Mourning Into Dancing

“The floods washed away home and mill, all the poor man had in the world. But as he stood on the scene of his loss, after the water had subsided, brokenhearted and discouraged, he saw something shining in the bank which the waters had washed bare. ‘It looks like gold,’ he said.

It was gold.

The flood which has beggared him made him rich. So it is ofttimes in life.”

-H.C. Trumbell

Last night our church had an evening of praise and worship. I don’t write much about my church, and I think I sometimes take for granted the richness of the gift that God has given me in Elevation. I have never known such passion for Jesus in a church, such single-minded focus on the gospel. It is an honor to be a part of my local body of Christ.

And, oh, the Presence of the Lord was in that place. The sweetness of the Holy Spirit descended as song after song left the congregation and went right to the throne of God.

Near the end of the service, our Pastor invited people to come to the front of the church who needed a special touch from the Lord. He said that he felt like there were many people who had suffered a great disappointment or loss this past year and that it was time to lay it down before the Lord.

People began flooding out of their chairs, completely filling up the front of the church as well as the aisles. Kneeling and crying, they prayed. Our Pastor prayed. The Holy Spirit ministered.

And it took me a few minutes to realize something:

I didn’t need to go up to the front.

Every year of my adult life has been shaped by some sort of really hard situation, usually centering around the incredible dysfunction of my family. As a result, although I’ve loved Jesus and pressed into knowing Him more, I’ve lived with tremendous discouragement and depression. I’ve survived my life, hoping that one day my life would be a success if I made dinner and stopped having so many fears.

But God has done something powerful in my life this last year. When I made the choice a year and a half ago to fully surrender my life to Him, He did “more than I could ask or imagine”. I didn’t just stop surviving, I started living.

I gave Him everything and He gave me everything back…and then some. I gave up my mother…and He gave me a family. I gave up my childhood memories to Him…and He gave me peace and freedom from anxiety and control. I gave up my fears about being rejected…and He gave me a voice and a purpose.

I gave Him every pain, every disappointment, and every loss. He gave me Himself.

So this is the first year of my life that wasn’t defined by disappointment or loss. And I cried as I understood that He really is good to me. That His plan for my life is not to survive but to live radically in His Presence.

The floods in my life have revealed more of Him. Though the pain of loss has left me scarred, I have found Jesus on the other side. And now I can say with a full heart and full assurance:

In His Presence is fullness of joy.

Father, you have been good to me. I love you. I feel sometimes like that is all I can say. I am in awe of who you are. Amen.

It’s raining outside. My favorite sound is the rain. It makes me feel cozy inside, like I’ve just eaten a bowl of soup and am about to read a really good book.

My two-year-old is still asleep. It’s 11:15. I guess our trip to Indiana wore her out more than I realized.

But it’s so great to be home in my own little house, drinking my own coffee, and in my own purple prayer chair.

My husband and son were up early and out the door to church. Then Hugh called me after church to let me know that he and Jon-David were going to breakfast together and then going to pray and read their Bibles. Sometimes I love my man so much it actually hurts.

I’ve been sitting in my prayer chair for over an hour. I read Psalm 2 and wrote out my devotional guide questions. I prayed for a while for my family, and I drank my Maxwell House coffee. (Note to self: go buy Starbucks House Blend today. Also, bread.)

And my prayer time with the Lord was good, not great. “God,” I prayed, “I am extremely distracted this morning. I keep looking at the rain and thinking about how to talk to my grandmother about possibly moving because of her health…” Then I trailed off in my prayer and continued watching the puddles in my backyard.

And that’s where I’ll land in my post. My grandmother. And the worry I am having right now about her future . I have the huge responsibility of taking care of her. Sometimes I feel inadequate. I’m thirty, not fifty, and I don’t know if I’ll make the right choices. Gram trusts me and Hugh completely, and I am afraid of making a mistake. I love my grandmother so much and I want to care well for her.

Psalm 2 is all about angry nations and wicked rulers. God laughs at them. They are ridiculous. But the Psalm ends with the phrase…”what joy for all who take refuge in Him!” So today I’ll watch the rain and enjoy being home. And when I worry about the decisions ahead of me with my grandmother, I’ll remember that I have an inheritance of joy found in the Lord. I’ll trust that He is my refuge and that He is in charge of this situation.

Ahh. Exhale. I trust you, Lord. Oh, and Lord, please help me to be more focused during my prayer time tomorrow. Amen.

8 Moments of Christmas I wish I Could Delete:

1. The moment I took a big bite of the pulled pork sandwich I made myself for lunch on Christmas Eve and my mother-in-law quietly whispered to me that the pork roast was our Christmas Eve entree. Oh, the joy of stuffing my face in front of my husband’s family with food MEANT FOR CHRISTMAS DINNER. I, of course, ran to the bathroom and locked the door for a while.

2.  The moment my 83-year-old grandmother patted my cheek as I was leaving town for a week and told me bravely to “have a good time, dear.” I will not feel guilty. She will be okay.

3.  The moment my daughter told me that her favorite Christmas gift was the toy vacuum from her grandparents. Please say it ain’t so, Hannajean. I spent all this time picking out wonderfully engaging toys for her this year - toys to stimlulate her mind and encourage her in Jesus. And she likes a cheap Dirt Devil Vacuum. Argh.

4.  Having a gas station clerk run after me at a Citgo in Kentucky, yelling angrily, “MA’AM! YOU FORGOT TO SIGN YOUR SLIP!” Hello? Nearly everywhere I shop in Charlotte, you don’t have to sign the credit card slip if your purchase is under twenty bucks. I didn’t know that I needed to sign the slip for my faux-vitamin-water drink.

5.  Pretending to be excited on Christmas morning when my husband eagerly handed me my first gift. A bluetooth headset. At first I thought he was joking and that it was a gift for him that he wrapped for me to be funny. But, no. It was my gift.

6.  Trying to cook Green Bean Casserole as my big contribution to the family dinner and having my mother-in-law upset with me because she was afraid I wasn’t being careful enough and that my cooking was going to give everyone botulism poisoning. I haven’t tried to cook anything for them for several years. Now I remember why.

7.  Having to sleep in the same room with my two oldest children for a week. I know that is many moments but I think it deserves a place on my list.

8.  Having various family members take pictures of me opening Christmas gifts (”Oh, look, Hugh! A bluetooth headset!”) while I looked incredibly nasty. I hate every picture taken of me this week, and there have been a lot because my in-laws want to capture every moment of our visit.

I want to point out that there were many wonderful moments this Christmas as well. But, seriously, they are not as funny to write about. I’ll probably reread this in ten years and wonder if I was ever happy.

Merry Christmas. 

“Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things” (Colossians 3:1-2).

“Ooooooo!” I yelled to Hugh, who sat patiently next to me in our minivan, “Let’s go look at your uncle’s land. I’ve never been out there and…it would totally be an adventure!”

We are here in rural Indiana for Christmas - 650 miles away from our house, visiting Hugh’s parents who own 300 acres and grow corn and raise angus cattle. They had offered to watch our three children so Hugh and I could go out to lunch and see a movie.

We told them we would be back by 6:00, but it was only 4:45. We had enough time to do one more thing before heading back to their farm.

I wanted to go see Uncle John’s land. Hugh grudgingly agreed.

We drove for a while and came to an abandoned mailbox. Old newspapers and other peices of trash stuck out of it. “Is this the driveway?” I asked.

Hugh nodded and stifled a groan as I wheeled the van down the long abandoned driveway. Grass and bushes hit the sides of the car as we passed through puddles of mud and ice. On one side of the driveway was an old toilet; on the other was a huge pile of discarded oil drums. We rolled over trash mixed with weeds as I bravely drove the quarter mile back to where the old house stood.

At least sixty-five years have passed since anyone has lived there. The roof has caved in on one side, and most of the windows were broken long ago. The door sat open crookedly, and piles of boards and trash covered the floor. An old white curtain hung in the front window, inviting in the cold winter wind.

Orange, red, and brown leaves covered every inch of the ground leading up to the house. We parked our van on the leaves and stood looking at the building in front of us.

“People raised families here,” I said as I tried to picture life in this now-deserted place. I imagined a mom watching her children play in the yard where the oil drums now lay abandoned. Hopes, disappointments, laughter, and anger once filled these empty walls.

Every once in a while I pause and realize that my life is flying by - that I am worrying about unimportant things and missing the fleeting moments of the Holy. But these are the moments with my children and husband that should be savored and breathed in, for tomorrow “the wind blows over it and it is gone.”

How would I live if I understood that my own house will one day stand abandoned? Would I spend as much time cleaning and organizing and decorating a thing that ultimately has no eternal value? Would I instead pour more of my effort and energy and self into the things around me that do have eternal value?

If I had that eternal perspective, I think I would laugh more and worry less. I would be spontaneous and tickle my children more. I would take walks with my family. I would speak kindly to my husband all the time, not just when I am in a good mood. I would sit longer in the Presence of God and not try to hurry through my prayer time so I can go complete some things on my to-do list. I think I would do less, but what I accomplish would have significant value.

I am going to ask Hugh if we can go back to Uncle John’s today and take a picture of the house. I’m planning to put it on my fridge as a reminder to “set my mind on things above.” Then I will pause and set my mind on Christ each moment - as I live out my life focused on loving Him and loving others.

Father, I love you. Thank you for the gift of an eternal perspective. Help me to live my life with my mind set on You, putting your purposes first. In the name of Your Son, Amen.

“So I said to myself, ‘I will get up and roam the city, searching in all its streets and squares. I will search for the one I love…’” (Song of Solomon 3:2).

A few days ago, I went to sleep upstairs away from my husband. I curled up on the floor with my big green down comfortor and cried into the fibers of my carpet as I tried to figure out how we had so quickly grown apart again.

I decided to sleep on the carpet because I wanted a way to punish myself for all the ways I had failed God and Hugh that day as a wife. Darkness filled our spare bedroom and my mind as I let the discouraging thoughts pour over me. I don’t need to rewrite them. They are simply the thoughts that come when I let my guard down, when I choose discouragement and hopelessness instead of the Lord.

But God is just as faithful to reach down to me when I am crying on the floor in the middle of the night as when I am worshipping Him with abandon and joy. And it’s that faithfulness that continues to amaze me - the longer I walk with Jesus, the more I realize that His strength and Presence are available to me in every situation, regardless of the circumstances.

As I pulled the blanket up around me, I heard God speak very, very, very softly to my heart. He spoke to my about my priorities and showed me that, once again, I had put my marriage on the back burner. The result two months later is a husband who doesn’t want to talk to me and a mouth full of carpet fiber.

Before, I had been purposing to make time for weekly date nights with Hugh. However, I’m the one responsible for working out the babysitting, and rather than using the sitter for dates, I’d been having her come during the day and using my “kid-free” time for Christmas shopping and projects around the house. Also, Hugh has been gone a lot for work lately, and I have not been purposeful about spending the little time we have had together to be, really be with him - to really connect and catch up.

So why am I surprised when sarcasm and miscommunication started to slowly creep into our relationship (again)? Did I think that since I had made my marriage a top priority for the last nine months, that I could get lazy? My relationship with my husband is something that needs constant attention and focus, not a task I can check off my list.

I got up the next morning with a sore back, but I was very determined to make a change. I called my best friend and we set up some date night swaps. I spent time specifically praying for my attitude and heart for Hugh that day. Then we made time to really talk and catch up with each other’s lives.

I will fight for my marriage. I will not lay down on the carpet in my relationship with the man I am living life with. I will determine to make him first after the Lord and ask God for a soft, convictable heart that realizes when I am not doing that. I will look for - and find - romance with my bearded, funny, Godly banker.

God, thank you that you speak to me where I am. Please continue to show me when I am not making my marriage or my husband a priority. I want to love him and honor him in my life, and only you can teach me how to do that. Thank you for my man. In the name of your Son, Amen.

I am sorry to say that today someone told my daughter’s preschool class that Santa is, in fact, not real. My husband and I were there for lunch with her class to celebrate her birthday, and we were witnesses to the whole thing. It was awful.

After lunch, all the children gathered around Miss Pam for a final Christmas story. This was to be the last Christmas book they would share together; Christmas break was starting in about five minutes.

The children listened attentively. All of them, that is, except for one little blonde-headed girl who sat in the back row grinning with delight at the fact that her mommy and daddy were there visiting her classroom. Hugh and I beamed back at Hannajean, munching on our white frosted birthday cookies. We, too, listened to the story of Mary’s ride to Bethlehem.

As soon as the story finished, Miss Pam began her holiday farwells. “Now, you all be very good for your parents because Christmas is still a week away, okay?” she said, smiling. “And don’t forget to put out the reindeer food for Santa’s reindeer on your lawn on Christmas Eve.” She held a baggie of Instant Oatmeal high in the air in front of the children.

My daughter glanced back at me with a huge smile, very excited about her baggie of oats.

“Oh, wow, Hugh,” I whispered. “She actually thinks the reindeer are going to come! That is so sweet.”

I reflected for a second on how young five years old really is; on how she seems to be growing so fast, but maybe, just maybe, she is still my sweet little girl.

Hannajean turned back to Miss Pam. Her little hand shot up in the air. “Yes, Hannajean?” asked Miss Pam.

“Santa isn’t real,” she announced loudly to the circle of children. A few children gasped. So did Miss Pam.

“Oh yes! Yes, yes, yes, Santa IS real. Santa is love and Christmas is all about love and..well, yes. He, uh, is. Real. Hannajean.” Miss Pam finished, glancing at us where we sat on our two small red plastic chairs, cookies forgotten.

Hugh was trying to hold in his laughter. I, however, was mortified.

Why. Seriously. As if I didn’t already have enough embarrassing moments in my life, with everyone knowing the minute I slip into depression thanks to my blog - now I have to go and watch my daughter destroy the Christmas dreams of her classmates.

I guess Hannajean wasn’t excited about her reindeer food after all. She was excited about the opportunity to share the truth about Mr. Claus with a bunch of five-year-olds.

I know one day I will laugh at this. (Ok. Maybe that day is today.) And I guess it’s part of the journey: that strange mixture of embarrassment and joy that comes from parenting.

Merry Christmas.

“Then Jesus said, ‘Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you. Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy to bear, and the burden I give you is light.’ (Matthew 11:28-30).”

Last week was a bad week. (If you don’t believe me, go and read my one post from last week. Maybe it was two. I don’t know. My least prolific blog week to date, I’m certain.) And every time I have a bad week, I start to feel afraid. Last week was no different.

I grew up having to handle a lot of tough situations, and sometimes I had moments where I would “sink” - where my mind would shut down and I would go to this deep place inside myself and not want to come out. My counselor assures me this is normal for people who grew up in homes like I did. I think he is possibly just being kind. He assures me, though, that I am not crazy.

But that is my fear. That I will sink into a crazy deep place and not come out. When I have a bad week and I start to feel overwhelmed, this fear starts to grow.

“See, Jess.” whispers the dark voice that is not Jesus. “You can’t handle your life.”

My solution to combat my fear is to try to control. To try harder to prove I can handle my life, to show everyone (and myself) that I am handling everything just fine. I am fine, I tell them as I scurry from task to task trying to manage everything. Getting fewer things accomplished, talking to the Lord less.

I know that not everyone in my life has the same fear. My friends struggle with fears about their children, fears about their husbands, fears about finances. But I’ve noticed that a lot of us have the same response: we all try to control our situations so that the thing we are most afraid of will not happen.

For me, it’s proving that I am in control of my schedule and household, that indeed I am capable and strong. For another friend in my life, it’s controlling her husband’s relationship with God. If she tries hard enough then maybe he’ll be the man of God she hopes he will be. I have another friend who is really afraid she will struggle with anger like her mother. She works really hard to never show any anger or frustration to her children, even when it is probably appropriate.

And so we fight against these fears. Instead of bringing them to the feet of Jesus, we struggle to hold our own lives together, hoping that what we fear the most will not happen.

But what we don’t realize is that the fear is a lie. A lie about me and my friends. And, ultimately, a lie about the Lord. Because the more we fight against the fear, the less we are surrendering to God. The harder we try, the less we are letting Him in.

But today, I want to let Him in. I want to open my hands and say, “Ok, Lord. Here is exactly what I am afraid of. Help me to see the truth right now.”

And when I talk to Jesus about my fear instead of trying to fight it, then He begins to show me His truth. And the truth is that I am not crazy. That my destiny isn’t to sink into a deep, dark place - it’s to be lifted out of the pit and set on solid ground (Psalm 40). God’s destiny for my life is all about learning to trust Him.

And it’s the destiny for everyone who follows after the heart of God.

If we turn to Him, if we bring Him our messy, weird, unique fears, He’ll take them. Every single one. And when He takes the fear, He replaces the empty spot in our hearts left by the fear with something wonderful. His Presence.

And as we begin to move forward through life choosing to be filled with His Presence instead of fear, we begin to feel and taste and breathe and savor the freedom that comes from living life boldly. It is a great and glorious thing to begin to live without fear - to put Jesus in the place where fear and control used to live.

So today I am laying down my fear at His feet. It’s too heavy for me. I don’t want to carry it around anymore. Besides, I know that God has a glorious plan for my life.

And I want to get started.

*this is going to be published at Faith Lifts on Friday. But I couldn’t wait until then to post it here on my blog. Psalm 126:5, friend. love, jess

Why Getting Away For a Night Rocks:

 

1. If you book a night at a nice hotel by yourself, then that nice hotel will employ wonderful people who rush to take your big basket of books from you as you enter the lobby. One of them will hand you a warm lemon-scented hand towel while you check in for the night. Your eyes will well up with tears as you dab the cloth all over your hands because it feels so darn nice.

2. A kind man named Tom from Greece will carry your bags up to your room while you sip on the bottled water he has handed you. Tom will tell you that he is working until eleven tonight and he can get you anything you need. He will hand you five pieces of chocolate. He will get you ice.

3. You can watch Hannah Montana without fear that your husband will walk in and roll his eyes. You can laugh out loud at Hannah doing a crazy “Poison Ivy” dance during an interview and not worry that you are lame for laughing out loud. You can rewind the parts you missed when you were in the bathroom because the hotel has Tivo.

4. You can go to sleep at 9:30 because you are by yourself. No little children will invade your bedroom to tell you about a sibling conflict involving a purple doggie. Your husband is not there to keep you up late. As much as you love him, you don’t love his night-owl tendencies.

5. You can order room service and eat your French onion soup while reading your Whale Watching book. You can dream about your next whale watching trip. You can think about the migration of the Humpback whales. You can feel sad as you read about the history of whaling. You can do all of this because you don’t have internet access and you are pausing to refresh.

6. You can pray about all the things you haven’t taken the time to pray about for the last two horrible weeks. The main takeaway from your prayer time is the gentle voice of the Lord telling you that you MUST make time to pray - even when you are at home. It must be your first priority. You take a breathe as you meditate on this truth.

7. You can sleep in. You can sleep in. You can sleep in.

8. You get to take two really long baths and shave your legs and use fun bath products made in England that leave your skin smelling like ginger and other herbs. Somehow, you don’t smell like a savory chicken. No. You smell great! Your legs look great! You rub body butter over your legs while watching Hannah. She is so fun.

9. You can linger - really linger - over your Bible reading the next morning. You can write out thoughts from Matthew 14 and verses from the Psalms. You can dance around your hotel room to worship music and know that no one will come in because you have put a “Do Not Disturb” sign on the outside of your door.

10. You can drink an entire pot of Starbucks coffee brought up to you by the wonderful hotel staff while you are still in your pajamas. You can add fresh cream. You can drink out of the delicate little cup. You can take your time as you pour cup after dainty cup.

Merry Christmas to me! Note to self: remember to have FANTASTIC attitude when passing over Christmas check from in-laws to husband for this night. So worth it. So worth it.