Finding My Way in the Mist

I lost my desire to write-

My thoughts are fogged up together-

I long to step back before the world became sick

And tap into that sharper mind-

But what better place to begin than here and now?

As the snow blankets the ground and the sun shines bright in the blue clear sky-

Let my journey begin…

Letting go of fear and perfection

And embracing my sloppy, muddled mind

I will journey through this mist and find my way back to the art of penning the page, one of my true loves

I repent of my unfaithfulness and accept the grace of moving forward…

 

Change of Heart

 

February is hard for me in a normal year. The thrill of Christmas has faded fast and the warmth of Spring feels miles away.  And with the continuing fear and aftermath of the most strange, paused, insane year any of us have lived through, the weight of the world is heavy.  The snow piles up as temperatures drop and my heart feels like its lying underneath the white blanket outside my window.  Heart-shaped stories and recipes fill the newsfeed and I try to count my many blessings.  Love surrounds me in so many ways but the grieving of so much change and loss of the past year yearns to overtake.  Fear of what-ifs and an uncertain future of change weigh heavy.  All of life's normal worries feel amplified.   Vast arrays of emotions, I didn't even know existed, swell up almost swallowing me whole.  I try to catch my breath, realign, ground myself stable and realize how utterly helplessly incapable I am.  And when all of these worries come crashing down heavy with no place in my being able to uphold, the only place to drop them is at the feet of the only One who has the strength to carry such weight.  

"Casting all your cares [all your anxiety, all your worries, all your concerns, once and for all] on Him, for He cares about you [with deepest affection, and watches over you very carefully]." 1 Peter 5:7 (AMP)

Relief washes over me as I am reminded how much my God loves me. He carefully watches over me with the deepest, most perfect affection.  This unfailing, always prevailing love captures my heart and conquers my fears.  An unexplainable peace washes through my whole being and I can't help but bow in gratitude as this calming sense of contentment begins to reside and replace my anxious thoughts.

This world and all of it's brokenness will never fulfill my hollow heart because  it's simply incapable to do so. But when I look upward, I am reminded of the only true love in this life.  He proclaims His everlasting love, desiring to gather all of us up under His wings close to His heart where we will find refuge and protection from all of life's storms.  And truly that is the best Valentine I could ever receive.  

"Let the morning bring me word of your UNFAILING LOVE, for I have put my trust in you.  Show me the way to go, for to you I entrust my life." Psalm 143:8

RESURRECTION

As leaves dancing outside my window begin their glorious transformation I am reminded that before the end of a season first comes this amazing peak of color.  Every single year, the lush summer green trees we become desensitized to boldly transition themselves.  One can't help but appreciate the loveliness adorning autumn skies. Our attention is grabbed as each unique leaf prepares to fall away.  

This is getting me thinking about dying to old thought patterns and certain ideologies.  As my mind is transformed to one filled with grace, I hope to throw off the camouflaged same ole guilty green.  Opening up the sails of my heart to God's perfect love that is carrying me into renewal.  This change is painted in new striking hues of gold, orange, redemption red.  My soul is understanding a new found freedom, a refreshing of faith.  Constant trying, do more, be better, feel bad, beat myself up, repeat-has been a vicious cycle.  For years it was ingrained in my mind, this indoctrination of being good, holy, righteous.  And when put into place in my life, never, ever achievable but always landing me flat on my face in a pile of either guilt or self-righteousness.  This light bulb popping bright in the depth of my being shines truth that my works are filthy rags.  And  in knowing this fact there needs to be a death to a big part of who I have been striving to be.

"Nothing makes you feel deader than the death of desire.  If yours is dead, you are on the cusp of resurrection." (Sarah Bessey)

I am open, letting go of these chains that have held me back and what a glorious bright, bold place it is to be.  I no longer desire to earn it, goodbye to the pleasing...
The leaves are turning their chameleon colors in my heart as I tune my ears to heaven.  Listening to the still small yet ever present voice of God. Only He has the power to redeem, cleanse, change.

And as these brilliant revelations wrap themselves up around me, I know the next step is a farewell from the tree.  But there will be resurrection. A reviving of the tasting of unmerited grace enfolding my whole being as I free-fall into His arms.     

'Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall' (F.Scott Fitzgerald)

Firsts

Recently glimpses and tastes of heavy emotion have sprinkled into my mundane ordinary.  And these punches hitting hard and balling up deep in my gut surface at the strangest moments.  Big change is on our horizon, in only a few days we will be dropping off our firstborn to live hours by highway away instead of safe and sound a few steps down the wooden hall.  I went to see the new Toy Story a couple of weeks ago and the plot wasn't what brought swelling tears trickling hot down my cheeks but rather visions of my little blue-eyed boy dressed up like Buzz Lightyear marching in his kindergarten parade shouting "To Infinity and Beyond!".  I haven't been a mess. I actually was beaming at commencements because he was smiling ear to ear, that sweet curled up grin he's worn a million times across his face.  Looking at him just made me smile, I was so happy for him.  But these random pricks nicking this mama's heart are starting to feel like more of a deep jab edged in and reminding me that this is the end of an era.  This feeling hit hard at the pediatrician's office a couple of weeks ago.  There I was in the well waiting room not feeling well at all glancing next to me at the curly blonde hair growing all over his legs and trying to hold it in and think of a primary care physician to make an appointment at for next time because well all of a sudden he's sitting there a full grown 18 year old man.  We went into the exam room and lo and behold there was Buzz plastered on the wall and floods pooling up in my eyes and my heart shredding all at the same time.   I was wishing I could turn back the clock and re-do so much with him, go right back there to when he was 5 and dress up like Jesse and be silly and play more and worry less.

Today we went shopping for his dorm room and I almost lost it a few times.  Especially when he pointed out the trading card aisle at Target letting me know that was his favorite one when he was little.  Where did all of those precious Pokemon cards disappear to anyway and why isn't he 10 again?It's all too much to take while pushing my cart filled with bath towels and good Lord I hope he hangs  them up to dry before he launders them at school. I push thoughts of black mold growing and contaminating his and his roomates' lungs.  And while we're on the subject of lung health I make a mental note to send him the latest article about vaping causing seizures. I throw some detergent in the cart and we check out a couple hundred dollars poorer and my mind wrapped up in worry.  How will he manage? Will he continue to be our responsible, respectable, kind, humble boy?  This being a mom business is no joke.  I recall many different mamas telling me their stories through tears of sending theirs off when I was raising toddlers and elbow deep in diaper duty.  I have to admit, my empathy was lacking, I was counting down the hours to bedtime and a quiet house and did not feel too sorry for their soon to be beautifully decorated, calm, empty nests with my own chaotic, toy-filled, child-proof, home at the time.  Looking back, wishing I would listen to their prophetic words to cherish, embrace, enjoy these hard yet fleeting moments because all too soon they will be shopping with you for mini-fridges and first aid kits.  And I really wish someone would've warned me to stock up my fridge with his favorite drinks and journal about those tween years when he still needed me to pour peroxide on his cuts and bandage them up because all too soon it will be my last.

But regret will not win and I will get through this first just like I have lived so many other firsts with this eldest of my three.  We watched his first steps at a young nine months old on our Oriental rug in our first little yellow house we called home.  Next week we will watch him take his first steps of independence into his dormitory, North Hall.  I blinked and he grew up and the punch has hit hard as he takes this next stride toward adulthood but deep down overriding the harsh sting is a true reality that this man child of mine is loved so much more than I could even fathom.  His steps are ordained, every single first by a heavenly Father who holds him in the palm of His hand.  My prayers will be my peace but I will be leaving a part of my heart up in Big Rapids next Thursday, along with some soft Star Wars sheets and a little part of our life-savings.

Tied Up

Recently someone tweeted, "People who tie everything they say, do, post to their babies/children are the most boring people in the world, and that is a fact."  I started to wonder not only if I was boring but also if I did in fact tend to tie that particular bow in my own world?  After some self-reflection and honestly some major back scrolling, my fears were confirmed or at least partially confirmed.  I genuinely began questioning my voice in the world, or at least the social-media platform we all are living with.  This simple tweet I read turned into an actual conviction.  You see, my world does revolve around my children in so many ways.  These 3 almost grown up kids bombarded our lives several years ago.  They turned everything upside down,  twisting our known life into a gigantic pretzel.  A few simple words cannot articulate the magnitude of responsibility felt.  The overflow of the greatest love, physical exhaustion, happiness, sorrow, worry, joy, annoyance, gratitude, guilt and so many other feelings wrapped up all at once.  One moment feeling like you have completely lost yourself to these foreign aliens residing under your roof and the next ready to grab them all up and hide them under a bushel safe from the bullies and hurts of their world, never to return to reality.  Part of the life "B.C." (before children) seems to get buried beneath little league baseball games, dance recitals, carpool lanes, assemblies and daily mundane homework problems.    And sometimes I catch myself, (and my husband does too) living vicariously through them.  But not only with their achievements or successes but also in their tears and broken hearts.  I've noticed, parenthood rekindles our childhood constantly, the good, the bad and all of the other stuff in between. And living through this, raising up these pieces of your soul, it is extremely hard to even have a conversation without including an actual physical and emotional part of yourself.  Sometimes I feel like a stranger wondering where my pre-kid self has vanished off to...maybe I lost her at the hockey rink, I may have shivered her off underneath the broken heaters at the ICE BOX, boy they aren't kidding about that name!  But all joking aside, these 3 kids of mine are a part of me, an enormous part.  Trying to untie them from conversations and posts is like cutting out a piece of my heart.  
And maybe I'm just extra sensitive because my oldest is getting ready to leave the nest and take off flying on his own in a few weeks.  But my precious, irritating, beautiful, sometimes stinky, always loved children are a part of my world now and until the good Lord takes me from this place.  So if I'm boring, just scroll down and know I'm still my own person but I have three kids who will continue to be tied into all of my life. 

Treasures in Clay

 

I sneak a peek at him lying there on the couch as shadows bounce through the fading winter early evening light.  I gaze down upon his lanky late teen frame, reading the exhaustion on his rosy cheeked face.  Recollections of my younger years laying on a couch of a family room facing west in late January just six doors down some twenty three years ago bring me back to understanding. Memories flood of teenage years and long Michigan winters and longing for future times.  How I wish I could go back and have a conversation with that younger self.  These choices and moments are short lived but long term all at the same time.  And as I secretly take this moment to heart, my first born and I, we silently are connected as I utter a prayer that he will catch a glimpse of himself some twenty-odd years later.  And here is what I would tell him… these few words here I yearn that God would reveal to his heart:

You are more than these moments. God created you and had a plan for your life before He formed you inside of me.  He has put you here for such a time as this.  But this too will surely pass.  You are being shaped, this piece of clay that you are…molded and formed into something beautiful…and this vessel that He is creating may fall and crack…shatter into pieces that may cut and hurt and feel completely broken down…but if this earthen jar was perfect and smooth, how could anyone see the light shimmering through the cracks? How could you relate to the bruised up and battered ones? How would you feel the light without knowing there is a darkness out there that tries to extinguish the flame? And in your moments of hurt and barren winters hold fast to this truth, “He is making all things new”  Don’t you forget when crushing weights and burdens press hard…When life is moving too fast…and also remember when the sun is shining bright and spring is knocking on your heart with hopes high.  He is working all things together for your good.   And one day, a couple of decades later you will have a moment, maybe watching your very own child and seeing your younger self in him…And you will remember too that there is a time and a season for every purpose under heaven.  Don’t forget to look up at the sky and remember these temporary moments are working toward eternal glory.   And always search for the miracle that is right in front of you.

This man-child’s legs are hanging over the leather sofa and so many emotions are hanging on my heart.  We have one more winter with him living under our roof if he moves away for college and there are so many things I want to tell him.  So much left unsaid.  But I guess that’s where faith comes in.  I have to trust that my God will reveal Himself and speak to his heart in the perfect language that this blue eyed boy of mine will understand. 

“But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us…” 2 Corinthians 4:7

Bittersweet Breaths

Golden warmth brightens everything as the leaves rustle and dance away.  I close my eyes and run away in my imagination backward a few weeks to our vacation.  The sound of wind gracing the branches of the enormous oak that adorns our backyard quickly turns into crashing waves beating the shores of Lake Michigan.  All of a sudden I am back to that happy place in my mind where toes stay sandy and minds are cleared. Where pink, purple, orange and gold fill the horizon as the ball of fire dips into the big lake at the end of each day.

A dog barks and I snap back into the present.  It is Sunday, a day I have been trying to honor as Sabbath.  I sit on my backporch and type trying not to look or notice the unswept decking.  I have walked by a clean pile of unfolded clothes and my unmade bed several times today.  Today I am trying to slow down and listen.  Pay attention to those most important around me and soak them up instead of the neverending phone and internet distractions. I am listening but also trying to find my voice that has not had much to say for quite some time.  A foggy cloud has been hovering over me these last few months.  Recent world and national events have brought me to my own place of despair and recognitions of some extremely horrible realities of my past.  This has put me in a desperate and hard place.  I could stay under the rock of depression and hurt but instead am making new attempts to look and hear breaks of sound in the gray matter.  And the light does flicker and filter through in certain moments but just as quickly the billowing wind brings more tough, cold weather.  Raw wounds are exposed and cut open without warning.  And then words of women who share their hearts and bare their souls come in and become healing ointment to my injuries.


 From her book, "Bittersweet" Shauna Niequist beautifully pens,
"The idea of bittersweet is changing the way I live, unraveling and re-weaving the way I understand life.  Bittersweeet is the idea that in all things there is both something broken and something beautiful, that there is a sliver of lightness on even the darkest of nights, a shadow of hope in every heartbreak, and that rejoicing is no less rich when it contains a splinter of sadness.
Bittersweet is the practice of believing that we really do need both the bitter and the sweet, and that a life of nothing but sweetness rots both your teeth and your soul.  Bitter is what makes us strong, what forces us to push through, what helps us earn the lines on our faces and the calluses on our hands.  Sweet is nice enough, but bittersweet is beautiful, nuanced, full of depth and complexity.  Bittersweet is courageous, gustsy, earthy."

This is a bittersweet time for me.  I can't cling to the bitter or the sweet of this season but embrace both and find my voice as I listen,not just hear, what God is saying to me.  Today marks a new journey.  I am begininng a new writing project here.  I may not share it with anyone but me but I hope to learn much as I listen and allow God to speak His voice into my heart.  I will strive to be honest and transparent without fear of pleasing others.  I will search high and low for Whispers of His grace in the Wind and in finding them I will inhale these priceless gifts of grace deep and pray for strength to believe it first for myself and then exhaling slowly and steadily into the lives of those in my path.