Traffic

It is the primary reason my husband, whose lived practically everywhere in his lifetime, begged his city-born-and-bred bride to move to the country last year. He HATES it. In fact, besides his propensity for watching Learning Channel documentaries for fun on Friday nights, it was the one of the earliest clues that I had married a man much like my own father, as the old cliche goes.

Every morning by 6 or 7 AM, my husband is trailing down the path toward work, a different construction site every day. All the while he's Christian cursing (you know, in his mind :0) ) every car that cuts him off. He is driving 38 feet of Super Duty truck and trailer, which decidedly won't stop on a dime. But little hot rods intent on dodging in and out of traffic are ignorant to this fact. And while my husband knows he would win in any collision, he doesn't really want the inadvertent bloody death of another human being on his conscience for the rest of eternity.

Yesterday, Greg's trek from one job to the next took him right through the heart of the downtown area just at the height of rush hour. At that point, he would rather have gone shopping for clothes at the mall for four hours with my daughter and her most talkative friends. Then treating them to tofu for lunch. And that's saying something.

He was sitting in the left southbound lane, waiting to turn eastbound with four lanes in all directions backed up as far as he could see. The northbound and southbound lanes have those annoying little "islands" dividing the directions for a full mile. The eastbound/westbound lanes are curvy and sport stoplights about every 50 feet, running the length of a large university. Fun, huh?

The corner is hard enough for him to make in his caravan of equipment without the five to six cars that run each red light, hoping to make some sort of progress on their 8-minute waits at the stop light. But he had finally hit the holy grail, perched in his number two spot behind a little old man who had pulled too far into the intersection during the last light. "That's a good thing," hubby reasoned. "He's out there so people will have to let him go." Ready, set, GREEN LIGHT...........

Funeral procession! Coming from the southbound lane going north, past my hubby on the other side of the islands. Car after car of mourners flanked by motorcycle police. He sat through two more lights. No sooner was the tail end officer making his way across the intersection than a siren could be heard in the distance.

Guess what building sits just adjacent to the university? A fire house. Yep. And guess where it was going? You got it. Northbound into the funeral procession. My husband's story had me riveted at this point. "How did they get through?"

Over the islands. It seems the daily commuters who had been northbound prior to the funeral procession had gotten over to the right to let them pass. And the procession filled up the entirety of the left northbound lane. Hubby just wanted to get home and eat a piece of meat. The fire truck was having to wind in and out of north and southbound lanes, over islands as the driver weaved side to side, filling in whatever small pockets of space the drivers, including funeral attendees, could concoct. Oh, and the fire he was going to......was in the general direction of the cemetery, whose main entrance is closed for major road repairs and requires a detour around a mile long block to access.

But that's not all. Oh, I thought so too. There can't be more, I thought. It sounds like a movie. "It looked like one," hubby deadpanned. The firetruck had rendered all lights red at the intersection via remote control in order to try to navigate his way up the road. Another 5 minutes passed before hubby once again got the green go-ahead - and the distant sound of yet another siren. Yes, folks, here came the ambulance, wailing through the evening wind. And going....you guessed it. Right past where hubby needed to turn. And I DO mean NEEDED to turn! He said by the next green light, he was practically pushing that little old man across the intersection from his high perch in his beast of a truck. After all, if his barely contained aggression were to cause this man some kind of fear or hurt, the man had every known type of emergency vehicle close at his disposal. Or my husband's tractor to scrape him off the roadway!

Tenderness And Deep Deep Love

The only way to sufficiently explain the way my daughter has touched my heart tonight is to admit that I lost it. I mean I totally, utterly and completely lost it this morning when she threw her temper tantrum. It's not what I said to her that I regret. That was pretty much what it needed to be. But I yelled it in such anger that it escaped my throat almost as a growl - a loud, angry, overbearing growl. And it devastated me for much of the day as I worried about how devastating it must have been to her. In getting through the proper spoken message, I really screwed up the subconscious one, and it hurt.

Then just now, I went in to crawl into bed and found four beautifully sprawling sunflowers and a note: "I love you Mommy."

She certainly is not perfect, but she has the forgiveness thing down pat.
And I would die for her.

Hoping

I have prayed about whether to write this post, and to be honest, I am still not sure if I should. I may take it down later. But the truth is, my heart is hurt tonight in a way that cries out for more Godly prayers than I am mustering on my own.

I have shared before that my husband and I got off to a very rocky and tragic start in our marriage and that some of the repercussions of that time was that we spent little to no time bonding in our first few years of marriage. What I haven't shared is how this became a habit for us. At first, it was a trial about which we had no choice. And I haven't lied when I've said this has been the best year of our marriage so far. But I said that on the days when we had spent ample time together. On other days, the devil has fought like crazy to nullify the better times into merely sporadic jackpot days.

I have hesitated to share because I do not want to appear to be hurting my husband's dignity at all. But the truth is, I know this blogging community is a praying community and if you would be willing to pray for us, I would be willing to put aside my pride to ask. If you can not commit to pray, I would in no way take that negatively. I understand the demands on people's time and commitments as I don't always pray for all blogs that I read either.

I just don't know what else to do right now. I can not go to my pastor and I can not explain why. This is why this has been the most frustrating trial of my life. We need prayer but I can not go into details under Biblical guidelines. I know that's why "unspoken prayer" is such a popular phrase, but most people seem to give little heed to it, when those are probably the more serious prayer requests.

I still believe that there is hope. Even after 12 years. I know God has been on the throne every moment of those 12 years and every year before and from now on. I don't doubt that for a second. I'm just too tired and hurt tonight to even know what to say to Him. This is the first time I can ever remember feeling that way. Honestly, I find myself reminding him that Jacob only waited 14 years for his marriage prayer to be answered and that we're coming up on that pretty quick! :) I also know that we all have our crosses to bear. It's just that this one is so out of God's will and makes all the others that much more difficult to face alone while married. I am trying my very best to submit, but if I understood how to submit to spending no time together and still having a strong marriage, I would do it. In fact, I have tried for years. It isn't Biblical. It doesn't work. Thank you to my few readers. Even though we have never met face to face, you have shown yourselves to be true friends in your wisdom and in your encouragement.

A Sick Boy, A Super Dad, and A Ball Game - Lord Willing

It's a crazy crazy crazy crazy day in our household. Tonight, for the first time since the scheduled June 6 start date, our little guy is getting to play t-ball! For six looooooong rainy weeks, he has waited patiently and sometimes not so patiently to finally get to don his uniform and take the field. (He is asking me how much longer every 10-20 minutes. This can get a little annoying, but honestly I love it.) He has wanted to play ball since he was old enough to talk and now the night is finally here - a double header!

My husband will be coming home early to take him. Originally I was to take him to his first game and hubs would show up for the second after work, but Dalton (our 10-y-o) has come down with the meanest sickness he has had in at least 4 or 5 years. He is vomiting, even water, and his fever has reached a whopping 104 degrees! (This is particularly concerning to us, because as an infant he spent his very first Christmas Day in the emergency room when he fell semi-conscious due to a fever reaching 107. His body does not fight fevers very efficiently.) So I am not willing to leave the room from him until he begins to improve enough to retain liquids. The doctor is not sending us to the ER for now, but is prescribing a medication to help with the nausea in hopes of keeping him hydrated while "waiting out the bug."

In the meantime, hubby just went back to work this week after nearly 4 weeks off for bad weather (he runs a construction company) and his morning started off with two trucks stuck in the mud for two hours so far. This means the concrete is setting up INSIDE of the drum while everyone scrambles to figure out what to do. It's several thousand dollars worth of concrete sitting there, the job was already started so he can't quit midway through, but he can't eat the cost of it either. (These NO-FAULT situations are the worst, because a decision can't be made until everyone agrees on who will pay for it.) Through all of this, he is trying SO HARD to resolve it in time to actually make money today so his guys can get paid, and yet make it home in time to ensure our son's dreams of his very first big ball game are not dashed. His priorities were not always so aligned. I am both proud and IMMENSELY grateful that he is making such a hard effort on such a hot and problem-filled day!

As nutty as all of this sounds, it is a life style that we have lived for quite some time. It is stressful, and often quite aggravating, but it no longer throws us into panic mode. It's actually become the kind of routine we have become accustomed to. Not every day, thank goodness. But often enough to make us realize that EVEN this kind of a day will be O.K. in the end. Or it won't. It may stay terrible and get even worse. But even then, God will have His way. It will ultimately be what is best for us. And it will teach us something more about Him if we let it. That is the part we have to constantly remind ourselves. We are learning the best response is to just say "oh, well" and try to smile.

And, hey, at least it's not raining!

Edit to Add:

Dalton's nurse called and wanted us to get to a particular intermediate emergency facility. (Like an after hours, with more x-ray technology and where he could stay overnight if needed, but not one of our major hospitals.) She called ahead to tell them he was coming because the pediatrician did think he needed to be seen sooner rather than later.

Everything is fine. They are glad we came in tonight as opposed to tomorrow because Dalton was beginning to dehydrate. Thankfully, we should be able to treat him with nausea medication as opposed to IV since we caught things early. Hopefully, with the medication, he will be able to retain his fluids and his fever reducer more effectively. (His temp was VERY high.) He is now snoring peacefully while I prepare him a fruit smoothie. (He's had nothing to eat in 3 days and wanted something a bit more substantial than water, now that he's on the medication.)

One big blessing was that the physician who saw us was the same surgeon who sewed up our younger son's lip when he fell against a swing set three years ago. In our town of nearly 100,000, I know that God orchestrated that. He didn't remember us until I reminded him how shocked I had been to learn they use cocaine as a blood vessel constrictant in treating bloody wounds. It was nice to have someone treating Dalton who we had already had such a great experience with. He is a very compassionate doctor toward his patients and their families.

We arrived home from the doctor simultaneously to my husband pulling in from the game with Justice. He was every single tiny bit as excited as I hoped and assumed he would be! He has relayed all the details of all the individual plays to each one of us separately and to Grandma by phone. And he's already counting the days (by each twenty minute increment) until Thursday night's practice!

In Need Of Encouragement

My brother and his wife just got word that my niece may need to return to Omaha indefinitely as her health is not progressing enough right now at home. If you will, please leave them some encouragement at http://ashleyadamsjournal.blogspot.com Thank you - with all sincerity.

National Day of Prayer

I have been so blessed to read the writings of a woman who speaks her heart and fills it with the love of God. Heather is having her surgery today to remove her brain tumor. What an appropriate day for God to plan it. Today is the NATIONAL DAY OF PRAYER.


This is the day which the LORD hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it. Psalm 118:24

These are my other heart felt prayers:

For Christians to keep strong testimonies, which is the only way to boost our national morality.

For our leaders. The ones we support and ESPECIALLY the ones we do not. I pray for them to have the opportunities they need to receive Truth.

For my children and all children. They face so many lies on a daily basis in our society.

For our troops and missionaries overseas in harms way - they serve for OUR protections and freedoms and for the love of those who don't always love us or God in return.

For our schools. All of them. If you GET to home or private school, please pray with me for the parents who do not and for their children. Pray for the teachers.

For myself. I need to look for my own beam before praying for the motes of others.

For people who need Him, especially when they mean so much to me.

That Jesus Christ will be glorified in EVERY thing.

If my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and will heal their land. II Chron. 7:14

For my salvation through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Life Is Lighter

Blogging is a sort of signal of the drastic changes that are taking place in my life. That I have time to do something I really enjoy. Three years ago, I could have never guessed that the trials we were embarking on could bring so much strain. It still doesn't make sense to people when we try to explain it. "So, you lived in a home that was too small; then you moved. Who doesn't do that at some point? Sure it's stressful, but it's really no big deal." But that was just the part of our situation that was visible. There is SO MUCH MORE to the story that was mostly unknown, because the details were far too tedious and complicated to repeat more than about that first five times. And frankly, we just haven't had the time to linger on recounting the tale for either sympathy or prayers. Those who know us best just trusted that when we emphasized rather emphatically (MANY times) that we needed prayer, well then, we needed it. The rest had already forgotten that the whole cycle of stress was set in motion by the death of our brother. It really was no small thing.

But what it all boils down to is this. The past three years brought more responsibility than time to deal with it. It wasn't so much the trials themselves that were so extremely frustrating to us. It was the lack of time to DO A GOOD JOB at it. And the well-intentioned people, albeit mostly ignorant of the situation, with an abundance of advice that was some version of "you make the time for what's important." We said so many prayers - MANY - for God's clear direction on what to eliminate from our routines that wasn't exactly necessary, and many mistakes in trying to follow through. I, particularly, eliminated hobbies and fellowship entirely, assuming they must be frivolous. Big Mistake! That makes for one grouchy, estrogen- laden lady, doing that! But from that mistake I learned the value of PLAY. I eliminated home school, though I still sometimes miss it very much. But I learned that I was trusting IN the home school more than IN Him to keep my kids on the straight and narrow. I, along with my hubby, eliminated, or at least really limited, our couple time. Not a good idea either. But television watching, church obligations, and other people's expectations had already been eliminated by that point, so what to do? Well, I'll tell you. We realized that God HAD ALLOWED such a season for a purpose. He in fact HAD put more on our plates than 24 hours daily allowed time for as much as some people will argue that point with me, but I know now why He did it and what He accomplished in me because of it. I was FORCED to let things go. To realize that the world will not fall apart EVEN if we don't eat dinner one night or send someone birthday greetings a week late by phone as opposed to on time with a nice card or the kids skip school for one day because there is NO clean laundry. God let the pendulum of my Perfectionism swing SO FAR the other way and because of it, I'm so much more laid back. So much more encouraging and less demanding of people. I'm more willing to try and to fail, realizing that success is not about reaching goals only, but about the lessons learned in the PROCESS of trying something new.

Why is all of this on my mind tonight? Well, I realized after a conversation with a friend today at the kids' school that scorpion season is upon us. She relayed how she was very recently bitten and proceeded to tell me, with all sincerity, that she would take child labor over the pain of a scorpion bite ANY DAY! And I panicked, realizing our home still looks like we've lived here only a couple of weeks though we moved in July. It's a tornado zone really. Not just cluttered - but after an extremely busy week, it's not vacuumed. There are no dishes done. There are spots on the wall where someone shook up and opened a bottle of Pepsi. There are still boxes in every room and piles of laundry in most of them and dirty toilets. There's paperwork in every conceivable nook and cranny. Half of the beds have no sheets on them.....etc., etc., etc.

All the way home I thought about those scorpions. We had four in our house here last summer. And then I thought again about how busy our week has been. And about some posts I've read this week from people with devastating health issues about the brevity of life and choosing what's really important. And about how God has taught me so many of those same lessons these past 3 years, but through my very different set of circumstances. And about how that is so much of WHY my house is in the very state it is in. Because I HAVE BEEN choosing hugs over dusting and discipline over laundry and forming new friendships over doing the dishes. And then I thought about how those things WILL indeed HAVE to be done at some point. And then the scorpions again. And then I carefully weighed the pros and cons - because I will never quite entirely know how to pinpoint that fine line between striving for excellence and going over board trying to be TOO perfect. That will probably always be a struggle for me. Finally, I looked out at a perfect evening and the four people nearest and dearest to my heart. And I made a choice. I went out to watch my boys take batting practice, my daughter play with the baby next door, and my husband plant trees with such contentment on his stress-free face. And though we'll probably be having popcorn for dinner and wearing the same jeans tomorrow, I didn't regret it. Sure, I know I could be catching up right now instead of typing my blog, but as much as I thought I would remember all those magical moments from bygone years, so many of them have faded. Now I have this gift of blogging to ensure they're not again forgotten. I've no time for the guilt. I'll reserve guilt for those times that I treat people other than I ought to. Right now all I feel is gratitude. I'm so thankful for the trial that taught me to relish such moments, even though that trial is not entirely over. But even more so, I'm thankful to finally have more of those moments to stop and appreciate!

Not Exactly The Plan

Well....I sort of hinted at an update to the weekend for this post, but I have been avoiding it most of the day. In whatever I write, I want to be honest. We did not exactly have the weekend we had planned. The fact is that one of our biggest issues is lack of couple time. We had not been alone together for so much as a dinner since last July. Unfortunately, it was more necessary to discuss issues we have not been able to discuss openly in front of the children than it was to wine and dine. Some of these discussions were frustrating and difficult, but I think we actually accomplished more long term by having some time to communicate than the relaxation would have contributed. And one of those things was that we NEED to have these types of discussions FAR MORE OFTEN whether or not work is looming! There are things we just haven't discussed in order to protect the children. My need to be away from them came only from a need to talk openly without them present and I believe my husband finally understood that. We need to protect them, and simply ignoring the big issues because they are present doesn't do that. After 12 years, that we are still sorting through this stuff astounds (and irritates) us both. But then, when we said "for better or for worse," we had to tackle the "for worse" part so much sooner than we ever anticipated! So now, we are playing "catch up" on the better, I suppose. At least I can trust we are both committed to it! When we said "I do", we both meant it. We both considered those words a promise to God first, even before each other, or now our children. We fear God. And that's a healthy thing sometimes to get us through. I like that word "us." I have been wanting to use it, and mean it, for so VERY VERY long. And I feel hopeful that through many tears, it is happening.

April 19 Reflections

It struck me so odd this morning as I tuned in my television for that annual ritual - how time insists on moving forward, whether we permit it to or not. It still just doesn't really seem like all that long ago. Twelve years ago today, it was the biggest news story in every American city and across much of the world. It was so surreal, so very shocking. But in the dozen years since the Murrah Federal Bombing 15 miles from my home and only 3 days before my wedding day, we've experienced an even bigger atrocity in 9/11. And RIGHT NOW, we are processing the massacre at Virginia Tech. And in between the two, there have been a multitude of other life defining moments, both public and private. The Iraq war, the Indian Tsunami and the flooding in New Orleans, political corruption, miscarriages, weddings, divorces, deaths and new babies. Life indeed goes on. In fact, one of our very own local stations ran regular programming today for the first year since "the bombing," a term whose reference is automatically understood in these parts.

I didn't feel the bombing like everyone else did. I was sleeping in to recuperate from the emotional exhaustion of preparing for our wedding while coping with my fiance's own grief. His dad had passed away suddenly just 12 days earlier. Our out-of-town guests experienced it though. Anyone within a 50 mile radius and not asleep when it happened has a vivid description to share. It was that powerful. My slumber turned out to be a blessing in disguise. At the time of the blast, I was supposed to be at the downtown courthouse securing our wedding license. The courthouse was located directly next door to the explosion, and two people inside were killed by falling debris.

In a realistic display of the sickness that sometimes lurks in our society, we were not able to locate an open courthouse anywhere in our state for two days, due to copycat threats at nearly all of them. Finally on Friday, less than 24 hours before "I do's," a sweet country-girl court clerk agreed to stay 20 minutes past quitting time to issue us our license 45 minutes away. After that she would have to leave to meet her family for a school function. We drove 90 mph most of the way and still barely made it. As we made our way back to the parking lot with that all important piece of paper, we were told to stay in our car as we witnessed a cavalcade of black Suburbans enter the premises in a quiet formal line. We wouldn't know until the 10:00 news that it was Timothy McVeigh. The door you've seen him exit on television as people boo in the background is the same one we entered to get legal proof of our impending marriage.

Two years later, my newlywed status was fading even as I was expecting our first child. Feeling clueless, we signed up for "baby classes" at the hospital. I was a new Christian and had shared the Gospel easily with my family but I was very much struggling to speak to strangers about Him. I really just struggled to speak to anyone new to me, period. But in that class, I stepped out on faith. I don't remember anything of the actual conversation, only that I apparently found the restroom to be the perfect locale to tell her about the love of Christ! We laugh about it now. We laugh about a lot now! God took my meager, ill-delivered effort and gave to me a wonderful friend. Arlene is classy, attractive, articulate, intelligent, caring and passionate - about Jesus, her family, the moral state of our society, her friends and the unique challenges of teenagers - in that order. And she is an Oklahoma City Murrah bombing survivor. Her name is etched on the one remaining wall of the building left as part of the memorial to commemorate the strength and resolve of those who lived through it.

Shortly after the bombing, she became alcoholic dependent. She was newly married as well. She lost almost 20 co-workers, her friends, all on one day. She herself had been completely blinded for over three hours and her husband had taken nearly six hours to find her in all the chaos. Her desk sat on the fourth floor on the right side of the hole that you have no doubt seen on television. She was there that morning to serve our country in the offices of the U.S. Army with her enlistment ending just 10 days later. She had gotten up to retrieve coffee for her male boss only 20 seconds earlier. She once told me that she would have foolishly considered his request to be chauvinistic toward women only a couple of years earlier, but she too had recently trusted her heart to Jesus Christ, and she had become softer, less bitter and more caring. At least until she was challenged by that day. Had she not gone for coffee that day, I would never have had my friend. Her husband would never have had his two amazing boys who are trained in the Word daily. They are one reason I find hope for the society my children will live in. They are being taught to love, really truly love others, by someone who walks the walk. Someone who prayed her way off the alcohol, recommitted herself to God, began traveling the country to publicly speak her testimony, finally found the courage to expose the scars she had hidden under carefully planned clothing for several years, pen-pal counseled with victims of 9/11 (still does) and yes, forgave her tormentor completely.

She didn't go to the Memorial service today. She no longer needs to. There is no chance she'll ever forget that Spring day that started so beautifully, but she no longer dwells on it either. These days she spends working with the teenagers at her church, as I have done for many years at mine. We try to help them with the fear that a Virginia Tech tragedy could happen to them. We try to help them realize that goodness has to start somewhere, if not with lazy parents for some of them or bullies for others or in the awful, extreme cases of Oklahoma City and Virginia Tech, with an irrational, selfish murderer, then it is THEY who have the power to determine what kind of society they will produce. They get to decide if vindication is worth the down spiral of violence it creates. They have the choice to do good or to do evil. And they have the capacity, but only through Christ, to love those who don't necessarily deserve it, rather than choose revenge. THEY ARE CAPABLE of so much more than they often get the credit for. But the vast majority of them need a lot of encouragement to believe that. They - young people - when given the chance, often humble and amaze me. They are not the sum of a few misled evil perpetrators.

On this anniversary of the first modern day terrorism event on U.S. soil (except Pearl Harbor, perhaps?), in the fresh aftermath of the senseless carnage at Virginia Tech, from a woman whose been the very target and victim of such hatred on April 19, 1995, my friend Arlene, please just smile at the pimple-faced guy behind the counter at McDonald's next time you're there. Ask the teen aged cart handler in the Walmart parking lot how he's doing today and then really listen. Encourage the emerging young adults of today that they are capable and not helpless. Help them to know that they matter, because who they become certainly DOES matter. It matters a whole lot. We can not separate ourselves from those we find distasteful. They are our mission field. They are the future co-workers and neighbors of our own children. They absolutely matter.

May God bless each person who mourns a tragic death today. May He bring comfort to all those who grieve the loss of ANY loved one.

Real Faith

Honestly, today I am struggling. Struggling with a problem that I have faced for many many years and that if I could just have a good scream and get it over with, I would probably feel better. But I can not. To do what is right, though I don't always feel like it, I must preserve the dignity of guilty parties. I have my own attitude to keep in check also, of course, but right now I'm having a moment of fatigue at feeling like it is ALWAYS my turn to "do the right thing" in the situation. Of course, that's not true. I do not do the right thing when I tell God that I've had enough already. Apparently, He doesn't think so yet. And He does know best. THAT I still do know. I don't always necessarily FEEL it, but I do know it. That to me is what faith really is. A belief He is worthy of my trust EVEN when I can not find Him. He has not lost me. It just seems like it momentarily. I do still continue to count my blessings. Not because I am in any way morally superior. Just because He in His mercy has taught me to. It ALL comes back to Him. That I know. I have come to believe (but not yet fully accept) that this may be the thorn in my side that Paul speaks of that God chooses never to take away. I don't know why. It SEEMS like I have learned all I am supposed to from it. But maybe not. Maybe it is to produce in me TRUE long suffering. The kind that presses on despite the lack of any promise. That is how I know I believe in Him. Not because I always FEEL His presence; I don't always. Not merely because it's what I'm SUPPOSED to do. Not because of trying to build any sort of false testimony. Just because it's what He wants, for me to withhold my frustration and give it to Him. It's natural to want to try to please the one you love. And I DO love Him. The actions I am dealing with are not His. He is not to blame. He is sometimes my ONLY source of comfort when I can not otherwise share my struggles. Maybe right now, I can not see Him, because He is busy formulating an answer for me finally. I don't know. And at least by now I have learned that I don't have to know. I just want to continue to know HIM. Jesus said He came not to minister to the well, but to the sick. (They that be whole need not a Physician. Mark 9:12) Therefore, anyone claiming to know Him, but to have it all together spiritually has missed the point entirely. And it is precisely when I am at my weakest, that His glory is manifested best. I am completely unimpressed with the whole "buck up, push through, be brave and save yourself" mentality. Right verbiage and eloquent words won't help my situation. HE will. In HIS time. And for today, He HAS MADE ME SURE of this - no body else's judgement will separate me from Him, EVEN when I am unable to say "there He is." (The judgement from assumptions that I can't correct, because I must protect the very ones whose sins limits my choices.) That's the real faith that He gave me. It's far from perfect, but it's most definitely from Him. "I KNOW whom I have believed and am persuaded that HE is able to keep that which I've committed unto Him against that day." No one else has to believe me. I only need to believe Him.

Like A Kick To The Stomach

Though you wouldn't know it from reading her blog. Maybe she's in shock. Or maybe her faith in our Savior really is that secure and automatic and could serve as my example to strengthen my own. Heather is a talented web designer to many of the more beautiful blogs out here in these circles of believers that so often cross each others' paths. She is also a strong committed mom to three children including Emma Grace, the sweet girl with a myriad of health issues such as a heart transplant and autism, whose prayer button graces the side bar of many a blog I read. (And will be found on mine when I EVER get back access to e-mail to retrieve the code.)

Today Heather posted that she has been diagnosed with a brain tumor. She goes in at 8:30 am Thursday to find out if it is cancerous. I would be faulty in trying to explain any more of it. It seemed complicated and scary and I don't want to relay incorrect details so I'll just refer you to her site if you want to read more about their situation. I truly can not imagine the stress this family must be under. Her first prayer request is to pray for her that she will not become bitter. She is a wise woman.

April

I awoke this morning to my husband's arms wrapped around me and the feel of his warm breath in my hair. This is not something I ever take for granted.....especially lately. We have not gotten along very well at all. But he was trying, even though I am the one who forgot.

"You know what today is, don't you?" I am sure I would have thought of it eventually, but this is the first time I haven't thought of April 7 approaching for a few days beforehand. I'm not sure why.

Twelve years ago today, our lives changed. Two weeks before we were expecting the most drastic alter in our life's direction - marriage - IT happened first.

April 7, 1995, Greg's dad passed away from a stomach aneurysm while pouring concrete for a new residential neighborhood on the far north side of our metro. He had been given a clean bill of health from a complete physical just four months before. It was sudden and it was shocking.

And it was part of life. We understood that. What has made it still so difficult after all these many years, besides the obvious loss suffered (and their was much; this was a DEARLY loved man) has been the events of Aprils since. We are not superstitious and we do not claim there is any magic in this certain time frame. It has just become our experience that God seems to administer some sort of spiritual SAT to us all at various times in order to test our faith, and very often our time slot for the "Super section" of the test seems to fall in this month.

Not all of these tests are so negative. Take 1996, for example. The occasion was a happy one. I was pregnant with our first child and we were very happy about our impending arrival. But we also were very broke, trying to make it financially not only as newlyweds, but also helping Greg's mother and her two dependent sons, who were left widowed and orphaned by the previous year's events. Plus he was working so much to make ends meet, we pretty much NEVER saw each other.

In April 1997, we were stressed out brand new parents of a four-month-old when our pastor died. Our pastor who led me to Christ. No, LOVED me to Christ. Unconditionally. My Grandpa after mine had died.

Other years brought other deaths - an old childhood friend of my husband was murdered. One of his employees was electrocuted. That big teddy bear of a guy had a young wife and two year old baby when he passed. Once in April, one of my husband's employees was falsely suspected of a heinous abduction and murder of a young girl in Texas, a national news story, because the description of the truck so closely matched that of my husband's, which the employee had borrowed that weekend. It all got sorted out eventually, but it wreaked havoc on business and reputation for a few long days.

Anyway, I hadn't thought much about April approaching this year, except to eagerly anticipate Easter and our Anniversary. Until my husband's comment this morning. And I thought back over the last week. It was horrible. I didn't decide this upon my revelation that it was April. I've been very aware of how my week has gone since it began last Sunday.

Our identity was breached again. I only discovered this, of course, AFTER having spent three hours at the grocery store and then being unable to pay. And going out to lunch with a bunch of other moms I was just meeting for the first time on a school field trip and having to have them buy my lunch. Embarrassing. I spent the past 8 days with no access to cash at all. Nothing but a single credit card we use only for emergencies. We decided no food to eat probably constituted an emergency, so now we have racked up a bunch of finance charges just as we head into tax time. (And tax time for a business is way more hairy than tax time for personal income!)

Oh, and I wrecked my car. It is fine. Everyone in the wreck was fine. But it is a sickening feeling knowing that my brakes failed after discovering only a few months ago that the brake pads had worn off COMPLETELY after only 24,000 miles. We suspect that must be the case again - at only 33,000.

And then there are interpersonal problems. These hurt me the worst.

And the house, which I should be used to after three years. But living out of boxes for three years somehow doesn't get any easier with time.

And my niece is having her worst bout of illness since coming home from the transplant center last month.

I could go on and on. But I'm not going to. This is the day that the Lord hath made. I will rejoice and be glad in it. And if it sounds like I'm trying to convince myself as much as you, that's O.K. I am. And that's better than being stuck where I don't turn to Him and His promises.

He made April 7, 2007 just like He made April 7, 1995. He made them both to teach us to trust Him. Just like He made April 22, 1995 to give me a partner to face it all with. And April 19, 1995 three days before to teach us we are not alone in our trials - through the Oklahoma City bombing 15 miles away from where we wed. And five dates on the calendar set aside specifically to celebrate the important existence of a particular member of our family in this world.

Tomorrow is such an important day to celebrate as well. But it isn't here yet. And really, we do not have a promise that it will be. So just in case it never comes, THIS DAY, I will rejoice!!! Today, this day is most important.

Standing Up

Sometimes I hesitate to write too many of this kind of a post in close proximity. I don't want to give off the false impression that as a family, we have it all together, praise God with every single instant of our lives (we should, but we don't ALWAYS), and there is never a failure or a fight. But this blog being first a journal for my family and a heritage for my grandchildren, not yet born for many years, I do want to record the many successes of my children for their encouragement and mine. I want to be able to read back through on the hard days, like several of them this week, and remember that slow and sticking progress is being made in the spiritual growth of our beloved children. I want them to be able to look back over our words one day and know the failures were forgotten, not just by God but by us as well, and the victories were proud moments for their parents.

Yesterday I was blessed with two of those moments. On a day when it seemed as though nothing else went according to my desires, when it seemed as though a million efforts on my part and my husband's and my mom's were for nought, when I was accepting such because of all that God has so faithfully taught me, when despite many a detour in the plans, I was O.K. with it, God gracefully gave me a heaping dose of encouragement anyway.

First, my daughter, who has been battling not one but three catty buddy bullies at her school and whose confidence level often seems non-existent, stood up to them. And she did it in the most important way. It seems that the bully gang and one of my daughter's friends, plus a couple of other girls were all pretending to be "witches" as they frolicked on the playground yesterday at recess. The three who normally exclude Faith from their presence offered her turn at being the witch and she told them, "Well, we are lucky to get to go to a Christian school and since witches and stuff like that are evil and don't belong to God, I don't want to play that." Thank You God!!! I honestly was surprised at her spot-on reaction. Her problems with these particular three have reached such a degree that I actually have a conference scheduled with the teacher about it today. And I love God for rewarding her confidence (her step of faith) by having my daughter's friend and another girl agree. "Yeah, we don't want to play that either." Please know that I am not making judgements about just how serious this whole situation was; I am just glad for how it worked out Faith's growth and commitment and confidence.

Then last night, we went early to my daughter's cheer leading exhibition to help out with set up and decorations. My son became bored at having to sit around while we worked, so he jumped in and found out what needed to be done. Apparently during the course of his work, someone remarked to him what a fine helper he was and that was all it took. He spent the next three hours in non-stop service, doing everything from serving the meal (I was SO PROUD of his latex gloves and his smile) to sweeping to stripping the decorations to putting away chairs and carrying out trash. He got dirty and broke a sweat. And before the night was over, people were making specific efforts to seek out his parents so they could tell us what a fine job he had done with joy in his heart. Just that ONE first comment was all it took. It reminded me to be constantly forgiving the bad and actively seeking the good in our children (in everyone for that matter.) He just needed that one assurance that his efforts matter. I know I feel the same way when someone takes the time to tell me when I've been a blessing. It's good for several more rounds of whatever it is that we're facing. I am so grateful to the adults who understood that and recognized my son. It's nice when it starts to come from someone other than just Mom and Dad. I think it validates a child that he is receiving that kind of recognition from someone who doesn't automatically love him already. And it sure does make a parent happy and proud!

A Father With Empty Arms And A Reason To Smile Anyway

You absolutely must - MUST - go read this! There is nothing more insightful, more poignent or more reassuring that I could offer today than what this father has written. He is so talented at describing in the most palpable detail, God's changing of his heart through the death of his only child - a perfect little boy named Eliot.

Better To Get Dirty And Wash Than To Miss The Muck And The Hugs In The Trenches

What a weird evening and morning. As I type, my two youngest children are watching a cartoon whose characters sport thick British accents, and for whatever reason, I'm finding it both wildly amusing and a little annoying. Anyhow, Faith threw up this morning (albeit minutely and with no other symptoms at all - I think it was more of one of those choke on your breath kind of things), so I've let her stay home from school today. Maybe an extra day of watching Mom do nothing but laundry will cure her ailment, which is possibly nothing more than a case of misplaced embarrassment.

After cheer practice last night, the director told me discreetly that the neighbor girl she brings with her to practice has lice. I am close enough to my friend to have been able to ask her "why, oh why then, didn't you tell us when practice first started?!" She is a hair stylist by trade and, she explained, had just discovered the problem for herself a couple of minutes earlier. In hindsight, I am glad. I am afraid I might have had more of a more knee-jerk reaction had we known any earlier. Apparently the girl's mother either didn't know - or more likely, didn't care. The little girl in question, C., is so very sweet and eager to please and so undeserving of her home life, or rather lack thereof. We coaches have the humble honor to be C.'s chosen adopted mother figures and I want to protect her little heart even more than I wanted to protect my daughter's beautiful blonde hair. The girls continued to play together as we talked and Robin assured us they probably had not had enough contact to be affected. I, on the other hand, had been so sweetly hugged several times earlier in the evening. We give hugs almost habitually. It's not that any one of them is particularly meaningful individually, but relenting at an embrace would have been. Finding out about the lice late in practice allowed me to reason that any transfer, if it were going to take place, probably already would have. It gave me a chance to temper my reaction thoughtfully. So after practice ended normally, Faith and I went to the store to buy treatments, just in case. The shampoo was smelly and I believe Faith probably had a case of self consciousness when she got up this morning, even though the smell is now barely detectable.

It's been a difficult year for Faith, realizing all on her own that the world is marred. I don't tell her about C.'s problems, but she figures it out. We had a long discussion last night about C. and how to handle the blunt details she sometimes offers about her family. She's not one to act out, but instead to just spill matter-of-factly what's happening - divorce, neglect, and a lot of fighting and frustration - stuff a lot of seven-year-old girls aren't yet familiar with, precisely because they shouldn't have to be. I find myself walking that fine line between wanting to protect my daughter's fading innocence and wanting to protect a precious little girl from not having the friendships she so desperately needs. I don't ever want to be too hasty in pulling my daughter away from her. If God had not allowed our ignorance last night, I might have been.

C. is the stunning product of some spiritually desperate parents and a God who almost tangibly fathers her on their behalf. She is so proud of her Jesus and I am proud of her. Sometimes I wish there were a shampoo that would wash away the "sins of the fathers." I guess there is. I just have to try to persuade people to read and believe it. Then my hope would be that we ALL would rinse and repeat daily!

Monday (Cont.) See Previous 2 Posts To Get The Whole Sordid Sob Story

There was a part 3. It involved tears (mine as well as the kids), lost haircutting scissors (the new pair bought to replace the never found old ones), a fight with the hubby and being late to the banquet (alone - with two of my three children and my dirty hair still in a ponytail.)

"This is the day that the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it." Psalm something-or- other

As I was convicted to look for God's silver lining, it was this. At least I have children who, when they see me struggle like they did today, try very hard to obey and draw sweet pictures to cheer me up - rather than take advantage of my breakdown. And their forgiveness for my picture day mistakes was instant. They rarely ever whine or pout when things don't go "their" way. They adapt. I am so very proud of them for intentionally practicing this trait! I have a God who knows that deep down inside, I am a willing worker and a diligent homemaker despite what my home and any spontaneous house guest might currently attest to. And He has so kindly blessed me with a warm and fluffy bed just calling my name after I finish 2 loads of laundry well into the wee morning hours. Innocent encouragement, a comfy bed and at least a little sleep. That's more than our soldiers in the Middle East will get tonight. So tonight, I will just pray for them and praise God despite it all.

Good night.

Two Hearts Unite

I just haven't been sure what to write without boring anyone with yet ANOTHER story of Ice Escapades - that has been ALL that has happened around here for 9 days now! Ice and snow and rain and STUCK inside, TRYING to keep the house SOMEWHAT clean! Notice all my EMPHASIS!

So without concentrating on writing flair, but just factual details that I can get through without crying, I share this:

The past year with my husband has finally been like the honeymoon period you're supposed to get the first couple of years of marriage before the kids come along. We'll have been married for 12 years in April. This was not an oversight on our part, or laziness in our relationship (God KNOWS it's NOT that!), but because for the first time in a DOZEN YEARS we are finally just getting to be "normal." We still have problems, but they are the garden variety. Broken pipes, molding kids' attitudes, running out of underwear with no laundry soap left. Yes, we built a house this past year. We moved and we had our identity stolen, but we also finally had time to do it all AS A TEAM. You can't imagine what a big deal this is to me!

When we met, my husband and I were both in our twenties and living on our own. We had our jobs (he worked construction with his Dad's company; I was Promotions and Technical Director at a radio station) and our hopes to meet Mr./Ms. Right. We were ready. Our first year of dating was all the fun and discovery that it should be. He found out I'm neurotic about being organized (yeah, God's let me learn the futility in THAT the past 3 years!) and I found out that he snores and well, isn't so neurotic about cleanliness. (I had to show him the vacuum had a disposable bag after he had it for 8 years!)

And soon, he would also find out just how little real adversity I had ever had to prepare me for our initiation into married life. Just two weeks before our Big Day, I was coming into my apartment carefully lugging my GORGEOUS finished wedding gown when I caught the tail end of a message playing on the answering machine. I had missed too many details to understand the context of the information being spoken, but there was panic in my church friend's voice. I laid the dress quickly across my bed and picked up the receiver. "Nikki. Oh, thank God you answered! You've got to get to the such-and-such hospital right now! Greg is there by himself and something really bad has happened to his dad." My first question to her was of course what had happened. She didn't know. Then I asked "why is he alone?" "It's a long story" she said, "and you don't have time!" I asked her how to get to this hospital. (It wasn't one of the ones in our near vicinity. He had been taken there from a job site he was working on.) She told me as well as she knew which wasn't exact at all - and I headed out immediately. God must have shown me straight there because I just remember showing up there - finally - about 30 minutes later. I ran in and rounded the corner of a long hallway to find my intended with his head hung low, staring blankly, defeated. And without ever knowing what had happened, I nevertheless knew the outcome. We didn't speak, just hugged and cried for the longest time. A brain aneurysm had taken his father's life without warning.

The funeral was held 5 days later. Then, 3 days before our wedding, which everyone insisted go on as scheduled to bring a bright spot to their healing, the Murrah Federal Building was bombed 15 miles away from our newlywed home (which was Greg's already). The majority of our out-of-town guests were already here and experienced it. I slept through it. I was supposed to be next door to the the Murrah building that morning, securing our wedding license at the court house, but I was sleeping in to recuperate from the emotional drain of the prior week's events. Our pastor preached the funeral of one of the child victims the day before we were married. On top of it all, our actual wedding day brought record low temperatures and 4 inches of rain. It was to be an outdoor garden reception.

This was the day God helped me begin to practice the art of perspective. I didn't cry at the rain. It was so insignificant in light of our loss. I didn't care that everyone was discussing the bombing. Those people who perished deserved remembrance. They had lost their lives as well. And besides, as far as I know, every single person who was invited to our wedding showed up to support us! Many pitched in to make sure the indoor reception was nothing short of spectacular.

But the one thing that haunted me that day, for years in fact, was that my betrothed never looked me in the eyes. On a day so full of emotion, ALL KINDS of emotion, I was hidden from him most of the day for the tradition of not seeing the bride before the "big moment." When the big moment finally came and I walked through the double doors, I think he glanced just long enough to know that I was THERE, alive, and then no more after that. Through the entire ceremony, he stared at a single spot on the floor, never even looking at me. He couldn't. It was all too much.

I just wish I had realized that then. I took offense instead. I NEEDED for him to be wowed, to accept me in as his wife, to relish in my comfort. He needed my understanding. To be gone for 14-16 hours a day that first year or two, trying his best to run a company and support not just a new wife, but also 10 employees, his mother and her two dependent children at home. All this at the tender age of 26. I didn't really realize then how very young he really was. I was often mad at his absence (both physically and especially emotionally) instead of proud of his AMAZING responsibility toward everyone involved. We both made so many mistakes. We never had that time, that incredible bonding that's needed to become one flesh, a team. Our circumstances gave us the worst possible start, one that's already difficult for most newly married couples and multiplied it exponentially. What is a usually a time of figuring out differences and meshing lives together was for us, a time of sharing space but not problems, heart thoughts or often when work intruded so dramatically, even the bed at night.

YEARS of difficulty followed, mostly but not all related to this very rough base of circumstances. But here's the inevitable positive spin. We are newlyweds now! Not in the sense of relishing in each and every word and deed all starry eyed and stuff. We've been together too long for that, seen each other sick and angry and generally for who we really are. But we're becoming a team. We have problems still, but we are tackling them, finally, together. We are going on dates. And most importantly (and I'm crying while I write), we are looking each other in the eyes when we say "I Love You." And we smile when we do it. For now, that's all the romance I ask.

Lessons From A Fiery Trial

Many of my friends or family members are going through deep valleys and exhausting trials right now. My own immediately family is just now on the tail end of a LONG trek through the valley of learning as well. Times are troubled and uncertain all around the world. It is no secret - even to the unbelieving. Life is more tiring and confusing than ever before. And it seems obvious to everyone.

Several of our friends have confided their problems to us in recent months eager for our
prayers - and our advice when their situations seem similar to our own recent past. Here is the best advice I can offer based on the very scriptures God used to speak to my heart in my own trial and the way He applied them personally to my problems at that time. These were verses I knew, but through our troubles they became so much sweeter. (I LOVE the description for the Scriptures as "the LIVING Word!")

LET GOD FORGIVE YOU.

He WANTS to forgive us. If He didn't, He wasted his humility and his blood on the cross at Calvary. Often when we are going through trials, we mess up more. Often the hurt we experience comes from facing something completely new we have never dealt with before. We are learning God's way of dealing with it AS WE GO. We know the automatic human response, but we are being conditioned to learn God's way of dealing with it - and we don't always get it right. He will correct us, but He does not WANT to "catch us" doing wrong (anymore than we glee at seeing our children falter), even after we have given our hearts to Him. The Bible clearly states that "He came not into the world to condemn the world, but that the world through Him might be saved." (John 3:17) I think a lot of Christians trust this at the hour of salvation, only to forget it as they walk with Him. I did. He does not want us to serve Him so much out of fear as from a heart of deep gratitude for all He has done to prove His patient love for us. ("We love Him because He first loved us." I John 4:19)

ONE OF THE THINGS WE MOST OFTEN NEED FORGIVENESS OF IS OUR LACKING JOY.
THE SIN IS NOT LACKING JOY AT OUR CIRCUMSTANCES, BUT IN LACKING TRUST IN OUR GOD

In almost every case, at least amongst my Christian friends, people convey a sense of guilt at losing their joy in the midst of a trial, even for a moment, even if joy is their usual response. I understand this. They want to be good witnesses and a loss of joy makes that difficult. You want to CONVEY to the world that you have something worth rejoicing in (because even in your pain you know in your heart it's true) and that's difficult when you don't SEEM to be any better for having Christ to lean on. I was the worst about this. I lacked joy when I suffered. And then I beat myself up for it worse than the unbelieving amongst me ever did.

And that was Satan's subtle way of keeping me in the mire so much longer. Guilt for ever hurting in the first place. Of course, we will have disappointments in this life. Of course, we will hurt when we are betrayed, rejected, or left lonely by the loss of a loved one. Rejoicing in these situations would not even be the appropriate response. ("To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:...A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn and a time to dance" Ecclesiastes 3: 1, 4) But rejoicing that we can trust in God to use the situation for good, to teach us something new, is a supernatural response He gives us to show the world that He indwells in us. It is NOT natural. It is what seperates us from the lost and proves His existence personanlly. THAT JOY is our shining light because it is evidence of HIM and HIS work in our lives! But we forget THAT JOY when we forget to look away from our SITUATION and "turn our eyes upon Jesus." And we do that a lot. What I learned from all this was, don't TRY to rejoice in your situation, but instead REJOICE in God who LET you go through it not JUST BECAUSE He trusted you handle it, but because He is actually using that situation to make you more like Him! It is not only O.K., but necessary to say "this stinks!" if we are to show that God is a God for ANYONE and not just the uber-optimistic and super-spiritual of the world. But we must always follow that up with "I can do all things through Christ which strengthens me." (Phillipians 4:19) We must be real in our trials, but without then acknowledging our hope in God's delieverance from them, we are merely complaining. We must be faithful to praise Him, even in the midst of the battle. That shows true faith -not just praising Him in hindsight. Faith is not just pointing to fulfilled evidence. It's believing in promises not yet fulfilled. I finally began learning not just conceptually, but personally what Paul meant when He said "I have learned in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content....I am instructed both to abound and to suffer need." (Phillipians 4:11b, 12b) "LEARNED" to me is the key word. You can't do it without the teaching experiences which are accomplished through the trials. We MUST endure trials. They are not the punishment for being so unlike God, but the means by which we become more like Him.

The main verse that brought this all to light was this (prophesying of Jesus): "He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief." (Isa. 53: 2-4)

Jesus was not ALWAYS happy! He hurt at temptations (his friends falling asleep in the garden instead of praying for Him) and cried at death (Lazerus). He even asked the Father to remove the worst situation from His life if was at all possible. And our life's goal is to be LIKE HIM. Tempted but not defeated. Human and feeling, but not governed by those feelings. Knowledgable enough in the Word to fight off lies with belief in the Truth. I cringe now when I hear the advice to "follow your heart." Because the Bible says "The heart is deceitful above ALL things and desperately wicked. Who can know it?" (Jeremiah 17:9 - emphasis mine) You CAN NOT know what to believe unless you are familiar with the Word. If you don't use God's guidelines for testing truth, you will naturally fall back on "common sense," which is really nothing more than man's suppositions.

The greatest part of our sore temptations and long trials was this. It took certain parts of the Word I understood in CONCEPT and made sense of them personally, in a way that I could practice. That I could know not just in theory, but understand by exacting examples what they really mean. They were lessons that I could apply to my behavior and LIVE to truly become MORE like Him! I also learned how VERY MUCH more I still need to learn about Him. I could spend a lifetime and never touch the very outskirts of the holiness of my Savior. But I am at least off my spiritual plateau. I am at least climbing, drawing ever nearer to Him. And as long as I have my eyes on that goal - reaching Him.....as long as I keep Him in focus, it gives me drive toward a WONDERFUL goal worth reaching. I love my Lord. And as He lovingly waves His finger "come hither", I know He loves me too.

So my advice is this. Go back to the beginning - back to Salvation 101. REMEMBER He STILL forgives you. REMEMBER He STILL loves you. Hate the darkness this world sometimes produces. And love the Savior who walks through it with you. The Savior with the whole world at His feet who still CHOOSES to face the darkness sin brings JUST so He can be near You. "My bretheren, count it all joy when you fall into diverse temptations..." (James 1:2a) "Being confident of this very thing, that He which hath begun a good work in you will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ." (Phillipians 1:6)

And now if I may be so bold as to ask a quick prayer request. Please pray for my children to find godly friends who are able to play with them. We live in a neighborhood with few children and a long drive from town which sometimes prevents having friends over. This is a real need for all of us and has made for an exceedingly tearful day. Thank you!!