Giving Your Life Away

While reading Ann Voskamp's blog the other day a passage jumped out at me,    

"And I read truth at the table: “…. and whoever sows generously will also reap generously.” All I can think of is...did I break myself generously and did I sow generously and all that you have in the end is what you give away."

This hits to the core of my life's passion, bearing the seeds of a personal mission statement, if I were to ever write one. And so I reflect...

Have you ever clearly known God's call on your life?  

At age 16 I knew without a doubt that my calling was to be a wife and mother. (I wish I always heard from God that specifically, but for all the challenges that followed, I'm very glad that I had no doubt about this one.) So at sixteen, my greatest ambition was born. During my junior year of high school my best friend talked me into entering our local Jr. Miss pageant. All the other girls went up on stage introducing themselves and declaring their goals for the future: teacher, nurse, business woman, surgeon, etc. And then it was my turn. Walking up in all my teenage-longing-to-be-an-adult passion, I said simply, "Hi. I'm Bernadette Rivard and I want to be a happy wife and mother." 

I truly did...word for word. It probably sounded corny then too. Especially in that power suit era where being at home full time, "just a wife and mother," was looked on as settling, demeaning, wasting your life. "After all," many people said to me...and the world said to all of us in general, "you're smart. You can make something of yourself." And, "Half of all marriages end in divorce. Shouldn't you have a backup plan?" I am a child of divorce, so I was not naive to that reality. And, yes, I was an honor student with an aptitude for most areas of study...but it wasn't what I was called to do. I'm not against college educations or meaningful careers, though I probably have a different take on life and careers than many people. I am a life long learner...reading, studying, writing. Always a student of something. I remain just an English major wannabe and I'm totally ok with that.

I did not believe that God's call required a backup plan, nor did my sense of worth require a piece of paper declaring some achievement. Over the years my husband often encouraged going back to school if I wanted, but the Lord's direction has always been, "Press on with what I've called you to." And I learned over time that I already had the only fall back plan I needed. Jesus. My Rock. All I ever needed to do was to run to Him...learn to take a stand...right there with Him...to be still and to abide. 

Full time wife, full time mom. Was it hard? Did I ever want to quit? Did I ever shout, "I'm so done!!" Yes, yes...and of course! There was plenty of 20, 30, and 40-something angst, especially since I didn't allow the backup plan of divorce into my vocabulary. (As a kid of divorce I kind of dug in my heels on that one.) That stubbornness carried consequences of it's own, but I'd been counting on a big God, remember? He has never let me down. So marriage and motherhood it's been...for three decades. 

Has God ever shown you that there's more to the story?

Isn't there always more to the story? More than meets the eye? Silvered-lined clouds and all that? That's always what my literary mind is looking for: What's between the lines? Where's this story headed? What happens to our quirky middle-aging heroine when she's no longer a round-the-clock mom?

I like this part. 

So all of those years of pouring into the hearts of my little, and then not-so-little, ones? It gave me resilience, endurance, and taught me more than I ever taught them. And the seasons of battling against my husband, then battling for my husband, now battling together...got me on my knees and desperate for truth...life changing truth...more than anything in my life ever has. It revealed who I was, thus, who I didn't want to be anymore. And it magnified who God is, big time! God's promises became my lifelines and a faith professed became a faith hardened and made sure by the battle. I became fully persuaded that He has the power to keep His promises (Romans 4:21) by actually walking and trusting and finding out for myself that my God is truly wise, loving, and holy. He is utterly faithful; full of mercy, grace, and compassion. Grace changes everything and it changed me. 

Back to motherhood for a moment: In the purest sense my original call to be a full-time mother was not so I could nuzzle sweet babies or chase children around while living a perfect Betty Crocker...or perhaps in my case, June Cleaver...life. I do not love everything about homemaking and I still wish that I had a passion for cooking delicious food and turning trash into treasure. Raising children is no picnic either. The hours are lousy, there are no mandatory breaks, and by the time you get around to sitting down to that hot meal...well, it ain't so hot. These are not complaints, just truths, because being a full-time mom was the best job ever! 

The vision and passion God gave of motherhood was one of continually giving life by giving mine away. Spending my time sharing knowledge, laughter, creativity, a listening ear, firmness, direction, truth and correction with the little lives He blessed to my care. Pouring out. Investing. Shaping. Preparing the next generation for a life of love, integrity, faith, and servanthood. God told me that He had a purpose for my children's lives, and so I have been nurturer and nurse, teacher and taxi, disciplinarian, counselor...and desperate seeker of His wisdom for all of it. 

And in the most practical sense, this also is what it looks like to be a discipler. One who invests in the lives of others. Jesus said in Matthew 28:19 - "...go and make disciples..." It is our call as His followers.

If I had merely given birth to my children then just left them to their own devices...well, in truth they would have died. They needed food and constant care initially, then they needed to be taught how to eat for themselves...and what to eat. Many things taste good, but are not good for you. The hot stove is tempting, but it burns. Selfishness must learn to share. And with the lessons as well as the rebellions, someone needs to be there to reassure and redirect, to forgive and help restore. 

A new believer in Christ is no different. We can't just say here's Jesus. Believe in Him. Be forgiven. Now go and have a nice life. Children of God are also raised up...by those who are older in the faith. And just as raising children is time consuming and challenging, so is walking alongside a fellow believer...guiding, loving, encouraging. Being that fountain of living water that refreshes and gives life.

Giving your life away goes against common sense, but do you really want a common life? 

Jesus says in Matthew 10:39, "Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it." I really like the New Living Translation's rendition..."If you cling to your life, you will lose it; but if you give up your life for me, you will find it."

And, oh, the rewards! It's a life of listening to the Spirit as you listen to others. Asking questions, planting seeds. Trusting, not meddling. Learning when to step back, be patient, and let the Spirit work what you cannot. And through weeks, months, years...seeing growth in other's lives: baby steps, walking, running...falling, yes...but getting back up again and pressing on...vision expanded, heart enlarged, faith settling, and then watching as they become the ones coming alongside others. My heart is recharged every time I see it, and my passion grows to raise up more "kids."

This is the rest of the story. The story within the story. While following God's call to raise up my children and to work alongside my husband, He was raising me up to be more than a mom, more than a wife. That time purposed for them became my training ground. He was giving me a life and a career with eternal value. Teaching me to give myself away and in return making me a very rich woman. I've not added much to our bank account over the years, but I wouldn't trade the life I've had for a dozen 401k's. 

"All you have in the end is what you give away." In truth, I think you receive much, much more. What He's given is an abundant life...to the full and over-flowing...so that it has to be poured out. 

Do you ever feel this way? Compelled to give away what you've been given? Like you would burst if you didn't?

Why do I write?

I've been writing a lot lately, so I've also been reading much - including blogs. Author Beth K. Vogt recently posed a question on her blog In Other's Words that stopped whatever brain journey I'd been on and beckoned me to rest and stew a bit:

"Why do you write?"

    Well, I write because... "Um...no, delete that." 

I write to... "No, that's not it either."

So, I let the question simmer overnight. Slow-cooking makes things tender ...including my heart sometimes. 

Awakened much earlier than usual, I was drawn to the old blue sofa and tattered leather-bound Book...John, Job, the Psalms. Words that spoke. Even white steaming mug sat neglected as I searched for fresh bread instead. 

Satisfied, I heard the call of lonely keys and found the hard black bench as comforting as old sofa once the songs began to rise. Melody after melody...lyrics praising and echoing the Word spoken just moments before. 

Peace...

Heart, and aging hands, finally paused. I returned to nubby worn cushions...and yesterday's question:

Why do I write?

I write because I see life as story and feel breeze as poem. Whether tragedy, comedy, wee tale, or grand epic...eyes close and I breathe…and long to paint with words what my heart and spirit sees.

I write because the Lord breathes new life into me everyday and I need to share the air…precious truths, spacious places of rest, grace that heals. My cup runneth over…and finds home on lined canvas.

And until recently I hadn’t dared to dream that I could be a painter.

Many days it seems only folly, for next to His words mine are so tiny, His thoughts so far above my own. But He reassures that when the Spirit fills they can bear truth to challenge, encourage, or give laughter to a heavy heart. 

I know full well that words should not be scattered carelessly...so I labor over my letter-painted pictures. Praying and waiting. Listening and looking...and looking again. 

Where it all leads, only the Lord knows. But as long as He gives fresh bread for breaking and seeds to be sown...I will write. 

* * * * * * * 

We're not all called to write, but if you're following Jesus earnestly, you are being equipped with fresh bread and seeds to be sown. 

• How are you sharing what you've been given and sowing into the lives around you? 

This morning in Cleaver-ville...

Doorbell rings...little neighbor girl and her friends standing on the porch...

"Well hi, Sophia!"

She fumbles with a piece of paper and finally gets it all unfolded..."We were wondering if you've seen any of these spiders at your house?" Holds up small chart showing photos of the local usual suspects..."We're asking the neighbors if they'd like us to inspect their houses for spiders."

"Well actually Ty sprayed our house for spiders, so I think they're all dead."

"Hmm...Have you ever seen a wolf spider?"

"Yes I have!"

Turns to little journal-holding boy next to her..."Ok, write that down..."

(Insert laughing out loud on the inside, while keeping a straight face on the outside.)

After commending them on their lack of fear for the aforementioned eight-legged varmints and recommending that they not get too close to any of them...I sent them on their way, but the smile they left behind lasted me quite a while.

 

I remember when it was my kids and their band of friends embarking on similar escapades: Sidewalk chalk cities complete with bank, grocery store, and...drive-thru espresso stand. Battalions of army men fighting the good fight. Bike riding in and around the driveways of the "friendly" neighbors. Street hockey. Slip n' sliding, and in the winter, sledding down the backyard slope. 

And Sophia? She is the daughter of one of that "band of friends." 

So on these sunny summer days when I hear the outdoor laughter and see kids huddled at play or rallying on bikes, I muse at the passing of time. We've lived in this house for twenty-one years. Wow...I'm one of the old moms now! And I may be tempted to feel my years...just as I now have to feel around for my reading glasses...but most days it makes me happy to be one of the "friendly" neighbors whose house surely needs a spider inspection. 

On Being June Cleaver

It all started one Friday morning while I was fighting off a case of “Oh my word! I’m going to cry again!” Ugh! Seriously.

Two days before I’d stood outside the Little Rock airport having one of those tight-squeeze-that-lasts-forever hugs with my daughter Jillian. Why can’t all Air Force families whose wives happen to be my daughter just automatically get stationed to Fairchild AFB…for life? Why must adorable grandchildren live so many states away? My thoughts were as bleary as my eyes as I continually remembered those sweet little faces…the smiles…and the morning cuddles that I’d left behind. I can’t even linger there too long now…

Anyway…

After having spent a wonderful Thursday on an all day date with my husband, I was suddenly facing Friday...alone. In the quiet. In my stretchy pants. Only a pot of coffee to keep me company.

So I started tackling my most hated travel chore: unpacking. Stacks of clothes lay strewn about in the spare room and I was determined to get things in order. While sorting through the piles, starting laundry, having another cup of coffee - with some dark chocolate this time - and frittering on Facebook... 

...I hatched a silly plan.

Silly plans and silly days of frittering on Facebook do well at keeping the “I miss them so much, I think I’m just gonna sit here and cry” paralysis at bay. 

I remembered the red and cream skirt from the earlier unpacking, thought of a fun new outfit that would include the sweet black wedges I’d bought, and the new-millennial June Cleaver was born. 

What better way to spend the day than with June Cleaver? Perpetually put together. Perpetually cheerful. Perpetually in pearls. What could be better than done up hair, new shoes, and a sweet red skirt to chase away the blues? Who says that dress up and make believe are only for little girls?

And you know what? The rest of the day was a whirlwind of prancing around on those platforms, happy as a clam to be doing housework. Bantering June-style on Facebook. Coining the new WWJD – "What would June do?" 

...And meeting the laughing, approving eyes of my husband when he returned from work.

After having texted him the photo of the new June that afternoon he said I’d need to help him pick out a tie and sports coat for mowing the lawn on Saturday. Good man, that Ward. 

Ward and June are now not far from our consciousness. We bring them out when we need a little silly. And on Tuesday night Ward took June out for frozen yogurt. #wardandjunearedating

To be continued...

On Life and Laughter: the blog

I’ve spent a lot of time with my kids the last few days. Not bro and the two sistas or the fabulous kids-in-law, they’ve all left town, remember? No, I’ve been spending time with all the journals, poems, and silly pieces that I began writing three years ago. Reliving memories: the good, the bad, and the ridiculous. Thanks to several events and conversations that began to continually poke at my “put it off till it’s perfect” mindset, I began my secret project…the blog.

“But you already have a blog,” you say. Tis true. But that is my silly blog, or on a good day it might ascend to witty, even funny. And so I pray for good days.

When it came to my attention recently that I’d had a blog account open…and empty…for an entire year I did one of those inner “roll your eyes” things, called myself a dork and a chicken, and began to square my shoulders toward the challenge. And one night, in a fit of insomnia, the idea of starting a silly blog came to mind, a place for puns and randomness and that much sought after dash of wit. So before I had too much time to talk myself out of it, I dove in and spent an entire day or two creating “Cross your eyes and dot your teas.” But the goal still cowering in the corner was the “real” blog.

The real blog is the revealing blog, the one where you put yourself out there and risk the slings and arrows of outrageous comments. It’s the place where you lay your life out in the open, venture to share a passionate opinion, or again, on a good day, pour out a little grace and encouragement. You take this blog seriously and in return hope to be taken seriously.

“But when are you ever serious?” you say. Tis also true. I spend a lot of time in silly land. As far back as childhood I learned that laughter is good medicine. Life is full of serious, but for me silly is genetic. I just can’t shake it…no matter how hard I dance. (But that’s another story) As far back as childhood I’ve also been introspective and prone to delving into big thoughts. What a relief to finally be big and more able to go toe to toe with them. Or at least brave enough to try.

Big thoughts, often brought on by big storms or even hiding in the midst of little happenings, are primarily what move me. Since childhood I’ve been pondering a big God, getting out of bed at night several times to ask my mom, “Who made God?” “He was, is, and always will be, child. Now go back to bed.” Then I would lay there trying to get my mind to venture to a place called “always was.” Sometimes it’s seemed a curse, that compelling to think so hard. But I’ve come to know that it is what my big God ordained for me before I was born. Even in me, it always was. 

So my kids are being spun out into the blogosphere. Not as big and wondrous a place as the universe, but still a place of mystery, to me at least. I know that they’ll be safe. Safe enough. God is my refuge and strength, not what others think of me. I say that with much certainty today, but it’s been a hard fought piece of ground. It’s good to be standing here, in Him, as I send my thoughts out into the unknown. And I can no longer escape the compelling to write any more than I’ve been able to escape the need to think, and mull, and pray, and diagram things in my head…most often while I should be sleeping.

“On life and laughter and everything in between. My life. My faith walk. My goodness…life is breathtaking!” It’s a working title and a place to start.

Though my mom insists that I was known to just sit and laugh all by myself as a child, and on my husband's authority I still do sometimes...life and laughter are best enjoyed with friends, so feel free to stop by often.

An Unexpected Blessing

As I walked through the Little Rock airport I wondered if saying goodbye would ever be easy. The prolonged hug outside the car. Trying to smile as I gave Cadence one last wave… Fighting back tears, I found myself grateful for the distraction of all the “take off your shoes…put your laptop in the bin” security procedures. Next up: a tall Pike Place with room for cream, a few posts on Facebook, and a call for Zone 2 to begin boarding. 

I entered the small commuter plane and quickly slipped past the young man in Seat 2B to settle into 2A. As he sat back down he asked where I was headed. “Spokane, Washington.” How about you? “I’m going to Minnesota to meet my girlfriend’s parent for the first time.” “How exciting!”

It’s not often that a young person strikes up a conversation with, well…someone my age, and I was immediately struck by his easy manner and the genuine light in his clear green eyes. As we prepared for take off then headed toward Memphis he continued to share, “I was a meth addict at 16…my dad’s an alcoholic…I’ve had four step-dads.” I soon learned that his addiction led to rehab at Teen Challenge and a life-changing encounter with Jesus. Double freedom. After rehab he’d signed up for DTS (Discipleship Training School) with YWAM (Youth With A Mission). It was there that he met Sarah. Though from a more stable family, she’d also fought demons of her own. He went on to share how God had brought them together…more details than I’ll share here, but it made me smile as it all poured forth from this very grateful, red-haired young man who is still amazed at God’s goodness.

After each sharing bits of our stories with one another, we finally exchanged names. He is Drew and he’ll “be 19 in three weeks.” He works with youth at his local church and loves to go back to Teen Challenge to volunteer and give back to those who gave so much to him. In September he’ll be back working with YWAM, assisting with the new DTS students. He and Sarah know that they have much to learn and much yet to be healed in their lives, but they have good mentors and a great Savior. We parted with a promise to pray for one another.

Landing in Memphis I thanked God for - a safe landing, of course - and for this work of Providence. “Youth with a mission.” In light of eternity, I’m still very young. That thirty-minute conversation was a comforting reminder that though my time in Little Rock was done, the Lord still has so many other appointments for me, so many opportunities to listen, to encourage and to pray for others.

Thank you Jesus and thank you, Drew. Godspeed.