Hello readers. I've been working on a new blog, with a new (slightly different) address. I've written my first new post on my new page, so please check it out! And as always, feel free to share! I'll be writing over at the new address now, so make sure you mark it if you want to follow. I have a goal of being more consistent and regular, too. :)
Here's the new site address: www.lampstandthoughts.com
Thanks for joining me on the journey!
Britta
Thursday, September 5, 2013
Sunday, June 30, 2013
Dark Days
I've been meaning to write this essay for some time and debating whether to write it at all. I write, not for sympathy or attention for myself, but because I have committed myself to sharing this journey so that others will feel they can do the same, if they haven't before. For I have been through dark days.
I shared awhile back in this post that we had been trying to have a Baby 3 for a year, and had a miscarriage along the way. Just a few weeks after that post, I was reading the Bible, for my Bible study of Genesis, which just so "happens" to include the story of three women, from three consecutive generations, struggling to conceive. The passage I was reading, while from Romans, refers to Abraham and Sarah, the first of those three women. God had promised Abraham and great nation's worth of descendants, yet at 90 years of age, Sarah had still not borne a child. Romans tells us that, "God calls into being things that were not." (Romans 4:17)
As I read this, I felt God showing me that this was His promise to me, too. That as I had prayed to know whether He was saying, "yes," "no," or "wait," He was showing me. So I was renewed in hope. Just days later, we learned we were pregnant! God had fulfilled His Word to me and I believed this new life would grow according to that promise.
Four weeks later, there were signs that things were not going according to plan and at my first appointment, in a difference from the normal practice at my clinic they gave me an early ultrasound so we could confirm a heartbeat. It was there, but the baby was small and the heartbeat weak. The NP tried to give me hope and we went forward. One week later we had a follow-up ultrasound that confirmed what I already knew: we had lost the baby. While my first miscarriage had not been very emotional, other than disappointment, this one hurt. I had seen the blip on the ultrasound -- the baby. Our baby. The baby that I knew when it left my body. The baby God had promised me. I held it together for the appointment, but as Erich and I sat in the car calling to tell our parents, I sobbed.
Why was this happening again? Why, when I believed God had promised me a baby, were we having to go through this again? Wasn't one miscarriage enough? We've been waiting so long! You promised me!
And that's the rub. The doctor listed off statistics about how normal this is, how the chances of a third miscarriage are unlikely, all of that. And Erich, with his pragmatic, logical approach found comfort in that. But for me, in some ways, my faith got in the way. Because, not only had I believed God promised me THAT baby, but I believe that 1) He could have kept that baby alive and growing and 2) God has a plan and purpose for every child that a family will have and that this miscarriage was not just the result of normal statistics.
I was okay for awhile and I tried to be okay. Then two very dear friends shared with me their pregnancies -- and both of them are due within days of my own due date. Seriously?!?! God, as if this wasn't painful enough, you add this?!?! (I'm super excited for both my friends and they both shared their news with me gently and privately, which I so appreciated.)
Their news however, had unexpected consequences for me. Because now, my pain became even more private. I didn't want to burden them with it or give them fear for their own pregnancies, or feel bad for being pregnant when I was not. Most of the people in my life that I would ask to walk with me were dealing with pain of their own, growing new life within or otherwise distant from me for awhile. So I became very, very lonely. I felt there was no one with whom I could talk, who saw it from the same perspective (emotional) as I did.
And that's what really sank me into the dark days. The feeling that God had once again messed with me and that I was walking alone. The people with whom I shared the news of miscarriage were saddened and they reached out to comfort and express condolences. Some of them even checked in periodically later and that means so much. But miscarriage and infertility (we've been trying for a year and a half, so I think that qualifies) really are invisible losses.
The monthly hope that this is the one. The monthly let-down that it didn't happen. The trying and trying and trying so that something that is supposed to be a beautiful expression of love and creation becomes a cog in the process, mechanical. And it affects husbands and wives differently, which is why it was so lonely for me. I'm the one who experiences the physical and hormonal changes, I'm the one who watches with fear and anxiety for signs of hope or despair as the time draws near. I'm the one who knew things weren't right and still held out hope, mixed with the reality of knowing.
It didn't help that the weeks during which I was feeling down, here in Minnesota we experienced day after day after day of rain. My boys and I were stuck inside. We were stir crazy. I had even less inclination to keep up the house, so we lived in a mess. We watched more t.v. than I care to admit and I ate a lot of ice cream. My Bible study was over for the summer, so I wasn't "forced" into Scripture where I could have focused on God, the problem-solver, instead of the problem.
These were days with a perfect storm of circumstances that pushed me deeper and deeper. I even stopped pretending things were great, the way we do, and answered "okay" in a less-than-cheerful tone when people asked how I was doing. Because I was tired of being fine. I was tired.
But you know what? Even dark days can be followed by sunshine. Just as the rain (sort of) stopped and we could get outside in the sunshine. And the Son began to shine through my clouds, too. Some of it was sheer discipline on my part, determining that I needed to love the family I have enough to help keep the floors clear and the toilet clean. It was time to stop indulging in self-pity. And that allowed me to see God, where He had always been; waiting for me and offering me hope and rest, if I would just give my pain to Him.
It still hurts and I still wonder why God led me to understand that verse from Romans the way I did (I'd even read it earlier in the year, with no such sense of personal promise). While I have down moments, God has brought me through those dark days. I believe God is calling into being things that are not and He wants me to trust Him for that. It may be pregnancy, it may be adoption (which is a whole 'nother post), it may be both, because we firmly believe that our family is not yet complete and I am trusting God to call into being the family He is knitting together, the completed family that is not yet.
I shared awhile back in this post that we had been trying to have a Baby 3 for a year, and had a miscarriage along the way. Just a few weeks after that post, I was reading the Bible, for my Bible study of Genesis, which just so "happens" to include the story of three women, from three consecutive generations, struggling to conceive. The passage I was reading, while from Romans, refers to Abraham and Sarah, the first of those three women. God had promised Abraham and great nation's worth of descendants, yet at 90 years of age, Sarah had still not borne a child. Romans tells us that, "God calls into being things that were not." (Romans 4:17)
As I read this, I felt God showing me that this was His promise to me, too. That as I had prayed to know whether He was saying, "yes," "no," or "wait," He was showing me. So I was renewed in hope. Just days later, we learned we were pregnant! God had fulfilled His Word to me and I believed this new life would grow according to that promise.
Four weeks later, there were signs that things were not going according to plan and at my first appointment, in a difference from the normal practice at my clinic they gave me an early ultrasound so we could confirm a heartbeat. It was there, but the baby was small and the heartbeat weak. The NP tried to give me hope and we went forward. One week later we had a follow-up ultrasound that confirmed what I already knew: we had lost the baby. While my first miscarriage had not been very emotional, other than disappointment, this one hurt. I had seen the blip on the ultrasound -- the baby. Our baby. The baby that I knew when it left my body. The baby God had promised me. I held it together for the appointment, but as Erich and I sat in the car calling to tell our parents, I sobbed.
Why was this happening again? Why, when I believed God had promised me a baby, were we having to go through this again? Wasn't one miscarriage enough? We've been waiting so long! You promised me!
And that's the rub. The doctor listed off statistics about how normal this is, how the chances of a third miscarriage are unlikely, all of that. And Erich, with his pragmatic, logical approach found comfort in that. But for me, in some ways, my faith got in the way. Because, not only had I believed God promised me THAT baby, but I believe that 1) He could have kept that baby alive and growing and 2) God has a plan and purpose for every child that a family will have and that this miscarriage was not just the result of normal statistics.
I was okay for awhile and I tried to be okay. Then two very dear friends shared with me their pregnancies -- and both of them are due within days of my own due date. Seriously?!?! God, as if this wasn't painful enough, you add this?!?! (I'm super excited for both my friends and they both shared their news with me gently and privately, which I so appreciated.)
Their news however, had unexpected consequences for me. Because now, my pain became even more private. I didn't want to burden them with it or give them fear for their own pregnancies, or feel bad for being pregnant when I was not. Most of the people in my life that I would ask to walk with me were dealing with pain of their own, growing new life within or otherwise distant from me for awhile. So I became very, very lonely. I felt there was no one with whom I could talk, who saw it from the same perspective (emotional) as I did.
And that's what really sank me into the dark days. The feeling that God had once again messed with me and that I was walking alone. The people with whom I shared the news of miscarriage were saddened and they reached out to comfort and express condolences. Some of them even checked in periodically later and that means so much. But miscarriage and infertility (we've been trying for a year and a half, so I think that qualifies) really are invisible losses.
The monthly hope that this is the one. The monthly let-down that it didn't happen. The trying and trying and trying so that something that is supposed to be a beautiful expression of love and creation becomes a cog in the process, mechanical. And it affects husbands and wives differently, which is why it was so lonely for me. I'm the one who experiences the physical and hormonal changes, I'm the one who watches with fear and anxiety for signs of hope or despair as the time draws near. I'm the one who knew things weren't right and still held out hope, mixed with the reality of knowing.
It didn't help that the weeks during which I was feeling down, here in Minnesota we experienced day after day after day of rain. My boys and I were stuck inside. We were stir crazy. I had even less inclination to keep up the house, so we lived in a mess. We watched more t.v. than I care to admit and I ate a lot of ice cream. My Bible study was over for the summer, so I wasn't "forced" into Scripture where I could have focused on God, the problem-solver, instead of the problem.
These were days with a perfect storm of circumstances that pushed me deeper and deeper. I even stopped pretending things were great, the way we do, and answered "okay" in a less-than-cheerful tone when people asked how I was doing. Because I was tired of being fine. I was tired.
But you know what? Even dark days can be followed by sunshine. Just as the rain (sort of) stopped and we could get outside in the sunshine. And the Son began to shine through my clouds, too. Some of it was sheer discipline on my part, determining that I needed to love the family I have enough to help keep the floors clear and the toilet clean. It was time to stop indulging in self-pity. And that allowed me to see God, where He had always been; waiting for me and offering me hope and rest, if I would just give my pain to Him.
It still hurts and I still wonder why God led me to understand that verse from Romans the way I did (I'd even read it earlier in the year, with no such sense of personal promise). While I have down moments, God has brought me through those dark days. I believe God is calling into being things that are not and He wants me to trust Him for that. It may be pregnancy, it may be adoption (which is a whole 'nother post), it may be both, because we firmly believe that our family is not yet complete and I am trusting God to call into being the family He is knitting together, the completed family that is not yet.
Sunday, April 21, 2013
Hurtling to the Finish
I finally pause and reflect. There is so much in the news. Just this week, two bombs went off as friends, family and strangers cheered men and women to the finish of a race that pushed their limits. Lives and limbs and expectations were lost and lives are forever not the same because of that day and the chaotic days that followed in the Boston area. And then, two days later a Texas town blew up. Just, blew up. An accident, that turns out really was someone's "fault" because they stored too much of a dangerous thing. And abortion is debated in court and marriage is debated in courts and congresses around the world. And then half the world away China is shaken by a huge earthquake. And there are flooding and avalanches. And we ask, "What is going on?" and "What can we do?"
And an uncle calls his nephews losers. And runners keep running to give blood from their trembling, exhausted bodies. And brave men and women run TOWARDS the chaos. And first responders drive from all over Texas to help the little town ravaged. And a mom blogs about redefining safe, because to her that's the only way to keep her kids safe -- is to have it mean something completely different.
A week of horrors. Of tears. Of pain. And yet it is also far away. I have laughed and run and played with my boys. I have enjoyed time with friends. Rejoiced over good news. And wondered how to hold tight to those moments.
The truth is though, we can't hold those tight, outside of our memories. We are not guaranteed a life where no evil touches it. We can never keep a promise to keep our kids safe. We live in a world hurtling towards a finish. God created a beautiful, good world. But His first children made a choice to try to live as their own gods, and humanity has continued to make that choice day after day. God allows Satan to have influence and humans to make a choice to pursue God or elevate ourselves. So the world is broken. We are broken. And we cannot keep the bad things from happening.
So, what can we do?
We can seek hope. We can bring hope. We can live hope.
It occurred to me to ask, as I watched the Governor and the President speak at the interfaith service in honor of the victims of the Boston Marathon, in a country where so many don't believe in a God, don't have a faith, and want nothing of faith involved in civic matters, why are these interfaith services such a common practice when tragedy and loss strike us (whether intended or accidental)? Here's why:
Jennifer Dunphy, outside the memorial service: "I guess I'm just looking for ... maybe some peace, some understanding, something, a little bit of hope." From this article
Because it is faith that gives us peace. It is faith that gives us, in time, a little understanding. And most importantly, it is faith that provides us a little bit of hope. Because when we live with faith, we know we are not in control. We know it's okay -- and in fact so much better that -- we are not in control. We know that God will win and evil will be conquered. One day. And until that day, as we look to the end, we accept the reality that living life must include risk. That the world is not safe and God didn't promise us it would be. But He is with us through it. He is working through it. And He is bringing this world to the finish -- the good finish when His creation is redeemed!
And an uncle calls his nephews losers. And runners keep running to give blood from their trembling, exhausted bodies. And brave men and women run TOWARDS the chaos. And first responders drive from all over Texas to help the little town ravaged. And a mom blogs about redefining safe, because to her that's the only way to keep her kids safe -- is to have it mean something completely different.
A week of horrors. Of tears. Of pain. And yet it is also far away. I have laughed and run and played with my boys. I have enjoyed time with friends. Rejoiced over good news. And wondered how to hold tight to those moments.
The truth is though, we can't hold those tight, outside of our memories. We are not guaranteed a life where no evil touches it. We can never keep a promise to keep our kids safe. We live in a world hurtling towards a finish. God created a beautiful, good world. But His first children made a choice to try to live as their own gods, and humanity has continued to make that choice day after day. God allows Satan to have influence and humans to make a choice to pursue God or elevate ourselves. So the world is broken. We are broken. And we cannot keep the bad things from happening.
So, what can we do?
We can seek hope. We can bring hope. We can live hope.
It occurred to me to ask, as I watched the Governor and the President speak at the interfaith service in honor of the victims of the Boston Marathon, in a country where so many don't believe in a God, don't have a faith, and want nothing of faith involved in civic matters, why are these interfaith services such a common practice when tragedy and loss strike us (whether intended or accidental)? Here's why:
Jennifer Dunphy, outside the memorial service: "I guess I'm just looking for ... maybe some peace, some understanding, something, a little bit of hope." From this article
Because it is faith that gives us peace. It is faith that gives us, in time, a little understanding. And most importantly, it is faith that provides us a little bit of hope. Because when we live with faith, we know we are not in control. We know it's okay -- and in fact so much better that -- we are not in control. We know that God will win and evil will be conquered. One day. And until that day, as we look to the end, we accept the reality that living life must include risk. That the world is not safe and God didn't promise us it would be. But He is with us through it. He is working through it. And He is bringing this world to the finish -- the good finish when His creation is redeemed!
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
50/50
I read a blog post of "my new best friend" that really stuck with me. She made a rather passing comment about the Biblical passage about "love your neighbor as yourself," asking the question, what if that actually meant 50/50? If I love others as I do myself, would that mean I spend 50% of my time, money, talents and energy on others [and I take this to be outside of the nuclear family]? Wow, what a challenge that is. Months later I'm STILL thinking about it!
And when I began to look for Christmas cards, I saw a verse on one that I fell in love with, “From his abundance we have all received one gracious blessing after another” John 1:16. I hadn’t remembered that from John 1 (which tells of Jesus’ coming) so I looked it up in several versions until I found the version that was quoted and looked at the context. In my search, I found this one from the Message that literally brings me near to weeping every time I read it.
And when I began to look for Christmas cards, I saw a verse on one that I fell in love with, “From his abundance we have all received one gracious blessing after another” John 1:16. I hadn’t remembered that from John 1 (which tells of Jesus’ coming) so I looked it up in several versions until I found the version that was quoted and looked at the context. In my search, I found this one from the Message that literally brings me near to weeping every time I read it.
We all live off his generous bounty,
gift after gift after gift.
We got the basics from Moses,
and then this exuberant giving and receiving,
This endless knowing and understanding—
all this came through Jesus, the Messiah.
No one has ever seen God,
not so much as a glimpse.
This one-of-a-kind God-Expression,
who exists at the very heart of the Father,
has made him plain as day. (John 1:15-18, emphasis mine)
gift after gift after gift.
We got the basics from Moses,
and then this exuberant giving and receiving,
This endless knowing and understanding—
all this came through Jesus, the Messiah.
No one has ever seen God,
not so much as a glimpse.
This one-of-a-kind God-Expression,
who exists at the very heart of the Father,
has made him plain as day. (John 1:15-18, emphasis mine)
The more I study and reflect on the Scriptures related to Christ’s birth, the more miraculous and beautiful it becomes to me. First, it’s important to understand that the Law, though we don’t naturally see it this way, was truly a gracious gift. The other people followed gods who were capricious and unpredictable. Here, the God of the Hebrews was telling them just what He expected of them and how to live in relationship with Him and one another. How much more amazing and gracious – and surprising – that God would come live among His people? The pagan gods would never stoop so low.
From the IVP Commentary, note "the contrast between the verbs was given (edothe) and came (egeneto). … These verbs are not contrasting a negative with a positive. Rather, the divine graciousness evident in the divine was given is tremendously intensified in the divine came. The same graciousness has now been manifested in an entirely new mode: the Word became (egeneto) flesh.
When God reveals God, it is the ultimate revelation. 'The absolute claim of the Christian revelation could not be put more definitely' (Schnackenburg 1980a:278)."
While this passage from John refers to spiritual blessings primarily (salvation, wisdom, peace, love, joy, kindness, etc), I can’t help but think that some of the abundance God would have us consider, here in this time and place (the United States, 2013 for me), are some of the earthly blessings He has given us in abundance (health, stable finances, home, food, discretionary time).
God has particularly raised questions about my family’s generosity, our treasures. It keeps coming up everywhere I go—sermons I hear, books and blogs I read, Bible studies I’m doing. Not only the financial, although that is part of it. I’m saying this next part not to toot my own horn, but to give understanding of my context for wrestling with this: we’ve always given fairly generously based on statistics I've seen, and given first (we don't make sure all our bills are paid and then decide what we can afford). But could we (should we) be doing more?
What does it mean to be generous? What does it mean to give sacrificially? I mean, we live in a nice enough house but could do bigger if we gave less. So are we sacrificing? We could go on fancier vacations if we gave less, but we get to go on vacation. We have a pantry overflowing with food, although we eat out much less than we used to. So, is that sacrificial?
It certainly doesn't seem painful most of the time, and to me sacrifice is tied to pain of some kind. But giving is also suppose to be filled with blessing, as the passage above conveys. We've been blessed in many ways and I firmly believe that some of that comes as a direct result of our being obedient to give. Sometimes I'd say we've been a part of God's exuberant giving, but most often it's something we do without much thought at all. It's a part of our routine, our discipline, our spiritual growth. Those of us who follow Christ receive "gift after gift after gift," an "exuberant giving" from God. When I reflect on all of those things that I have received: hope, salvation, the help of a mighty and sovereign God, peace, joy, patience with my children, forgiveness, EVERY spiritual blessing (Eph 1:3) as well as material blessing; when I reflect on these, I am spurred to want to be a part of that exuberant giving -- and receiving as well -- as I watch what God does with our giving. Doesn't that sound amazing?
So, what is God asking me to give? What is He asking us to give? Can you give up one lunch out and pack it from home, giving the extra in the offering plate? Can I be content with my closet full of clothes rather than getting the latest peplum shirt, so I can give more to God? Can we eat rice and beans one meal a week and pray for the people who eat that daily -- and give the savings to sponsor a child in need?
My two year old recently noticed us packing up 10% or our oldest's allowance one Sunday, to give to God. He also wanted to give money to God, and though he doesn't yet get allowance, we took some change from his bank for him to give. Now, many times when we mention going to church, no matter what it's for, he runs towards his room asking for money for God. I'm a long way from loving and giving to others 50/50, but I'm praying that I can at least live out the kind of exuberant giving that this sweet little child has modeled for me.
What does it mean to be generous? What does it mean to give sacrificially? I mean, we live in a nice enough house but could do bigger if we gave less. So are we sacrificing? We could go on fancier vacations if we gave less, but we get to go on vacation. We have a pantry overflowing with food, although we eat out much less than we used to. So, is that sacrificial?
It certainly doesn't seem painful most of the time, and to me sacrifice is tied to pain of some kind. But giving is also suppose to be filled with blessing, as the passage above conveys. We've been blessed in many ways and I firmly believe that some of that comes as a direct result of our being obedient to give. Sometimes I'd say we've been a part of God's exuberant giving, but most often it's something we do without much thought at all. It's a part of our routine, our discipline, our spiritual growth. Those of us who follow Christ receive "gift after gift after gift," an "exuberant giving" from God. When I reflect on all of those things that I have received: hope, salvation, the help of a mighty and sovereign God, peace, joy, patience with my children, forgiveness, EVERY spiritual blessing (Eph 1:3) as well as material blessing; when I reflect on these, I am spurred to want to be a part of that exuberant giving -- and receiving as well -- as I watch what God does with our giving. Doesn't that sound amazing?
So, what is God asking me to give? What is He asking us to give? Can you give up one lunch out and pack it from home, giving the extra in the offering plate? Can I be content with my closet full of clothes rather than getting the latest peplum shirt, so I can give more to God? Can we eat rice and beans one meal a week and pray for the people who eat that daily -- and give the savings to sponsor a child in need?
My two year old recently noticed us packing up 10% or our oldest's allowance one Sunday, to give to God. He also wanted to give money to God, and though he doesn't yet get allowance, we took some change from his bank for him to give. Now, many times when we mention going to church, no matter what it's for, he runs towards his room asking for money for God. I'm a long way from loving and giving to others 50/50, but I'm praying that I can at least live out the kind of exuberant giving that this sweet little child has modeled for me.
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
Holy Week Activities 2013
I want to repost this idea page as I am looking over it myself to think about how we want to celebrate Easter and Holy Week. We got out some of our Easter books and decorations last week, so now the Easter bunny is coming up in conversation and I want to redirect the focus on to what we as a family are truly celebrating -- Jesus' death and resurrection! So, here is the post, with some updates in italics:
Time sure has gotten away from me. I have so much to catch up on, but with Palm Sunday just two days away, I want to get this one out there. I think it was last year that I decided I wanted to do more with our family to celebrate or mark Holy Week. Beyond Palm Sunday and Resurrection Sunday we've never done a whole lot. And yet, if you look at that week in Jesus' life so much happened to him and among his disciples that it's something I wanted to change in our celebration.
Our oldest son is now old enough to enjoy doing some participatory learning activities and get something out of them. And our youngest loves participating and doing what big brother does -- and he'll learn, too. So I started thinking about things I want to do. The Good Friday service is late by the standards of our kids' bedtimes, so I started there, wanting to do something. Then I realized that Jesus washing his disciples' feet was part of the Last Supper the night before his death. I've been part of foot washing "ceremonies" before and they are so powerful, I thought that would be a meaningful way to have our family participate together. From there, I looked online for some other ways to celebrate and remember the events of that week in age appropriate ways. I hope you find this helpful if you're looking for things to do yourself.
This was the starting point for the most helpful ideas. http://www.christianitytoday.com/holidays/easter/features/activities.html
From there, I am adapting them to be more age-appropriate as many of the suggestions are for school-age kids. This link is no longer active. It was so good! Grrr.
Palm Sunday
We'll attend church. If we decide to do more than that, it will be to act out the processional into Jerusalem as we read the account from Scripture. We'll use palm branch color sheets for the boys to color on, cut them out and sing, "Hosanna!"
Thursday
We'll do a foot washing ceremony, taking turns washing each others' feet. We'll talk about what Jesus did for his disciples and what it means. As our sons get older, we'll reenact the Last Supper more fully.
Good Friday
We'll read the story out of our children's Bible of Jesus' arrest and death.
Saturday
A Festival of Light service, with a reading shortened or modified from the link above. This is one thing I wish I'd kept from last year, since I can't find the page anymore!
Resurrection Sunday
Easter service
We'll do the regular Easter bunny thing, but I've already begun talking about what we are really celebrating on Easter. I want our kids to know what this holiday truly means to our family and why we recognize it. We do a lot of jelly beans, so we may do this:
In a plastic egg: Jelly Beans that are the following colors
- black : Stands for the darkness of our lives before Jesus when we were still in sin
- red: Stands for Jesus shed blood
- white: Stands for our sins that are washed away
- yellow: Stands for streets of gold in heaven
- green: Stands for growing in Jesus
This is our start. I loved many of the other ideas from the website for other days, particularly making pretzels as a reminder of our connection to God through prayer and the account of Jesus being anointed. My hope is that we'll add more activities as part of our celebration as our kids get older. This is a small way to make sure our focus is on the right thing during this holiday season.
Also, MOPS international has some great ideas on their website, including Easter cookies and a 12 day Resurrection Egg activity, which starts TODAY!
I'd love to hear what you do with your family, whether you try some of these or share a new idea with me. I'm looking for more! Let us encourage one another.
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
Rescued from wealth
As I have mentioned a few times recently, I have been really thinking about how God is calling me to live with my stuff. I frequently battle discontent with my house. It's not my dream home by any stretch of the imagination. I married into the house, and it's not a layout I desire. With two young kids, the fact the garage isn't attached and the there is no mudroom or even a good entry way is a hassle and a pain. The location is perfect for our family right now, but I dream of my boys running wild in the open spaces of a home in the country. A couple people I know have sold their houses very quickly recently and it has once again given me the bug/raised my discontent. And then...
Waiting for me in the mail yesterday was the magazine Compassion International sends to those who support kids around the world. On the cover, the article title "Rescued from Wealth p. 22." Despite the cute boy on the cover and an article about vulnerable children that I also read very soon after receiving it, I turned first to page 22. I knew what I would find and I knew I needed to read it. And there it was. Following a brief account of her trip with Compassion to Kenya, the subject of the article noted she "could no longer look at life the same way...[with her husband gung-ho, they] sold their house and moved to a more modest neighborhood." She goes on to be quoted, "I had a redeeming experience. I felt rescued from my wealth and the American life."
Ooooh, I so need to hear that. Probably every day. And boy, do I need to be rescued. My home is just fine. It's not too big to clean (occasionally) with 2 young boys in tow. It's warm and dry. We each have our own rooms, we have indoor plumbing, heat and air conditioning. Our neighborhood is safe, pretty and full of parks. We have clothes to wear, healthy food to eat (and plenty of junk food, too). If only everyone could be so lucky! So why do I bounce towards discontent so often?
Honestly, most of the time I live with a "less is best" mentality (though my closets don't agree). But every once in awhile, I'll read something, see something, talk with someone and I feel that twinge of envy that ______ is missing from my life or not as nice as ________'s. I wish it was easier and more practical to cut all ties to material wealth. I can't do that, so I'm hoping for some kind of balance and a way to leave behind the pull of "bigger, better, newer" in my life.
And then, a friend posts this article today and I'm convicted to go deeper again. I mean, seriously, those of us who claim to follow Christ and live according to the Scriptures, we should be leading the way on this, right? And who enjoys stepping on Legos (toy trucks, baby doll accessories) every day, climbing into the closet to find that one shirt buried somewhere, or spending a Saturday cleaning the house? Jesus said the last will be first. He told us to love the least of these. Jesus told us to love our neighbors as ourselves. He said it will be harder for the rich to enter heaven than to walk through the eye of a needle. Jesus told us to store up our treasures in heaven. So why do I even struggle with wanting more?
I'm praying I can be rescued from wealth.
Waiting for me in the mail yesterday was the magazine Compassion International sends to those who support kids around the world. On the cover, the article title "Rescued from Wealth p. 22." Despite the cute boy on the cover and an article about vulnerable children that I also read very soon after receiving it, I turned first to page 22. I knew what I would find and I knew I needed to read it. And there it was. Following a brief account of her trip with Compassion to Kenya, the subject of the article noted she "could no longer look at life the same way...[with her husband gung-ho, they] sold their house and moved to a more modest neighborhood." She goes on to be quoted, "I had a redeeming experience. I felt rescued from my wealth and the American life."
Ooooh, I so need to hear that. Probably every day. And boy, do I need to be rescued. My home is just fine. It's not too big to clean (occasionally) with 2 young boys in tow. It's warm and dry. We each have our own rooms, we have indoor plumbing, heat and air conditioning. Our neighborhood is safe, pretty and full of parks. We have clothes to wear, healthy food to eat (and plenty of junk food, too). If only everyone could be so lucky! So why do I bounce towards discontent so often?
Honestly, most of the time I live with a "less is best" mentality (though my closets don't agree). But every once in awhile, I'll read something, see something, talk with someone and I feel that twinge of envy that ______ is missing from my life or not as nice as ________'s. I wish it was easier and more practical to cut all ties to material wealth. I can't do that, so I'm hoping for some kind of balance and a way to leave behind the pull of "bigger, better, newer" in my life.
And then, a friend posts this article today and I'm convicted to go deeper again. I mean, seriously, those of us who claim to follow Christ and live according to the Scriptures, we should be leading the way on this, right? And who enjoys stepping on Legos (toy trucks, baby doll accessories) every day, climbing into the closet to find that one shirt buried somewhere, or spending a Saturday cleaning the house? Jesus said the last will be first. He told us to love the least of these. Jesus told us to love our neighbors as ourselves. He said it will be harder for the rich to enter heaven than to walk through the eye of a needle. Jesus told us to store up our treasures in heaven. So why do I even struggle with wanting more?
I'm praying I can be rescued from wealth.
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
A Different Kind of Baby News
In the last ten or so months, I have had no less than 10 friends and acquaintances announce the joyous news that they were expecting a baby, many of them baby number three or four. I have celebrated their news and congratulated them, but to be honest, I have not always felt joyful or even glad for them. In fact, sometimes when I've seen the cute pictures of older siblings wearing shirts or holding signs, ultrasound pictures or positive pregnancy tests to share the news on Facebook I have actually begun to feel sick to my stomach, like I've been knocked down or even betrayed.
You see, a year ago, Erich and I began to try for a baby number three. Our first two boys came right as planned and though I knew the statistics, I felt it would be the same the third time. My plan was to have that baby this past September -- I would have a 4-month old in my arms right now. But 12 months later, we have no baby, no news, and have experienced one miscarriage (and even that came after months of trying). Now, for me, the miscarriage, though heart-breaking, was not the most difficult for me. We had only known for about 5 days, so it didn't feel like losing a baby, but the hope of a baby. And each month for the last twelve I have felt that loss -- as our hope builds and is then shattered again.
Now, I do not begrudge my friends the blessings of their babies. And I am thrilled for them and want them to celebrate and share their good news. But every time I hear of more news, I am knocked down a little bit. I begin to question God. Why not me? I think I'm a good mom, why couldn't I handle three? They are. I can do it. Or, God, what are we doing wrong that You are postponing this joy for us? Or, what will be challenging with the baby that You need us to have more space between kids?
Hear me: some, if not most, of these questions are not theologically sound according to what I believe Scripture teaches about God or His ways. They are purely my honest, emotional questions that I ask in the moments of greatest hurt. And God is big enough to handle them and when I'm comforted, bring me back to the truth of His love and His faithfulness. And in that state, I am able to ask the "right" questions, like: What do you want me to learn from this, God? and Will you help me to trust in Your plan and Your purposes each and every day? I've tried to be like Hannah who, while being harassed by other women for her barrenness, waited and trusted for years and was given a son, Samuel. It is also from this place that I am better able to experience joy for friends and not just pay it lip service.
I share this different kind of baby news for a few reasons. One, I know I am not the only woman to experience this pain, this sense of loss for the baby that could have been. I want to share my story so that others can know they are not alone on this journey and so that I can know it too. And because there are those I know who want more than anything to be a parent and will never have the desire fulfilled in a biological or adoptive way. My heart breaks more for those dear ones than it breaks for my own pain, but I understand their pain a little better because of my own, too.
And also, we waited so long to share because we didn't want to tell people we were trying, so we could surprise them with the news. But I need to be lifted up. Its been a long and lonely road. I need women and sisters and brothers and mothers and fathers and friends to pray with me and for me to be encouraged, to be faithful, to trust in God's plan. And also to pray with us and for us that we would have clarity about His plan. Maybe it's not God's plan that we have three, and I'd like our hearts' desire to line up with God's and we can move our focus and energy to those things He would have us do and be. And maybe it's in His plan, but not yet, and I want to hear "wait" so that we can wait in trust and faith for God to bring us the kind of baby news we've been hoping to share.
So I share this different kind of baby news in the hopes that some would share my burden, so I can be lighter -- and so I can bear some of the burden with others who are walking this same path.
You see, a year ago, Erich and I began to try for a baby number three. Our first two boys came right as planned and though I knew the statistics, I felt it would be the same the third time. My plan was to have that baby this past September -- I would have a 4-month old in my arms right now. But 12 months later, we have no baby, no news, and have experienced one miscarriage (and even that came after months of trying). Now, for me, the miscarriage, though heart-breaking, was not the most difficult for me. We had only known for about 5 days, so it didn't feel like losing a baby, but the hope of a baby. And each month for the last twelve I have felt that loss -- as our hope builds and is then shattered again.
Now, I do not begrudge my friends the blessings of their babies. And I am thrilled for them and want them to celebrate and share their good news. But every time I hear of more news, I am knocked down a little bit. I begin to question God. Why not me? I think I'm a good mom, why couldn't I handle three? They are. I can do it. Or, God, what are we doing wrong that You are postponing this joy for us? Or, what will be challenging with the baby that You need us to have more space between kids?
Hear me: some, if not most, of these questions are not theologically sound according to what I believe Scripture teaches about God or His ways. They are purely my honest, emotional questions that I ask in the moments of greatest hurt. And God is big enough to handle them and when I'm comforted, bring me back to the truth of His love and His faithfulness. And in that state, I am able to ask the "right" questions, like: What do you want me to learn from this, God? and Will you help me to trust in Your plan and Your purposes each and every day? I've tried to be like Hannah who, while being harassed by other women for her barrenness, waited and trusted for years and was given a son, Samuel. It is also from this place that I am better able to experience joy for friends and not just pay it lip service.
I share this different kind of baby news for a few reasons. One, I know I am not the only woman to experience this pain, this sense of loss for the baby that could have been. I want to share my story so that others can know they are not alone on this journey and so that I can know it too. And because there are those I know who want more than anything to be a parent and will never have the desire fulfilled in a biological or adoptive way. My heart breaks more for those dear ones than it breaks for my own pain, but I understand their pain a little better because of my own, too.
And also, we waited so long to share because we didn't want to tell people we were trying, so we could surprise them with the news. But I need to be lifted up. Its been a long and lonely road. I need women and sisters and brothers and mothers and fathers and friends to pray with me and for me to be encouraged, to be faithful, to trust in God's plan. And also to pray with us and for us that we would have clarity about His plan. Maybe it's not God's plan that we have three, and I'd like our hearts' desire to line up with God's and we can move our focus and energy to those things He would have us do and be. And maybe it's in His plan, but not yet, and I want to hear "wait" so that we can wait in trust and faith for God to bring us the kind of baby news we've been hoping to share.
So I share this different kind of baby news in the hopes that some would share my burden, so I can be lighter -- and so I can bear some of the burden with others who are walking this same path.
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