He is That Good

I'm sitting on my front porch, in the dark, listening to the rain. It is lovely. The air is cool and damp, but this damp is the hopeful damp of spring. It is nurturing the trees and flowers, new life, emergence even now in the night. To chase the night chill, a hot cup of tea provides the perfect remedy.
I am reminded that I have gone through one of the hardest transformations of my life. This ability to sit here alone in the quiet symphony of raindrops unafraid is a part of a new me. I am being molded and re-shapen - the broken clay in the Potter's hands. I have hope that He is making something beautiful among the ruins. I don't know how I ever took that first step off of that cliff, but I can testify to the Everlasting Arms that caught me.
I am surrounded by His all-encompassing love. There are things I am starting to hope for my future, and my soul asks of Him, "Could You really be that good?"
I am not sure how the journey was made from utter hopelessness to one of such promise and peace, but let my life be a testimony. Yes, He really is that good.

Lowered Expectations and Joy

I was reading this post at Halfmoon Girl's blog - and after years of feeling much the same way she is right now, and knowing how many other women may be caught in this same trap, I just had to respond.
Let me explain this - my first child was born on April 5th - my first Mother's Day was about 6 weeks later. I waited all day long in eager expectation and nothing happened. The next morning I burst into tears and told my husband that he forgot Mother's Day - to which he replied "You're not my mother!" It took a while to help him understand why this was flawed thinking.
Anyway, long story short - it has taken almost 20 years to realize that my husband is not a good gift-giver. I honestly don't want another cake candle (something he realized I liked and then bought for every occasion for a few years until I said "uncle"). He has been miserable around every holiday because there is this expectation to meet that he will fail at. I got to thinking about it last year and wondered where this "expectation" came from. The man tells me in other ways that he appreciates me. Honestly how special is it when these things are done out of obligation on the same day that every other husband does? My hubby tells me what a good mom I am at other times - I don't need anyone else dictating a special day for him to do so. And while he isn't good at gift giving, he is my hero, provider and protector in many other ways. Why was I allowing these man-made, (and excuse the rambling ahead of time) commercialized holidays that are orchestrated to financially benefit the greeting card companies, florists, etc. dictate whether or not I feel loved.
Last year, I decided to liberate my husband - and myself from this vicious cycle of his impotency to please me and my chronic disappointment. This past Christmas I told him I knew what I wanted and if he didn't mind, I would get it for myself. The man was scratching his head thinking, "no shopping? there's gotta be a catch." I told him I would not throw it up in his face that I "got my own gift" (I knew I wanted windchimes - which by the way I didn't find until April!) nor would I be mopey or sad on Christmas. This was a win-win situation for both of us. And guess what? I had the best Christmas ever. I did the same with my birthday in February. I bought some birdfeeders that I wanted for my front porch. It was awesome. On Saturday we were talking on the phone and I was reminding the hubby-man to call his mother on Mother's Day - and he said, "Well I'm gonna call you too and wish you Happy Mother's Day." I said, "Aw, man you ruined the surprise!" We both had a laugh.
Now let me tell you, I grew up the daughter of the president of the He-woman Man-Hater's Club. I remember holidays where my mother was threatening her husband weeks before that she had better have thus-and-such ring, or the so-and-so item that she wanted - OR ELSE! It was so ugly that I determined never to be that kind of wife. My mother would be certain that my husband, who didn't succumb to such torture, didn't love me. I choose to submit these thoughts to Christ - and remember that my goal here is to think of others more highly than myself. Instead of expecting a "gift" or special treatment, I give it to my husband now - and I can tell you - it is a delight to my heart.
What is a gift bought in obligation? Now if he buys me a gift, it is because he wants to, and it comes straight from his heart. It is not purchased or pursued out of some twisted obligation that he must fill to keep me from being mad at him. (His interpretation of my disappointment.)
I hope I have helped someone else suffering from "holiday torture". Free your husband and yourself. Choose to see expressions of love all around you that don't come in ribboned boxes. Reject the commercialistic ploys that Satan would use to erode your relationship with your spouse.
PS - If you happen to frequent blogs where the author may be prone to gushing about what HER hubby got her for Mother's Day - just skip it today!

Numb-skulls

It has come to my attention more and more what a society of "feelingless" people we are becoming. I don't mean to say that we don't care about one another, but that we are a society that continually rejects our feelings. Many people in my generation (late 30 somethings) grew up in a time where we were taught to stuff our feelings, ignore them, pretend that they do not exist. It caused a lot of emotionally unhealthy adults.
Currently, I think the trend may be reversed in some ways. Many in our culture are preoccupied with feelings, offended at the slightest suggestion of an insult, a discussion about a choice we have made, or maybe even going so far as to think that anyone who does not feel as we do - share our sentiments, thoughts or opinions is being critical of us. (Trust me, been caught in this trap myself!) I think therapists couches are full of people trying to analyze and over-analyze ever minute conversation, gesture, or look we have in our interactions with other people. It is making us sick. What does God's word say?

He who covers an offense promotes love. Proverbs 17:9

Another trap I think that we are finding more and more prevalent is the numbing of all feelings. My mother-in-law lost her husband of 51 years last July. She is grieving. However, more than one person has suggested to her that she needed anti-depressants. I think this is a mark of our culture. I don't mean to take issue with those people - I think they are making their suggestions in love, but I worry about the trend to suppress our feelings. There are normal stages of grief, and if you do not go through them, I believe they will come back around again. Numbness is not overcoming, it is denial and I think that as a society we are in big danger here.
I know that many people take medications such as these to function - I have myself. I went through a time of such severe anxiety that I was literally having to remind myself to breathe. I had so much on my plate that I would go to bed at night and think to myself, what is the absolute least amount of sleep I can get and still function? Not healthy thoughts. So I took medication for a while - and then got my life straight - and found I no longer needed the medication. Some of the most healing times in my life were when I absolutely came to the end of myself, and beat my fists, cried my eyes out and screamed to the Lord to help me. God's word tells us repeatedly to "cry out". I don't know about you, but I'm going to take Him at His word - He seems to know best! If I had been a zombie, I would not have been able to grow through the difficult times.
I worry that some will react negatively to what I have said here - but please know - I am not talking about a physiological need for medication - I am talking about the generation of elementary school children who are drugged up so they can conform to the standards of a classroom, adults who take medication by the handfuls so that they don't have to feel guilt or pressure or pain for infidelity, cheating on their taxes, walking out on a wife/husband and children, etc. Our feelings are a tool God uses to drive us to Him, the place where it all comes back together again.

My Little Boy

We went to my friend Carol's house on Monday for a Labor Day cookout - it was lots of fun! The kids were swimming, and playing, while Carol, and her recently widowed friend Barbara and I played cards and talked. At some point, Kullen had come in while we were talking about being teenagers, and my high school boyfriend came up. Kullen of course starts asking questions, as usual in rapid fire. Finally he says, "I'm glad you didn't marry him! I wouldn't have even been born!" (I wonder exactly how much he knows!) Then he tilts his head upward, in a thinking gesture, and a few seconds later says, "No, he wouldn't have anything to do with your pregnancy with me!" It was so funny - and I have no idea what was really going through that little head of his!

Isn't he cute? Here he is with some toast art that he made!!

And just FYI - if you have read my sermon notes before, I didn't have any this week - originally because I was scheduled to work in the nursery with Kaitlyn. However, in that little window of time between Sunday school and church, I noticed Kullen had a toy he wasn't supposed to have brought to church, so I made him go out to the car and put it away. Just a few seconds later, he came running up to me, blood running down his foot, almost hyperventillating to keep from crying. The door had come back and jammed his foot inside of his sandals, and ripped the nail almost all the way OFF of his big toe on his left foot. So instead of working nursery, we went to Urgent Care on the advice of a couple of medical professionals. Yuck!

School started at our little "family school" yesterday, and as we were working on a math lesson, trying to bridge the gap between last spring and now we did some review. They were all things I know that he knows - however here is what it was like: when working on a word problem that ended up with the equation 8 + 9 = 17 --- he writes the 8, scratches his arm, looks at the ceiling fan, then back at his paper, thinks about the problem again and realizes he needs to put a + sign, writes the + sign, lays his pencil down, blows eraser shavings not just away from his paper but across the entire table, looks out the window, makes a comment about the weather, stands up, kisses me, sits back down (when I say SIT DOWN), picks up his pencil and writes the number 9 - at which point I am breathing down his neck. If he puts the pencil down again, it had better be for a very good reason - and by the time he writes the = sign he has to do the computation again to get at the number 17, which is the answer to the problem he figured out when the original word problem was read 20 MINUTES AGO!!!!

Some days he makes me laugh - some days he makes me cry! Ah, homeschooling motherhood!