Again

Not even a day later, my heart is broken all over again. As we learn of the senseless tragedy unfolding in Connecticut, I cry all over again for these moms, dads, and babies. Seriously, babies. It's a sad, scary thing to have to worry about whether or not it's safe to educate your children, take them to the movies, or even just live your life, knowing that the latter could be taken from you.

As parents, as people, as a nation, we ask why. What's broken? What could have possibly gone so inexorably wrong? Do you blame the parents of the gunman? The school? God?

Maybe it's more than that, though. Maybe society as a whole is starting to show it's true cracks. Human nature is implicitly selfish, selfish and evil. Paul speaks of our human natures being in complete opposition to God's nature. The further we get from the need and desire to reconcile ourselves to God's will, the more our self-serving humanistic desires are allowed to take over.

Here in America, we are blessed to live in freedom. As such, we also bear the burden of that freedom, and it's a lot heavier than one would think. As Christians, we are called to bear this burden of freedom to serve one another in love, not satisfy our sinful natures. (Galatians 5)

Interestingly enough, when we serve one another in love, there is no room for recording wrongs. So much violence today is a result of retaliation over wrongs (perceived or actual). So many hurting who go on to hurt others. When will this vicious cycle stop?

When love returns to our world. In the flesh.

Two thousand years ago, love arrived. We rejected him. He had no riches, no worldly intellect. He was poor and asked that we do the same, give up everything to follow him. We hated that. We hated him. So, we did what we had to do, we killed him.

But guess what? Love didn't stay dead. And even with all this nastiness and horror and violence in the world around me everyday, there is also love. Love and hope.

So that even when I fear that my faith isn't strong enough, and I don't understand enough, because babies are killed at their school right before Christmas, I don't need to have all the answers. I don't need to fight that evil alone and try to figure out why some people are so broken that they break others' hearts.

I just need to know that God is God and that is enough. Evil exists in this world, because we let it. And I just need to trust in Him all while placing my faith (and my fate and that of my children) firmly in his hands. As I struggle to try to make sense of this week, I hold tight to the promise found in Psalm 73:26.

My health may fail, and my spirit may grow weak, 

but God remains the strength of my heart; 

he is mine forever.

I can just imagine Jesus holding all those babies tight to him, as they get ready for the best Christmas celebration they've ever seen. 

Then he took the children in his arms and placed his hands on their heads and blessed them.

Mark 10:16

Because We're Moms

This post has been brewing in my head for a while now, as I think, and pray, and think some more. Sometimes, I believe that there really is not much difference between the two, as my thoughts become a collective reasoning and crying out to the almighty God.

My sister and I were having a conversation about "bad things." She reasoned that it's not that the world is so much worse off than before, but with social media and the prevalence of information, we just hear about it so much more often. (And we're so much worse off because of it, I'd counter). It seems that not a day goes by when my heart is not broken for someone, someone who I may not even KNOW personally. This week, I heard about (on Facebook, no less) a young family who lost their little boy in a tragic accident. This little guy was greeted in heaven by his baby sister, whom the family lost just a year prior.

This little faithful family. Twice. Two babies. One year. Why, God? Why?

Everyone who knows me will tell you the same thing, I don't cry. But maybe that's not entirely true. Just because I'm not compelled to cry for my own perceived misfortunes, doesn't mean I don't cry. It just doesn't break me like this. This collective cry for the injustice in this broken world. These babies, daughters and sons, stripped from their parents.

Maybe part of it is a collective cry that sighs in our own relief; that our own children were spared of this eventual fate, for now at least. But, maybe it's bigger.

Maybe it's because we're all in this together. Because we're moms, we acutely feel the pain, the stripping, the empty. Because we've imagined it. It could have been us. It could still be us.

But, by the grace of God, it's not. Not now.

But maybe, just maybe, this is why the tears come. Not just because we're in this awesome, thunderstruck with love, crazy, scary journey of motherhood together (and we know, we just know the power of that love), but because God's there too (and we know He knows). Because in my heart, when I cry for this mom, this family I don't even know, God does too. And even though I don't know what that pain is like, He does.

And maybe because it's Christmastime, this unimaginable loss seems worse. I cry because I can't fathom these parents' sorrow on Christmas morning, packing up all the gifts they were so excited to watch him open.

But maybe, because it's Christmastime, there is one small beacon of light in this heart-wrenching darkness. Because on Christmas, we celebrate the night that HOPE was born. Because without that baby, there would be no hope. No reunion. Nothing.

While this earthly existence is pock-marked with injustice, scraped with horrors, and mutilated and scarred by the evil and death and decay of this world, God's plan prevails. Love wins. This is not the end. Not yet.

So while I sit and I cry for this mom, this family, I pray. I pray that peace like a river rains down on them. I pray that God will hold them so, so, so tight. For these people that I don't even know, I pray that they have unshakable faith in the midst of this pain.

Father, break my heart for what breaks Yours

Give me open hands and open doors

Put Your light in my eyes and let me see

That my own little world is not about me

-- My Own Little World, Matthew West

So maybe this is why the tears come. They're an offering, an outpouring of my love for God's people.

Survivor

Bound by this name, this description, this belonging. 

Together, our people surround us, silent as softly falling snow, marking us.

That which went wrong. Those who are left. 

Names in a paper, holding a face thankfully unknown. The face that haunts my dreams. 

I still see you. 

Nothing to it really. Clouds and lead endlessly dancing as each day slips by. 

Raw. Elemental. Breathe in, breathe out. 

I still smell you.

Be strong. 

I tell them I'm trying, but often I'm not. Because right now, I'm not sure if I want to be what they tell me I am. 

Because if I am, than you are not.

-- Alexandra Stoehr, Nov. 29, 2012

The Best

Of those in the forest, which one's the best? 

Is it the lion, 

Brave and strong, 

In pompous show 

All the day long? 

Or maybe the leopard, 

Beautifully dressed, 

Happily unmoving 

From his place of rest?

Perhaps the bear

With but one wish, 

Roaming about

to hunt and to fish? 

Or is the deer more apt, 

With antlers lush, 

Quiet and nimble, 

As he moves through the brush?

Well all those creatures are fine as can be, 

But none could best the noble tree. 

Give me the tree, 

Gnarly as he, 

A shelter from storms 

that may come in the night, 

His branches the start

From which dreams take flight.

I'd Prefer Not To

While expressing my frustration with my own knack of getting myself in way over my head by saying yes to things (or simply not saying 'no'), the hubs (in true hubby fashion) brought up the movie that he'd just watched as an example. While I was rolling my eyes, heavily sighing, and mounting my frustrations with certain e-mails I just kept receiving, the hubs was watching Bartleby.

According to Joe, the entire premise of the movie centers around a worker (Bartleby) in an office, who replies, "I'd prefer not to," when asked to do anything. Joe believes that these simple words could just spell the answer to my problem. And...I hate to admit it, but he's right. I think as women (especially Christian women), we have trouble saying no to people. We don't want to be perceived as uncaring, unfriendly, unhelpful, distant, uninvolved, you name it! (It doesn't help that I'm terrible with any perceived conflict, either).

However, when you think about it, the root of this is simply self-interested. No matter what. I think back to all of the things that I've either just allowed to sweep me away (or even the ones that I've jumped on myself), and I often get in way too deep. If ever I am doing anything, because I do or don't want to be perceived as SOMETHING or I want to belong to SOMETHING or I feel that no one else is going to do SOMETHING, it's wrong for me. Even if it is for the best cause, even if it is for church, if it is wrong for your family, or doesn't align with your gifts, it is not for you.

I read something once that was so profound for me. In saying no, I am opening up an opportunity. An opportunity for someone else to say yes! Maybe this opportunity or task or whatever is just perfect for them, and exactly what they needed. In turning it down, I am also opening up time for myself. Time to be still before my heavenly father, to read, to relax, to work on art, clean my house, or maybe even just look my husband and children directly in the eye, enraptured and captivated for five minutes, showing them that they are valued and what they have to say is worthy.

So, here's to a summer of freeing up my time by preferring not to do those things that get in the way, allowing others the opportunity to make SOMETHING of the gifts they've been given.

As for me, may I never boast about anything except the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ. Because of that cross, my interest in this world has been crucified, and the world’s interest in me has also died. -- Galatians 6:14 (NLT)

Three A's Not Bummer Summer

Thanks to Judy Moody and her movie, Judy Moody and The Not Bummer Summer, an idea was born. After struggling for years with my purpose, i.e. what is God's plan for this little life here? Why did he bless me with the unique talents and abilities I was given? What am I supposed to be doing? I realized that the answer was here all along. This. This is what I am supposed to be doing.

My purpose is not tied up in a career, a vocation, a job. My purpose is lived, day-in, day-out, regardless of what I may be doing for work, or school, or volunteerism. My legacy is not in scholarly pursuits,  published works or a high-powered job. Don't get me wrong, those things may be essential. Just not for me. My lasting stamp on the world wakes me in the morning, so I can make breakfast and kisses me goodnight after prayers. Every single day. 

Therefore, I made the difficult decision to turn down my "dream job." The one where I get to be boss lady and surround myself with fashion and frivolity and fun. I decided to choose the other road, the road not yet taken in my life. The road where God has not led, but gently nudged, so that I was forced to choose on my own. In doing so, I take on a position in which what I do is not who I am. However, I now have the time to develop the person I am meant to be while esteeming my daughters and challenging them to do the same. 

Since this is the first summer we are all together for the duration, we've decided to make the most of it and have our very own Not Bummer Summer adventure. We've been hard at work creating a summer bucket list, and we'll be trying our darndest to check off every one of those items (with some add-ons here and there for good measure, I'm sure). As we go, we'll be blogging our journey, as we grow closer and change for the better, together.

So, follow along and enjoy the ride. I know we will.