The Word on My Heart...

 ...Dichotomies 

We live in a world of dichotomies. Absolutes. You can’t be both at the same time. 

Up               Down 

Left              Right 

Stop             Go 

On                Off 

Day              Night 

Hot               Cold 

Young           Old 

Employed     Unemployed 

Married         Not married 

Mine             Not mine 

Right now I find myself living in a grey area of two absolutes. Waiting on information that will tell me what to expect next. I find myself praying, begging, for the best case scenario. The best case for me. And while I’m seeking and trusting, I keep coming back to two different stories in the Bible. 

The first is from 2 Samuel 12:16-22. David has murdered a man, taken his wife, and now his child from that adultery is ill. “David pleaded with God for the child…..The Lord may be gracious to me.” Despite facing dire consequences that David brought on himself, he took his faith to God. And when the child died, David accepted the will of God. 

The other is found in Luke 11:5-8. Jesus tells the story of a man who needs bread for guests. It’s the middle of the night and he goes to ask his friend. The friend is in bed and doesn’t want to be disturbed. However, “because he is his friend, yet because of his persistence he will rise and give him as many as he needs.” 

This is my dichotomy. Pleading and knowing I will have to accept the will of God AND knowing His love for me as He allows my persistence. Because verse 10 goes on to say “For everyone who asks receives, and he who seeks finds, and to him who knocks it will be opened.” 

Not because of our sin and consequences. Not because our pleading wears Him down. But because His mercy and goodness is weighed with love. And I will choose to worship Him, not because He gives me what I want or think is best. But because He is the creator and I am the created. His ways are eternal. I am a vapor. He is worthy to be praised whether I walk as David or walk as the neighbor. I choose His will even if it breaks my heart.

Unspoken Struggles

But I know Who to turn to 

I found myself fighting back tears the other day. I had been restless and awake during the early nighttime hours with thoughts whirling. When my alarm woke me for the day, I felt a melancholy I couldn’t identify or shake. A few hours later, with no warning, I was choking up while speaking with my husband. I told him I had many things on my mind and was unsure how to articulate them. What I needed was a good cry. A cleansing cry that gets ugly and teeters between silent heartbreak and louder loss. But I was driving and could not give in to the emotion bubbling up within me. I had to swallow it down, along with the words I needed to say but couldn’t find. 

That was two days ago. I have not had that good cleansing cry yet. The thoughts keep replaying. I’m a bit closer to being able to describe what I’m feeling, but I haven’t said many of them out loud. 

I know my thoughts are not unique to me. We’re nearing the end of another calendar year and we are all - consciously or unconsciously - aware of the losses and gains over the last 12 months. I think I’m feeling the weight of the losses more this year than previous years. Not all losses are counted in physical deaths. Not all losses are even negative. But when you’re excited for circumstances to be one way and they end up another…there is grieving over the loss. 

That’s not to say that the gains have been overshadowed. I have also been unable to speak through tears of joy and pride in loved ones, and in reminiscing over years past, in receiving treasures from those who love me. It has been a blessed year. But I think there’s something about endings that require us to pause, reflect, take account. Cold dreary days invite the tears and the regrets. Grieving is done best in an overcast cloud. And I think some of the heartache comes from not knowing if the next page will bring more of the same. Until the cleansing cry happens, there’s a heaviness that wants to remind me “it might not get better right away.” Knowing that and admitting that are two different things. 

That is why I am so thankful for these verses. Romans 8:25-27 says “But if we hope for what we don’t yet have, we wait for it patiently. In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans. And He who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for God’s people in accordance with the will of God.” 

I am still troubled by some of my thoughts, but I am not without hope. In fact, hope increases by waiting patiently for what is not yet revealed. Which is a huge comfort because some of my thoughts revolve around my purpose here and my desire to fulfill the works the Lord has prepared for me (that are as yet unknown to me). 

What reassurances in this scripture that my inability to describe my heartache is matched with the Holy Spirit’s wordless pleas on my behalf. For the Father needs no words to see and understand my fallible mind. It is a relief that He is already in the midst of my grief even as I process it myself. 

And the truth of His word to continue the work in me in accordance to His will - that perhaps some of what I struggle to understand has been a part of His plan all along. Whether through protection or growth or choices made by me or others, He has walked with me each step and will continue to do so as He brings His plan to fulfillment. I would not choose the heartache and pain, but I trust that His hands hold me and this part of my story will be used for His glory. 

If you’re ending this year with unspoken struggles, fears, grief, regrets, or heartache, I pray you also have a chance to ugly cry. To lay down the weight of your hurt and add your moans to those the Spirit is already offering on your behalf. May you be comforted by the Word and the hand of the Father. And I pray the beginning of another year brings you renewed hope as you grow closer to Him who is Hope.

When You're in the Struggle

And you want to quit

I haven't done much writing lately, here or anywhere else.  It's been a tough year already.  Actually, it started half way through 2018 and it just isn't letting up.  There have been health things and financial things and relationship things - one is bad enough, but all three just takes it out of you.  You become discouraged and burdened.  You feel alone in your troubles.  You want to talk through it, but there's also an element of wanting to keep it to yourself.  You're embarrassed you aren't handling it better.  You're prideful that you don't want to look weak.  You definitely aren't looking for pity.  So you go back and forth between wanting to cry/scream/vent and locking it all in/shutting down.  

But several weeks ago, a movie clip was shown at church that has continued to roll around in my head.  As I pondered the point made in the movie, I started to realize the result my struggle was having on me and those around me.  I also had a feeling that maybe someone else could use some encouragement with whatever battle they're fighting.  So instead of venting or shutting down, I'm sharing.

The movie is "Facing the Giants" by the Kendrick brothers.  Great Christian feel-good movie about overcoming.  But there is one point where the team already feels defeated and they haven't even played yet. It's about five and a half minutes of your time, and I really hope you'll watch it before continuing: Death Crawl.

Brock (the player) is challenged by his coach to do an exercise with another player on his back.  Brock knows he can go a particular distance alone.  He doesn't want the added weight, but he thinks he can still accomplish what's being asked of him. A bit cocky, he agrees to the task.

          - This is what we often do.  We find ourselves tasked with something. We approach it with disdain, but cocky confidence.  We don't want to do it, but we know we can do it.  We feel defiant - no way this illness/job/relationship/goal is going to beat me.  We get into a fighting stance, we dig deep, and we face it head on.  Especially if we feel it's something similar to what we've accomplished before.

Brock gets going down the field.  He's probably beginning to feel the strain on his body.  But it's the extra weight that he starts to focus on.  At minute 2:38 he tells his coach "It hurts."  At 2:45, he says "He's heavy." At 2:56, Brock cries out again, "It hurts!"  And his coach responds:  "I know it hurts!  You keep going!"

          - But this isn't like previous tasks.  It looked similar, but it isn't.  The weight, the distance, the darkness:  there's something about this struggle that plays with our heads.  There's a switch that gets flipped at some point and we're getting tired, we're getting weak.  "It hurts!"  It hurts to put my heart out there and let it be crushed.  It hurts to try and fail.  It hurts to carry the weight of others.  And yet, we're told to keep going.  Keep trying.  Keep pushing.

          - And like Brock, we cry out "It's hard!" This is no longer the task I thought I could complete.  This isn't a short goal.  This isn't at all like I imagined it would go when I first started.  It's harder than I thought it would be.  It's harder than I want it to be!  And we get distracted with all the doubts and fears and second thoughts. We wonder if the fight is worth it - and we wonder if maybe it's not really our fight.  Maybe the weight of the struggle is too much.  Maybe that relationship isn't worth saving.  Maybe that job wasn't supposed to be yours.  Maybe the dream you had belongs to someone else.  You're full of excuse. You're ready to give up.  What's the point? And that adds an entirely new level of pain and defeat.

And then there's the coach, screaming at you:  

         DON'T QUIT !!!

         DON'T QUIT !!!

         DON'T QUIT !!!

So you push and dig and try and try and try.  And it still hurts.  It burns!  Your body aches, your heart aches, your tears burn your cheeks as they fall.  There's no way you can go on. But the coach tells you "You can! Don't quit!"

Brock doesn't quit, but now it's only because of the coach yelling at him.  His only motivation is the voice telling him 20 more steps, 10 more steps.  He is drained and discouraged and counting down until that final step he can't even see: the end zone.

          - When we're feeling defeated, we feel like all our efforts have been wasted. We aren't paying attention to how far we've come; we only focus on the distance left to cover.  We focus on the burden of the struggle and not the growth that struggle is bringing us.  We get sucked into the personal darkness that says "You'll never get through this."  And maybe we think, "I don't even want to get through this anymore.  I just want it to stop." And we find all the excuses to support that decision, until we're reminded of one simple thing...

As Brock lays on the grass, exhausted and speechless, the coach tells him "You are the most influential person on this team.  If you walk around defeated, so will they."

          - And there's the ah moment for me.  My struggle for the last 8 months has left me feeling useless, incapable, discouraged, worried, weak, a poor steward, more irritable, less loving, definitely less patient, and overall defeated.  And if I am the person in my family that is usually the one pointing out the silver lining, imagine how everyone else must feel if my attitude has changed???

To the person who is usually optimistic, but is having a hard time being encouraging when faced with fear - You are the most influential person on your team!

To the employee who is working on a project, a promotion, a merger, but nothing is going as you’d hoped - You are the most influential person on your team!

To the spouse or parent who is struggling to get through this moment with a loved one and feeling alone - You are the most influential person on your team!

Whatever you’re going through, your efforts matter!  Your attitude, your approach, your determination are all making a difference. If you were to suddenly quit and physically walk away, every person involved would feel your absence. What you are bringing to the struggle is greater than you realize. You may not see it right now. You might be in a particularly difficult moment right now. But if you quit, it will adversely affect everyone else in your circle. Perhaps forever. 

As a Christian, this speaks to me even more deeply. What if my encouragement makes the difference in someone else being positive or negative? What if my determination makes the difference in a family member facing their problems? What if my relationship with Jesus shows someone else the hope He offers to each of us? And if I quit, if I walk away because it hurts and I’m tired and I’m defeated, those people also end up defeated.  My Coach, my God, has been spurring me on, showing me His hand, telling my heart "You can do this! Don't quit!"  And I have been letting my team down.  By worrying about these things, I have failed to lift up those around me.  Because I have chosen to dwell on the negative impact these things could have, I have missed the opportunity to see the positive things that have been happening.  My attitude has directly affected the attitude of people I love, and for that, I'm so very sorry. I don't have to be finished with the struggle to be finished with my defeat.  My team needs me to get back to the business of being a better influence.  

You are the most influential person on your team.  Who is your team?  Is it family? Is it work?  Is it yourself as you plan your future?  Your team will follow your lead.  Lead them as a fighter, digging deep and focused on the goal.  Even if it hurts, keep going.  

I'm not saying it's easy.  I'm not saying it's not heavy;  in fact, it's heavy more often than not. What I am saying is that this struggle is temporary.  It might be weeks long, months long, or years long, but compared to the span of your life, this struggle is not for forever.  And when you are feeling discouraged, look back if you are able.  Sometimes you need to remind yourself that you aren't in the same place you were a short time ago.  Even if you are only a few steps forward, that is still progress.  Do not take away the gains of the struggle just because you're focused on the burden of the struggle. You are closer to the finish than you think you are.  Keep the focus where it belongs - the end zone - and not on the weight and pain of the fight.  You’ll accomplish so much more than you ever thought possible. 

---

When Life Isn't...

...what you thought it would be...

I don't remember ever desiring to be something in particular when I grew up.  I'm sure I thought about being a teacher or a mom or a wife.  I know I was interested in writing because I wrote all the time.  Back then it was all private and deep in an angst-y teenager kind of way.  But I didn't have a real dream or goal of going on to do something great.  I just sort of had the expectation of getting to grow up and become whatever it was that I'd figure out along the way.

And then 1991.

I was 16 and I'd just returned from living overseas for two years with my family because my dad was in the Navy.  I'd had some strange symptoms and after a battery of tests, the news was that I had Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis.  It explained the pain and the joint symptoms, but at 16 I wasn't really prepared for what that would mean for my future.  I started oral medications and went about my high school life.  Several years into adulthood, I felt the medicines weren't making a difference so I quit taking them.  I had a baby a year later.  Symptomatically, I was doing pretty well.  I typed a little differently because my fingers had started to lose cartilage and I was more tired than I should have been after doing very little.  But I was okay.

And then 2001.

I was 26 and had just had my second child.  Literally, I was about a week after delivery.  And my body was not my own.  I could not pick up my newborn.  I had to scoop her into my arms like a forklift.  I could not hold her bottle, but rest it on my chin.  My legs and feet hurt so badly, I would crawl on my hands and knees from the bedroom to the kitchen to get my 3 year old her breakfast.  I got stuck in the shower because my legs could not hold the weight of my body long enough for me to lift one leg over the 3 inch lip over to the bathroom floor.  I was using my teeth as an appendage because it hurt to pull the blankets up over me.  And I sat rocking my baby with tears running down my face as I wondered how I was ever going to be able to care for two children, a house, a husband, and myself ever again. This is not what I had pictured my life being like.

I learned that pregnancy puts RA into remission.  There's something in the hormones that makes you feel almost totally normal.  But once pregnancy ends, the dormant RA can return with a vengeance.  And the second time it had.  I was unable to stand up straight.  I was using shopping carts as walkers.  I was starting my car left handed.  I was choosing clothes based on how easy they were to remove rather than fit or style - and avoid buttons at all costs.  I had to get a very short haircut because I could no longer keep it pulled back. I was certainly not going to be able to work.  I was only getting a few hours of restless sleep a night due to pain, and I was too limited to be beneficial to anyone outside the home. It was then that I realized I would be in a wheelchair by the time I was 30.  The progression was too fast.  I was loosing too much at a rate much faster than the last ten years combined.  It was looking hopeless.

And I had a husband (now my ex) who was continually angry with me for not being the woman he married.  I was accused of making up my pain "so he'd have to help out more."  If I hadn't been so miserable, his arguments would have been funny.  Who makes up these kinds of problems just to get a man to take out the trash?  The reality was worse:  I was quickly becoming more and more useless, and I had absolutely no support from the person who had promised "in sickness and in health."  I'd never felt more like a burden.

Despite having no real visions of my future as a teenager, I was suddenly overwhelmed with daily reminders of what my near future would look like:  losing the ability to drive, losing accessibility to easy freedoms, increasing difficulty in bathing/dressing/feeding myself, inability to play with my children, dependence upon others to get me where I needed to go.  It was not only depressing; it was angering.  My body was betraying me and I had no way to stop it.  I only focused on getting through the day - only doing what had to be done and not thinking about what couldn't be done.  I did my best to ignore my own voice of panic and tune out the hurtful and insulting remarks made by the other "adult" in the house.  I worked on training my babies to walk into my arms and not run.  To give gentle hugs and kisses.  To be satisfied with sitting in my lap and not being picked up when they craved my comfort.  I tried not to think about the many, many years ahead of me that would have me missing out on so much.  I tried not to think about how this was not what I had thought my life would be like - for the next 50+ years.

And then 2003.

Due to circumstances I won't share, I abruptly removed my children from the home and left my marriage.  I applied and was approved for Social Security Disability.  I was given Medicare coverage as a part of my total disability so I decided to seek out another Rheumatologist.  I thought even oral medications could be better than the world I was suffering in.  To my amazement, new medications had come to the market and I was encouraged to try something different.  I began an IV infusion medication that would be administered every 8 weeks.  After the first treatment, I cried.  I could already tell a difference.  I was already in less pain.  I had hope for the first time in two years.  

Appointments and treatments were adjusted.  Dosage increased, frequency decreased to every 6 weeks.  More quickly than I ever imagined, I began standing taller.  I began walking more normally.  I could carefully lift my toddler and carry her to bed.  I was able to use my right hand to start my car.  I didn't have to plan my outfits as much as I had been, (although buttons still give me trouble).  I laughed at the thought that my ex probably thought that I had in fact been "faking" my pain as he saw me functioning better once we separated than he had the last two years.  I didn't care.  Maybe I wouldn't have to be in a wheelchair after all.

But I still couldn't work.  Although the daily pain was now under control, the damage to my body was done.  I fought fatigue and exhaustion as my body continued to battle the disease.  I was unable to commit to a full time job.  And the red tape of Medicare made it risky to even consider part time work.  I was a partially educated woman with talents and the desire to contribute without the ability to do so.  I was so thankful for my miracle drug that gave me my life back, but I had no idea what my purpose was going to be now.  I still felt like a burden - now on society.

I focused on raising my daughters.  I met, fell in love with, and married an incredible man who loved me - all of me, disability and all.  He loved me so well that I began to feel like I not only mattered, but that I made a difference.  He made me feel beautiful and special and interesting.  He didn't see limitations.  He saw creativity.  He didn't see a burden.  He saw perseverance.  Soon I began to see myself through his eyes and that helped to heal my heart.  This was the husband I had deserved.

But it wasn't enough to make me forget what I couldn't do.  I couldn't work.  It made no sense to pay for school for a degree I could never use.  I couldn't be active and sporty like others my age.  I couldn't be valued for my knowledge, opinions, wisdom, humor - there were no raises or accolades for a job well done.  It was just laundry and cooking and kids and homework.  It was without pain, but it was also without satisfaction.

This isn't exactly what I thought my life would be like either.

Now anyone who has been reading this blog for a while knows that my life revolves around my relationship with Jesus.  I'd be remiss if I left Him out of this story.  He was ever-present in my walk through this.  He heard my cries and my prayers.  He heard me begging for healing.  He was aware of my doubts when the enemy tried to use scripture against me by saying, "I guess your faith isn't even as big as a mustard seed" (referencing Matthew 17:20).  Jesus spoke truth to me when He assured me that this wasn't a matter of a lack of faith or a punishment for some sin I'd committed.  He was my Strength when I was sure I couldn't go on.  He was my Comforter when I felt all alone in my misery.  He was my Great Physician when I finally got medication that worked.  He walked beside me and went before me every step of the way.  I didn't always understand what He was doing or what I was supposed to be learning, but I knew He was with me.

And then 2017.

I had made a conscious effort to work on my weight.  I'd gained some pounds and I knew it would be beneficial to my body to get rid of it.  For two years, I'd tried different things.  I joined a gym - and could only use certain pieces of equipment because of my limitations.  I joined an online group that was using a video series - and spent time being frustrated with myself because I'd have to jog in place while they did some move my body simply wasn't able to do.  Not because I was weak or lazy, but because my joints are fused and won't move that way.  It was discouraging to say the least.

I remember the day that changed everything.  I was sitting on our bed, telling my husband that I didn't know what to do.  I had the motivation, but not the right tools.  I said, "I need someone who understands me.  Who will listen to me.  Who can be compassionate enough to not think I'm being lazy.  Someone who can modify things to what I need, what I can do."  I didn't know it at the time, but my husband wasn't just hearing me.  He was listening.

A couple days later he said, "I found you someone."

He had researched trainers in our area.  He came upon one woman and contacted her.  He explained my situation.  He told her I was motivated, but losing heart.  They corresponded a bit and then my husband told me she was expecting to hear from me.  I was at a loss.  I was so in love with my man in that moment.  And so intimidated by what he'd just done.  This was it - did I mean everything I'd just told him days earlier? 

I've been working with my trainer since April.  I cannot tell you what I gift she is to me.  She listened to me.  She created a plan just for me.  She answers my questions - all of them, no matter how silly or redundant.  She cheers me on and she (tries to) get tough. She has become my friend.  And she's a Christian.

We talk a lot about how God brought us together.  In January, she was diagnosed with Fibromyalgia.  She is a natural athlete, and she's just beginning to learn the betrayal your body gives you that comes with this kind of illness.  We can talk and understand each other's struggles.  I've cried a few times on her floor when I fight to do what she's asking me to do.  And she builds me up, reminding me that I'm doing more than I thought I could.

And that's the reason for this post. 

I never would have imagined that I would be working out the way I am.  I see her two times a week, an hour each time.  I have homework assignments throughout the week on other days.  I'm losing pounds, inches, and body fat.  But that's not the most incredible thing.

I'm running.

Despite a body that needs IV infusions every 6 weeks in order to keep me out of a wheelchair, I am running.  Okay, jogging.  In reality, I call it "Lori running."  My pace isn't fast, but I'm doing it.  I actually own this --> shirt and it encourages me every time I wear it.  I'm building endurance and I've even mentioned to her that I might be ready to consider a walk/run 5K.  And you cannot imagine the emotions that brings up.

There was a time I had to crawl across my house to feed my child breakfast.  I had to use a shopping cart as a walker.  I had to use my teeth to pull up the blankets.  I was headed for a wheelchair.  And now I'm running.  I can't think about it without tearing up.  And I definitely can't think about it while I'm out doing my runs, or I lose my composure and I can't breathe.  And believe me, you need to be able to breathe while you're running.

This is not what I imagined my life would be like.  I didn't imagine being diagnosed with something that would change my life.  I didn't imagine not having a career.  I didn't imagine being divorced.  I didn't imagine going to the doctor so often.  I didn't imagine finding a medicine that would dramatically change my life - again.  I didn't imagine being married to the best husband God could have chosen for me.  I didn't imagine that man would be led to the best trainer God could have chosen for me - who would also change my life - again.  I didn't imagine crying as I run, amazed at the abilities of my body and the lack of a wheelchair.

I am learning to recognize the things that I can do and focus on those.   Too much time was/is wasted on thinking about what I can't do.  Things I can never change.  Time I can't get back.  But what I can do?  The things I have time for now?  Those are the important things. 

It's never bothered me to use the word "disabled."  More often, for myself, I use the word "limited" or "limitations."  And I think it's vital to realize that everyone has limits and limitations.  Not everyone can sing well or be the star athlete or become the youngest CEO.  We can't all be astronauts or presidents or models.  But we each have things we can do.  We each have purpose.

Maybe your life isn't how you imagined it.  Maybe you struggle with a physical limitation.  Maybe you struggle with school.  Or parenting.  Or finances.  Whatever your weakness is, don't let it define you.  Don't stay in the mindset that lies to you about your lack of value due to your limits.  If you really want help with it, seek it!  There are those who are gifted to work with you and help you through your struggles.  And then figure out what you are capable of.  What gift do you have that can help others?  What do you have to offer that will encourage someone else?  What you take for granted may be the very thing that someone else is crying out for in their life. 

I didn't imagine any of this.  Which means I'm not limited in what can happen next.

Chastised...

And loving it!

Ever feel God work in you immediately?  Let me tell you about an experience I had a couple years ago.  It meant so much to me, that I think about it often.  This is everything - in order - with my thoughts and God's interventions.

My husband was home, not feeling well for the second day in a row.  I started dinner around 3pm because he was getting hungry and I had the time to do it.  Who doesn't want an early dinner some nights?  Dinner took over an hour to make, but that was okay.  My sister was here and we chatted, passing the time.  She left a few minutes before everything was done.

I served up plates for each of us.  My step son's plate had to go in the microwave because he was at track practice.  It would be a while.  I carried hubby's plate to him and returned to the kitchen to get my plate.  Then my phone rang.  It was the boy's ringtone.  I was not happy.  Internal dialogue (in red from now on):  Are you kidding me?  Of course, I had to answer it.  I tossed my plate down hard enough to show I was irritated but not so hard as to break or spill anything.  "Is Dad coming to get me?"  "No."  "Are you coming to get me?"  "I hadn't planned on it."  "Wellllllll......I kinda need a ride?"  (Hangs head) "OK!"  Hubby immediately said he'd go.  "No! I'll go!"  Why should you eat a cold dinner?  It's not like I'm not used to it!  I'll go!  I always go!  I slightly slammed the door on the way out.  Just in case anyone missed that I was peeved.

I know I have an attitude.  SO what!?!  I'll probably still have it when I get back and the night will be crappy.  And I don't care!  Now you have to realize, I knew I was overreacting, but this happened all the time!  It never failed - I was always having to do something last minute to compensate for schedule changes.  So I had a bad attitude about it.

I got in the car, not happy.  And then I noticed a dove landing on my birdbath in the front yard - which was right next to where the car was parked.  Immediately:  Peace.  Yes, Lord.  I receive peace.  I will adjust this attitude right now.  (Looking back, I think it was a pigeon.  But I needed to see a dove, so that's what I remember.)

Choosing to calm down and let this not be a big deal, I backed out of the drive and turned my radio up.  If you ride with me, you know I listen to Christian radio ALL THE TIME.  (Unless I put in a secular CD of my favorites....)  The DJs were talking about it being Marriage Appreciation Week or something.  A guy had called in and he was talking about how it was hard in the early years, but over time he learned to let the little things go.  He said, "I come home to my wife, not the curtains she picked out."  They then start the next song, "God Gave Me You."  Now, I love this song.  It has great meaning for a lot of people.  But at that moment, I heard the chorus from a different perspective.  I heard it from God's perspective.  What if this was your step son saying this?  What if it was his heart saying these things that he could never express?  I gave you to him!  For the ups and downs.  For the days of doubt.  I gave him the mother he needed, the mother who will love him.  And you need to just be happy being that mother.

Can I tell you that the rest of the ride to pick up my son was great!?!  I have been given this awesome privilege of positively influencing this young man and watching him grow and change and become someone I'm so proud of and here I am complaining about having to pick him up!

I was pleasant when he got in the car and we talked all the way home.  He thanked me for picking him up (Hello?  This wasn't happening a few years ago! Now it's an every day occurrence.)  He told me about his day and things going on.  We had time for just us.  Time his dad normally gets because he's the one that picks him up on his way home from work.

When I got home, I went to get my plate.  My husband, of course, was done eating by now.  That's okay.  He said, "I'm sorry you had to go get him.  I would have gone."  "It's okay.  Easy fix."  I walked away with my plate and my hubby, surprised, asked "What are you doing."  He thinks I'm mad and I'm throwing my dinner away by way of having a tantrum!  Too funny!  "I'm going to go reheat my dinner.  I'll be right back."

When I sat down to eat, I told him, "You know, I wanted to have a bad attitude about having to drive out to get our son. [Insert story and details here]  After all that, I know I am in a special position to show him love.  So I was inconvenienced.  If the biggest problem I have today is having to reheat my dinner, I'm a blessed woman!"

I know a few of you who are inconvenienced a lot because of your lives/kids/families/jobs/etc.  I'm not saying I won't get huffy the next time I have to make a sacrifice for someone else.  But I thought God's perspective on the situation was too awesome to keep to myself.  He was immediately on me about my behavior and my thoughts and not only did He check my attitude, He gave me a new hope, a new goal for loving my son.  Because you see, I inherited my son through marriage to his father.  He came to me as a ten year old boy and I had to learn how to be a step parent almost over night.  My trials and frustrations were many.  And on this ordinary, yet amazing day, The Lord showed me His perspective of my role in this boy's life.  It's not a perspective I ever expect to hear come out of the boy's mouth himself.  But it's enough to know that this is how God sees my role.  I have never been able to listen to that song the same way again.  In my heart, it will always be "our" song - the song of a mother's love for her son.

That was almost exactly two years ago.  I am pleased to say that my son and I are closer now than then.  He is even more polite and impressive, and I'm even more proud of him.  I think a lot of times we get caught up in the daily grind of child rearing that we forget the big picture.  Or we think of the big picture in terms of the future.  On that day, I was shown the big picture of the past:  God is always working in our lives and things that happened years ago might not make sense until we are able to look back on them with His perspective.  I'm so grateful The Lord took a moment to completely reshape my thought process about my daily grind.  Loving this boy - who is now a man - has been one of my greatest adventures and blessings.  And I'd have never realized it if I hadn't gotten upset about walking away from a warm dinner.

Psalm 127:3 - "Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord, the fruit of the womb a reward."

They don't have to be from my womb to be my heritage.



If you are a step parent, I know your job is hard.  I KNOW!  It's a constant struggle with unclear boundaries and  lots of new family members and attitudes - yours and theirs!  But it's also full of meeting needs and stepping in and stepping up.  And love.  Lots and lots of love.  There is every emotion in the spectrum - some you experience more often than others.  And not all of them are negative.  If you are a step parent, I want to encourage you to look at your life through the eyes of the child in your care.  Whether their mother is involved or not (in my case, not), you still serve a purpose.  You are a mother too.  You still need to dole out discipline, offer advice, give hugs. You will be the taxi, the cook, the housekeeper, the tutor, the financer and anything else they need when they are in your care.  It doesn't matter if it's full-time or only on weekends.  You are a mother and they need you.  But they are struggling to find their place in your life.  Look at it from their point of view.  Understand that they are struggling with loyalty.  Understand that they are struggling with seeing their dad happy with someone else.  Understand that it takes time to discover the new flow of the home.  But don't ever forget that you are family.  A bigger family; a family with a few more dysfunctions, but an awesome and growing and changing family.

If you are a child with a step parent, I know you're in a tough spot.  I know you have a mom and you don't need her replaced.  (Or maybe a few of you are thinking of your dad.)  But I hope you'll take a moment to think about what it's like from your step parent's point of view.  How they suddenly had a child come into their lives that they didn't necessarily plan for, but they made an effort to include.  How they often found themselves in a situation of having to smooth things over with their spouse behind closed doors because they didn't want their husband/wife to feel like they had to choose sides against the kids.  I want you to try to think back to the times your step parent didn't play favorites, but was fair - no matter who shared DNA with them.  I know you had struggles and emotions and ideas you couldn't put into words; and even if you could, you didn't want to share them.  Just know that your struggle wasn't the only one going on in the home.

And to those of you who had horrific blended family experiences, I don't take away from that.  I know every new spouse doesn't welcome the kids with open arms.  I know there are parents who do play favorites and are cruel to the step children.  I know not every child bonds with the step parent.  I know there are kids who are so traumatized, they are more of a burden than a joy.  If that was your experience, I'm truly sorry.  You have hurts that I can also relate to, but are too deep to console in this format.  But I do not dismiss those hurts. 

The bottom line is this:  we have a role in the family in which we find ourselves.  Just as we don't choose our birth families, we don't choose our step families (unless you are the spouses).  But not choosing doesn't relieve us of our responsibility to fulfill our role.  If you are a step parent, you have a role to raise and love that child just as you would your own flesh and blood.  If you have a step parent, you have a role to respect and obey that parent just as you would your birth parent. 

I haven't always enjoyed my role (as a mother or a step mother), but that doesn't mean I don't have a responsibility to perform it.  I was given a very real and beautiful moment to clearly identify my role in my step son's life.  And for the record, I HATE the word "step" in front of any family word.  I chose early on to acknowledge my husband's kids as MY kids - even the one I'm only 12 years older than.  There are five of them that I inherited.  And they are MINE.  And it breaks my heart when they refer to me as their step mom.  There just has to be a better name for it than that. 

But the point is - it's a heart thing.  I think about that moment in the car, that song on the radio, and the words of The Lord in my heart pretty often.  God gave me a son.  And I do love being his mother.  It doesn't matter how he got here - what matters is that he's here to stay.  And I wouldn't have it any other way.

If you're struggling with this - as a parent or a child - please know there is hope.  And there is help.  I am available to speak in private if you ever want to share the struggle. 

Looking back...

...in order to look forward...

In the winter of 2007, my mother-in-law mentioned an idea to us:  move from Kentucky to Florida and share her home with us.  We would build onto the existing home (a home my husband once owned but sold to her and her husband), split the household finances, and start preparing for our financial futures.  You see, she lived outside of town and her husband was on the road a lot.  She was lonely, but also didn't enjoy being alone all the time.  As she's gotten older, she said she'd also like to have someone around in case something happened. 

In May of 2008, after six months of talking, planning, and preparing, my family of five moved in with my in-laws.  My husband had to remain in Kentucky as his transfer to a new job was processed, so the kids and I were there for a month without him.  While we had all of our personal effects, many of our large furniture items were sold before the move.  There was no need for two dining tables, extra living room furniture, a spare bed, even an extra vacuum.  We downsized in order to accommodate the house we would be moving into.  Things went well and we all began adjusting to life with more people in our lives.  We pitched in with cleaning the house and keeping it tidied.  I helped with cooking and running errands.  I felt like it was her territory and not my own, but I knew that it was a good plan for all of us - financially and cooperatively.

Within those few weeks, we had opened a joint bank account with all four adults on it.  We'd hired a contractor and had designs for the 1800 extra square feet we were adding to the home for extra space.  And we had secured a loan for the construction.  My husband arrived the beginning of July and was beginning his new job after the 4th holiday. 

Just days later, we were blindsided.   My mother-in-law decided it was too much change and she wanted us out.

Instead of building onto an existing home and saving money over the long-run, we were suddenly forced to find a home of our own and add to our financial burden.  My husband had given up a promotion to move to Florida and it was exactly four days too late to cancel the transfer.  And, having promised son – who was a freshman – that he would finish the school he started, we knew we had four years of waiting for time to pass toward graduation.  It was a tumultuous, emotional, discouraging time in our lives.

In late 2010, we began the process of job hunting.  I was ready to leave Florida for good.  By this time, many things had happened.  Knowing we couldn’t just ‘mark time’ while we waited out the four years until our son's graduation, my husband completed his master’s degree, my husband adopted my two daughters (another testimony altogether), and helped family and friends gain employment in the organization he worked for.  While we knew that God had blessed us during our time there, we also knew that our hearts were being pulled out of Florida.  The promotion my husband had given up in Kentucky proved to be an even bigger let down in Florida:  despite being more than qualified, the military community was so large that he was constantly passed over for other positions.  There was no way to advance in his career as long as we stayed where we were.  We began applying for job transfers to Tennessee, hoping to move closer to my husband's three older daughters.

For eighteen months we prayed for God to close the doors that weren’t right for us, only opening the one door that would lead us down the path of His will.  We would apply for different areas, agencies, positions.  My husband was qualified and interviewed for many of these jobs, but was never selected.  We found ourselves spending a lot of time waiting to hear that he wasn’t the one.

As we flipped the calendar to 2012, our son decided to attend school in South Carolina.  Half-hearted, my husband and I joked about looking for a job near there.  As it happened, there were five vacancies at an agency in the area.  In March we applied; in April he interviewed; in May he was offered the job.  Suddenly our joking had become serious and we were excited.  The kicker was that he was offered the job on the contingency that he passed a background check.  This meant more waiting.

We waited for months.  We were asked by everyone, over and over, if there was any news.  We secretly laughed that people probably thought we were making it all up because there was never any news.  We kept praying for God’s perfect will, knowing that He had all the details worked out.  It was still a struggle.  Do we apply for other jobs in the meantime?  Does that show doubt?  Is it irresponsible to count on this being ‘the one?’ We decided to stand on the fact that the door was still open.  

In September, I was doing a Bible study with my ladies group and the Lord spoke to my heart:  What if the delay in moving was for my son?  By this time, he'd moved to South Carolina and started school.  Being there without us was requiring him to bond with others and not rely on us.  What if he needed this time to make him appreciate us more?  (A week later a friend said to me, “I think you haven’t moved yet so that your son could step out on his own and learn that he needs you.”  I hadn’t talked to her about my revelation!)

This prompted me to do a search about waiting.  I was brought to a Hebrew definition of the word Qavah which means “wait on the Lord.”  Among other things, it means “hope, expect, look eagerly.”  Suddenly waiting wasn’t an idle word, it was an action word!  I was taken to Psalm 130:5-6:

     I wait for the Lord, my soul does wait.   

     And in His word do I hope.   

     My soul waits for the Lord more than the
     watchmen for the morning, 

     indeed, more than the watchmen for the morning.   

An article I read (long but good) pointed out that while watchmen are on duty, they long for the sunrise because it means they can go home.  They know the morning is coming, but at 1:30am it feels like it will take forever.  But they wait with anticipation.  They wait with expectation.  They wait with hope!  They know that the morning is certain, but only with the passing of time.  But the writer of this Psalm was even more expectant than the watchmen.  He was even more certain of God than of the rising sun.  Suddenly I was filled with joy and excitement!  This was it!  We were still waiting to hear the official offer of the job, but we knew it was coming.  We just needed to wait on the Lord.

On October 18, 2012, my husband received the phone call we'd been waiting for.  Not only was he cleared in his background check and offered the job, we were informed of moving benefits the job announcement said were not authorized.  They are only authorized for employees transferring from one specific agency to another.  Additionally, the job was unadvertised as having promotion potential:  he would have two guaranteed raises in the first two years.  In the week following the phone call, the Lord’s hand became even more evident as temporary housing was provided through a local South Carolina family who had just purchased a home just outside of the area of the new job (but had yet to move in) and offered to let my husband live there so the house wouldn’t be vacant.  

In November, I received an email from a Messianic Jewish site that referenced a scripture that had tickled my heart a few months ago, but I hadn't known what it meant.  This time, the Lord revealed it to me.

     The Lord had said to Abram, 

     'Go, from your country, your people, 

     and your father's household to the land I will show you.  Genesis 12:1

My husband's mother's family is from Florida, his father's family is from Tennessee.  We'd tried for years to transfer to a new position here in Florida, with no success.  We'd tried for years to transfer to a new position in several places in Tennessee, with no success.  So we were led to leave the land of his "people" as well as not going back to the land of his "father's household."  We know no one in or from South Carolina. So we were leaving family to go to a land God had shown us! How cool is that???

Qavah

I’m not saying that the years there were easy - we questioned our desires to move, tried to process our doubts in our actions, and attempted to fully walk in faith.  But the benefit of looking back is seeing God’s hand on, in, and throughout everything.  Even from the beginning, with the disappointments and the change in plans, He was bringing us to this moment.  My husband moved to South Carolina November 30, 2012.  My daughters and I stayed in Florida to sell our home until May 4, 2013.  I did a lot of traveling back and forth in those six months.  And I did a lot of waiting too.  I waited on different things than a phone call about a job, but it was still waiting.  Waiting for a buyer, waiting for my next trip to see my husband, waiting for movers, waiting for school to get out. What made it easier was my new understanding of Qavah - eagerly anticipating an answer that I knew was coming.

So I ask you:  are you waiting on something?  It doesn't matter what it is - big or small, life changing or day changing, personal or public - God has a plan.  Trust His plan.

Are you finding it difficult to wait?  It is even discouraging to wait?  I know the feeling!  But I encourage you to re-read Psalm 130:5-6.  Read the article I mentioned above.  Do your own personal search into what "waiting on the Lord" means.  Find out what it looks like.  Waiting is not an adjective to describe the condition of your soul.  It is a verb, a very active word, tied up in the living and moving of forward progress toward an answer not yet revealed.  Knowing that 'waiting' means 'hope,' 'anticipation,' 'eagerness,' 'excitement,' 'expectation,' and 'assuredness' will change your entire perspective.

You aren't just waiting - you are waiting on THE LORD!  And He is faithful!  He will provide!  He will come through!  He will answer!  The article (from above) said, “The amount of time you wait on someone is determined by how much you trust them.”  I trust my God wholeheartedly!  I encourage you to trust Him with whatever you have.  Even if the answer doesn't come quickly, it will come!

On a side note:  During the duration of waiting, I had a song that was dear to my heart.  While I don't suggest that you replace the Word of God with a song, music has it's own ministering properties.  It can lift us up when we are down, and this song always gave me special encouragement and helped to focus my thoughts back to the only thing that mattered - my Father in Heaven.  I sang this many, many, many times - in praise, in prayer, in tears, in thanksgiving.  And it always, always made it easier to get through the moment.

"While I'm Waiting" by John Waller

I'm waiting, I'm waiting on You, Lord, and I am hopeful
I'm waiting on You, Lord though it is painful
But patiently, I will wait

I will move ahead, bold and confident, taking every step in obedience
While I'm waiting - I will serve You
While I'm waiting - I will worship
While I'm waiting - I will not faint
I'll be running the race, even while I wait

I'm waiting, I'm waiting on You, Lord, and I am peaceful
I'm waiting on You, Lord though it's not easy
But faithfully, I will wait
Yes, I will wait 

I will move ahead, bold and confident, taking every step in obedience
While I'm waiting - I will serve You
While I'm waiting - I will worship
While I'm waiting - I will not faint
I'll be running the race, even while I wait

I will serve You while I'm waiting
I will worship while I'm waiting
I will serve You while I'm waiting
I will worship while I'm waiting
I will serve you while I'm waiting
I will worship while I'm waiting on You, Lord