Forgive Me, Lord, For I Am Just Like Judas

Today I am making a birthday cake for my son’s sixth birthday.  I have never before left a cake to be made until the day of a child’s birthday, but this one is literally sitting in my freezer waiting to be decorated just a few mere hours before his birthday dinner.  And do I have a good reason for being this late to the party? Did I procrastinate and not prioritize my time well this birthday week? Have I just been too swamped with doctor’s appointments and counseling sessions and laundry and life to get the cake done the day before as I have for every other child for the past how many years?  Nope.  The answer is far simpler than that.  I did not bake and decorate my son’s birthday cake in advance because I simply didn’t want to.  And I mean I didn’t want to. 

Now, I know what you are thinking, what kind of mother doesn’t want to prepare for her child’s birthday?  Well, ding, ding, ding!  That would be me.  Right here.  Sitting on my couch, typing on my computer, waiting for the crumb layer of frosting to freeze so that I can hopefully decorate the final product before it is time to pick people up from school the day of the child’s birthday.  Yep, me.  Awful as that sounds, I am not afraid to say it.  But mainly because I am learning a lot from that rotten-mother attitude and thus feel the need to claim it so I can share it.

Truth is, this cake is the most emotionally difficult cake I have ever made in my life.  Possibly one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done in my life.  But I am finding it may also be one of the most spiritually satisfying ones as well.  You see, my son and I have been going head to head in our current emotional battle for his heart for about three weeks now and I am simply worn out.  I’m done.  I’m exhausted.  I’m tired, I’m weary, I am further down in the dumps than the bottom of the grime and I just don’t have anything left.  I feel like I have tried everything there is to try – every effort, every trick, every method,  every course of action I can think of to show my child how much I love him and how much I want him to let me love him, but he just won’t do it.  He just won’t let me in and he continues to purposefully sabotage his own happiness at every turn.  And I just can’t take watching it anymore.  It is killing me.  My heart breaks for him and at the same time I get so frustrated and so angry at his dang stubborn hard-headedness that I just want to scream – and that my friends is absolutely no motivation to create a fun birthday cake for the kid.  None.  As a matter of fact it actually serves as quite the deterrent for creating said cake if I might state the obvious.

So, that is how I got here.  The day of my son’s birthday and no cake to show for it.  Well, yes, I baked the cake.  And I planned the cake.  I have now actually made the frosting for the cake, but still, I am ashamed to say that I am really finding no joy in this process.  Typically, I get birthday cakes finished a day ahead because, honestly, I’m too excited to wait.  This one, though…. Nothing.  Nada.  Zilch.  Wait, that’s not entirely true… I do have exhaustion and frustration.  And a deep down desire to not make a cake that will ultimately provide one more opportunity for my child to push away the love of his mother that he so desperately wants and needs but cannot bring himself to accept.  And so, the cake is not finished.  And I am having an incredibly difficult time putting it together knowing full well that doing so is most likely setting myself up for one more illogical, unfathomable, heartbreaking rejection from the son I simply want to love like Jesus.

But there’s the catch.  I’m not Jesus.  And as much as I want to, and as hard as I try to, I can’t truly love like Him either.  Because you know what?  Jesus would have the cake already finished.  He would have completed it the same way for this child as any other.  In this circumstance and in any other.  He would have been tempted to shy away, He would have been tempted to hold a grudge, He would have been tempted to make every effort to guard His heart and manipulate the situation to keep Himself from getting hurt, but He would have made the cake the same way for this child as any other.  Because Jesus can love like Jesus because Jesus is LOVE. And love doesn’t shy away from the hard stuff.

The night before Jesus was crucified He washed the feet of His disciples.   ALL of His disciples.  The thirteenth chapter of John tells us that Jesus was very aware of Judas and his impending betrayal, and yet Jesus washed Judas’ feet along with everyone else’s.  There was no slighting that one man.  There was no turning away from the risk of being hurt.  There was no judgment, no dismissal, no condemnation.  And yet, Jesus knew.  He knew!  Jesus knew what was coming. That Judas would turn on Him, that Judas had held his heart hard for the entire three years they had been together.  Jesus knew everything, and yet He knelt on the ground, humbled Himself and washed Judas’ feet right along with everyone else’s.  Why?  Because all He wanted to do was love Judas like Jesus.  It didn’t matter that Judas didn’t get it, Jesus did.  And He just kept loving.

And that is where I find myself deeply humbled.  I love my son.  I love him more than anything.  But I also battle the oh so many days that he makes it oh so difficult.  I don’t have the answers.  I don’t know the fixes.  Most days I feel like I don’t even have a clue, and I probably never will...  But I also know that I as much as many circles as I run with my son, I am just like him. 

Day in and day out he has the ability to make me feel rejected and hurt and frustrated and angry because he just won’t let me love him, but  I do the exact same thing to God for probably the exact same reasons,  How many times do I reject the simple, no-strings-attached love that the Father has provided me?  How many times have I decided to do it my way, not because it was necessarily better but because it was mine?  How many times have I thrown God’s love back at Him because it is uncomfortable to let my guard down, scary to open myself up to new situations or I’m just down right too stubborn to change the way I’ve been doing something thus far? 

As stubborn as my son can be, I am just like him.   And I have an awful lot in common with Judas Iscariot too.  Jesus just wants to love me.  He has every reason in the book to skip me over, to find me unworthy, to get frustrated with my stubbornness, to find fault in my selfishness, and to simply give up on me because He is tired of banging His head against the wall known as my free will.  But He never does.  And its been forty years!  Not just three.  Instead, He does just the opposite.  He opens His arms wide and waits for me to run back into them every time.  He speaks softly and lovingly no matter how often I drown him out or simply don’t listen, or pretend that I know better.  He waits for me no matter how long I tarry, and no matter how many times I screw up, He is willing to bake me a birthday cake the same as everyone else’s.

And that is what I am doing today too.  I could sit here all afternoon and list off ways my son and I have battled the last three weeks, but that gets me nowhere.  It is like spinning my wheels in mud.  Or I can get up off this couch, get his cake back out of the freezer and decorate it as I began planning a month ago.  Ultimately, it’s not about a cake.  It’s not about bumping heads, or being rejected or accepted.  It’s about loving like Jesus.  And Jesus doesn’t give up on us – no matter how long the wait or how hard we resist.  And that is where I will take my stand for my son today – fighting for his heart and for our relationship.  And beyond all else, that is why I am so thankful that my Lord and Savior is standing beside me as my guide, because He is the only way I can do this.  And I’m not just talking about decorating a cake…

“A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”  John 13:34-35

Going Cold Turkey for Lent

When I was growing up, my grandmother was one of my best friends.  I spent more time with her than any of my siblings or cousins, and she and I simply enjoyed each others company.  I spent nights at her house, we went on trips to Santa Barbara and San Francisco, we would eat turkey sandwiches together at a picnic table by the ocean at Marineland…  She made the best hot tea ever (which I have NEVER been able to replicate), she loved cats of all kinds, and she didn’t hesitate to forgive me when I accidentally punched her in my sleep one night.  She never drove so we traveled everywhere by foot, bus, train or taxi... she had very little money so nothing about her was terribly fancy... but she was my grandma.  And I loved her.

My grandmother passed away nineteen years ago yesterday, February 12, 1994, but there are things about her presence that remain with me even now.  The scent of her cedar chest brings me back to her house every time I open it.  Her wall hanging of Jesus has always been the first thing hung in every home I have lived in as an adult.  I cannot sing the hymn How Great Thou Art without remembering how pleased she was to hear me play it for her on our church’s grand piano during a Spring Break in college.  And I to this day cannot hear, let alone sing, the hymn Were You There without shedding tears.  She was my grandma, and I loved her.

The most poignant reminder of my grandmother for me, however, is Lent.  My grandma almost always had a box of Junior Mints in her purse and she would eat just one here or there (a skill I have NEVER acquired by the way…), but during Lent that box would always disappear.  Because during Lent my grandmother ate no sweets.  It was something she had done long before I ever came into existence and it was something she did each year as she prepared her heart for Easter by focusing on what Jesus had sacrificed for us on the cross.  Giving up such a simple part of life served as a daily reminder of the season – impressing upon my grandma the importance of the cross and the redemption provided by Christ’s crucifixion upon it.

When I was about eight years old I decided that I wanted to join my grandma in her tradition so I too began giving up sweets for Lent.  Now anyone who has known me more than a day knows that I have a definite sweet tooth so making this particular choice made sense to me.  Sure, giving up sweets is nowhere near giving up my life, but it would definitely be a part of my daily life I would miss and take notice of, thus serving as the perfect reminder of the Lenten season and its focus each day.  And believe it or not I was successful.  Very successful.  No matter how much I crave that bit of sugar on a regular day, during Lent I never seemed to have a problem abstaining – and when I say sweets I mean cookies, candy, chocolate, cake, etc.  The whole nine yards. 

But last year was different.

For the first time since I was a single-digit aged child Lent lost its power for me last year.  There was no sentiment for me.  No daily refocus.  No motivation to make a symbolic sacrifice to refine daily focus on the cross.  Not to say I wasn’t focused, I think that perhaps it is just the opposite, that I was in such a deep, dark place of despair that there was nothing in my sight beyond the cross or my daily hard-won efforts to hang on to it by the skin of my teeth...  There was no refocus, there was only complete annihilation of all else so that everything beyond emotional survival was so far outside my realm of comprehension it didn't even blip on my radar screen.  My thirty-one year old tradition was literally stolen from me by grief and devastation.  But this year… I’m taking it back.

“Today is a GOOD day.”  I just posted these words as my Facebook status and I smiled as I wrote them, because for the first time in a really long time, Today IS a good day.  Not for any particular reason.  Nothing amazing happened today.  I have no great story to tell of Supermom powers or generosity bestowed upon me.  It is just a good day.  For whatever reason, I am feeling secure in myself, my faith is strong, my head is held high, I have a vision of my life before me and I am simply reveling in the glory of my Heavenly Father being as faithful as He promised and bringing me through a very ugly place all the way to the other side.  Now, does that mean tomorrow and the next day and the day after that will be all sunshine and rainbows?  Well, of course not.  But for now, I shall simply enjoy that Today is a GOOD day.  Even without chocolate…

Yep.  See.  You forgot what I was talking about, didn’t you?  I got off on that good day tangent and you completely forgot that I was talking about Lent.  Which begins today.  Ash Wednesday.  And for me, that means today is the first of many days without chocolate.  Without cookies.  Without cake, ice cream, m&ms, donuts… you name the sweet, it is off my list.  But, let’s be honest here, the one that really counts in my world right now is chocolate.  After fifteen months of literally living on chocolate (and yes, it’s true that I was actually losing weight at one time while eating multiple giant Hershey bars in a day…) I truly am going Cold Turkey for Lent.  Can I do it?  Sure I can.  I’ve done it thirty times before and I will do it thirty-one.  (And since I'm posting this I will have to!)

In some ways Satan got the best of me last year.  But in many others he has lost out once again.  All of the garbage, the heartache, the shock and awe that he meant to do me harm, the Lord truly has used for good.  I don’t have nearly all the answers.  And I’m certainly not naïve enough to think that Satan is going to let up on me anytime soon.  But today is a good day.  It is a new beginning.  It is a day focused on choices, on the journey to the cross, on the redemption awaiting each of us there no matter how we come to it – head held high, eyes full of tears, confident and strong or grasping desperately for healing with the very tips of our fingertips.  Wherever we are and however we come, He is waiting.  The cross is there.  It never wavers.  It is ours to focus on.  To claim.  To cling to.  To wrap our arms around and weep on its base if that is where we are in our journey.

Today is the first day of Lent.  And I am going Cold Turkey.  Not because I want others to notice or to set some personal record, but because I am making the choice.  I am choosing to once again honor the season and focus on the journey He has provided.  I don’t know where I’m going.  Heck, most days I can’t even see the path beyond the toes of my shoes, but I’m willing to follow His lead.  And Lent is all about that.

My grandmother was one of my very best friends.  I miss her to this very day and remember so many things we did together.  But in all of my memories and all of my stories of our time together, the one thing that always prevails is her faith.  It never wavered.  It never failed.  She awoke each morning focused on her Lord and led me to Him in so many ways by mere example.  Cold Turkey or not, I desperately want a focus like that.  And I aim to use this season of Lent to focus on my journey, to refocus on the cross and to seek out His glory.   

And I challenge you to do the same.   

Sob Stories or Testimony? You Decide.

One of the biggest differences between my current life and life a mere year ago is the financial aspect of things.  (I know I addressed this in an earlier blog, but that writing was basically from the perspective of fear of the unknown and this time I feel I am writing a bit more from experience and with reflection so please bear with me.)  The fact of the matter is I cannot stand to live my life in survival mode, watch my children hurting, give up all we’ve given up and not at least try to have something good come from it.  Something that can help someone in some way.  Maybe me, but maybe not.  Something that rings true for someone, helps them see things from a different perspective, and hopefully something that illuminates the evidence of God in the most unlikely of places so that when someone else is surrounded by trouble they will remember His faithfulness.

So here I am, stuck between the proverbial rock and hard place.  Do I share details of our life and risk having them labeled as "sob stories" or do I keep everything private?  Do I put on a smile and pretend everything is fine or do I allow people to see the hard stuff and the struggles and give testimony to God's interventions?

If you are reading this you probably already know that I have chosen to share details, to a degree, about certain aspects of my life, but you should also know that I have an ulterior motive.  No, I'm not trying to characterize myself as needy or solicit your pity.  I’m not trying to make anyone feel sorry for me or beg for presents.  (No, not even chocolate..)  I’m not trying to be a martyr, get people’s attention or even trick people into saying how strong or how brave I am.  Honestly, I don’t share for any of those reasons.  And truth be told, on the occasion that someone does respond to me in any of those ways I really don’t know how to respond to them.

My honest to goodness, completely legitimate, reason for sharing where we are, what we do, or what we do or do not have is merely so people have a reference point for when God does something amazing and I want to share my excitement and witness to His goodness.  You see, God is good.  Really good.  Beyond believable good.  Great.  Marvelous.  Absolutely FANTASTIC.  And no matter how messed up I am, how sad I feel, how frustrated I get, how scared I can be, how much I worry about my kids, or how limited my view of the future, God doesn’t change.  He is the I AM.  The Risen Savior.  The Prince of Peace.  The Mighty God.  The Everlasting Father.  In a world of doubt and unknowns, He is unchanging.  Unflappable.  Unfailing.  And Unshaken.   As my big girls say every night at bedtime, “He holds us in His hand, He never lets us go, and He NEVER breaks His promises.”  He is the real deal, and He deserves to be praised for all that He does.  And that is why I share.

Honestly, how cool would you think it was that my laundry detergent still has not run out if you didn’t know how many crappy things I’ve dealt with in the past six months?  How excited would you be that someone bought all of my children new shoes if you didn’t know I would have had to pull money from my savings account to do it myself?  How big of a blessing would you think the mailman delivering a box of chocolate was if you didn’t know that my budget expects me to take money from that same savings account at the end of each month just to keep milk and fresh fruit in the house?  You see, events that would otherwise seem trivial or mundane take on a completely different meaning when you put them into perspective.

Recently I was criticized for posting on Facebook that someone had “blessed” my family with tickets to Sea World.  I am sorry if such a gift seemed frivolous or if my public posting about it gave the impression that I am somehow looking for others to give me “stuff” or finding comfort through material gifts, but I can assure you that is not the case.  But just to clear up any confusion, let me lay out a bit of the realities for you…

My kids did not ask for this.  Any of this.  It is not their fault that adult issues have led to adult decisions which have led to life altering changes in their realities.  No, my kids do not need stuff.  They don’t need tickets to the zoo or to Sea World or dinner at a restaurant or a trip to the movies or even an outing to the ice cream store.  But they are kids.  And doing things outside of their own home is what they see as “normal” and fun.  Because they are kids.  And all of them, even Jack, experienced lots of those types of things prior to April of this year, and they simply can’t (and don’t need to) understand the complexities of why those types of things don’t happen anymore.

Now I’m not saying my kids should be concerned about keeping up with the Jones’ or should get everything they want (and I assure you they do not), but it is also a very new reality to them to not have any of those things even in the realm of possibility anymore.  And it is a very new reality to me to be unable to even consider such things.  Remember how I said my monthly budget assumes I will have to take money out of savings just to buy those last couple gallons of milk each month?  Well, guess what?  That’s not because I have budgeted what could be milk money for eating in restaurants, buying new toys, paying for ballet lessons, grabbing a latte, or taking my kids to the movies.  All that budgeted money is going to pay for things like rent, electricity, water, gasoline and a car payment.  You know, all those things that the kids don’t really appreciate we are paying for…  My kids need clothes, food, Band-Aids, toothpaste, and (eventually) even laundry soap, and those needs are what I stretch every dime to cover.  And that, my friend, is why it is such a big deal when outside forces are generous enough to help me provide the un-needs for my five kids.  

Let me give you a few examples.  In July, my brother’s family treated Jack and I to a trip to Legoland.  By coincidence (which I don’t believe in, by the way), the day we went Legoland was trading all tickets for a return trip ticket for another day.  Legoland – not in my budget.  Six free tickets for use this fall – BLESSING.  A friend of ours from Maryland provided money for my entire family to have annual passes for the San Diego Zoo and Wild Animal Park.  Tickets to the zoo – not in my budget.  Free admission to the zoo and animal park for a year – BLESSING.  An anonymous donor gave us $100 worth of Target gift cards the same week my fifth child’s shoes wore out.  New shoes for every child in the same month – not in my budget.  Replacing every worn out pair on the same day – BLESSING.  Finding a new strategy the other day to help Jack feel more secure at home regarding our food supply, I was anxious to jump right in, but being the end of the month money is tight.  Buying unexpected food supplies – not in my budget.  Having an anonymous person send me a $20 bill the same day – BLESSING.  You see, some things just have to be shared.  From the most frivolous things, like amusement park tickets, to the most necessary items, like a personal food supply for an adopted child’s security, God is providing for us in BIG ways.  And the fact that I have yet to actually delve into my savings account as expected to purchase milk is why I feel the need to brag on God so much.  The way we have covered our monthly expenses so far certainly doesn’t make sense on paper, but He is certainly providing.

And all of that is just the financial view.  I have not even approached the issues of trauma and adoption residing in my home.  You have no idea how exciting a trip to Sea World is for four little girls who regularly miss out on simple trips to the neighborhood park because their brother is processing hard things from hard places again.  Or how exciting a shopping trip to buy something for everyone is to a group of kids who go everywhere as a pack of five.  Fact is, finances aside, my kids don’t get out much due to the single-mom aspect, and they put up with way more “not for you today”s than most kids ever dream of.  Honestly, when was the last time you went grocery shopping with FIVE children under the age of 10?  Or to get someone’s haircut?  Or even to a public restroom?  There are five of them and one of me.  Where one goes, we all go.  When one cannot handle the grand scheme of an outing, they all lose out on that outing.  And for the older girls it’s even worse for in essence I have two three-year-olds (and only two hands) so whatever isn’t three-year-old appropriate, no one gets to do.  My kids love to go to the library.  They love to take walks, visit my sister’s house, play board games, and do puzzles; but they also love to get out of the neighborhood and see the world.  So, in my opinion, it would be my own failing to not share God's action in our lives and praise Him for His continuous provision.

So here is what I’m left with.  There are those who are tired of hearing my sob stories.  They think I should just “get over it” and move on already, and they really don’t understand the enormity of all that is out of kilter in my children’s lives right now.  They feel I’m unappreciative of the blessings I don’t publicize and skeptical of those I do.  They will be offended if I continue to make simple statements about needing prayer, but would be more offended if I were to publicize the down and dirty details of the actual need for those prayers.  Needless to say, with those people I will never win.  I’m damned if I do, and I’m damned if I don’t.

But then there are the rest of the people who, I believe, actually understand where I’m coming from.  The whole point is this isn’t about me.  It’s about Him.  It’s about His providence, and His caring, and His complete faithfulness to His promises to provide.  Sure, I’m not really happy right now and I could find things to complain about all day long if I chose to, but what good comes from that?  None.  Zippo. Zilch.  So why bother?  But James 1:17 states that “Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.”  And THAT seems far more worthwhile to spend the day talking about.  And, truly, there is no better way to appreciate just how good He is than to compare things to just how different they were before He touched them.

So, I guess this means I keep on telling my sob stories for a while.  Sorry to those who don’t like them.  I guess you will have to find some other blog to read from now on.  But for those of you who are with me in this appreciation of God's mighty hand thing, I look forward to walking along with you a bit further.  Because who knows, tomorrow might just be the day He does something even more incredible and I'm gonna want to tell someone. 

But as for me, I will sing about Your power.  Each morning I will sing with joy about Your unfailing love.  For You have been my refuge, a place of safety when I am in distress.  O my Strength, to You I sing praises, for You, O God, are my refuge, the God who shows me unfailing love.  Psalm 59:16-17

Such confidence as this is ours through Christ before God.  Not that we are competent in ourselves to claim anything for ourselves, but our competence comes from God.  2 Corinthians 3:4-5

For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities for when I am weak, then I am strong.  2 Corinthians 12:10

 

Tsunamis and Head Wrapping (a.k.a. I Totally Understand if You Don’t Understand)

When my husband first told me he was leaving our family I was in complete shock.  It, and the days that immediately followed, was like an out-of-body experience.  Nothing seemed real.  My body moved, my mouth spoke, my heart continued to beat, but I was completely numb.  It was as if the neurotransmitters in my head were stuck in some sort of surreal loop trying to process something unprocessable.  I couldn’t move forward, yet I couldn’t move back, and nothing seemed to compute.

A week or so later I would describe this experience in an email as an “emotional tsunami”.  A complete drowning and upheaval of reality washing over me while I was frozen in time and helpless to act.  I stood anchored, watching the devastation occur - the walls of my life crumble around me, the future of my family wash away with the tide - all the while powerless to stop it.  A tsunami.  Nothing else came close to describing the feeling.

A few weeks later I would run across this term again.  Tsunami.  This time it came in a book I had picked up in my mad grasp for answers, Runaway Husbands by Vikki Stark.  I was shocked to learn that I was not the only one who had feelings like this.  Other women experiencing the same Shock and Awe attack on their marriages had felt it too.  As Ms. Stark defined the stages of recovery associated with sudden abandonment, the first stage on the list was TSUNAMI.  “You take the first hit when you are informed out-of-the-blue that the marriage is over.  You feel like you’re drowning and go into shock.”  (pg. 13)  This is precisely how I felt.   And as much hurt and pain as there was involved in the whole ordeal, the mere fact that I was not alone in my stupor provided a very faint glimmer of hope in a very dark place.

It is not an enemy who taunts me -
then I could bear it;
it is not an adversary who deals insolently with me -
then I could hide from him.
But it is you, my equal,
my companion, my familiar friend.
Psalm 55:12-13

It has now been over eight months since the initial waves of that tsunami rolled over me.  The flood waters have receded in many ways, but unlike in nature this tidal wave has a way of rolling in again and again as life attempts to move forward.  I survived the initial deluge, but it is still a daily battle to stay emotionally afloat and some days I need a much larger life preserver than others.   

All to say, I am not out of the water yet.   Heck, most days I can’t even catch a glimpse of the shoreline, but I am gradually getting better at treading water and the raft I am desperately building out of scriptural driftwood is slowly coming along.

But then there’s the head wrapping.  As more and more people learn of my family’s situation the response I get more often than not is, “I’m still trying to wrap my head around the whole thing.”  Now don’t feel like I just singled you out if you yourself have shared that thought with me, it is literally what I hear from most everyone in some form or another.  As people hear the timeline of events, the details of the separation, the swiftness of the whole ordeal, they simply cannot process what they are being told.  They want to take me at my word, but simply cannot image there isn’t more to the story.  Perhaps I’m putting on a self-protective spin, or leaving out details that would make me look bad.  They wonder how this could have happened without me knowing it was coming, and that’s okay.  I understand.  I get it.  The disbelief, the initial shock, the confusion and the questions.  It is the same tsunami effect… just in a lesser degree.

You see, lack of comprehension is one of the few things these days I understand.  While the initial emotional responses here resemble a tsunami, in her book Ms. Stark insightfully compares the actual series of events encountered to a sudden tornado.  “It’s as if, one minute, you’re enjoying a relaxing family picnic on a cloud-free summer day.  Ten minutes later, after the tornado hits, you’re dazed, battered and bleeding, your kids are traumatized and your life lies in shattered splinters on the ground around you.” (pg 47)  And that is the incomprehensible part - from one extreme to the other in a blink of an eye.  Unexpected news that leaves you astounded.  We were literally on our way to Disney World for a family vacation when my life was changed in an instant.  So, again, I get it.  I totally understand if you do not understand the reality of it all.  It’s okay if you can’t wrap your head around it.  I am no way claiming that I have no responsibility for the status of my marriage- I was part of a team and a partnership, but truth be told I can’t wrap my head around it either…  Nor can my children, or my family, or my closest prayer warriors… and we’ve all been watching the events unfold from the first sign of high water. 

The fact is no one understands it.  And no one can’t fix it.  You can’t make it better.  You can’t explain it away.  You can’t answer all the questions, solve all the problems, or comfort it into feeling better.  You can’t really do much of anything about it at all.  And that is okay.

The one thing you can do though is pray.  Pray for all those directly involved – my children, my husband, our extended families on both sides - and pray for the many more who have been affected by a vast ripple effect.  This situation has broken hearts and damaged relationships in my own home, but it has also done devastating damage to many peripheral relationships as well.  And sadly it has impacted hearts and minds literally around the world. 

Pray for yourself, that you can use it.  That you can grow from what I share, that you will be better for it and that the experience as you know and understand it is not wasted as a victory for Satan, but is instead used in a way that brings glory to the One who created us. 

And please, pray for me.

On page 51 of her book, Ms. Stark sets forth a frighteningly accurate description of a wife struggling through that tsunami stage.  I share a partial quote here as she describes it far better than I can.

“In this state of shock, time becomes malleable, the body feels strange and the world becomes unfamiliar.  She can’t make sense of what she’s hearing, because she can’t think straight – she’s too numb to think at all.  Her brain just can’t handle it.”

I honestly cannot tell you how my children were fed, clothed and cared for last December, January or even February.  I just don’t know.  That time period was an enormous challenge.  It literally took conscious effort just to get up and remember to breathe.  I passed through the days on rote action and prayed constantly.  I did not eat.  I did not sleep.  I spent hours searching scripture for strength and answers, and if I did manage to catch a few minutes or hours of sleep I would wake up literally already praying.  It was not uncommon for me to put food on the table (after the girls reminded me to) and then go upstairs and cry while the kids ate.  I would put the little ones down for naptime and then sit and stare into space feeling completely lost and overwhelmed.  I would drive people places, grocery shop, show up for church, take Jack to the doctor – all the things I was supposed to do – all in an impenetrable fog and always on the verge of tears.  I would come up for air long enough to beg for more prayers and then just as quickly retreat to my emotionally-numb stupor.

So, you see, I get it.  I totally understand if you don’t understand.  I get that the whole thing is overwhelming and unfamiliar and probably makes you uncomfortable.  And, again, it’s okay.  You’re off the hook.  The whole situation sucks.  It does, and there’s no nice way to say it.  Talking around the issue to protect the sensitivities of those who don’t know what to say about the big pink, elephant in the middle of the room isn’t going to do anyone any good anyway.  Reality is reality, whether we like it, choose it or approve of it and thus let’s just call a spade a spade and be done.

As you can probably tell, by the mere fact that I’ve managed to write down the words you are now reading, I have now somehow moved past that Tsunami.  It still comes rolling back in now and then, but I’ve even made progress through the Tornado where “your thoughts are spinning wildly as you try to come up with some desperate plan to make this not be happening…” and the Thunderstorm where “you feel attacked, raw and fearful and don’t know when the next thunderbolt will strike…”  These days I spend most of my time in an Ice Storm.  “Life is hard, cold, unrecognizable and unforgiving.  You’ve lost your footing.  There is no future and time slows way down.  You’re frozen, just trying to make it through each day.  You wonder if you’ll ever feel normal again.”  (all quotes - pg 13) 

Bleak as it may sound, that is actually a very apt description of where I am.  I know many people wonder about me and my running.  I’ve had many tell me how inspirational it is for them, but the reality of it all is that it gives me the ability to mark the days.  Each day of training I complete is another checkmark on a calendar that would otherwise stand frozen and obscured by the ice.  True it is great exercise, it is good therapy, and it is time to myself, but ultimately, right now, life is about survival.  Taking one day at a time.  Giving each day a tangible success.  Providing my cold, unforgiving days with a small glimpse of normalcy.

So how about we make a deal?  You don’t worry about trying to wrap your head around all of this, and I won’t worry about you needing to fully understand it.  Instead we will just pray together over the hearts and minds living through or encountering it and we’ll go from there.  Because the truth is, I still have a long way to go, and every time I feel like I’m moving forward I inevitably slide back a little too.  I don’t mean to be anti-social, I’m not ignoring your emails or your messages, I‘m not trying to keep any secrets or hide my new life, it’s not that I don’t want to talk to people or visit or chat, but at this point I still just can’t.  The tsunami has rolled back out to sea, the tornado has dissolved and the thunderstorm has cleared for now, but the ice storm is pervasive and although I can put a name to it, it isn’t something I can simply walk away from.  It’s a process. It’s a path through unchartered territory.   And it’s a very long, winding one at that. 

But… ultimately today is another day, and this day gets a checkmark just like the one before it so I must still be moving somehow.  I mean if you think about it, just getting this blog post written is a monumental achievement given my recent track record so I say we call today a success, and offer up a prayer of thanksgiving.  And then one for wisdom.  And then one for comfort.  And then we will go from there…  Okay?

Better is the end of a thing than its beginning; and the patient in spirit is better than the proud in spirit.  Ecclesiastes 7:8

For God alone my soul waits in silence,
for my hope is from Him.
He only is my rock and my salvation,
my fortress; I shall not be shaken.
On God rests my deliverance and my honor;
my mighty rock, my refuge is God.
Psalm 62:5-7

All Aboard! Next stop, China!

Two years ago I was blessed with the opportunity to travel to Maria’s Big House of Hope, a special needs orphanage in Luoyang, China, and while I was there I met one of the most amazing people I have ever encountered, Mariah Bywater.  Mariah is an American citizen who serves as the head nurse at Maria’s and in addition to having a heart bigger than the ocean, she has magnificent dreams for how to make Maria’s Big House the best home-away-from-forever-home it can be for each of its special residents. 

Before I headed home at the end of my trip, I asked Mariah to create for me a pie-in-the-sky, money-is-no-object, in-a-perfect-world wish list of what she would like to see provided for the children living at Maria’s.  Over the past two years, with a lot of help from friends, I have been able to make several of those wishes come true, but there has always been one unfulfilled wish nagging at me more than any other… and today I would like to ask you to help me make that wish come true.  

Two years ago Mariah shared with me her dream of having a train table (with all the fixin’s) available to the children living at Maria’s Big House of Hope.  The sticking point for this dream, however, has always been how exactly to get a train table delivered once I figured out how to acquire one.  Getting the trains, tracks, accessories, etc., shipped overseas has never concerned me, but as FedEx and UPS do not deliver to Luoyang, China, the actual table would have to be shipped via the US Postal Service or hand carried as a traveler’s luggage, an expensive venture either way.  But now I have found the solution!

With the help of some special friends at Show Hope arrangements have been made for Mariah to order a train table from a supplier in China and thus have it delivered to Maria’s without involving any international transportation issues.  I have also been able to arrange for all of the trains, tracks and accessories to be purchased here in the States and then delivered directly to Maria’s via a mission group traveling to Luoyang later this summer.  So, now all that is lacking is the actual purchase power to acquire what is needed to make this dream come true, and that is where you come in.

 From now until July 4, I will be raising the money needed to purchase one train table (approximately $500/US) and a full set of trains, tracks and accessories (approximately $175) for Maria’s Big House of Hope.  To accomplish this task I will be selling “tickets” for Maria’s Big House Express at the cost of $5 per ticket.  The full purchase price of each ticket will go directly toward the $675 needed to complete this project and with each ticket you purchase you will be given the opportunity to send a personalized message to the staff and children of Maria’s which will be delivered along with the trains and track.  

And the process couldn’t be easier.  Simply let me know via blog comment, Facebook or email how many tickets you would like to purchase (may I suggest purchasing a ticket for each member of your family???) and make sure I have a current email address for you.  I will then email you the “ticket(s)” which you will print out, sign (and add a note to if you wish), and then you will mail me the finalized ticket(s) and payment to the address provided.  It is that easy!   

So, what do you say?  Are you ready to ride the rails with me and make this dream come true?  135 tickets sold and we’ve got this thing done!

Delight yourself in the LORD and He will give you the desires of your heart.  Psalm 37:4

Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.  Proverbs 13:12

 

*Any money collected beyond the actual final total will be used toward additional accessories or other needs at Maria’s Big House of Hope.