Today, Eli turns 11.
With each marker in his life, I am blown away - AGAIN - by God's mercy and love.
Every mother looks back, I am sure, to the morning of her child's birth and remembers. I remember holding him and wrestling with the nurse's swaddling so that I could find his tiny little feet. I had to see his little feet. I remember his head full of sticking-up hair and his big adorable cheeks. I remember his scream.... haha. Good lungs, everyone said...
I even remember watching the news unfold in England when Princess Di passed away - because I WAS UP ALL NIGHT with him!
And I remember the dreams I had that day, wondering where he would go and what he would do. I had no idea that in a year and a half I would be back in that same hospital, a few floors down hoping he would just live.
I had no idea that in a year and a half, I would walk through that same lobby and see women just like me taking their babies home for the first time and my bitter heart would silently say to them - "Just wait. Just wait for what is in store for you. You think you are happy, but everything could come crashing down."
And now, here I am 11 years later and I look at this big boy - with his own cell phone - making his way through middle school, smiling his way into everyone's hearts. I get emails from his teachers telling me what a delight he is to have in their class. I see people smile when he walks into a room.
I get to enjoy his great sense of humor and watch his eyes dance with anticipation at life's joys - big and small. Just getting to see his cousin on any given day will give him that look in his eyes. Hearing the door unlock as Dad comes home. Spying a sleeping cat in need of a cuddle.
Oh, how I wish I could stop and enjoy life like that.
Happy Birthday, sweet boy. Thank you for sharing your love so easily. Thank you for your laughter. Thank you for being so patient with all of us as we push you and pull you and stretch you and subject you to so much. Thank you for teaching us when you didn't even know you were. Thank you for surviving. And thriving.
You are a blessing, my best good boy.
Love, Mom
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Monday, August 25, 2008
What are you proud of?
I was challenged yesterday.
The sermon was on pride. Identifying pride, preventing it in our lives.
And I proudly thought, I'm not proud.
*sigh*
Why do we struggle so with this in our lives? Wait... Why do I struggle? Dear reader, I wanted to include you so that I wouldn't feel so miserable about myself. But that's not really fair. I can't say "we" when I know I need to say "me".
I have discovered as I have walked this path that the singular cause behind all the wrong I do is the elevation of Self. As soon as I put my Self in the center, at the front, of any activity, encounter, or relationship, I start to trip, to slip and to fail. It is the force that pushes over the first domino and the rest go cascading down around me.
And I know this. Yet I continue to let it happen.
I find that my need for attention, my need to elevate myself, to feel better, to feel valid, to feel smart, to feel valued, begin to cloud my vision. I begin to look at the words that pour fourth (there are quite a lot of them, aren't there?) and I feel that old familiar smile tug at my mouth. Yeah, that sounds good. What a smith I am.
And there-right there-I slip. I fail (again) to credit and praise He who gives vision, wisdom and talent. I fail (again!) to see the nothing I am and the everything He is.
And I stand, ashamed and painfully reminded that without Him, without my Jesus, I can do nothing. With this, I weep at my rude spirit, my greedy pride.
Lord, take this, these words, take me, and use me, not for my glory but for You. Make me a mirror, an instrument to magnify You and diminish me.
And you, friends, please, forgive me for when I have put myself in front of my love for you and my love for my Lord. Forgive me for hurting you, for ignoring you, and for any harm I may have done.
When pride comes, disgrace follows, but with humility comes wisdom.
- Proverbs 11:2
The sermon was on pride. Identifying pride, preventing it in our lives.
And I proudly thought, I'm not proud.
*sigh*
Why do we struggle so with this in our lives? Wait... Why do I struggle? Dear reader, I wanted to include you so that I wouldn't feel so miserable about myself. But that's not really fair. I can't say "we" when I know I need to say "me".
I have discovered as I have walked this path that the singular cause behind all the wrong I do is the elevation of Self. As soon as I put my Self in the center, at the front, of any activity, encounter, or relationship, I start to trip, to slip and to fail. It is the force that pushes over the first domino and the rest go cascading down around me.
And I know this. Yet I continue to let it happen.
I find that my need for attention, my need to elevate myself, to feel better, to feel valid, to feel smart, to feel valued, begin to cloud my vision. I begin to look at the words that pour fourth (there are quite a lot of them, aren't there?) and I feel that old familiar smile tug at my mouth. Yeah, that sounds good. What a smith I am.
And there-right there-I slip. I fail (again) to credit and praise He who gives vision, wisdom and talent. I fail (again!) to see the nothing I am and the everything He is.
And I stand, ashamed and painfully reminded that without Him, without my Jesus, I can do nothing. With this, I weep at my rude spirit, my greedy pride.
Lord, take this, these words, take me, and use me, not for my glory but for You. Make me a mirror, an instrument to magnify You and diminish me.
And you, friends, please, forgive me for when I have put myself in front of my love for you and my love for my Lord. Forgive me for hurting you, for ignoring you, and for any harm I may have done.
When pride comes, disgrace follows, but with humility comes wisdom.
- Proverbs 11:2
Saturday, August 23, 2008
16 years
So, yesterday my husband and I celebrated 16 years of marriage.
What does that mean? 16 years?
Joy? Pain? Trial? Laughter? Tears? Giddy Love? Blinding Rage? Safety? Fear?
What can I say? YES. All of the above.
And here we stand, together, side by side. We have seen dark days, walking through that valley (the one with the shadow of death hanging over) and came to the other side hand in hand. We have seen glorious days (those that contain wonderful things like the sparkling light in the eyes of little people who look a lot like us). We have hurt each other terribly. We have forgiven each other over and over. We have helped each other to stand back up when we stumble. We have held each other through sorrow. And we've laughed. So much laughter.
We have learned, argued, shared, and prayed together. We have built things with our own hands, all the while making fun of the directions (written by someone whose first language was NOT English). Together we stood over our son's hospital bed. Together we smiled (and cried) as he walked (the second time) back and forth between us. Together, we proudly looked on as our daughter stood up and played her violin in front of a roomful of strangers.
The history is rich and intricate. The intertwining of our lives so delicate and yet as strong as steel cable.
What is 16 years?
A lifetime of moments, big and small, painfully tender and raucously joyful, a re-creation of self into an us. Measured by time and yet eternal.
I love you, Marc.
What does that mean? 16 years?
Joy? Pain? Trial? Laughter? Tears? Giddy Love? Blinding Rage? Safety? Fear?
What can I say? YES. All of the above.
And here we stand, together, side by side. We have seen dark days, walking through that valley (the one with the shadow of death hanging over) and came to the other side hand in hand. We have seen glorious days (those that contain wonderful things like the sparkling light in the eyes of little people who look a lot like us). We have hurt each other terribly. We have forgiven each other over and over. We have helped each other to stand back up when we stumble. We have held each other through sorrow. And we've laughed. So much laughter.
We have learned, argued, shared, and prayed together. We have built things with our own hands, all the while making fun of the directions (written by someone whose first language was NOT English). Together we stood over our son's hospital bed. Together we smiled (and cried) as he walked (the second time) back and forth between us. Together, we proudly looked on as our daughter stood up and played her violin in front of a roomful of strangers.
The history is rich and intricate. The intertwining of our lives so delicate and yet as strong as steel cable.
What is 16 years?
A lifetime of moments, big and small, painfully tender and raucously joyful, a re-creation of self into an us. Measured by time and yet eternal.
I love you, Marc.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
A New Pair of Glasses
Do you wear glasses? If you do, you will understand me when I remember these moments (and if you don't, well, you're getting older, so you might experience this one day...):
You sit at a table with a funny round mirror and a stranger puts glasses on your face. That is never good. Another person can never put your glasses on for you or take them off for you and it still feel right. If you've been wearing them your whole life, like me, you smile a "no offense" smile and you take them off your face and put them on yourself. There. That's better.
Then, a strange thing happens. You blink, you look at yourself in the mirror, you look around the room. You start looking for things to read. And for a few moments you feel like you are in a fish tank looking through 10 gallons of distorting water. And then - amazingly soon - your eyes say - oh YEAH... I can SEE that. And THAT. And that, TOO!
And by the time you've paid these nice people and walked out of there, you think, how could I have ever lived without seeing the world like this? I must have been blind before because everything looks so new and crisp and almost fake. Perhaps it is the shocking cleanliness of the lenses that contributes to that. No matter what, they will never be THAT clean again... you just know it...
You drive home and it is like you are experiencing everything for the first time. Leaves? the trees have leaves? I thought they were just green scribbles like my daughter used to draw. The details of the world begin to pop out at you and you realize how much you had been missing.
Sometimes, if we allow it, God can do the same thing for our hearts. When you finally reach that point when you just can't see anymore, when your head aches from trying on your own to understand your situation and your heart strains against what you think you see. Your dim view is causing you to trip, your aim is bad, and you feel unsure of where you are even going. It is in these moments, if we are wise, that we turn our eyes on the Great Physician and we ask Him to repair our vision.
We rise from our knees, we raise our heads from His Word and we blink, we look in the mirror. We begin to look around the room and suddenly, with the refraction of His love and mercy, we begin to SEE. We wonder how on earth we could have been so blind. Perhaps we feel shame and loss for waiting so long, but mostly, mostly we feel relief. And wonder. And a refreshing newness as we are able to look at ourselves with truth and others with love.
Leaves? The trees have leaves?
You sit at a table with a funny round mirror and a stranger puts glasses on your face. That is never good. Another person can never put your glasses on for you or take them off for you and it still feel right. If you've been wearing them your whole life, like me, you smile a "no offense" smile and you take them off your face and put them on yourself. There. That's better.
Then, a strange thing happens. You blink, you look at yourself in the mirror, you look around the room. You start looking for things to read. And for a few moments you feel like you are in a fish tank looking through 10 gallons of distorting water. And then - amazingly soon - your eyes say - oh YEAH... I can SEE that. And THAT. And that, TOO!
And by the time you've paid these nice people and walked out of there, you think, how could I have ever lived without seeing the world like this? I must have been blind before because everything looks so new and crisp and almost fake. Perhaps it is the shocking cleanliness of the lenses that contributes to that. No matter what, they will never be THAT clean again... you just know it...
You drive home and it is like you are experiencing everything for the first time. Leaves? the trees have leaves? I thought they were just green scribbles like my daughter used to draw. The details of the world begin to pop out at you and you realize how much you had been missing.
Sometimes, if we allow it, God can do the same thing for our hearts. When you finally reach that point when you just can't see anymore, when your head aches from trying on your own to understand your situation and your heart strains against what you think you see. Your dim view is causing you to trip, your aim is bad, and you feel unsure of where you are even going. It is in these moments, if we are wise, that we turn our eyes on the Great Physician and we ask Him to repair our vision.
We rise from our knees, we raise our heads from His Word and we blink, we look in the mirror. We begin to look around the room and suddenly, with the refraction of His love and mercy, we begin to SEE. We wonder how on earth we could have been so blind. Perhaps we feel shame and loss for waiting so long, but mostly, mostly we feel relief. And wonder. And a refreshing newness as we are able to look at ourselves with truth and others with love.
Leaves? The trees have leaves?
Friday, August 8, 2008
Rewind button?
Do you ever wish you had a rewind button?
We say something harsh, do something stupid. We stand by and watch as the words that just flew out of our mouths (or our keyboard) do their damage. And once they are out, we cringe, like the archer who let fly the arrow accidentally.
Sometimes we do intend harm only to find ourselves horrified at the reality. Sometimes we are trying to be funny and it goes horribly wrong. Sometimes we are hurting ourselves and the only way we think we can feel better is to poke those around us with that sharp object we carry around (that would be our tongue).
How often do we then let the apologies pour forth, hoping somehow to pull those words back into our mouths? Hoping that with the flood of guilt and shame, the awful thing we just said will get washed away. Sometimes we fall over ourselves trying to make up for the pain we inflict. We get a bandage, hold it over the wound to try and stop the blood from flowing, all the while whispering I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry.
And in your mind, you see the tape rewinding, people walking backwards, words turned inside out and you get *just* there - to that one moment in time when you had the choice to say it or shut your mouth, to click send or the big red X. But the tape won't stay rewound so you can start over, it just plays out over and over again in your mind.
Why? Why did I say that? And the words of James 3:8 flood your mind - "but no man can tame the tongue. It is a restless evil, full of deadly poison."
But there is a rewind button -and that is forgiveness. True forgiveness. A good friend of mine (who has been jabbed - several times) taught me that forgiveness freely given is a balm that stops the bleeding. Forgiveness freely received stops the torment in your heart. Forgiveness from Heaven heals and teaches us.
And hopefully, prayerfully, that forgiveness will stand in front of our mouths reminding us, warning us against the next foolish choice.
We say something harsh, do something stupid. We stand by and watch as the words that just flew out of our mouths (or our keyboard) do their damage. And once they are out, we cringe, like the archer who let fly the arrow accidentally.
Sometimes we do intend harm only to find ourselves horrified at the reality. Sometimes we are trying to be funny and it goes horribly wrong. Sometimes we are hurting ourselves and the only way we think we can feel better is to poke those around us with that sharp object we carry around (that would be our tongue).
How often do we then let the apologies pour forth, hoping somehow to pull those words back into our mouths? Hoping that with the flood of guilt and shame, the awful thing we just said will get washed away. Sometimes we fall over ourselves trying to make up for the pain we inflict. We get a bandage, hold it over the wound to try and stop the blood from flowing, all the while whispering I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry.
And in your mind, you see the tape rewinding, people walking backwards, words turned inside out and you get *just* there - to that one moment in time when you had the choice to say it or shut your mouth, to click send or the big red X. But the tape won't stay rewound so you can start over, it just plays out over and over again in your mind.
Why? Why did I say that? And the words of James 3:8 flood your mind - "but no man can tame the tongue. It is a restless evil, full of deadly poison."
But there is a rewind button -and that is forgiveness. True forgiveness. A good friend of mine (who has been jabbed - several times) taught me that forgiveness freely given is a balm that stops the bleeding. Forgiveness freely received stops the torment in your heart. Forgiveness from Heaven heals and teaches us.
And hopefully, prayerfully, that forgiveness will stand in front of our mouths reminding us, warning us against the next foolish choice.
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