Ode to Joy (Lessons from 2013)

2013 has taught me more than any other year of living. Well, perhaps that is not true, it just stuck this time around...

I have learned that beautiful-sweet things begin with dirt, in dirt; flowers, people, pineapples...all began in dirt. Life will bloom towards the direction of the light, and any un-kept garden with warrior weeds will not live, but die.

Children are like flowers: they need light, and fresh air to thrive.
I am children.

There is a Comfort that cannot be squelched, a Refuge, a Strength that cannot be shaken by any storm. Comfort cannot be recognized without upheaval and without upheaval there is no need to seek a refuge. A need for strength cannot be recognized without first admitting gaping, impossible needs, struggles and weakness.
Grace does not exist without failures. Thank you, God, for my failures, my weaknesses, my painful awareness of my hypocrisy, for it is only by these things I have learned your grace.

Against all odds, life will resurface. LIFE cannot be buried, burnt, beaten out or down...because, you see, LIFE conquered the grave in the resurrection of Jesus...the LIFE I have.

The whispered, repeated name of Jesus is the only thing to help a child sleep, some nights.

I have come to believe that I am the righteous; not because I actually am, but because God says so through sentences spilled on a cross with blood red ink. His promises are for me. I can take Him at His word.

Life can be simple. Always. I'm serious about that. No matter the complications and brokenness, living is made simple by this: love the Lord your God with all of your heart, with all of your mind, and with all of your strength.
Seeking God's face to the point of exhaustion is not possible. It cannot come to that, as there is too much life there, and too much living to be healed in His presence...

Jesus never corrected anyone and left them without their dignity (unless their hearts were already hard, like the Pharisees). His ways of correction do not condemn, but restore.

I have learned that Jesus trusted the veracity of the testimony of his resurrection to women, and what that means...and how it changes my life.

Praying is a love language. Music is a love language. The moon is a love letter.

I have learned how to keep myself from crying...finally. And I have learned to weep. I have learned there is a worship in silent-grieving sobs, with no breath between, in broken hallelujahs. What else would one bellow once delivered?

I have learned the joy in moments of "firsts" with my children, and the sorrow in the "last" moments...that I miss every day. The last time my daughter needed help standing came and went without me. The last moment my son needed help turning the sink on...I missed these and so much more. I have learned that I love my children with a fierce love, and it is no longer motivated by guilt, but gratitude.

I have learned what a broken heart is when I drop them off at daycare. I learn this every-single-day.
I have learned the joy in holding them again at the end of the day, when I am exhausted, and the ability I have to give more when I have nothing left to give. I learn this every-single-day.

It is never the time to kick a man, but especially when he is already down.

Meekness is power under control.

God is the Author of my faith. It is HE who began a GOOD work in me, and it is HIM who will see it to completion.

I can cease my striving, and know that He. Is. God.
He. Is. Good.
He Is I AM.

I have learned that building a house on the sand will only always lead to a great fall. A home that's fallen reaches many hearts. It breaks them all. Breaks them. But God can fix and heal those wounded much more so than I ever could. I just need to obey His prompts...and build on the Rock.

He has the whole world in His hands.

I have learned to let go. I am learning what selfless love is, what it feels like, and how painful it can be; and, how wonderful it is to see someone bloom, grow and heal...even if you can't be a part of it.

I have learned to hang on. To hold on. To wait, and to go.

Pride destroys.
Burdens can be lifted.
Of self-righteous sinners, I am truly the worst.
Tithe.
The only things guaranteed to me are God's love and salvation.
I have learned what being a good friend is (because of the incredible friends in my life), and that family is a room you can just sit in...and be...whatever you ARE.

I have learned salt preserves, melts ice, dissolves concrete, flavors and causes a body to retain water. I have come to believe that maybe, just maybe, I am the salt of the earth.

My treasure is truly where my heart is. My heart is truly where my treasure is. My living does not lie about what my treasure is, and sometimes this mortifies me.

God knows.
God is not mad at me.

God prunes the dead vines away, so that they no longer steal life and nutrients from going to the fruit.

His sheep know His voice.

I fear only that which can take my soul and keep me from living life in the Spirit. The truest thing I want...is peace.

I will win the battles I am intended to win; and, that is not all of them.

The memories of my wedding day will always be sweet to me; and, that's as it should be. The stories of grace strewn throughout my marriage will always be sweet to me; and that's as it should be.

I am not the rain maker.

Don't step in; step back.

God has woken the mourning up in me...and with it- comes the MORNING. Tomorrow. New Year. New Life.
...and every day is that way...we compose an Ode to Joy, or to something else.

I choose joy.

What If God Allows More Than We Can Handle?

1 Corinthians 10:13
"No temptation has seized you except what is common to man. And God is faithful.; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can stand up under it."

I can't tell you how many times I have heard: "God will never give you more than you can handle."
What wonderful encouragement! What a true, spoken word, from a heart that longs to offer comfort in to a, somewhat, hopeless-looking situation. There is sincere warmth and sympathy in these offerings from others. I have said those words 9,456 times myself. But what if we are wrong about that? What if God does allow more in our lives than we can handle? Look at the verse again:

"...he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear."

The statement "God will not give you more than you can handle," comes from this verse found in 1 Corinthians; but, I do not believe it is entirely applicable in the way I have heard it (and have used it) before.

The verse does not say, "God will not give you more than you can handle," (in terms of heartache, burdens, loss, disappointments) which is the context most people offer these terms of endearment within.
Lose a job? "God will not give you more than you can handle."
Lose a spouse? "God will not give you more than you can handle."
You get the idea.

But, if God will never allow more in to my life than I can handle, then why do I need God?

I'll tell you why: because the verse clearly says he will not allow us to be tempted beyond what we can bear, but when we are (not if), HE will provide the way out. I need him because I will have too much to handle on my own; and, when I am tempted to believe I can, or cannot, do it, I need him. He will be my way home again. He will be perspective. He will be the way out when I am tempted to believe I "have been given too much to handle."

When I am tempted to believe that I have been given more than I can handle, Truth offers the way out by saying, "You can you can do all things, because I am your strength."
Philippians 4:13

When I think I have been given too much to handle, I am tempted to believe I will be flooded and consumed by heartache. Truth offers the way out by saying, "Yes, the floods are coming. The fire is hot. But, I will protect you. I have redeemed you. I have summoned you by name. You. Are. Mine."
Isaiah 43: 1b-2

When I am emotionally driven, my heart condemns and deceives me. I am tempted to follow my heart. Truth offers the way out by saying, "Don't follow your heart. Your heart doesn't know the way. I do."
1 John 3:20

When I fear that admitting pain will leave me undone, I am tempted to rationalize my way through profound grief. Truth offers the way out by saying, "Grieve. I consider your grief and take it in hand. You sow in tears, but you will reap in joy."
Psalm 10:14;  Psalm 126:5

When I think I have been given too much to handle, I am tempted to believe I am defeated. Truth offers a way out by saying, "I have overcome the world in which these trials exist. And you are more than a conqueror. You ARE hard pressed on every side, perplexed, and struck down; but, you are NOT crushed, not in despair, not abandoned, and not destroyed."
John 16:33; Romans 8:37; 2 Corinthians 4:8-9

When I want to make my own way out, I am tempted to rely on my understanding to evade crooked paths; my understanding that is limited and feeble. Truth offers a way out by saying, "Your understanding is not the thing that will make your paths straight."
Proverbs 3:5-6

Being tempted to believe we've been given more than we can handle is an intimate invitation that reads:
"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest."
Matthew 11:28

There's a space

this is my story and i still don't think it's mine to tell. i don't understand that yet. so i will unwrap it in grammatically incorrect and cryptic pieces. vulnerably, tearfully. i will tell it someday. not today.

there is a space where people used to be...
in my wedding dress. at the kitchen table. on the porch. there is space in the garage. in the closet. the chair by the front door.

in my bed. in my children's beds--this weekend.

i notice my son's whale shark on the rack in the basement. been looking for that for 8 months. wet boot tracks again on the floor. snow is coming. snow is here.

the table i ate at when i was a child with my mother. just my mother and i. and now i will eat there with my children. just my children and i. it's dirty and chipped.

it's home.

a light bulb bursts in the bathroom. one of four lit. porch light out. again. where are my grandfather's screwdrivers? this luggage isn't even mine. graduation gifts used on the honeymoon.

i wasn't wrong for believing.

hours behind a screen of choice. like someone was listening. i think that's all that mattered those nights, was if someone was listening. i'm sorry for every time it wasn't me. and i would also say thank you, but it would come out wrong.

cold baths and the fear of being alone when i wasn't alone. and i knew it. i could feel something that night like there was an uninvited guest in my home. and there was.

rehearsed pleas in may. cries to God in june. recorded cinderella prayers in july. the hope of august. flood in september like dead bees on the beach the day we got married. october winds against oaks to shape them. the oasis of november came in the desert. where else?

there's just a sadness that comes, sometimes.
the breath will leave and i cannot even cry about it. any. more.

but in the bones of this home, there remains the breath of God.
the hope of winter passing will never leave me.

december came as promised. the space is here, where people should be.