On Fog and Friction

Author Beth K. Vogt has a blog called In Other's Words where she chooses a word, a quote and photo regarding that word, adds her personal reflection, then invites her readers to respond. I have been enjoying participating as a reader and an occasional responder for the past year since reading her debut novel Wish You Were Here. 

Today's post was on the word friction with a picture of a gorgeous blue gemstone and the quote: 
"A gem cannot be polished without friction; the child of God cannot be perfected without adversity." 

This, of course, resonated deeply and I wanted to write a response, but thought with an internal sigh..."Do I really want to think that hard?" Which as I mulled it over was more about letting it touch me in newly tender places and being too lazy to take the time to journal what the Lord was showing me. 

But I finally succumbed to the still small Voice, the one I long to hear daily and desire to obey despite my willful flesh...and this weird place of awkward, tired, fogginess that has been my physical and emotional response to traveling, visiting children and grandchildren, and more travel, which has all resulted in less sleep, being out of routine, the joys of hellos and the pain of goodbyes... There are more twists and turns, but I'll spare you the details.

In all of this lately, I haven't wanted to sit down and write...anything...at all. Well, I suppose part of me has wanted to...or felt like I should be writing...shouldn't I? But how to delve into all this mental mess and make any sense? The truth is I'm just really awkward and messy in transitions. 

Ok, I suck. 

Sorry if you hate that word. I hate it too, but even my aversion to the sound of it makes it fit all the more. 

Life has been one long series of major transitions...for the past several years. Or is it decades? Is it just all catching up? No. I think these recent years have truly been one of those big pivot points in the journey. Sometimes I move with it well and sometimes I feel like mental mush, like I'm walking through molasses, compass spinning, knowing true north, but too topsy turvy to make a stab in any direction. 

Do you ever feel this way? 

Even in the misted muck I sometimes remember one wise thing... 

Ask for prayer. 

As in, "I'm in a fog, ladies! Well, I know that I'm really on a Rock, but it's all foggy and I just want to lay here!" Some of the most heartfelt prayer requests are birthed from a fog enshrouded fetal position. "Help! I fell down and I don't want to get up!"

In this instance, I did just that. And I'm thinking that the still small Voice and the fact that I'm clickety-clicking away here on this singing-bird, fresh brewed coffee, sun-soaked morning are an answer to those prayers... 

So back to Beth's post. Here's what I finally wrote in response to her probing thoughts about friction:

As I looked at the gem in your photo the first thing I noticed were all the facets. Dozens of tiny surfaces cut into the stone. The more facets, the more surfaces to reflect light. Every blow of the cutters tool gouging away with purpose. Not to bruise the stone or to merely amass a heap of rubble, but to etch those shining surfaces to perfection and then, yes, to polish, polish, polish. This doesn't really answer your question, but it is where my mind went with your analogy.

Yesterday I got to share with a couple of young women that as I look back upon my life...the highs, the lows, and the sharp left turns...I see that He wasted nothing. The words we had sung that very morning, "You make all things work together for my good," were indeed true. If there is any shine from our lives, it is from the cutting and the polishing. Our lives start at redemption and are always about redemption. We are living, shining, walking reflections of the living gospel.  

The Word. The Truth...who came to save and keep saving. We are engraved on the palm of His hand and His truth is mercifully, though often painfully, etched into our hearts causing each beat to send fresh faith, hope, love, strength and assurance coursing through our lives. It is achingly beautiful to me...my precious Jesus holding my ache so tenderly and whispering so, so softly, 

"Peace, be still. I am here, sweet child. I am making you beautiful."


Sigh....

Reminded, once again, of the truth that He's written on my heart and buoyed by the prayers of dear sisters, I feel the fog lifting. 

*       *       *       *       *       *       * 

Where are you in this journey? Fog? Friction? 

A friend was recently quoting Philippians 4...

"Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all."

And I chimed in, "The Lord is near."  

Because I love that part! The Lord is near! Such a good promise!

The passage continues: "Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you."

Wherever you are today...pray. Ask someone to pray for you! Give thanks, rejoice in Him, rejoice that He is near! Set your mind on worthy things. Set your feet to the lighted path and walk. Know that God-breathed peace that sets a guard around heart and mind. It is a lovely peace. 

It is a the only lasting peace.

A Morning With My Wild-Haired Girl

Just out of arms reach twirls the poster child for epic morning hair. Strands of wispy, honey blond ponytail escapees frame her green tinted eyes with an explosive wad of tangles pouffed out in back like a Victorian bustle gone wrong. I haven't seen anything that teased up since the 80s!

Dancing free in crisp new diaper she chimes, "I'm naked! I'm naked!" (Well, yes, except for that cute Micky Mouse Huggie on her bum.) And so she jabbers on with intense earnestness and I have to suppress the smile and chuckle that are tickling up from my Gramma's heart as I try and listen with equal seriousness. Her mama had that same sweet, sing-songy voice as a child...

Oh the wonder of this precious girl...soft eyes, cheesy grin, and a full-on, two year old, adorable, tongue sthickin' out lithp! "Hasta la vista" tumbles out as "lot-tha pizztha!" (Which means we love to get her to say it as often as possible.) 

She bends down now to look me straight in the eyes as she touches her hand to her chest, "I go downthairs wiss Mom." Not a question, you see, but an announcement. She is two, after all. 

Basement errand complete, she's engaged in a morning dinosaur show. And as I type these last lines, she's wiggled her way onto my lap for a cuddle and another look at my owl necklace. How I love these sweet snuggles...savoring and saving them up for the months ahead. Embracing today, while she's here, even as the tears sneak up on me...

My little darlin' lives in Little Rock and my heart sometimes gets ahead of itself as another inevitable goodbye looms on the horizon. 

The Lord has been teaching me to hold all things loosely these past couple of years, stretching my long-distance Gramma heart to the breaking point, then pouring out sweet grace to ease the tautness just in time...every time. I don't love the feeling, but I adore His nearness. 

And, today, I adore her nearness too.  

Now back to my wild-haired girl. Time-tha wayth-tin'! 

Perfect Love

Today is Valentine's Day. The day we celebrate love. 

Modern culture often treats love as something cheap and easy...and any one of us has been guilty of doing the same...but it is nothing of the sort. Even on this holiday of love...chocolate, flowers, and romantic cards mean nothing, one day of the year, if the work, and choice, and gift of love is not given everyday. 

On my fun search for "love" quotes today I saw this one and it resonated with my love story: 

"Perfect love sometimes does not come till the first grandchild."  

Welsh Proverb

Even as I ponder it again, I nod and smile. That simplified statement captures a lot for me.

What about you? Is your love perfect? Mine wasn't either. Still has a long way to go. In all things, maturity takes time.

And you may be thinking..."Yeah, my marriage is way less than perfect." 

While I am referring to marriage, what I actually mean here is "my ability to love" was not perfect. Not my spouse's. Mine. Because love, and healing, and forgiveness must start in my heart. 

Learning how to love means turning to the Savior, Jesus. The author of all that is good. He tears down and builds up in us so that we can learn to build up and not tear down those around us. 

Learning to love means learning to receive grace and to give grace...and grace changes everything.

Will you wait and hope? Will you persevere, pray, surrender, and trust?

We often read these words and we've heard them so many times that they are just "blah, blah, blah." But they are good words, hard words, true words:

Love is patient, love is kind. 

It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 

It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, 

it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 

Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 

It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Love never fails.

1 Corinthians 13:4-8

Perhaps we get stuck on the first phrase and just give up. "Love is patient..." Ugh! But with God all things are possible. His love never fails. It will accomplish in us what is good and perfect...if we will only believe, trust, and rely on Him.

Lean into His perfect love and let Him do what He does best: perfect. 

He makes all things beautiful in their time.

We've had a long road, my man and me. Thirty years and counting. Up hills, through valleys, and many a desolate place. But we've also known still waters, peaceful meadows, and joyful reconciliations. Laughter, silliness, and tender moments. 

And, yes, the wonder of that first grandchild...

...then the second and the third. 

And as each one of those precious babies were born...or even well before that, at each wedding, watching our children enter into the same covenant that we made so many years ago...we've gazed at one another and lifted our hearts to heaven in thankfulness that we did not give up. 

Love never fails. 

*   *   *   *   *   *   *

What about you?

It breaks my heart that so many marriages around us have been dropping like flies. And while it looks like they're just suddenly "dropping," the reality is more a slow slide, a heaping of troubles, walls going up...one brick at a time.

I've been a messy puddle on one side of a high, thick wall with my husband...so close and yet so far...on the other side. I understand the desperation, bitterness, loneliness, and hopelessness that takes couples to the point of giving up. I've been there.

But I also know that given enough stubbornness against the "D" word and a desperate willingness to dare...yes, dare...to let God be as big as He says He is...beginning with your own bitter heart, ingrained bad habits, lack of belief...He can restore, instruct, and give deeper faith. 

And as you begin to breathe His life more fully you will find that you are breathing that same life back out...grace...into your marriage and your family, all the while forging a deep intimacy with the Lord that will be your solace come what may. 

You may even find, as I did, that knowing Him that way was the real quest all along, even above a healed marriage. Laying down the idolatry of demanding a perfect earthly relationship because, truly, He is all you need.   

For a deeper look at "not giving up" read For Better Or For Worse.

Know His grace. There is hope.

A Woman-in-the-Making

She stands with cute, cropped hair, eyes sparkling, delicate ear-bangles dangling, face framed by deep magenta scarf...and while I'm shooing her out of here to run her errand, I know I'd rather just sit and stare at her...you know, like I used to when she was a little girl. 

Have you ever been mesmerized by your child's face? Those tiny features, lively eyes, precious smiles... As her features matured I thought I'd get over it, but apparently I haven't. Because, really, she's as much a miracle at 23 as she was when I first laid eyes on her. 

And here she is all grown up and poised, with just enough sophistication in her funky self to let you know she's a woman, not a girl, and just enough youthful excitement to make you wish...well, make me wish...that she didn't need to run off today.

As usual our conversation bordered on ADD...fun earrings, what the kids will need when they wake up, wide-eyed smiles and mutual gushes over colors we adore...like the deep rose-magenta of her scarf that we'd both secretly love to paint on a wall in our homes. We've always been able to skip happily through those mind mazes. Hand in hand, never lost in the transitions, and happy as clams to meander off the linear path. 

Our personalities are very similar, our struggles have been too. Last night, as had been our habit in days gone by, we talked long into the night of the deep and the difficult, of relationships, of who we were and who we are becoming. We walked the path of Jesus' hand in all of it, sharing common insights and more than a few "aha" moments.  

So as I gaze today, taking in far more than her animated words, the thought comes, "She is gorgeous...from the inside out. My daughter is beautiful!" 

She makes it halfway across the room before turning with something new to share. I chuckle, saying, "Go! You know we'll just keep talking forever." And so she finally drives off, but she's left a bit of radiance behind...and I think of her. 

I love hearing her heart, her struggles, her victories. I love sharing the ordinary and the fun things, shared passions and silliness. It is a privilege to journey as women together. 

Even when she was a girl that is how I saw her...a woman-in-the-making. Always in process. 

I never tire of watching God fashion His masterpieces.  

Women-in-the-making are beautiful.

Motherhood: A Message to My Daughters

Phone is buzzing...somewhere. Next to me? Reaching for it, half groggy, thinking, "Is she ok? Are they ok?"

As quiet voice from miles away tells of tiredness and queasy tummy, that "mom" thing kicks in. That mom muscle memory. You are suddenly awake, alert, and from someplace deep within, from Someone always there, you are calm. 

Seeking words of comfort, you speak. Wanting to know the right questions, you listen...and keep listening. And all the while you're praying. 

Two plates spinning is what you've done forever it seems. 

And then it comes to doing battle out loud...laying thousands of miles away on the same sofa that's seen many a night of prayer...for her...while she was a young girl, a pre-teen, a young woman in the making. So many battles fought on that very couch. 

Phone to ear, eyes closed, hand raised to the One who never sleeps...the words pour out, pleading strength, protection, and that all surpassing peace. Peace for bound up body...for arms, legs, tummies, peace for furrowed brow and aching head. "Jesus...please say peace be still over the waves of anxiety and yuck. Calm the storm...Send Your angels to stand guard in every room. Over the children, over my child."

And after a while (you are amazed at her perfect calmness), she calls her neighbor who comes to be hands and feet. Truly an angel, I say. And storm subsides. We say "I love yous" almost three hours from that first deep sleep phone buzz...and we hang up.

And then I weep. 

And I wonder...Does she know that this has always been the way with me? With motherhood? Each new battle with shield of faith, sword ready...knocking knees...and game face on.

Did they ever know that you were just as frightened as they were? Did they know that you held it together in the moment so that they would trust? And yes, your trust was there...There...too, but it did not mean you were not afraid or bone-weary. And always praying those thousand silent prayers as you nursed their wounds, comforted midnight fevers, sought wisdom, asked for healing. 

They need to know now. Now that they are "mom."

My daughters: You will be strong for the sake of your child...by the power of the One who gives lavishly, perfectly, lovingly. And when you are done, or even in mid-battle, you will draw away and cry...hopefully crying out to the One who is always there to hear, to catch tears, to lift your weary head and heart. You will let your weakness wash over you and be strengthened by His strength. 

Do not fear the fearing and the doubts. They come every time. But your trust in Jesus will prove itself. He will prove trustworthy. It is part of your journey, this collapsing on the sidelines when you've left it all on the field. And you will marvel that you're still alive! 

And after all is done, joy plants itself a little deeper. 

Faith stands taller. Gratitude for His presence...come what may...

will be the banner for your next battle.

This morning after my tears were spent, I opened the living Word and found life. Then I slept a little while...

Let the morning bring me word of Your unfailing love,
for I have put my trust in You.
Show me the way I should go,
for to You I lift up my soul.
~Psalm 143:8

 

 

On Brokenness

I was so moved by Ann Voskamps blog today...and thought again of her book, One Thousand Gifts, and how it had touched deep places of difficulty, hurt and healing in my life. She is a beautiful woman who willingly shares her journey, wearing her pain on her sleeve...even the pain of her own sinful heart...for the sake of encouraging others to thankfulness, wholeness and healing. One who has been shaped into a grace-giving vessel by that very pain and brokenness.

And it came to me.

That is the tenderizing...the pounding is the tenderizing. 

Have you ever weighed down against a cut of steak or a plump chicken breast with a meat mallet and a knowing-heart?

It's loud! And sometimes brings the kids running...

"What are you doing??"

"This meat is tough...and by pounding on it just enough it will become tender, instead of hard and chewy. Don't worry. I'm making it better," you might say to them.

And have you ever pounded so much that you ripped a hole? I have. Some chicken breasts are thick and and tough, some only look tough, but are fragile. How could I know?

Yet in our Father's care we are safe in the smashing and crushing of life and disappointment and grief. Of hurt and wounds and things gone terribly wrong.

Does he desire to hurt us? No.

But He does allow the pain...is with us in the pain...never lets the hand come down too hard.
He knit us together. He knows what we need...and the unfathomable ways that those needs will be truly met...with a re-shaping of vision, a newness of purpose far above what we'd asked or imagined, and a deeper joy realized.

And just when we think the weight and force of it will rip and tear and gouge, we look down...days, months, years later...and see that instead of holes, we have been made holy.

We have been broken to be built back up aright. 

We have been broken so that we might gaze upon 

brokenness with tender hearts. 

We have been broken so that we can be as bread to others. 

*   *   *   *   *   *   *

For my thoughts are not your thoughts,neither are your ways my ways, declares the LORD.

As the heavens are higher than the earth,so are my ways higher than your ways

and my thoughts than your thoughts.

Isaiah 55:8,9

And we know that in all things 
God works for the good of those who love him, 
who have been called according to his purpose. 
For those God foreknew he also predestined 
to be conformed to the image of his Son
Romans 8:28,29