Religion or Faith

I have loved that which you've hated,
Split hairs, drawn lines and debated
The sinlessness of my wrong.

Though I've preached of you with my mouth,
Still my heart has headed South,
In pursuit of human desire.

Oh foolish woman that am I,
living this way, just getting by,
Counting on your grace and mercy
to cover my lack of true devotion.

This is religion through and through,
A set of standards adhered to,
In the absence of true love for my Savior.

How did I arrive at this point so jaded,
I am no different than those who have hated
You, your life, and the wounds that you bore.

Let him who knows the truth be set free,
May it sink bone deep and apply to me,
That I may experience the peace you offer

And as I grow in Spirit and in Truth,
I pray that I won't keep myself apart and aloof
from those who have need of your power in their lives.

A Miracle From Here to Eternity

I had the most amazing experience today. Have you ever wondered what your purpose is and if you are doing what it is that God has called you to do? I often ponder that question and hope that I am following His voice. Less than a year ago, my husband and I were restationed in Alaska. At that time, I knew that we were coming here to support our friend Virginia and her terminally ill husband Bill. He'd been battling leukemia for ten years and had outlived the initial 2-3 month prognosis doctors had given him. I was so grateful for the opportunity to give back to them.

We've been stationed here before ten years earlier. During that time, I'd met and been supported by Bill & Virginia. During the difficult dark times, they were God's hands and feet in my life. Before Brad deployed, Bill told my husband "We will take care of her" and they quite simply did. They let me crash at their house with my one year old during deployments. They were my second string during those lonely, single mother moments when it all seemed to be too much and the sun never rose during the winter. When I went into pre-term labor at twenty weeks, Virginia fought her phobia of hospitals and stayed by my bed until Brad returned home. She was the one with whom my daughter stayed the night Jonathan was born. Bill and Virginia have been woven into the tapestry of my life.

Each time Bill was hospitalized with infection and sepsis, he fought with all he had. Bill, in many ways, was a stubborn old coot. He refused to give up and his will power was amazing. He was absolutely indomitable. Last week, Bill became septic again. He'd gone through a period where even weekly transfusions of blood were ineffective and he was continually needing infusions of platelets. This particular time, the doctors didn't seem to think he would get to go home again. Indeed, at one point Bill even verbalized that he knew he was dying. That was the first admission he had ever made in all these many years. His condition worsened and ultimately, the doctors withdrew the multitude of medicines used to control his Congestive Heart Failure and other conditions. They even ceased the antibiotic which was not proving effective. The doctors provided palliative care using morphine and atavan to do their best to keep him comfortable.

I'd been panicked that I might not be there when he died and in so doing fail my dear friend Virginia. I certainly wouldn't want to be alone when my husband was dying. Her friend Gene spent four days at the hospital with her, sleeping in those miserable 'recliners' and acting as her gatekeeper. I was able to stay Friday night and Sunday night, but still needed to race home and take the kids. Last night, I was unable to go and I only had two hours this afternoon to check in on Virginia.

I arrived at the hospital to find that the morning had been terrible. Virginia was in the hall trying to pull herself together. Seeing Bill struggle so hard to draw a breath was causing her intense grief. Gene was with Bill making sure that he would not be alone in his last moments, once again protecting his friend.

For some reason, I felt compelled to enter Bill's room. For once, I knew exactly what God wanted me to do and that allowed me to overcome any fears I had. In that moment, I felt God telling me to pray, and so I did. Out loud. I prayed that Jesus would send his angels to bring Bill home. Then, I felt prompted to sing, so I sang the Lord's prayer (rather badly) in the quiet of the room. Bill opened his eyes! At that moment, I spoke to him telling him, "Bill we are here. It is okay to let go. We will take care of Virginia just as you took care of us while Brad was in the Gulf. It is time to go home. I stroked his hair and Gene and I talked to him. Bill closed his eyes again. Then, I sang Amazing Grace and continued caressing his head as I sang. At the end of the song, Bill drew two more breaths and then left his body.

All of this time, I had been worried about being there for Virginia, but clearly God also had me there, in that moment, for Bill. I felt God's presence so very clearly in that room. He was there and I believe that I saw a miracle today! I think I've had a limited view of what a miracle is....like a miracle is only limited to when God 'comes through' by healing someone. Today I saw a different kind of miracle. The love and grace that God would have to come and carry someone home.

Oddly, rather than feeling freaked out, I have felt complete peace and assurance all day. I know that this strength is provided by God. I am so grateful in so many ways. I've learned a lot about God today. Our God is the God who notices when a sparrow drops to the ground. He is the God who cares when a dying man is struggling to breathe, and he is the God who set Bill free from his earthly confines today.

Bill didn't die today. He left for home. God is good, even in the moments of deep grief. He is good even to those who are left behind.

Medicine for the soul

My husband said something today that was quite profound. We just finished listening to a sermon on Job at church. If you recall, Job had three friends who came to 'comfort' him and ended up failing miserably. We then had a discussion on chronic pain, illness, and how to be a friend who truly comforts during difficult times. On our way home, we were talking and he said, "We have all kinds of medicine for physical pain but the only medicine for spiritual pain is the blood of Jesus and the amazing thing is that he didn't hold any of it back. Every drop of blood he had poured from his body while he was on the cross.

For My Sister

Dearest Sister,
I think of you and miss who I once knew you to be. I miss days of laughing until our sides ached. Your life is like the waning moon, dimmer than it used to be. Still beautiful, still enchanting, but reflecting less light. You've given up hope, but I haven't. I miss you-we all do. Life 'before' probably seems like a wisp of dream faintly recalled. Maybe by now, it is easier to return to drugs and alcohol which promise escape but slowly strangle you instead. Sobriety brings shame and you've yet to forgive yourself. You hide your nakedness...why? We are all naked before God. Not one of us is perfect or deserving of forgiveness and grace.

I see you punish yourself and I watch you let others, who can't be trusted, abuse you. I so understand the fear of being alone and abandoned. But you've been fighting on your own terms and losing. Why is accepting God's mercy so much harder?

Somewhere deep in my soul, I wait for the call that you aren't here anymore. The beautiful memories of the happiest baby in the world will only exist in my mind. I grieve losing you and it feels like you are already most of the way gone.

What would you do if I died tomorrow? Who would you tell and why would I have mattered? I feel that if for no other reason, you owe it to me to fight your way free. If you leave, my echo in this wide world will vanish too. In your presence, I know that the early part of my life was real-not imagined-and not only that, but I've survived it. If you are gone, who will share my laughter? Who with remember going to Granny's farm, bumping over cattle grates and onto gravel with me?

I've never known why, but I've always felt you don't like yourself. Are you fundamentally less valuable than the next person? If you were the last girl on earth, Jesus would still brave the cross just for you. He loves you in a way that you can't understand. Of all the people in your life, Jesus is the one who doesn't want anything from you. He wants things FOR you. He wants to give you His love, peace, joy, freedom...all of those things you can't give yourself.

I too am waiting for you. I am standing on this side of life watching you fade and it breaks my heart! You still have life to live; don't give up! We haven't; we are all pulling for you; we are all praying for you, but not one of us can take away your free will.

What do you have to lose that you haven't already lost? We all want you to win. I know that you can. Even more importantly, God says that you can.
I love you!

Free to Leave; Free to Live

I am sitting on my couch in Alaska, the house is insulated by 2 feet of freshly fallen snow, and the winter darkness warps the sense of cozy that I usually feel. Truthfully, I am feeling bereft and simultaneously angry. About eight months ago, Brad and I learned we'd be moving again. It was an expected move and we were thankful to move here. Shortly after we learned of our assignment, I received an unexpected call from my 18 year old niece. I heard my mother-in-law (whom I love dearly) urging her to "ask her!" It seems that my niece was experiencing difficulties at home and she and my mother-in-law hatched a plan...she wanted to move to Alaska with us.

At first, Brad and I were shocked. Truthfully, we had many concerns about her lifestyle there. We worried that allowing her to join our family would somehow bring other 'influences' into the lives of our young and impressionable children. At the same time, we could not deny that God has brought us to a point that we were able to be a family to someone who needed it. After much discussion, prayer, and deliberation, we agreed that she could come with us provided that she follow our family rules. Basically, our rules amount to no fornication, intoxication, or inhalation with the caveat of church on Sunday. Not to sound prudish, but these seemed easy and obvious.

I was thrilled to have a companion to move with me. For this particular move, I'd planned to take the children and arrive in time for the school year to start; Brad had to attend a three month course in Florida to requalify in the jet. As soon as we arrived, my kids and Sarah enrolled in school. I immediately began teaching as an Adjunct Professor at UAA and life percolated along at an amazing pace. As an Air Force family, perhaps I assumed we would all move ahead...you know, in a forward direction, as in toward the future.

The kids and I jumped in with all four feet. But from day one, she refused to transplant. It seems she'd met a guy three weeks before she moved from home. Based on the side of their conversations I heard he was, at best, churlish and unmotivated. At worst, he was a high school drop out, sometime/part time Subway employee, and financially unsupportive father who lived with his grandmother. As women often do, she made him what she wanted him to be in her mind. In an appalling break from reality, she 'fell in love.' Any energy she had was spent looking back and wishing to be home. Sadly, she blew off her freshman year in college and never made any friends. Her days were spent on my couch with the tv on and her cell phone at the ready. All of the wonderful opportunities she had to begin anew were squandered.

Fast forward to a week ago. Her grandmother, who has been ill with cancer for many years, was hospitalized. I went to work one day and returned home to find that she'd sold her car, disenrolled from university, and was planning to move back home. Her stated reason was so that she could be with her grandmother. The breadcrumbs that I gathered hearing half of her telephone conversations indicated she was going back to move in with the boyfriend and live the life she wanted. I tamped down my emotions and laid all the pros and cons out in logical form. Together, Brad and I implored her to stay the three additional months until the year was out. Truly our goal was to help her through her freshman year. I longed for her to start something and finish it; not for me but for her. From the beginning, I admonished her to 'have a plan and not to quit.' Once one begins quitting, being a quitter becomes a pattern, the fall back impulse of a failing lifestyle.

I quite literally cried myself silly for two days. I remember her as a baby; she was such a fun little girl! At that time, her dad had been seriously injured in a car wreck. Her mother was occupied with seeing him through a traumatic brain injury. As a result, she was raised by her grandparents and doted on by aunts and uncles, myself included. She was such a joy to all of us. When I would take a break from classes, I'd pick her up and take her with me. The entire family cherished her; we all became invested in helping to bring her to adulthood.

My heart yearns for her to want a life! A life where the next party isn't the biggest high and where friends aren't queued up to take what little she has. Most of all, I pray that she will see the value God places on her and not sell herself-least of all so cheaply!

A small sliver of me now understands what God must feel when we choose the ugly over the beautiful; when we choose what we want and our 'plan' over His plan for us. After all, we have no idea what tomorrow will bring and absolutely no control over the future. We can only choose how we respond and I suspect that our response reveals the essence of our character.

I'm MAD! She doesn't realize what her decisions have cost us, nor does she care. At the same time, gosh I see myself reflected in her actions. I know that I too am guilty of the same offense. Each day, God hopes that I will stop and see all that He has given me. I know He wants me to see how much it costs him and to be thankful for those many blessings. In my own stubborn way, I offer up a fleeting prayer and forge ahead with what I've decided to do.

The sadness I feel is multifaceted, but I know that it is largely the result of seeing the promise of her life flicker and dim just a little. I feel helpless, because no one can make these choices for her. It's a bit like watching a car wreck in slow motion. The beauty in this place is that God never gives up. It contradicts His very nature to force us to love and serve Him. But He is always willing to take us back. As I pray for Sarah, I know that He will be waiting. It is my earnest prayer that she will see differently when truth shines on the life she has chosen; it will look cheap and tawdry like Las Vegas in full sunlight. And then, I pray she will choose him.

This situation is also an admonishment to me. I need to be living in such a way that it almost makes God's sacrifice worthwhile. I need to be running the race that is set before me.

Family & Conflict

I am writing this post with a heart that has been bruised over many years. Certainly, my heart isn't where it needs to be on this matter and a great deal of personal time, thought, and emotional energy have been exhausted in this regard. First of all, God is good! He is the same today as he was yesterday and he will be the same tomorrow as he is today. All of the trials we experience are for His perfect plan, IF we will permit ourselves to be used in His service.

It is sometimes difficult to allow ourselves to be vulnerable and I don't particularly enjoy that sensation. However, most people I know struggle with their family: where they fit, how they feel, and how they relate within that group. So, I want to share these thoughts before Thanksgiving, because I am reminded that I have so much to be thankful for.

If one looked at my family tree, I'd suspect it would be an interesting tree. Not exactly pretty, but memorable. From a distance, it might look beautiful but a close inspection would illuminate all of it's many flaws. As a child, my brother and I went to live with my grandmother. My father was completing professional training at the time and needed help with us. For reasons that were never apparent to me until decades later, my mother left the family. I recall seeing her once when I was five. From then on, we had no contact that I remember. A year or two after she left, he remarried and subsequently had a child with this wife when I was seven. They divorced when I was 18 or 19. My father was briefly married and rapidly divorced again. Ultimately, he married again to someone with many children of her own.

Relationships within my family are thorny. Confrontation of any sort is avoided at any cost. Being 'nice' and 'peaceful' is paramount, because as long as we pretend peace the contrast between what actually is and what ought to be can be successfully ignored. Problems are never directly dealt with; our approach is to hope that it goes away. If someone voices strong emotion or disillusionment, that person is labeled as the problem instead of acknowledgement that there is an 'issue.' Over the years, I've been the lightning rod of controversy in that I've been willing to say what I felt (and perhaps what others were thinking). I've been compared to others, and found lacking. Sometimes, I was convinced that nothing I did was ever good enough and, frankly, it wasn't. There were years when my family felt like an ill fitting pair of jeans I was wearing backwards.

Family are those people who are 'supposed' to love you no matter what. Fathers and mothers represent our first inkling of who God is. Ideally, they love, provide, and sacrifice. God is continually referred to as our father in scripture. If one hasn't had a 'healthy' or 'safe' experience with their parents, it can be very hard to see the truth of who God is because our seminal experience was so warped. I have had a lot of anger over the evolution of my family. With every regime, there have been those who are 'in' and those who are 'out.' I have often been the 'out.' Some of the situations I have experienced are so nuts that if I wrote it down, even I wouldn't believe it!

There is a rather vulgar saying, "You can't polish a turd." (EWWWW--I know, I can't believe I put that in writing!!!!) That is a very base way of a saying that man is not capable of taking something ignoble and elevating it to a noble status. For example, you can't take tin foil and make a platinum ring. These many years later, I am finding how only God can redeem situations like these.

Guess what? Being THAT child allowed God to show me so many things that I never could have learned otherwise. He forged me into a person who could stand up to others but He also helped me to empathize with those who feel shunned. He taught me that even if I don't feel a sense of belonging with others, I always belong with Him. He has shown me that I'll always be His child even if my parents seem to forget me. (There is even a verse in the Old Testament that says, "Though your mother and father would disinherit you, I the Lord your God will not.")

The truth is, we will all fail one another. Only God never fails. God has been so beautiful to me. Where I once felt like I should 'pull myself up by my bootstraps,' I am now painfully aware that I am incapable of doing so. Instead, I have learned to look to God for provision and He has been so faithful in supplying ALL my needs. He has brought the right people at the right time into my life. He has comforted me with his presence and with the presence of others who love me.

Human nature is such that each one of us wants to be fully known and deeply loved. I believe that God created us to be this way, because we are made in His image. I know the error that I've made is that I have expected other people to fill the void in my heart that only God can occupy. Jesus says, "Seek and you shall find me." I have had to ask myself, "What is it that I am seeking? Who is it that I am seeking?" Sometimes, I haven't found what and/or who I've needed, because I have been looking in the wrong place. Sure, people have failed me. Truthfully, I've failed them as well. But God is teaching me to let go of my expectations and find release in Him. This is a freedom that has been a long time coming and I am thankful!

A Mother's Heart

I miss my children being babies! My heart yearns for those precious moments. I awake each day to children who have grown taller overnight. In my imagination, I still see them running down the hall, diaper whispering with each step. I can still smell the beautiful scent unique to each downy head. Their pink, teensie toes invite tickling and the soles of their feet are as soft as can be. Today, I live for their hugs just as they once lived by mine. They are growing up to be these amazing little people! The few short years from infancy to childhood are so precious to me. Irreplaceable! Those times are woven into my soul. These memories continue to feed me and bring me joy every day. Sometimes, I wonder if God feels that way about me. While my mind 'knows' that He does, it is hard to comprehend that God sees me for who I am and feels about me the way I feel about my children.