pain AND gain

Yesterday she became a teenager.

Look at that smile.

It can light up any space.  She can look at you with eyes so clear that you would swear she knew your every thought.

So much of her face and features remind me of my side of the family....except her eyes.  Her eyes are the size of big almonds.  Just like her daddy. 

She really likes ice cream.

She likes to watch the Food Network with me.

She loves swaying on a porch swing.

Certain people can make her laugh uncontrollably just by the mere mention of their name.

We have figured out that purple is her favorite color.

This year we have seen some great progress.  She has done so well with her braces. 

She seems to be more motivated at times to do things that she has not done before.

We praise God for each and every little new thing we see....

Her birthday always conjures up tough memories.

It was the glorious day that I became a Mother.

I will never forget holding her for the first time. (It was actually 2 days after she was born and after I came out of a comatose state) All I could do was stare.  Each feature was so delicate and perfect and tiny.  She was gorgeous and smelled new.  Somehow the tubes and the fact that she was in the NICU seemed beyond me.  SHE was all I could see.

For the next 2 months I sat in that same NICU and drank her in. 

I learned about my "different" little girl.

We learned how to care for her and what the potential future might hold.

But here we sit 13 years later.....

There has been pain. There is still pain. Daily.

Shep and I are somewhat used to it now.  We go through the motions because what else is there to do?

G-tube feeds 4 times a day.....diaper changes every few hours....manual bathing....wiping drool....watching her flail when she can't express herself.....loading and unloading wheelchair/equipment when everyone else just walks on by...

All of that is painful. 

And today I am not even going to touch the emotional part of the pain.  But you can imagine.
Missed milestones.  Missed conversations.  Missed moments that you always imagine.

Thinking back to the beginning of this journey~ there was so much shock and a chronic feeling of being overwhelmed.  All the time. 

Doctors offices were the norm.  Weight issues, eye issues, brain injury issues, feeding issues....instead of enjoying a new baby girl it felt like we lived in a world of issues beyond our control.

I descended into such a deep pit of despair.  I stayed there for a while.

I nursed an offense toward God.  A serious offense.

I could not believe He (in His providential wisdom) had chosen this overwhelming all consuming and painful course for my life.

Anyway, like I said, life was just bigger than we could handle.  It seemed as though my senses could only see, hear, taste, touch, and feel PAIN. 

The slow process of allowing God access into the deep hurt places of my heart put me on the long road of healing.

His Word alone healed me.

Period.

His Word spoke hope into the hollow places that echoed with fear and uncertainty.

His Word helped my faith grow.

His Word gave me patience and perspective to persevere.

His Word forced light to shine on those that I needed to forgive.

His Word reminded me that He can do anything.

His Word began to abide within my very bones.

His Word changed me.

It is still changing me.

Only in recent years have I really begun to see that all of this pain has really been about the gain.

Oh goodness so much gain.

I can hardly contain it when I really think about all of the blessings that have showered down from heaven in the midst of pain.

The gain of faith.
The gain of courage.
The gain of compassion.
The gain of hope.
The gain of perspective.
The gain of people.
The gain of a testimony.
The gain of vulnerability.
The gain of experience.
The gain of joy.
The gain of growth.
The gain of depth.
The gain of genuine worship,
The gain of keeping on keeping on.

The gain...of pain.

Romans 8:31-39

"What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things? Who shall bring any charge against God’s elect? It is God who justifies. Who is to condemn? Christ Jesus is the one who died—more than that, who was raised—who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword? As it is written,

“For your sake we are being killed all the day long;
we are regarded as sheep to be slaughtered.”

No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord."

---

Fresh Bread

There is a dear friend in my life that puts me to shame with her cooking skills. 

She just goes for it.  She isn't afraid to cook anything too hard or too time consuming or with too many ingredients. 

Usually those sitting around her table are glad for it.

But she recently taught me how to use a bread machine and prepare fresh baked yeast rolls for my family.

I must say...without hesitation...that fresh baked bread is something quite special. 

It is warm and sweet and savory all at the same time.  

Recently I was reading through a devotion book.  The NLT bible pointed out that a priest offered David (a man on the run for his life) the only food he had...the holy bread. 

This would have been the Bread of Presence.  It was placed before the Lord once a week in the tabernacle.

We don't typically make big deals about certain foods being holy unto the Lord.  But this bread would have been just that.  Incredibly holy. 

This bread was laid before the Lord out of reverence and obedience.

And here....David (frenzied and probably freaking out because the king had a bounty on his head) was being offered THIS bread for sustenance.

I was thinking about my past month or so. 

Frenzied certainly fits.

We have ended our school year.  Finished off soccer season and ballet.  We have had chorus concerts and award ceremonies.  Birthdays have been celebrated and anniversaries cherished.

Honestly when my life gets this way....my relationship with Jesus takes a serious hit.

The energy and zeal to get up and dig in God's Word for fresh truth just isn't there.  I would much rather snooze....

Staleness sets in and I find myself looking to rules instead of really enjoying my relationship with Jesus.

When I read this passage in 1 Samuel 21 I identified with David and my heart once again melted over my God. 

David...the man that will one day be known as the "man after God's own heart" is in a crisis.  He is on the run.  The king hates him and wants to see him dead.  He flees to the city of Nob.  He even lies to the priest about why he is there.

And still  God offered him bread.

The Bread of Presence.

Holy Bread unto the Lord.

Fresh.

My translation says it had just been replaced that day.

I wonder if he felt unworthy because he lied to the priest?
I wonder if he felt like a coward for running for his life? 
(this guy was known for being an insane warrior...songs were sung for his fame)
I wonder if hunger pangs took over?


Here is the bottom line: David was frenzied.  God delivered freshness. 

When I still myself before Him...He does the same for me.

His love, although enduring...is fresh to me each day.
His mercies, abundant...are new every morning.
His grace, amazing....never runs out.


Oh Father~ do a fresh work in my life.  Speak fresh words of hope and life into a frenzied and stale heart.  Fresh implies new.  I would love new zeal and new faith. Fresh.  Invigorated.  I cannot muster this as badly as I may want to.  But I can surrender.  Wake me up to new wonders in your blessed Word.  Meet me in new and unexpected places.  My heart is yours Jesus. 

Storms

Shep here.

                I was riding back from somewhere with Andrea before we were married.  I told her it was about to rain.  She scoffed at me and asked how I could say such a thing with such certainty.  I told her I was part Cherokee and that I was in touch with the elements.  She thought I was full of it…until it started raining.

                The truth is that it had little to do with any Indian blood and more with living a life outside and paying attention to the signs.  FYI- if you are outside, or riding down the road, and see the underneath side of the leaves- get your raincoat.  It’s about to storm. 

                I am not sure about the science of it. But when the cool air swoops in and lifts the leaves so that you can see the bottom of them, there is about to be a storm.  I learned that as a boy.  I remember being out in our back pasture.  Maybe I was fishing, or cutting hay.  Maybe it had been as sunny and warm as it could be…but when I began to feel that cool breeze, and saw the underneath of the leaves, I knew it was time to head back.  And sure enough, pretty soon the entire sky would turn black and the rain would begin to pour.

                In north Georgia, when a thunderstorm blows up, it covers everything you can see.  One minute all is sunny and beautiful, the next minute you are looking for a place to hide.  And when it blows up, it blocks out everything else.  Because of the terrain, your horizon is limited.  Trees and hills keep you from seeing anything except what is directly above you.

                I assumed that it was like this everywhere until I made a trip out west.  My brother and I loaded up one evening in Rocky Face and began heading north.  We went through Tennessee, Kentucky, Indiana, and watched the sun come up over Chicago.  We kept driving into and across Wisconsin and Minnesota and finally stopped to sleep in Fargo, North Dakota.

                The next morning we struck out again, headed west.  Now, the land in North Dakota, just west of Fargo is flat as a pool table.  We were headed due west on I-something, when I looked off in the distance to my north and I saw something I had never seen.  There was a thunderstorm raging.  Lightning was popping and thunder was crashing.  And it was miles away.  Above us was nothing but blue skies.

                Then I looked to the south, and there was another one.  I could see the storm miles away, ripping across the landscape.  Above me, and all around me, there was nothing but blue skies.  We rode all the way across that state and into Montana that day, and I saw no less than 5 thunderstorms, but never had a drop of rain hit our windshield.  Underneath the black clouds the rain was falling in sheets.  I’m sure the wind was howling and the lightning crackling and I’m sure that the folks underneath those clouds felt like there was nothing above but black, smothering storm.

                I remembered this just a few days ago, and was shocked by the voice of God in it.  I was having the type of day that I couldn’t see out of.  It was black everywhere.  Now, I started the day in prayer.  I willed myself into a better frame of mind.  I tried my best to have an attitude of thanksgiving.  I served my family as best I could before I left for work, but somehow by about 9:15, everything just clouded up on me and I couldn’t see out. 

On the way home, though, everything changed.  This North Dakota memory blew into my thoughts, and I know God was reminding me that there were blue skies ahead.  If I could have seen as God sees, then I would have known that this despair would not last forever…and probably not even for very long.  When you are in the storm, you can’t see out.  You run for shelter, oftentimes, too late.  You feel the wind, see the lightning and hear the thunder.  Your whole world is enveloped by forces that no one in this world can even hope to control. 

                But take heart.  The sun is still shining.  It may be just over the horizon, but it is there.  If you could see as God sees, you would know that the storm is temporary.  It came to pass.  It came to blow fear and chaos into your life and to teach you where to hide.  Sure, it may be dark and gloomy where you are.  If it is a true storm, it will be completely out of your control.    But the one thing you can’t do, is quit.  Pull up from the tailspin.  Remember the storms of days gone by and the deliverance that you received.  Thank God for the sun and for rain boots.  If you can hold it in the traces for long enough you will eventually find the sunny slopes of tomorrow that were there waiting on you all along.  And if, by God’s grace, you manage to negotiate the tempest, you will learn a new song.

                In 1776 Augustus M. Toplady was traveling in England across the barren landscape when just such a storm blew up.  He found shelter in the cleft of a rock face and there penned the words to a hymn that I remember my mama singing in the kitchen when I came sprinting back just ahead of the rain, barefoot and winded…

Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee;
Let the water and the blood,
From Thy wounded side which flowed,
Be of sin the double cure;
Save from wrath and make me pure.

Not the labor of my hands
Can fulfill Thy law’s demands;
Could my zeal no respite know,
Could my tears forever flow,
All for sin could not atone;
Thou must save, and Thou alone.

Nothing in my hand I bring,
Simply to the cross I cling;
Naked, come to Thee for dress;
Helpless look to Thee for grace;
Foul, I to the fountain fly;
Wash me, Savior, or I die.

While I draw this fleeting breath,
When mine eyes shall close in death,
When I soar to worlds unknown,
See Thee on Thy judgment throne,
Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee.

Getting Called on the Carpet

When I taught 8th grade I would start each class with a "cliché of the day." 

A lot of the clichés that I had were from many generations past but I was impressed that most often my 8th graders would still know the meanings of them.  Plus~ it was a fun way to get them warmed up to enjoy my English class.

Of course the student with the correct answer was rewarded with candy. 

But back to the title of this post....

This cliché is most known for "getting in trouble". In days past a factory worker would get called in by a superior and most often the superior's office had carpet floor.  Hence...the cliché.

We are born into this world hating correction.

I am pretty sure we leave this world hating correction.

And there is an entire life lived in between that requires what we hate. 

~Being corrected~.  Getting called on the carpet.

This happened to me recently.

I was called on the carpet.

Someone that I respect immensely had to call me out for something.

Let me not sit here and tell you that I enjoyed it. 

Because that would be a complete lie.

But...it was appropriate. 

I had done something that needed to be addressed.  This person had the authority to do it.

Despite the awkwardness of the moment, I was able to receive it and understand the good in it.

I wish I could tell you that I always handle correction in this way. 

 But that would be a lie also.

I simply received it.

There was no need to get angry or indignant.  There was no reason at all to be offended.  There was no additional person to blame.  

The offense had been mine. 
I owned it.
I agreed that it had been wrong.
I apologized.

More than that I walked away with a respect for the one that had to correct me. 

How many times do we brush stuff under the rug instead of appropriately dealing with it?

This person chose the hard but good thing.

This person took the risk of being misunderstood, blamed, and ridiculed. 

This person risked offending and angering me.

This person did the right thing.

Because I love my children~ I correct them.
Because God loves us~ He corrects us.

We get completely wigged out when someone comes to us with an issue to resolve.

Y'all...last time I checked there was not one single perfect person.

We can be rude, selfish, arrogant, mouthy, and lazy.  And this list just describes how I have already behaved today....

God uses other people to encourage and push me in my faith all the time.

But somehow when God uses other people to correct a rebellious root in me I act as if I am above that. 

Do you see the pride in my heart?!?

It is foul and wrong.

That ought to embarrass us me.

But the world tells us to stay angry.  Stay puffed up.  "How dare someone correct you?"

So we do.  We look like everyone else. 

How is this behavior like my Jesus?

I want so badly to be open to correction. To be someone that is not easily offended.

Let me take this even further...I have just described a situation in my life where someone had to appropriately correct me. 

What about when we get falsely accused?  What about when someone corrects something in us and they are just completely off base?

This presents another opportunity to be set apart and different.

Christ would not have flown off the handle and flipped out.  He would not have pouted for days and held a grudge against that person.  He would have said little and prayed much.  How would have turned that cheek and shown kindness.

THIS sets us apart.

So here is the truth that is going to hurt you just as it did me.

WE DON"T REALLY WANT TO BE DIFFERENT.

We want to be offended.
We want to hold grudges.
We want to talk bad about people.
We want to shift the focus and blame to someone else....
We believe that is easier.

Why?  So we don't have to deal with the root of pride in our own hearts. 

It is that simple.

I am 37 years old.
I am crazy about Jesus.
He has changed my life and set me free.
I love people.
I love God's Word.

But I AM NOT perfect.

I got in trouble.  I got called out.

And here is the truth:  it was good for me.


"Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me." Matthew 5:11

"Love is not easily offended." 1 Corinthians 5:13


Proverbs 6:23

²³ For this command is a lamp,
    this teaching is a light,
and correction and instruction
    are the way to life,

Proverbs 15:31-33

³¹ Whoever heeds life-giving correction
    will be at home among the wise.

³² Those who disregard discipline despise themselves,
    but the one who heeds correction gains understanding.

³³ Wisdom’s instruction is to fear the Lord,
    and humility comes before honor.

Proverbs 19:20

²⁰ Listen to advice and accept discipline,
    and at the end you will be counted among the wise.

LISTEN to what you SEE

Just finished a plate of pancakes with strawberries. 

Caroline and I are enjoying "a night in" together.  Ava is gone to a birthday party.  Shep and Zeke are off doing boy stuff that most certainly includes shooting rifles and shotguns and such.

The house is oddly quiet. 

Francesca Batistelli is singing in the background (love her) and Caroline is making delightful sounds as she rips up an old magazine.  She loves doing this.  She lays on her side and uses her left hand to turn the pages and rip them out. 
I guess it is the equivalent of what it feels like to rip open presents...just minus the presents.

Anyway I thought this might just be the perfect time to sit down and type out some of what has been rolling around in my brain lately.

A couple of weeks ago I attended a memorial service for a dear friend's mom that passed away.

It was obvious that she was a kind and generous woman. 

Observing her family it seemed as though her love kept on  living...even after she was gone.

Before she had passed away she had told her daughter that if she had any advice to give at the end of her life it would be this:  listen to what you see.

Wow.

5 powerful little words.

I try to be a good listener. 

Sometimes my ADD tendencies get in the way with that.  (I am easily bored)

But I am rather nosy.

I notice stuff.

I notice people.

I notice body language.

I notice expressions and tension. 

I notice fear, anxiety, and anger.

I notice insecurity.

God has been working in my heart and life since I was 9 years old.  But this past year or so He has begun a new work. 

It has kind of caught me by surprise.

It seems as though most of my life God has been slowly teaching me to love Him.

But in this past year....He has opened my heart up to love people.  Really love them.

After all~ loving Him means loving what and WHO He loves.

He loves scoundrels.
He loves drunks.
He loves liars.
He loves addicts.
He loves haters.
He loves idiots.
He loves doubters.
He loves racists.
He loves abusers.
He loves betrayers.
He loves thieves.
He loves sinners.

Here is the thing:  I AM ALL OF THAT.

My heart has been made new.  But I know the thoughts that I think.  I still battle with my flesh.


Without Jesus...I would reach for any and all "feel good" remedies.  I would ache for fulfillment.  I would chase after empty thrills just to feel something.

When we see ourselves as who we really are ~ then others aren't so bad.

Loving them is no longer a chore. 

Loving them is easy.  Because they are JUST LIKE US. 

One way believers can do this is to take the advice my friend's mom gave: listen to what you see.

Most people don't want to be in the spotlight but they do like being noticed.

Look around.

Someone needs an encouraging word.
Someone desperately needs a compliment.
Someone is falling apart.
Someone is contemplating leaving their spouse.
Someone is depressed.
Someone is battling addiction.
Someone is losing hope.
Someone needs a miracle.
Someone has bills they can't pay.
Someone needs a second chance.

Listen with your eyes.

I have heard it said that when Jesus lived he was a very busy man on a mission but He was never in a hurry.

Our hurried lives keep us from having fellowship.

Being in a hurry all the time leaves very little room to love people.

I am right smack in the middle of learning this lesson with God.

He has to go super slow with me. 

But as I have began to listen to what I see and engage people that I have never noticed before...my life has begun to bulge with blessing.

Some folks may take me the wrong way but when love is our motive even that isn't offensive.

Being free enough with myself to love others is seriously the coolest thing I have experienced in a long time.

Lives change with love. 

He modeled it for us.

Let's look around and listen with our eyes. 

We may never know the impact that our love has on someone else.

Matthew 22: 37-40
 Jesus replied, “‘You must love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your mind.  This is the first and greatest commandment.  A second is equally important: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.  The entire law and all the demands of the prophets are based on these two commandments."'

the BOAST post

There is this song we sing at church that goes something like this...

"Blessed be Your Name when I'm found in the desert place
Though I walk through the wilderness blessed be Your Name.

Blessed be Your Name when the sun's shining down on me
When the world's all as it should be blessed be Your Name.

Every blessing You pour out I'll turn back to praise
When the darkness closes in Lord...still I will say

Blessed be the name of the Lord.  Blessed be Your Name."

I cannot tell you how many times I have sung that song and felt nothing at all like blessing the name of Jesus.

Hope has felt a million miles away and difficult days have numbered more than the easy ones. 

Yet...I would sing it loud.  Beyond what I felt.

I would sing of what I knew. 

I would sing beyond the day.  Beyond the present circumstances.

And some days that song would reach full volume from my voice while tears of pain and doubt stained my face.

Its just what we do.

But the past 2 weeks have been different.

Tonight that song is not only known but it is felt as well.

Now THAT is fun.

Lots of the time Jesus asks us to press through with praise.  Sing it and declare it despite what you feel.  Despite what you see it front of you.

And then....there are the other times.  The times our hearts want to burst from joy.  The times our eyes get a glimpse of God doing the impossible things.

My Caroline has done some new things lately.  Formerly impossible things.

This girl is almost 13 years old.

In the past 12 days she has been able to sit (without help) in a camp chair.

She has also said her brother's name.  He goes by "Zeke".  Her version sounded something like "Eeekk".  But still.  Beautiful to us.

And lastly, a few days ago she sipped liquid up through a straw.

Y'all.

I could just come unglued. 

These little things might as well be mountains to us. 

I have been a picture-taking and videoing fool. 

Unashamed I might add.

These past 2 weeks hope of the new has painted a new canvas for us.  Colors I have never seen have suddenly appeared and my soul can hardly stand it.

Hope is a gorgeous view.

Limitless possibilities with a God that delights to bless His children.

Bless the Lord oh my soul
Oh my soul
Worship His holy Name.
Sing like never before.
Oh my soul.
I worship His holy Name.

Tomorrow the skies of blue may darken to monotonous gray once again. 
Days may stretch into weeks and months and years.
Hardship and difficulty will no doubt knock upon my door.

But today....the colors are vibrant.  These weeks have refreshed my faith.  I almost feel buoyant. 
Lifted and carried and light as a feather.

I want to boast in my God.

He is life and breath to me.  My Savior and Redeemer.  The One that lifts my weary head. 

Revisit the Scene

To this day my husband does not like to go back to the hospital where Caroline was born. 

The sights, sounds, and smells take him back to a very hard day.

That day, her birthday, changed us forever.

Chaos took the place of calm.  What should have been a glorious celebration turned into a day of shock, fear, and change.

In the process of her birth Shep almost lost both of us. 

So any normal person can understand his angst over going back there.

For me it is different.

I kind of like going back.  It provides a surreal even euphoric kind of therapy.  I can remember how it felt to walk in the hospital with butterflies dancing in my tummy.  Fear was mixed with determined joy over giving birth and becoming a mom.  The days and weeks and months that followed became a friend to me.  Time was the only thing that helped me get through the day. Time didn't judge or push.  It just stayed with me. It passed. 

No friend or family member could really understand what I was experiencing.  Honestly...I didn't either. 

I just knew that my life would never be the same.

The walls, sounds, and smells became my company.  Odd I am sure.  But they were stable and sure.  That hospital was the setting that God used to shape and mold me. 

Day after day I would sit in the NICU and learn.  The zombie state I was in began to wake up to the dreaded newness.  I learned to not fear the machines and the beeps.  I began to embrace a level of hard that I thought would never be possible.  Courage and strength were there even though I barely recognized what they looked like.

Going back there reminds me of a loss and a gain. 

All of it hard.  None of it wanted. 

But it is there just the same.

What I gained in those passing days was an awakening.

The loss of what I had expected birthed a sprout of hope.

Although Jesus had saved me I had never really needed his help for much else.

Now hope was essential to living.

The promise of His help was my only hope.

Almost 13 years later I sit here with some perspective.

God has been faithful each and every moment of every single day since.

Revisiting those days spark new appreciation for who I was before and who God is making me into now.

Today is also Good Friday. 

I hate thinking about this day.  But something in me needs to revisit it. 

I need to go there in my mind and picture the reality of that day.

God's Word gives us 4 gospels that depict the scene and the surroundings.

I imagine dust in the air.  Shouts of buyers and sellers in the street.  Quiet tears on the followers of Jesus as they stand a respectable distance away. Crucifixions were not uncommon.  But this one would be.

Creation knew that its creator was doing the unthinkable. He was becoming a servant to the very ones He delighted to create.  He was dying for what they had done.  Innocence and restrained power hung on a cross.  The nails held his flesh but unparalleled love held his heart. 

The words on the page don't seem to do it justice sometimes.

My Jesus suffered so.

He was mocked, spit upon, beaten in the head with a stick, and cursed.  He was flogged with a lead-tipped whip.  Long, sharp thorns were shoved into his skull.  He was naked and forced to carry my burden.  He willingly went to the place of death and laid down upon the wood.  He offered his hands and feet to be nailed down.

For me.

For you.

The scene is so brutal and gruesome.  The picture is so bleak and depressing.  Such a loss. 

Yet....such a gain.

Death bought my life. 

His death gives me hope.  Hope that I cling to now...2000 years later.

Revisit the scene. 

Appreciate the pain.

See the hope that was born from such loss. 

And remember....Sunday is coming!!


"Then Jesus shouted out again, and he gave up his spirit.  At that moment the curtain in the Temple was torn in two, from top to bottom.  The earth shook, rocks split apart, and tombs opened." Matthew 27:50