Restoration …Again

“Do not be dismayed by the brokenness of the world.

All things break. And all things can be mended.

Not with time, as they say, but with intention.

So go. Love intentionally, extravagantly, unconditionally.

The broken world waits in darkness for

the light that is you.”. L.R. Knost.

Earlier this spring, My husband and I were planned a trip to Minnesota, to visit our grown children who live there. Our daughter was graduating from grad school, and it was also Mothers’ Day weekend. It would be the first Mothers’ Day in several years that I had spent with both of our children, so of course, my excitement meter was high.

Prior to our road trip I took the car in to the dealership to have the oil changed, and I learned that the tires were bad and needed to be replaced. I cheated and replaced only the back two tires, intending to replace the other two at a later date. The tires on my car are “run flat” tires, meaning they are designed to not go flat even if you drive over a nail or puncture them. For this reason, my car doesn’t come with a spare tire. It is deemed unnecessary, because you are supposed to be able to safely get to a place where the tire can be replaced or repaired. I thought that cheating on the tires would be okay.

We packed up our car with our belongings and our dogs, and were set to have a fun road trip. We were having a lovely time until we drove over a large pothole in Illinois. The sidewall of our front tire blew out and the hole was catastrophic.

We pulled over beside a field of dirt in the middle of what felt like nowhere. We were stranded until roadside assistance could get to us, because, you know, we didn’t have a spare tire.

The next several hours were spent waiting for a tow truck to arrive. We stretched our legs occasionally by walking our two dogs along the dusty roadside. It was also less than three weeks after I had had full knee replacement surgery, and I was more than uncomfortable because of the waiting around, and inactivity in the car.

A moment of clarity came to me when I was stretching my legs. I was feeling very happy that our incident didn’t result in anything more catastrophic than a hole in our front tire. We were inconvenienced and would miss precious time with our kids, but I wasn’t feeling anxious or angry. I realized at that moment that there had been a change in me over the past several months. The anxiety I would normally have felt in a time like that was non-existent, and was replaced with silent prayers of thankfulness and a feeling of well-being.

It has been a year since I wrote my last post called ‘ Restoration ‘. That was the beginning of a slow process of change for me. What many call mindfulness and meditation, I will call prayer and worship. This, and a prescription from my doctor has helped keep my anxiety at bay.

It’s amazing to me that I am able to rationalize my experiences quite clearly. I spend less time getting caught up in what I refer to as the muddiness of my thoughts and emotions. I’m able to let things go without feeling as if I have to fix what I think is wrong around me. This, I realized when I used the restroom at work and saw that someone had hung the toilet paper in the “wrong ” direction. I was able to just use it without fixing the roll first! Progress is a beautiful thing, and the realization of it totally disarmed me.

I am thankful for the life I have. I am giving angst and turmoil less space in my head, and will embrace each day as it comes with thanksgiving and hope for the future.

“I will refresh the weary and satisfy the faint.”-Jeremiah 31:25

“He heals the broken hearted and binds up their wounds.”-Psalm 147:3

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving present your requests to God.”- Philippians 4:6

Love and Grace, Joy and Laughter

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“Remain in me, and I will remain in you.  No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine .  Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me.”-John 15:4

Love and Grace, Joy and Laughter.  These are simple words to bandy about during the Christmas season. We could all use a little more love and grace,  and joy and laughter.

My husband and I have had a lovely time during our Christmas vacation.  We have recharged our batteries, and I have used some of that time for some introspection.  I am not proud of where my thoughts  lead me sometimes.  I am far too independent for my own good. I profess to let God be in control of my life, yet I struggle with relinquishing control to Him at the same time.

When I read the Old Testament of the Bible, I shake my head. The lying and cheating and war and sex and dysfunction that went on is difficult to comprehend. It’s just as twisted as our society is today, I suppose.  Sometimes I catch myself wondering how I can relinquish control to a God who lets all that stuff happen. Other times I am reminded that God loves us. He gives us gifts to help each other, despite our pride and lying and cheating and dysfunction. In our modern world, when Christians are scoffed at for various reasons, I have hope that my faith in Him,  and in those He has placed in my life, is enough for each new day.

Often, I find  it is difficult for me to break through and keep up with my blogging and writing as often as I want to.  Writing is a charge, and a gift that I take seriously.  If I write something and put it out there, I want it to be worthy of my readers’ time.  I do not want to fill space on my blog just for the sake of posting something on a regular basis.  That being said, I wish I had the inspiration or the energy to write on a regular basis. Life gets in the way, and I do as well.

Sometimes I think very highly of myself and when I do, I find I will fail every time.  I think this happened to Peter when he stepped off a boat to walk on the water’s surface. Jesus called him by name and said, “Peter, come out of the boat and walk towards me.” Peter listened to this strange request and actually walked out of the boat and towards Jesus on top of the water. After a little while, he began to sink, so Jesus reached out, grabbed him by his hand and lifted him up; he kept him from sinking into the sea and drowning.  ( Matthew 14:22-23)

I have wondered why Peter began to sink before reaching Jesus.  I am not a Biblical theologian and I have not formally studied the Bible, but I think perhaps Peter was like, “WOW!  Look at ME! I am walking ON THE WATER! How cool is THAT? NO one has ever done this before…I am SO incredibly AWESOME!” At least, that’s how I would have felt, so this rendition works for me.

I think that, as soon as Peter thought he was doing this on his own, because he was so awesome, not because Jesus was giving him the ability to do it,  he began to sink. Of course Jesus reached out and saved the day, or at least, saved Peter from drowning.

This happens to me. Every. Day. I am just like Peter. (I think I am awesome, even though I am not, at least not always.) When I let myself get in the way, I am useless at what He asks me to do.  I am unable to use my words effectively, and I am unable to demonstrate kindness, or love, or grace, to anybody.

I had a situation at work that dragged on for months.  I started a new position at work, in another clinic within the same company. I love my job and was excited because my new job was only 4 minutes from home.  Who wouldn’t love that? My excruciating commute in Atlanta traffic was over.

I was excited to meet my new coworkers, and for the most part, most of them were wonderful. Strangely enough, however, a couple of people were a little disenchanted with me and with the fact that I had been transferred over to their clinic. They had some incorrect pre-conceived notions about me, and  did not welcome me with open arms. I didn’t understand why, and tried to correct the situation, but however I tried, I could not make things right. My work environment felt hostile, and  of course, I started to feel rather ugly myself. I could not summon up any good or warm feelings towards these other staff members.  I prayed for the ability to forgive these people, and still, I could not. Again, I confronted them and explained how I felt. I thought for certain that this would rectify things.  I learned that their preconceived ideas were due to lies that were told by other individuals, but still, they refused to show me any grace.  I was at my wits’ end, and couldn’t stop ruminating about this situation.  It was causing me a great deal of stress and anxiety.

Finally, one day , after many days of praying for change, I had an epiphany.  These people had not apologized or asked for my forgiveness, so why was I so intent on doling out forgiveness?  I realized that I was only required to love these people, not forgive them, at least in this situation.  Yet, how could I feel any warmth towards these individuals, let alone LOVE, after I felt I had been wronged?

However, I felt a wonderful freedom when I let things go and stopped looking for an apology.  I concentrated on getting myself in order, in doing my job well, and treating those around me fairly. I spent some time nurturing my relationship with the One who calls me to be me. Going forward, I hoped my situation would improve and it has.  For that I am grateful. Pharisees asked Jesus what the greatest commandment was. Jesus replied, “Love God with all your heart and soul, and then love your neighbor as yourself.” (Matt. 22:34-40)

To  me, this was my miracle of the Christmas Season, this act of Blessed Release. I released something that I could never control, and it was replaced with Love and Grace. A special Love and Grace that I am incapable of conjuring up on my own. A Love and Grace towards others that can nurture Joy and Laughter in its wake.

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

Mother’s Day

Ask the Lord for rain in the springtime; it is the Lord who makes the storm clouds. He gives showers of rain to men, and plants of the field to everyone.” – Zechariah 10:1

This verse in Zechariah has been resonating with me since the beginning of the New Year. I have felt that I have been living under the shadows of many storm clouds for a very long time. I have prayed for the strength and wisdom to shine through them with His strength. He has whispered to me softly over the years, and I have not always been in tune enough to listen. Some of my angst and turmoil has been caused by the fact that I am a mother and a daughter, and as many of you know, sometimes that carries with it some heartbreak.

Today is Mothers Day, and my children live  out of state, and my own mother is no longer with us here on earth. I know that Mothers Day is for some a day of celebration of family and love, and for others it can be a day of heartbreak and tears. Many women are not mothers, and would like to be, and many  have lost their mothers or their children, and are missing them today. Many mothers  have had wonderful dreams for their children that were altered by life circumstances and poor decisions.   As I was taking my dogs out for our early morning walk, I couldn’t help but think about what this day is for so many of us.

On Mothers Day when my children were young, I would often awake to sounds of rummaging in the kitchen. I pretended to  be “sleeping in” as I heard my daughter’s very loud whispers of, “Shhh! Mom is sleeping–don’t wake her yet!” She was admonishing her brother and father as they were clattering away in the kitchen. When they finally burst into the room carrying my breakfast tray, I would rub my eyes sleepily, and they would proudly sing their  happy Mothers Day wishes. I am quite sure the coffee was always brewed and poured before the toast was made, because it was always cold by the time they brought it up to me. As a matter of course, the dog and everybody jumped on the bed and watched me as I drank my coffee, and nibbled on the scorched toast and the boiled egg that always had bits of shell still attached to it. Later, as my children grew, the breakfasts they made became more sophisticated and sometimes we went out to eat. The whole family (minus the dog) was treated to a special meal to celebrate.

I wouldn’t change those breakfasts for the world; they were breakfasts fit for a queen, and I always loved it.  How I miss those days; I always knew where my children were and I knew they were safe.

Eventually, as the teenage and young adult years came upon us, Mothers Day wasn’t always a day of celebration for me. Rebellion and resentment took root in the lives of our kids, and suffice to say, that was difficult. However, these are not my stories to tell. I know someday my children will share their stories if they choose to, and others will be blessed.

I have often grieved about my circumstances with a dear friend who has experienced similar storm clouds to mine. She has always encouraged me with her wisdom, and by reminding me that we are privileged to be the mothers of our children. Specifically; we were chosen to be their moms, and we could choose to grieve and cry, or we could choose to rise up, embrace the storm, and shine through the clouds in His strength. It is with this thought that I cry tears of gladness, because I can feel the springtime rain coming down on our lives.  The fields are being planted. My children are grown; they have survived the storms also, and I am very glad, and very proud.

While my mother was still alive, I neglected to be perfectly honest with her regarding the trials our family was experiencing. I am not sure why I chose to keep things from her. I guess I felt she wouldn’t understand, would be disappointed, or she would judge me too harshly. One day earlier this spring, my husband had just finished a phone call with our son.  They had had an enjoyable conversation, and my husband was in a very good mood. That simple thing made my heart sing. I felt joyful, and I felt blessed. I also wanted to call my mom right away and tell her about it, and then of course I remembered that I could not. It made me realize how wrong I was to keep the sad things from her while she was here with us. In hindsight, I realized that she would have understood, and helped me. After all, she had her own experiences with the rebellion and stubbornness of her own children (present company included) to draw from.

Mothers’ Day has become a day of quiet enjoyment for me now that my husband and I are empty nesters.  He is lovely; he jokes that he is no longer an amateur and can make a decent breakfast and serve our coffee hot. Our children stay in touch, and we celebrate our moments with them, whether they are here in person, or whether we just have a chance to speak with them by telephone. We enjoy the day and take time to enjoy life’s simple pleasures. We are grateful for today and hopeful for tomorrow.

Happy Mothers Day. Be blessed.

“Even in darkness light dawns for the upright, for the gracious and compassionate and righteous man….he will have no fear of bad news; his heart is steadfast, trusting in the Lord.” – Psalm 112:4,7

 

 

Enter Into Joy

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“Now this is what the Lord Almighty says, “Give careful thought to your ways. You have planted much, but have harvested little. You eat, but you never have enough. You drink, but you never have your fill. You put on clothes, but are not warm. You earn wages, only to put them in a purse with holes in it.  This is what the Lord Almighty says, “Give careful thought to your ways. Go up into the mountains and bring down timber and build the house, so that I may take pleasure in it and be honored,” says the Lord. “You expected much, but it turns out to be little. What you brought home, I blew away. Why?” declares the Lord Almighty. “Because of my house, which remains a ruin while each of you is busy with his own house.” ~Haggai 1:5-9

I read the above passage this morning, as I was drinking my  coffee.  I wish I could say this is a daily ritual of mine, reading Scripture while drinking coffee, alone and quiet in my kitchen.  It used to be, but somehow Life has become very busy, and my morning visit with my Father has often been left by the wayside.

This passage was a part of the message that the prophet Haggai had for God’s people in Jerusalem. God had rescued them from exile in Babylon and brought them home.  Eventually, as time went on, the Jewish people let themselves forget what God had done, and that He was their reason for living. They became apathetic and confused. The prophet Haggai was sent to remind them that they needed to re-examine their priorities.

I can relate to what happened to the Israelites in this period of history. My “busyness” and my attention to only myself, has led to the apathy I feel. It pains me to say this out loud, but it is the truth. I feel as if God’s house around me is in ruins. In my last post,  I wrote about the vulnerability I felt regarding worship  with my church community.  It has been three months, and I have to admit, I have not been to services.  I know that lack of support in my life contributes to the sense of hopelessness that threatens to overwhelm sometimes.  I am not taking care of “God’s house” in my life, and it is reflecting on me in other ways.  I am being robbed of my Joy. This is leading to other unwelcome feelings of anger, resentment and bitterness , and quite frankly,  I have had enough. This morning’s time reading my Bible helped me realize that I have not been myself, and now I know why. Forgiveness and change are mine for the asking, and I can go forward, unafraid.

“So do not worry, saying, “What shall we eat?” or “What shall we wear?” For the pagans run after all these things and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”~Matthew 6:31-34

This is work; it is not easy. It can even be frightening. “Entering into the joy of the Lord” (Matthew 25:23), and rejoicing in His forgiveness, is a choice; a decision.

My son made the teapot in the picture on this page above,  and the angel is a friend’s gift to me. She told me it was called “The Angel of Hope.” She had her reasons for choosing this particular gift for me, and I remember our friendship fondly whenever I look at it. My angel and my precious teapot take up valuable real estate on my kitchen counter. In my turmoil and angst this morning, as I looked at these lovely gifts,  I was reminded of the love I have for my family and friends, and of the love they have for me. God wants us to take joy in Him, and in the community around us. This is how He whispers Hope and Joy into our souls.

“The joy of the Lord is your strength”~Nehemiah 8:10

Waiting

image“Wait on the Lord; be of good courage, and He shall strengthen thine heart”`Ps.27:14

 

I love this photo that I snapped of our trusty lab, Musta, staring out the window, waiting for her daily walk.  She looks like she thinks she’s never going to get one.  It was a rainy day, and the weather was horrible, so instead of taking her first thing in the morning the way she had been accustomed to, I chose to wait out the rain instead.  It was better for her, and for me, and, it was better for our little dog, Oliver who is terrified of the rain. Musta didn’t understand why she had to wait for her walk that day, but in my head I had a perfectly good reason, and the reason was best for all involved.

Sometimes I realize I am just like my puppy Musta, towards my Father God.

How many times in life have I found myself impatiently waiting for something, and wondering when the big thing would happen? I’ve been praying and praying and praying, and it seems as if nothing is happening and my prayers are falling on God’s deaf ears, and I hear nothing in response. Nothing.  Not even a hopeful maybe. Several weeks, even years can go by, and after the prayer is answered, I realize how silly I am; and if I hadn’t waited so long, the prayer could not have been answered so perfectly. I would have had to settle for something much less perfect for me, something that in hindsight, I would have been much less satisfied with.

This past fall, I couldn’t understand why it was taking  so long to get my license to practice my profession in the State of Georgia.  I had filled out the appropriate paperwork, and instead of the three or four weeks I thought it would take, the process dragged out to more than three months.  I was beyond frustrated. I felt very inadequate, and I was taking it all very personally. However, almost as soon as the State of Georgia granted me my license, I found a job that was beyond my expectations, and was more wonderful than I could imagine. Oh the joy, (the joy!) when that prayer was answered! My coworkers are awesome, and my job challenges me in new ways every day. I am excited to go to work and I don’t have to drag my feet when I get out of bed every morning. It is a blessing  I would have missed out on if I hadn’t had to wait until this particular job was available to me.

There is a story in the book of Daniel, where Daniel has a vision regarding his prayer life. (Chapter 10, verse1-13, ) He had fasted and prayed for 3 weeks and heard nothing, and then finally an angel broke through and let him know that his prayer had been heard “as soon as he set his mind to gain understanding , and to humble himself before God.” Daniel had to wait three weeks to realize his prayer had been answered, because  the angel had to fight powers in the unseen world in order to get to Daniel and help him.

I have been thinking a lot about waiting lately; it is so easy to tell others to trust God and to wait for the right thing to come along…in actual fact, I know waiting is the hardest thing I have ever had to do. It is a lesson that I have to relearn daily, even though I live with the blessings of answered prayer in my life daily. Now, my life is not nearly as complicated as Daniel’s. I am not being thrown into prison, into a fiery furnace, or a lion’s den because of my faith in God.  My life is not as complicated, to say the least. However, I am trying to navigate this difficult modern world that we all live in, and to do that, I have discovered that my only real defense is to pray continually , and this old story from the book of Daniel helps me. I believe God hears my prayers, even when I don’t see the evidence of that right away. As I write this, I am waiting for another prayer to be answered. I wonder how long it will take, and how many tears I will shed as I kneel and speak to my Lord about this one? I know He hears me. He might answer other prayers in the meantime, before He answers. I trust that He knows best. I think that is why this photo of my puppy whining in the window touches me. She is waiting, and so am I…

“For I am the Lord, your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you.”~Isaiah 41:13

“Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.”~1 Peter 5:7

 

 

Mothers and Daughters

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“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot… a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance… a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away, a time to tear and a time to mend.”~Ecclesiastes  3:1-7

I have spent an inordinate amount of time on the phone with my daughter over the last few weeks. I speak with her almost daily  about anything under the sun.  My conversations with her remind me of conversations I had with my own mother when I was younger, and had moved away from home.  Whenever I was missing her , or wanted to share my day, or ask about a recipe, she was only a phone call away, and always willing to spend a few minutes with me. Now my conversations with my daughter are very similar.  They can consist of only a few words, or they can be quite lengthy.

I have had much time over the last few months to think and contemplate in a way that I have not had time to do in the past, and for this I am grateful.  It has been a rare gift for me, and one that I have treasured. This time has allowed me to settle in to our new home,  to rest, to reflect, and to grieve.

I have always been busy studying, working, or being a wife and mother.  Not since the carefree days of my youth, have I had this much time at my disposal. After my husband and I moved to the state of Georgia, and after I finished unpacking our boxes, I would have loved to dive in and look for a job, but I couldn’t. I was not licensed  to work as a dental hygienist in this state, until last week.  I was waiting for the board of dentistry to grant me my state licensure, and I’m relieved to say that finally, they did.  Now I have started applying for jobs, so although I have enjoyed this time , I need to get back to work.

In the last three and a half months, I have joined a book club, attended church, become friendly with our neighbors, and socialized with my husband’s coworkers, all with the intent to establish roots and nurture new relationships.  People in the South are welcoming and friendly. It’s impossible to walk our dogs without having someone walk by, or drive by without a neighborly “stop-and-chat”.  I love that about our new neighborhood. I wish I could pick up the phone and call my mom to tell her all about it.

Just a couple of weeks ago I had one of those moments; I was baking some Finnish coffee bread because  I wanted to send a care package to my kids.  The  yeast-based dough grew exponentially, and spilled over onto my counter top.  I vaguely remember having a conversation with my mom about baking bread in warmer climates, and how the humidity and warmth can make the yeast work double time.  How I wished I could call her up and tell her she had been right about that.  Why is it that these simple things cause me to tear up on such a regular basis?  My daughter loves to cook and bake and  she will often call me for quick cooking advice, or to discuss recipes.  It reminds me of how my mom and I used to be. I loved being able to call her at the drop of a hat, and tell her the most mundane things; it didn’t matter that we rarely saw each other or that so many miles separated us. 

Our move to from Minnesota didn’t go swimmingly; the moving company was terrible.  So many things were broken , furniture was scratched or dented, my husband’s  dumbbells and toolbox are missing; lost forever.  These things are insured and replaceable, but the whole ordeal is annoying, and I would have loved to call my mom and complain to her about it, but fortunately for me, my daughter is willing to listen to my woes, and for that I am grateful. 

I was unpacking a crate of my mother’s China, which she had gifted to me several years ago.  She had been downsizing her things; she had no use for it and wanted me to have it.  My mother passed away just one short month prior to our move, and with that wound still fresh, I was unprepared for the onslaught of emotion that I was hit with when I unraveled her China from amongst the brown paper packing.  So many memories of my mother’s Sunday roast dinners and Christmas turkeys with all of us gathered around the dining room table sharing a meal.    Unwrapping her China was a grim reminder of how unavailable she was to me now; how I could not call her to share my experiences in this new land that I find myself navigating.  I couldn’t handle it anymore; I had to wrap up her China again and put it away where I couldn’t see it, where I could deal with it another day. Procrastination, in the guise of another project, was in order.

I had some decorative wall hangings that needed a coat of paint, and as little effort as I could muster.  Painting is not my forte, and I remembered a friend telling me about  a product called chalk paint, which sounded wonderful.  No primer was necessary; just a coat or two, and a light sanding, and you’re done.  Exactly what I was after.  I googled where I could buy this wonderful product, and it turns out, a retailer was very close to me, so off I went.  An antique dealer sold this paint, and google maps pointed the way.  I walked into the store, and on the display case right near the front door, what did I see?  Chalk paint? Certainly not.  It was an entire set of “The Friendly Village ” by Johnson Brothers, my mother’s  China pattern! As soon as I recognized it on the display case, I walked up to it and started bawling my eyes out. As I was standing there, wiping the tears and mascara out of my eyes,  a very worried looking antiques proprietor came scurrying over to me asking, “Ma’am, ya’ll doin’ ok?”  I responded, “Yes, I’m fine.  I’m just here to buy chalk paint!’ My goodness gracious…..I am not one to usually cause such a scene….

My daughter called me that day and I was able to tell her all about it.  I love that I can talk to her about these things. I love my baby girl. I can’t be sure but I suspect that she was crying too, on her end of the phone, as I told her my story.

In the end, when my mom got very sick, I felt very guilty for being so very far away from her, because I was unable to help her in the way that I wanted to. When I called her, I would apologize profusely. She would tell me, over and over again, that she understood, and not to worry, but that did not alleviate how I was feeling. After I moved from Minnesota to Georgia, I also felt guilty for leaving my children behind. The fact that they are young adults should have assuaged my guilt, but at the time it didn’t.  Now I see that they are thriving and doing well; perhaps they are doing even better than they would have if we had stayed and helicoptered them their entire young adult lives.

It wasn’t until recently, after my  mom passed, that I realized- life circumstances happen and sometimes we cannot control them, no matter how much we would like to.  This is just the way it is, and my mom  understood. I am sure she would not have wanted me to suffer the guilt I felt inside my own head. I was the one who felt guilty for  reasons that were out of my control, and I needed to let it go.  My  mom immigrated from Finland to Canada and was far from her own mother; of course she of all people understood how things were. I know she may have liked it if we lived close by, but we didn’t. She enjoyed our telephone visits, and she loved it when we had a chance to visit in person even more.  I now get it that she understood me in more ways than I ever gave her credit for. I wish I could have shared this epiphany with her before she passed. Our conversations would have been that much more peaceful, at least for me.

“I will refresh the weary and satisfy the faint.”~Jeremiah 31:25