thick skin.

Sometimes when others hurt us, the initial shock is numbing. Maybe we're fine at first, but then the memory of what hurt us keeps coming to mind, and we are more affected by it. I've tried to tell myself that this person's comment didn't hurt... but the fact is, it did hurt. It hurt deeply. Today, two weeks later, all I've wanted to do is cry about it. What was only a scratch in the beginning has grown to be quite a deep wound. My skin just isn't very thick at all.

In the past couple of years I have been faced with so much accusation, so much blame, so much heartache over the untrue things that others believe about me---and I've been learning some hard lessons in forgiveness. I'm just a regular person who messes up often, redeemed and living by grace, trying to please God and do what's right in His sight...but things don't always appear that way to others.

We can look at someone and take what we see at face value. But that doesn't mean we know their heart.

Perhaps this is one way I can grow through these painful experiences of judgment and blame. I've always heard that you shouldn't judge a book by its cover. But I do. Oh, I definitely do. And I don't want to anymore, because my experience tells me that things just aren't always as they seem.

Lord, help me know You as my Shield. This hurts, but I know You are here to comfort me. Help me allow You to do just that. And help me remember that things aren't necessarily the way they appear. Help me not forget that only You can know another person's heart. Help me to love others with Your love and to let You do the judging. Amen.

Father, forgive me

I'm unsettled over the death of Osama bin Laden. When I first heard the news, I felt apprehensive about what might happen next. But then I got on Facebook and started reading all the celebratory status updates, and, frankly, I felt sick to my stomach. I know he committed unspeakable acts that costs thousands of lives. I know he deserved to die. I understand that his death is considered a huge step forward for our nation in the war on terrorism. I just wonder if we as Christians should be celebrating someone's death, regardless of the circumstances. I can't get excited about someone's eternal separation from God, no matter who he is or what he's done. Jesus died to save all of us. How tragic when someone refuses the gift of His salvation. I deserve hell, too, but praise God I've been redeemed.

As I've pondered these things, I've thought a lot about forgiveness. I personally feel that forgiving others is the most difficult thing God calls us to do. Forgiving is never easy for me even when I'm walking in love, but when I'm in the flesh it's impossible.

When I was a younger person, I loved to hold grudges. Someone could apologize and I didn't accept it if I wasn't through being angry yet. It took me years to understand that unforgiveness hurts me more than it does my offender. I always used to want them to suffer the way I had, so the longer I could hold out on extending mercy, the better. I'm so ashamed. Who was I to withhold forgiveness from someone who was truly sorry when Jesus forgives me the instant I ask Him to and casts my sins as far as the east is from the west?

But what about when someone hurts you and they aren't even sorry? In this case, forgiveness requires pure determination. It is absolutely a decision we make. It's not a feeling--that's for sure. Life can be so cruel in its unfairness sometimes. People misjudge us. They wrongly accuse us. Much of the time they don't care to know our perspective and they believe things about us that just aren't true. And it's so difficult to just be okay with that and forgive, especially when they continue to hurt us and it keeps on hurting.

Sometimes the people we need to forgive are gone from this earth. How are we supposed to forgive then? We certainly won't get an apology. I've stood in front of someone's picture and screamed questions of "why?" and "how could you?", knowing I'll never get an answer and things will never be resolved. I live daily with the consequences of someone's devastating decision made in haste, and the only thing left to do is forgive, ask God for a new start, and forge ahead. Much of the time I have to start over every day and ask Him to help me forgive all over again. I pray that some day I'll be "grown up" enough spirituallly to succeed once and for all, but I do know that forgiveness has nothing to do with my offender and everything to do with me.

Luke 23:34  Then Jesus said, "Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they do."

I'm not very good at this forgiving thing, but I would love to be as good at it as Jesus is. And what deepens this desire in me is to picture my Savior dying on a cross. I see Him shedding His blood to cleanse me of my sin. I hear Him pleading for me... "Father, forgive Amy, for she knows not what she does....". I know I don't even realize all that I have done to put Jesus on the cross.

I hurt Him; He forgives me. Without exception.

Who am I, then, not to forgive? To say "they don't deserve it" or "they aren't even sorry" or "they hurt me too deeply" seems so lame when I remember what Jesus did for me. Whatever it might cost me to forgive others will never in any way compare to what it cost Him to forgive me. Help me, Lord, to live by Your example.

Who He is to me

This past Palm Sunday, my pastor posed the question ,"Who is Jesus to you?". What a worthy question to ponder with Easter quickly approaching. I am absolutely overcome when I think about who Jesus is and all He has come to mean to me. It's so easy to take Him for granted, but He's much, much more than just a man who died on a cross.

I can't believe what He did for me. Utterly blameless and without sin, He bore all my shame, all my sin, every evil thought, every ugly thing I have ever done or ever will do. He was the pure and spotless Lamb of God, yet He was beaten and tortured as though He were responsible for all the sin of the world across the entire span of time, from beginning to end. Just thinking of what He suffered due to my sin alone brings me to tears and brokenness.

His precious blood was poured out for me on a cruel cross, and by His wounds I am healed and justified and redeemed. When He looks at me He sees me as spot-free and without blemish. I can't even fathom how this is possible because I know me. I know all the ugliness in my heart. I know my ungodly thoughts and actions. Yet through His sacrifice He has purified me and made me as white and innocent and clean and holy as He is. I am so unworthy.

He fills the void in our home and makes up for everything that's missing. When I hear a beautiful love song that makes me want to cry, He fills that empty place in my dreams left by the man who might have sung to me. When I get one of those silly personal survey emails and read that heartbreaking "Who is the love of your life?" question, Jesus is my answer. He's the One whose unfailing love brings healing to my broken heart. Gentle and lowly, He is the true picture of genuine humility. Jesus lovingly encourages me to take His yoke and hand Him my burdens. He yearns for me to cry out to Him, and He faithfully runs to me even when I refuse to run to Him. Corrie ten Boom said it so well..."You can never learn that Christ is all you need until He is all you have."

Jesus is the One by Whom I have all authority over the enemy. He defeated all the powers of hell through His death and resurrection, and His every victory also belongs to me through the shedding of His blood on the cross. The mere mention of His name brings healing, peace, comfort, wisdom, direction, and rest. He still does miracles, even today. He is right there with me in the furnace and through every fire, and he goes to battle for me without fail. Jesus is the One whose arms are around me when others cause me pain. I am in Him, and when my enemies hurt me, He shields me and protects me and makes it all bearable.

Jesus is the One I want others to see when they see me. He is the One I want others to hear when I speak. I want to know Him more, and I want to love others with His love. I don't understand why God sent His precious Son to this cruel world so that I might have abundant life. I have children, and I know how much it hurts me when they suffer even a tiny little scratch. How painful it must have been for my Father in heaven to watch all His Son endured. And all for the likes of me. I don't deserve it.

I haven't the vocabulary to articulate all that Jesus really is to me, so let me just say that Jesus astounds me every single day with His amazing love. He is worthy of all my praise, and if I tried for the rest of my life, I would never be able to praise Him like He deserves. I fail Him every day, but He never, ever fails me. His grace and mercy flows abundantly into every part of my life every time I fall short, covering me, cleansing me, and making me new. He overwhelms me; He is my Everything.