Called to love

It's under "favorites" on my laptop. And when you click on the link on our pc at home and begin typing letters, all the names of pages visited pop up. Caringbridge.org provides free online pages for people struggling with illnesses. Preemies, cancer patients, victims of accidents and those with ongoing health issues share updates and reflections on personalized sites. It's a beautiful, practical way not only to share information, but also for the patients and families to receive support and encouragement as they face their battles. It makes it "easy" to bless others with words and prayers.

But reaching out, supporting the sick and hurting isn't always so easy or convenient. Sometimes because you're afraid. Like the other day when I hugged the young soul who just shared with me their fight against bed bugs in their home. I gave the hug but immediately worried, brain racing can you get bed bugs from a hug? (I don't think so). But regardless of my fear, the hug was necessary. At times, reaching out, meeting needs, and caring for those hurting is difficult because so many suffer in silence. Mental illness, addictions, abuse, wayward children, marital conflicts, and money issues all exhaust and drain those encountering them. But often out of embarrassment, shame, guilt or simply hurt, they don't tell anyone.

There's no Caringbridge for parents struggling with kids making life-altering, dangerous decisions. There's no website (that I know of) for those suffering from depression, bi-polar disorder or other mental illness to share their pain and receive encouragement. People facing financial ruin, lawsuits, addictions or marital issues rarely share their pain publicly. I'm not blaming anyone for this. I've been there and if no one pursues or acts like they care, it's seems easier to deal with the pain alone.

However, Jesus never meant for life to be handled alone. My point is simply that then the only way to build up and encourage these suffering in silence is to be in their lives enough so that they either trust enough to share, or you're close to pick up on cues.

It's not easy to hug the kids with bed bugs or lice. It's not easy to get close to someone hurting; they're sometimes prickly as a self defense. It's not east to love and share someones pain when your own feels overwhelming. But, if you claim to follow Christ, you're called to a life of service to others...a life of loving the unlovable...a life of being close enough to know and see the hurt...a life of non-judgemental unconditional love for those in pain.

Called to love.

Let us touch the dying, the poor, the lonely and the unwanted according to the graces we have received and let us not be ashamed or slow to do the humble work.
~Mother Teresa

Lasting Legacy

"...a quiet, studious man, rich in the wisdom that is better than learning, the charity which calls all mankind `brother', the piety that blossoms into character, making it august and lovely.
Earnest young men found the gray-headed scholar as young at heart as they, thoughtful
or troubled women instinctively brought their doubts to him, sure of finding the gentlest sympathy, the wisest counsel. Sinners told their sins to the pure-hearted old man and were both rebuked and saved. Gifted men found a companion in him. Ambitious men caught glimpses of nobler ambitions than their own, and even worldlings confessed that his beliefs were beautiful and true, although `they wouldn't pay'.

To outsiders the...energetic women seemed to rule the house,and so they did in many things, but the quiet scholar, sitting among his books, was still the head of the family, the household conscience, anchor, and comforter, for to him the busy,anxious women always turned in troublous times, finding him, in the truest sense of those sacred words, husband and father.

The girls gave their hearts into their mother's keeping, their souls into their father's, and to both parents, who lived and labored so faithfully for them, they gave a love that grew with their growth and bound them tenderly together by the sweetest tie which blesses
life and outlives death.

~Louisa May Alcott Little Women

I love you Dad and am blessed daily be your influence. Happy Father's Day.

Love, Patty

Storytellers

In no place emotionally to make small talk, I remember sitting in silence.
She didn't seem to care.
Every once in a while she asked me a question and smiled kindly at my brief, barely alive response. As we approached the end of the meal she started telling me her story. My mind racing but my face stolid, I listened.
I heard as she shared her story of addiction, depression, broken relationships and God's healing power experienced in her life.
The memory of her gentle voice but strong words comes back to me as I think about my own story.
At the request of a very worried mutual friend, she came, vulnerable and ready to risk for the sake of helping a struggling soul.
She didn't know me. Yet she spoke with transparency, honesty, authenticity and tenderness. She didn't ask for a response from me or expect anything from me.
And I didn't offer.
Out of a deep love for God, she reached out in obedience expecting nothing. And nothing was what she got. Well, from me at least.
What she didn't know or couldn't anticipate was the profound impact that hour long lunch around a mutual friends table had on me. I sought help and I stopped beating myself up mentally. Those were some of the deepest darkest days of my life, and she brought a glimmer of light into my dark tunnel to show me where to walk next.
She's a customer of mine now. She comes into my shop and we periodically have the opportunity to share joys, sorrows and prayer requests. But I don't think I've ever actually thanked her.
So, dear friend, thank you for being real. Thank you for being vulnerable. Thank you for being honest. Thank you for sharing your life with me when I had nothing to offer in return. God used you. You were His words to me that day.
Is there someone who needs to hear your story? Who needs to see a real person? Risk it--offer without expecting.

Quite Enough

We Are Loved

David Crowder Band

Velvet black night
Pierced with white
Stars waiting quiet
Wide listening sky

Stillness of air
Life hanging there
Out of despair
Rises a prayer

Can we take in Your light
So we can shine like You?
With all this weariness
Can we shine like You?
With this weariness

O we are loved
We are loved
And it's quite enough that
We are loved

We are loved
We are loved
And it's quite enough that
We are loved

The day after

The second I saw the kitchen I was angry. Not the sighing weary anger but real- from the gut want to commit acts of violence- anger. The remnants of a fun, late night of cards and food were enough to send me over the edge. This is what happens when your children grow up and stay up later than you. Add to that dirty and clean laundry all co-mingling on the floor, last nights dishes and a plugged toilet and it's a recipe for disaster.

Me stomping through the house...
NO one picks up after themselves *bang*
they treat me like a maid *slam*
no respect. I get absolutely zero respect *violently throwing clothes in the general direction of the laundry room*
Room and board. I'm going to start charging room and board *slam slam bang*
I have to go away to WORK now...where I cook and clean and WAIT on OTHER people *yelled as I grab my bag and slam my way out the door*

You get the picture.

Once at work I remember there's no milk. *slam* Oh yeah, nobody is here to hear me.
I make my list and run to get groceries and upon my return, I hit my head getting out of the car. *moan* I put the key in the shop lock and it won't go in.
What the what!?! This just worked-I just unlocked this 20 minutes ago *fuming*
Maybe if I push a little more *snap*
Oh crap *grumbled under my breath as the key breaks off in my hand*
The universe is against me *Tears well up*
I will not cry I will not cry I will not cry *huge lump in my throat*

Tears suppressed, I get in my van and tires squealing head back home for the other keys.

Note for the future: It would be a lot easier to ask for Brad's help if you haven't acted like such a jerk. But I have no choice; so I ask. He grabs his jacket and follows me in his truck (from a distance, mind you, I'm sure fearful of what I may do). Upon arriving back at work I look and hang my head in shame and humiliation; I put the key in the wrong lock...that's why it wouldn't go in and that's why it broke.

User error. My user error. What's wrong with me! I've been opening this door for 6 years *no tears now just more anger*
As Brad pulls up, I hastily tell him the news and retreat into my shop kitchen. I assume he retrieved the broken key, I didn't stick around to find out.

In my kitchen, listening to Beethoven (which, incidentally is good, socially acceptable, appropriate for the work place anger music) I continue slamming and fuming partly wishing someone was around to care that my day's crappy and it's only 7:15 and mostly grateful no one's witnessing my hissy fit.

After I get everything going, I check my emails and facebook and finally this blog. And what do I see? Living on Sunday. What an idiot I am. Why did I ever post that? Now I have to own up to it. Wasn't yesterday Resurrection Sunday? The day we're reminded of the fact that not only did Jesus die for our sins (which should have been enough) but He rose again so that we "may have life and have it to the full".

So far my Monday living was full. Full. Of. Crap.

Legitimate frustration with my family for not picking up after themselves spiraled within seconds to full blown anger, resentment, bitterness and more anger. But I was at work now.

It was a busy day at the shop. 20+ women came in and I was friendly and charming and served them with a smile. None of them would have guessed that I still harbored malicious thoughts towards my own flesh and blood.

I'd love to end this post by telling you that when I got home the kids apologized and I apologized and we all made up and had a big family hug. But the reality is, although I'm letting it go, I'm still a little miffed and trying to get over my pity party.

Will living on Sunday ever be easy?*

*that's a rhetorical question.
**both photos are Lois (Jane Kaczmarek) from Malcolm in the Middle

Living on Sunday.

Both videos are sermon exerpts from Dr. S.M. Lockridge.


It's not just the big things like disease and heartache, betrayal and loss that throw my heart and mind into a tailspin. It's small things like jealousy and envy and discontent.

It's Friday but Sunday's coming.
But why, oh why do we(read me) so often live in Friday, at times completely forgetting about Sunday?
I do. I camp out there, in Jesus death, in the darkness and seeming defeat of Friday and cry out with the Psalmist How long o, Lord? Will you forget us forever?

I stay there...in my frustration, anger and discontent.
But the story didn't end on Friday. And my life doesn't have to be lived on Friday.
I believe I Corinthians 15: “'Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?' The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. Therefore, my dear brothers and sisters, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain."
You don't have to live in the Friday of life...in the jealousy, anger, bitterness and selfishness.

I want to, no matter my circumstances or surroundings, live on Sunday.

Ransomed.

Healed.

Forgiven.

Free.

To live on Sunday for My King.

New Song part b

It's amazing to me what some individuals and families are asked to endure.

a chronically ill child.

a terminally ill loved one.

perpetual financial issues.

the fallout of abuse.

addictions.

lifelong mental illness.

betrayals in marriage, work, family, ministries.

My heart breaks for people I know facing the day to day, exhausting grind of job loss, faithless spouses, wayward children, loneliness, addictions and despair. Like the Psalmist, I cry out How long to sing this song? How long? Yet, like Jeremiah I'm reminded that because of God's deep love for us, His mercies are new every day and His faithfulness is indeed great. And with Paul I can confess and cling to the fact that because Jesus became a sacrificial lamb for me, nothing can separate me from God's love. Nothing.

May you, who are exhausted, despairing and feel like darkness is winning and you can barely hold on, may you know the Truth that God's love never fails.

And if you're not sure, I'd love to talk to you about it...p.horstman@hotmail.com

New Song

Driving to work, I questioned my ability to make it through the day. Whatever I need to get through this day, God, I'm sure I don't have it. Whatever I need has to come from you. I made it through the day. Moment by grace filled moment every need supplied until I laid my head on the pillow. God of mercy, God of grace thank you for your saving sustaining moment by moment love.

flashes

Flashes of lightening and rumbling thunder break through the silent dark night. Listening to the icy rain hit the window I'm reminded again of my smallness. Our smallness. For all our knowledge and technology we can't, with %100 accuracy, predict, plan or direct the path of a storm.

There's general calm in our home right now. Aside from a nasty flu bug, the sky's are blue. But even here in the mostly sunny spot, gray clouds threaten. They take the form of thoughts; my thoughts. Accusations form a menacing and dark and low hanging wall cloud. Some of the blaming words fall on me: what's wrong with you? why can't you be more thankful? you're not doing enough. you're not enough. And when my brain's ready to explode just to expel the stinging words, they shift from myself to others: you deserve more. what was she thinking treating you that way? they always have to be right. you've been wronged. Pride plays a ridiculous game with our emotions making us the victim and victimizer at the same time.

Then, when I step back and observe my thoughts instead of participate in them, there's another voice. No blame. No accusations. Only Grace offered up freely to this broken woman. And forgiveness breaks through and I'm off the hook and others are off the hook and the calm returns.

Life whispered to this weather beaten soul Be still and Know that I AM God.

**my daughter took this photo on her way to school last year**

Charmed

Big round eyes with long lashes, flashing a toothless grin stretching from ear to ear, our hearts were charmed. Even a stranger's gaze turned upon you and you generously, gratuitously broke into an eye sparkling smile. Happy, beguiling and strong, we dubbed you our Charming Child.

Fifteen.

School, drivers ed, football, basketball, soccer, and friends fill your days. Active, never passive, you're determined, funny, noisy, loving and aware. Soon, so soon, 15 will be a distant memory and you'll be called into adulthood and all it's joys and responsibilities.

So right now, as you stand on the edge of the rest of your life, I pray you embrace who you are: strong, passionate, energetic, hardworking and brave and enjoy all God is giving you in this moment.

I know it's tempting to look back and define yourself by events in your past, both good and bad. But I pray you see them as molding, shaping circumstances-no more and no less- and let God be your definer. He loves you oh, so much. He knows every scrape, broken limb, disease, close call, and heart wound you've suffered. He's also rejoiced with every joy experienced. He's your Healer, Savior, Strength, Comforter, and Counselor and is calling you now, on the cusp on adulthood to an even deeper relationship with Himself.

.We love you and all that you are and we pray and ask God to strengthen you by his Spirit—not a brute strength but an amazing inner strength—that Christ will live in you as you open the door and invite him in. And we ask him that with both feet planted firmly on love, you'll be able to take in with all followers of Jesus the extravagant dimensions of Christ's love. Reach out and experience the breadth! Test its length! Plumb the depths! Rise to the heights! Live a full life, full in the fullness of God.*

Happy 15th birthday, son. Love, Mom & Dad

*adapted from Paul's prayer for the Ephesians in The Message

Loved

"I am somebody cause God don't make no junk" ~Ethel Waters


The way he said it made me smile (well, smirk). Telling a story about high school he made sure to include the term "varsity" before the word basketball. Whether or not he played varsity ball in high school had zero bearing on the story he was telling. So why include it? I've done it a million times: feeling insecure for one reason or another, I name drop or include useless facts that somehow might impress someone. It's ridiculous. A group a adults turn into insecure 17 year olds trying to be accepted or noticed or one up someone else.
When we first moved here, to Iowa, I was 24. New baby, first time as a stay at home mom, only four years of marriage under my belt, I struggled with my identity. I tried to fit in to my little community but every time I opened my mouth about anything from politics to religion, music to decorating, faith to movies, I received either blank or incredulous stares. That's how I perceived them, anyway.


Then, as more babies came and I continued to struggle with everything in life, the realization dawned that I was depressed.


I read my Bible fervently, endlessly.


I prayed, begging God for relief and healing.


I sought counselling.


I learned coping skills.


I trained my thoughts so I was telling myself Truth.


I took meds.


All of it helped. A little.


After years of struggling with the ups and downs of both major and chronic depression,there's countless times I feel like God made a mistake. I was a mistake. He didn't want me this way. I didn't want to be this way. But try as I might, I couldn't/can't change it.

"I" couldn't...can't change it.
I can do what I'm called to do and responsible to do (basically the above "list") but only God can bring healing or change.
Only God.
And although He's granted times of reprieve, there's not been healing to this point.


He's also began to teach me that things I've seen as a result of depression, or things I hate about myself are simply part of who I am. They're not always good or bad, they just are. They're part of the personality He gave me.
We walk around (especially as Christians) and make value judgements about things that we have no business judging. Happy people=good people. Sad people=bad people. Happy, positive=faithful. Sad, melancholy=faithless. The thought process goes something like: If you're trusting God (reeeally trusting God) then you'll be happy (joy filled, positive, and probably quoting lots of scripture). If you're doubting, sad or depressed then you must not be trusting enough.
Yes, I've over simplified it, but there it is.


So what do you do? When you think God's made a mistake with you--at the core? What do you do? Keep trying to change it? Give up and give in? Accept it?


God doesn't make mistakes. I'm sure of that.


He also wants to keep stretching and growing us for His purposes. I'm also sure of that.


But beyond those two things, the only thing I'm sure of is Jesus loves me this I know for the Bible tells me so.

Ain't too proud to beg...

In my Wednesday night Bible study, we've been meandering our way through the book of Mark. No study guide. No commentaries. No predetermined questions. We read, pray and talk. After over a year, we're up to chapter 7. Obviously, bulldozing through it is not our goal. Anyway, last night we discussed the part of chapter 6 where Jesus calms the winds when his friends are in their boat. My friend shared a story about her son and how God provided a "calming the winds" moment for her. He was not just restless, but screaming. She did all she could humanly do in the situation to calm him but nothing helped. She finally cried out to God saying "I can't do anything else for him, but you can. Please help him sleep." Within seconds, her sweet little autistic boy stopped screaming and fell fast asleep.
Coincidence? I think not.
This wasn't the first time she prayed for her little boy to rest and be calm but it is the first time they experienced an immediate response .
Did she pray differently this time? I don't know, but I don't think so.
I watched the movie Big the other day. Tom Hanks was and is one of my favorite actors. This was the first roles of his that I really noticed and loved. Funny, poignant, simultaneously light and deep, it's a coming of age story like none other. Josh, a 12 year old, frustrated with being short and pushed around and told what to do, puts a quarter into Zoltar, a game at a carnival, and wishes to be big. Zoltar grants his wish and you'll have to watch the rest of the movie to get the end of the story.

Anyway, God isn't a Zoltar. We don't put in a prayer request and get our wishes granted.

Christians talk about prayer all the time.

It's a conversation...It's a dialogue...It's listening...It's presenting requests...It's mainly for praise...It's communion with the Holy...It's for God not us...It's for us not God...

Countless books on how to pray, when to pray, why pray...

Somehow we think you have to do it right or God won't hear--as if if our actions spark some sort of obligatory response from God, the Maker of the universe.

No, He's not obligated to respond any certain way.

So, why pray? To make ourselves feel better? To appease a glory-seeking ego centric puppet-master God? Because He commands us to pray?

Well, God does tell us to pray.

And it's clear, as you study the Bible that He wants us to pray.

But again, why? Again, as you study you'll find all sorts of reasons, but I guess that is not my point.

If you keep reading Mark to the end of chapter 6 it explains how Jesus and his followers travelled to towns "And wherever he went—into villages, towns or countryside—they placed the sick in the marketplaces. They begged him to let them touch even the edge of his cloak, and all who touched it were healed."

They begged him...

Desperate, needy, humble...they begged him.

The last several weeks, I've felt desperate before God. My whole life, I've been learning what it means to truly trust a huge, mysterious, perplexing God and say "Your will be done" all the while throwing myself on His mercy and begging for His healing and intervention not only for myself, but for others. Trusting and begging can coexist. Look at those in the marketplace who touched his robe.

Beggar poor, I show up at Mercy's door. Nothing to offer, everything to gain. And He let's me touch His robe and I know there's healing. Not always an immediate calming of my storm, but a healing I can't explain. A Light that shines into the deepest darkest parts of this soul.

Breaking Point

depression
despair
anger
misunderstanding
law suits
bankruptcy
lost jobs
lonely women
hopeless men
broken marriages
struggling children
hurting parents
failing businesses

Over the last three days different individuals shared everything in the above list with me.
"God will not give you more than you can handle." Really? That saying is not actually in the Bible. It never says He won't give you more than you can stand. It says in Corinthians that you won't be tempted beyond what you can bear. But He never promises you won't be with faced with trials that are too much.
Job's trials (if you don't know the story of Job click here) seemed like too much. He lost everything. Everything. Children. Money. Business. Health. Friends. He lost it all, yet when his wife (oh lovely woman that she was) told him to "curse God and die", he refused. Why? Because he could handle or bear his loss and heartache? I don't think so. I think he said no to cursing God and uttered "though He slay me yet will I hope in Him" because he understood that the Maker of the universe didn't answer to him. I love when Job, toward the end of the book when confronted by the All powerful God in all His majesty, slaps his hand over his mouth and says "surely I spoke of things I don't understand." No, Job was given more than he could bear. And yet he survived.
God never promises you won't be faced with trials that are too much.
But He does promise His peace.
He promises that His grace will be enough.
He promises that He will never leave you.
He promises you love and mercy new every morning.
So much hurt. It would be easy today to either 1)give pat answers and lovely cliches to all the hurting people in my life or 2) tell them, yep, life sucks, it's hopeless.
But neither of those responses seem, well, adequate or Truthful.
As I sit here and look out at the beautiful blue skies and white frosted trees, I pray.
I pray for honesty and authenticity to meet people where they are in their hurt...
for relief and provision for the dad without work
for sustaining grace for each moment for the anxious mom
for healing and understanding for the marriage on the brink
for a glimmer of hope for the depressed
for a forgiveness and peace for the prodigal
for a friend for the friendless
for wisdom in life changing decisions
for patience between family members
for healthy responses to anger
for restoration
for peace...peace...peace...

"When I think of all this, I fall to my knees and pray to the Father, the Creator of everything in heaven and on earth. I pray that from his glorious, unlimited resources he will empower you with inner strength through his Spirit. Then Christ will make his home in your hearts as you trust in him. Your roots will grow down into God’s love and keep you strong. And may you have the power to understand, as all God’s people should, how wide, how long, how high, and how deep his love is. May you experience the love of Christ, though it is too great to understand fully. Then you will be made complete with all the fullness of life and power that comes from God.
Now all glory to God, who is able, through his mighty power at work within us, to accomplish infinitely more than we might ask or think. Glory to him in the church and in Christ Jesus through all generations forever and ever! Amen." ~Paul to the people in Ephesus

**Portrait by Marc Chagall "Job Prays"

Dishes

As I washed the dishes I thought of her. Her dishwasher ran well (unlike mine) yet she always did some dishes by hand. Truth be told that always irritated me.

She always washed. She liked washing.

I always dried. It was my job.

I remember what her hands looked like under the running water, smoothing over a pot to make sure she'd gotten all the gunk off. I remember the conversations shared over the steamy suds, white cotton towels and assorted pots & pans. Sometimes it was her childhood or child rearing years. Sometimes it was about her marriage. Sometimes about the lean years when dad's construction business struggled. It's one of the only times we talked...really talked. I don't know if that's because it was easier to discuss real things --not just the weather or day to day activities, but real stuff-- while you could look out the window and be busy or simply because it's the only time we had alone.

Today, as I talked to her softly and stroked her hair, I thought of those times we washed dishes together.

Only a few years ago we stood over the sink, watching the squirrel at the bird feeder and sharing life.

Only a few years ago she still made Sunday dinner and wrote birthday cards and tied quilts and went to Ladies Aid at church on Tuesdays.

Only a few years ago she talked about her life with dad and her boys.

Those days fade into memory as she sleeps in her chair covered with her soft velvety blanket.

Tears stained my cheeks as I remembered her hands...her busy, able hands that now hang limp. She can't read or walk or talk or enter in and lately she can't even stay awake. Her vacant, tired eyes barely stayed open long enough to focus when I whispered her name. She's not physically gone. But she--who she was--what made her her--is no longer... and we miss her.

Usually lasting at least an hour, today our visit only lasted a few minutes.

The kids cried. Brad looked sad. And I, well, I couldn't help stroking her gray hair and rubbing her arm and whispering to her and missing our times at the sink.

Showing up

Always unannounced, he shows up.

Dirty face, grubby clothes, great big smile, kind heart and oh, so troubled life.

One day it's his car. Another his failing marriage. Can he borrow 10 bucks? Can we store some of his stuff?

The next time it's issues with his mom or dad... or boss... or friend... or the law.

It may be different, but it's always something. Impulsive, rash and prone to being in the wrong place at the wrong time, he's often in trouble.

He knows we don't approve of most of his choices. I've been straight with him--blunt in fact--about his issues and how life's not about money or women or simply being happy.

Sometimes I wonder why he keeps showing up.

We don't lend him money. Sometimes we're able to answer his requests but not always. We've set clear boundaries.

But we do love him and try to keep showing kindness as we speak Truth.

Sometimes it's tempting to want to fix him and his problems. But he's not a project. We can't save him.

Sometimes I want to see some improvement or little sign that something we say or do makes a difference. But truthfully, I don't see any.

Sometimes I want to cut him loose.

Sometimes I want to give him a swift kick.

Sometimes I'm overwhelmed by his hurt and confusion.

Sometimes I don't want to love him.

But then I remember. Loving him, showing him grace, isn't an option, it's a necessity and a command.

So we keep loving. And he keeps showing up.

Showing up in exactly the same way I'm forever showing up at Mercy's door...dirty faced and shabbily dressed looking for Love, Grace, Healing and Mercy.

And time after time after time, He opens the door and loves me right where I am.

Kindness

I've witnessed father's abandon their children, wives throw out their wedding vows like yesterday's garbage, children of all ages disrespect and dishonor their parents, wayward children wreak havoc in their homes, parents swiftly hurl insults that cut their children off at the knees, leaders in the community live lies-cheat-steal; again and again and again I've seen people hurt one another by their words and actions. Rarely do people who've wounded deeply ever understand the pain they leave in the wake of their choices.
Thank God I've also seen reconciliation and healing: marriages put back together, forgiveness among siblings, and individuals restored. But I'm convinced that none of us truly realizes the impact of our actions on those around us. We don't get how the littlest word can cut deeply and leave a festering wound. It's interesting to me that we think the world revolves around us and yet, at the same time, somehow, think that how we act doesn't have a deep, lasting impact on others. It's an odd little game we play in our minds- putting ourselves in the center of the universe, playing little gods, and all the while not owning the pain we cause or even seeing that we cause it.
If we realized how much we've hurt others could we handle it? Some of us would be crushed under the weight of our sin and would curl up into little balls of guilt and never recover. God is so patient with us...so kind...so gentle. I believe as we seek Him, honestly seek Him, He slowly shows us our sin and the impact of it on others. No one else can do it--can show us our sin--we probably wouldn't believe them or think they over reacting.
But truly, as we realize the kindness and compassion of God-- the amazing gift of forgiveness we have through Him and His Son--we are led to repentance...led to forgiveness...led to wholeness. Not in our time or other people's time, but in His perfect time.

Poser

"Don't just pretend to love people. Really love them." Paul to the Romans (New Living Translation)

I've always tried to be a face value person: what you see is what you get. Maybe that was the problem yesterday...

Long day at work. 94 degrees. Air conditioning in the van...out of commission. Whole family in the hot van... lots of noise...my younger two bickering incessently. We arrive at my daughter's last soccer game, set up our chairs and proceed to sweat and get blown over by 35 mile an hour sustained winds. Last week it as 55 with a wind chill; this week it's record highs, typical prairie winds and lots of humidity. Welcome to Iowa.

Anyway, sitting at my daughters game, everything was bugging me: the dad on the sidelines "coaching" loudly, the beads of sweat trickling down my back, the wind, the arguing kids, even my husband (who hadn't really done anything)...I was even annoying myself. I was snippy with the kids, snippy with Brad, and not at all pleasant to be around. It dawned on me later (sadly too late), that the lady next to us could have certainly heard and seen my hissy fit behavior and general grouchy demeanor. If someone asked her what she thought of me, I'm afraid the answer would be scary. For that hour, at that game, what she (or anyone else paying attention) saw, was a crabby mom and disrespectful wife. Not much love. Not much joy. Not much of anything good.

I entitled this post "poser" because I've never wanted to be one. Well, guess what, yesterday proved that I'm no poser. But what you saw if you were looking, was what you got and it wasn't a pretty picture. Maybe some posing wouldn't have been all that bad. Or maybe if I would have taken two minutes to think outside myself, my attitude and behavior could have been adjusted. But I'll never know what could have been because I was too wrapped up in me.

Yesterday morning I came across this verse "Don't just pretend to love people. Really love them." from the book of Roman's. I thought of it all day, and yet when I went to the game, really loving people was not in the forefront of my brain. Me, myself and I were in the forefront and the back and all the space inbetween. When I woke up this morning, my behavior and this verse were staring me in the face. As I reflected, another Bible passage came to mind...let me paraphrase it...

Love stays cool even in the heat.

Love speaks kindly even when correcting.

Love doesn't wish for something it can't have-like a new car with a/c.

Love doesn't think it's being cheated just because life isn't always perfect.

Love doesn't demean or degrade or humiliate others.

Love doesn't get angry over trifles.

Love tries to forget others wrongs and see the best in them.

Love isn't happy when others are hurt or suffering or embarassed, but wants to bring relief.

Love always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Love never fails, even when I do.

May you and I be true lovers today.

Just a little...

Rain beating against the windshield, I drove down the back roads hurrying to my destination. Pouring over the past, consumed with the pressures of the present and turning over the possibilities of the future, my mind raced as I listened to my ipod.

Then the song started playing. I know I've heard it before... many times. But this time it was different. How could I have missed the words? How could I have missed the meaning? Well, maybe not John Hiatt's intended meaning but The Writers meaning. Driving down the lonely road, this time, the song felt like a serenade being sung straight to my heart.

Have a Little Faith written by John Hiatt

When the road gets dark
And you can no longer see
Just let my love throw a spark
An' have a little faith in me

An' when the tears you cry
Are all you can believe
Just give these loving arms a try, baby
An' have a little faith in me

Have a little faith in me
Have a little faith in me
Have a little faith in me
Have a little faith in me

An' when your secret heart
Cannot speak so easily
Come here darlin' from a whisper start
Have a little faith in me

An' when your back's against the wall
Just turn around an' a you will see
I'll be there, I'll be there to catch your fall
So have a little faith in me

Cause I've been loving you for such a long time, baby
Expecting nothing in return
Just for you to have a little faith in me
You see time, time is our friend
'Cause for us there is no end
All you gotta do is have a little faith in me

I will hold you up!
I'm gonna hold you up!
So have a little faith in me

Have a little faith in me

Have a little faith in me

Have a little faith in me

"We live by faith, not by sight." 2 Cor. 5:7

"Immediately the boy's father exclaimed, 'I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!'" Mark 9:24

"I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there' and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you." Matt 17:20

"The LORD your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing."
Zephaniah 3:17

Mom

This is a re-post with a few changes...



A Woman at Rest
I'm not talking about a sleeping woman. I'm not talking about a confident woman. I'm not talking about an accomplished woman. I'm not talking about a calm woman. I'm not talking about a passive woman. I'm not talking about a positive woman. I"m not talking about a perfect woman.
I'm talking about a woman at rest.
She speaks truth and sees even the most difficult situations clearly.
She doesn't deny hardship or pain and allows emotions as they come.
She's not always quiet and demure but there's something in her demeanor which exudes peace.
She's not necessarily okay with who she is, but she's great with who God is and it shows.
No need to control, contrive or manage...God's got it.
No need to hang on to the past or worry about the future...God's got it.
She can live in the moment...good, bad or ugly... because God's got it.
She is a thing of beauty and a rarity.
There are many imitations in our world and churches, but few women who truly rest.
If you're privileged enough to know one, thank her today for making her world a better place.

I'm blessed and privileged to not only enjoy a woman at rest, but call her Mom. Love you, Mom.

Too much. Not enough.

I'm too much...

too emotional.

too needy.

too overpowering.

too up.

too down.

too aware.

and at the same time a deep nagging sense of being not enough...

not smart enough.

not pretty enough.

not happy enough.

not faithful enough.

simply... not enough.

I'll always be too much for people and not enough.
In one sense, of course, that's not true. It's satan's ploy to render me helpless and hopeless (and frankly it works a lot).
But in a very real way, it is truth.
I am too much and not enough for other people. We all are.
There's a line from When Harry Met Sally (one of my all time favorite movies) where he tells her she's "High maintenance. Definitely. And the worst kind. You're a high maintenance who thinks she's low maintenance."
I really want to be low maintenance. I wish I was an easy going, baseball cap wearing, live life on the edge, carpe diem kinda girl. But I'm not. I'm a picky eating, obsessive, over analyzing woman who hates to sweat and looks lousy in a baseball cap.
But in truth, I'm not the only high maintenance human. As individuals, it seems we're all high maintenance. Men. Women. Children. We're all imperfect beings in desperate need.
Needing love, needing care, needing approval, needing acceptance, needing grace.
"But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me." ~2 Corinthians 12:8-10
So here I am today, boasting in my frailty, knowing that He is the "author and perfecter" of my faith...resting in the fact that He loves me just as I am...all too much and not enough of me.
He loves you too, friend, just as you are...