When You're Down...But Not Out

Yesterday I folded laundry, made a pot roast, worked on a chapter in the book I am writing. If anybody had been watching me do all this, they might have thought it was pretty insignificant, my day. Nobody would have been able to tell I was doing all this...by faith. Because the truth is, I felt like lying down, pulling the covers over my head and going to that murky place of dream land. Any dream I could have slipped into would have been better than the reality I was experiencing.

I'm not going through any severe trial or catastrophic circumstance. What I am experiencing, though, is the doldrums, the spirit of heaviness. I feel exhausted but more than that I feel helpless, incapable. There are a number of reasons why I've lost confidence in my God-given abilities, but the point I want to make here is this: sometimes people are acting on the last bit of energy, faith, and hope that they have.

You see them doing a load of laundry, and really they are doing an incredible feat of accomplishment because they would rather just go to bed and forget everything. You see them walking their dog, but really they are taking step by step, in faith, because they are trying. Period.

We have no idea of what some people are experiencing because we don't always see what they are feeling. We see them as capable and talkative, and in reality, they are mustering their last bit of strength and faith just to talk to you.

Yesterday there was a knock on my door. Harry went ballistic with his barking. I could barely hear the guy, when I opened the door, because I had Harry by the collar and was trying to restrain him. He's a sweet dog but don't mess with his territory or threaten his masters. This guy was no threat, but Harry didn't know that.

"Would you like to see the seafood and meat we have for sale?" he asked me hopefully. I couldn't even hear the name of the company, but even if it had been legitimate and known for delicious food, I already had a freezer full of meat. And we're not much for seafood, except for in the summer time. So I told him no thank you, and I hope he heard the sincerity in my voice. He might not have because Harry had not ceased to growl and bark.

He left and I went back downstairs to work on the laundry. But immediately I felt something in my spirit for this man- and it was compassion. What a hard job he had, I thought. I wouldn't like to have to go door to door-- not in this day and age, not in this economy. But the operative words were "have to." He probably had no other choice. He probably had a family to feed. He probably had something better to do in previous years, but wound up with this job to do--because it was the only thing he could do.

So I prayed for that man. Oh I prayed a thunderbolt of blessing to come and hit him. I prayed for a flood of encouragement and provision into his life. It was too late for me to go call him back to my house, and I really couldn't have bought much from him other than maybe a steak for that night. But it wasn't too late for me to reach him through prayer.

Maybe it was good that I was feeling so low yesterday, so dispirited and discouraged. That allowed me to relate to someone else who literally had a hard road ahead of him. That caused me to pray for, and bless, that man. And believe me, we do have the power to bless, and not curse.

It is no small thing to ask God to bless someone. God loves it when we pray for others and want others to have what we would want to have. So I wanted this man to be lifted up. I wanted this man to know hope and strength. I wanted this man to get a break and get a better way to make a living. I wanted his family to see him come home and say to them, "I don't know why- it was a crummy day in sales- but I feel encouraged. I feel hopeful." And then out of that encouragement, he may try to send out a resume again. He may try to start that business. He may decide to go back to school and get that degree that everybody told him he was too old to get. He just might decide that he can keep going.

Friend, no matter how down you feel, God will send someone to encourage you or pray for you. Be assured that He will not let you stay down when you feel down. He wants to lift you up. He wants to answer prayers that are spoken over you by someone else who saw you struggling to do things...by faith.

In Judges 6, we read the account of an Angel greeting Gideon with an amazingly positive proclamation, "The LORD is with you, mighty warrior." Gideon did not feel like a mighty warrior. He didn't even look like one. But the Angel is there to tell Gideon about the mission assigned to him of saving Israel from the Midianites. And here's the incredible thing the Angel says to him,"Go in the strength you have." The little that you have, use it. The bit of strength you have, fight with it. It might be more than you realize.

Today, please know that if YOU are reading this, and you need encouragement, I care about your predicament. But more than that GOD CARES. He cares about salesmen out on the road, about stay at home moms who are exhausted, about teenagers overwhelmed with choices, about men who are out of work and out of hope as far as they can see. He cares about you doing the ordinary things that are taking seemingly extraordinary strength to do. HE sees you trying to take the next step of faith. He sees you using the bit of strength you have-- and He wants to multiply that strength.

So, go throughout your day, you mighty warrior!! There is more strength on its way to you. More blessing. More power.

There's just, simply...MORE.

Spiritual Exhaustion

This post is for exhausted people only. If you're pumped up about life and you've got everything figured out, enjoy your day and God speed. See you next post.

Okay, if you're still here reading, it could be that you've had a hard week so far, or maybe a rough month, or maybe it's been a really long winter. You might feel beyond tired-- you're actually weary. You feel like a wet noodle,maybe. If you're floppy and you know it, say amen.

But I've got some good news for you, friend. You can be weary and weak and just about out of steam. In fact you might have one last little prayer of "Help, God!" in you and you're about to utter it pleadingly- and even then you're not sure it will availeth much.

Can I tell you something about spiritual exhaustion? It happens. It happens to the best and the brightest and the strongest and the most well-intentioned of us. The fact that it happens is not the thing I want to tell you. That's just what I want to establish as our base line truth. Here's what I want to tell you though: spiritual exhaustion is not necessarily evidence that you've done anything wrong. In fact you may have been doing many things right, lately. You've prayed up a storm. You've read your Bible faithfully. You helped someone and never bragged about it. You've tried to utter blessing and not cursing when you've been hurt or rejected. You've tried to do good and not cause pain. You've tried, period.

Last summer, on vacation, my son tried and tried to skim board. Skim boarding is when you take a board and "skim" across the surface of the water-- but it's shallow water. You can't drown in it. You're just supposed to glide across it. Glide, I said. Not pound the surface. Not fight the current.

And now let's enter the "deep" end, here: you were not meant to always be pounding the surf, hitting against hard wave after wave. You were also meant for gliding. You were made for "easy" times too.

Don't get offended about that word easy. So many Christians do. I can hear all the pulpit pounders telling me that life is hard and the life of a disciple is harder and get ready to fight the good fight. And fight again. And fight to the end.

Do that. Fight when you need to. Contend for things when it's a matter of faith verses sight. But don't forget to glide....when you can. When there's a wave of ease and opportunity, by all means, take it! When Christ offers a yoke that is "easy" and a burden that is light, He is talking about ceasing from trying so hard and accepting the suitable and comfortable yoke of obeying what He's asked you to do. And sometimes obedience requires such perseverance and denying of self. And sometimes God sends a wave of refreshment and He expects you to take it ...and glide. Step out into the Spring air and breathe deeply. Enjoy that late evening walk. Take the hand that is offered to you instead of saying, "Oh, no, I'm fine."

Psalm 46:10 tells us to "Be still and know that I am God...." Stop all the strenuous exertion and get a revelation of how powerful He is and how weak and floppy you are. It's okay to be blown away by the contrast. One commentary on this verse digs deep into the meaning of "be still" and explains that it has to do with casting down or letting something fall. "...to be relaxed, slackened, especially the hands: It is also employed in the sense of not making an effort; not putting forth exertion; and then would express the idea of leaving matters with God, or of being without anxiety about the issue."

I'm all about persisting in prayer, persevering in prayer. I believe in contending for the promises of God. I believe Scripture tells us, over and over, that we must be bold and strong and obedient and faithful. But it also tells us that when we are weak, HE is strong. When we are "relaxed" He is still powerful--and not at all offended by our taking a glide across the water and shouting "weeee!" as we go.

Stop striving to make things happen. Let God see you relaxed and expectant at the same time. I can raise my hands to heaven and pray and I know this pleases God. But I can also let my hands hang down in exhaustion and marvel at the fact that God is never weary. I can honor Him even in my weakness; perhaps because when I know I am weak, I might just realize, in a greater way, how strong and powerful and capable God is. When I understand this, really understand this, that's my faith in God showing. I might even display more faith in God when I am going through a time where I'm weak and exhausted-- if I can admit He is not offended by my fatigue and I am not resistant to His offering of help and grace.

Be still before Him. Let go. Let your hands flop down in fatigue if you have to. Rest easy in the knowledge that He's got a wave of refreshment coming to you. It's for you. It's yours for the taking. Glide on it.

There's more where that came from.

Between Two Worlds

I've just spent the last hour trying to clean out my email inbox. (I'm still getting these warnings that the mailbox is precariously full, though.) This is more a statement about my inability to make quick decisions about what is necessary and what is superfluous in life, than it is a question of pressing the delete button over and over. These are the things that weigh us down in life--I'm convinced of that. When your garbage cans and email inboxes are overflowing, it means things have caught up with you.

I've got more than spring cleaning on my mind, lately. It seems like it's time for me to do a little soul searching too; or maybe you would call it a re-balancing, like the way they re-balance the tires on your car so that uneven weight distribution doesn't cause noticeable vibrations.

I've spent a bit of time over the last week reviewing some news stories and videos about the Japanese people and their state of emergency after the earthquake and tsunami. They are not dealing with petty things like cleaning out email inboxes. They are dealing with issues of survival. They are trying to find someplace solid on which to stand. They're looking for lost loved ones and dealing with a death toll that some say is hovering near 22,000.

What can I learn from the Japanese? They are going through hell right now. They are learning to cope, to endure, to overcome. Everything is critical in their life right now.

I do not face these same challenges. But I'm called to the same actions of persevering, enduring, overcoming. In light of their overwhelming pain right now, the light bulb has gone on in my brain: it's called Perspective. I see things differently. I realize that I have some challenges in life, but I am not challenged to the point of death and despair. I realize that there are things I don't want to do in life, but I am not dealing with the daunting undesirable task of searching through dead bodies so that I can identify a loved one. I'm not in a season of crisis. I'm not, in any way, at the end of my rope, so to speak.

So on behalf of those who are in crisis, I contribute to the Red Cross relief efforts through my local grocery store. But more than that, I pray--for divine help, miraculous strength, a way...where there seems to be no way. And then I also set my mind about how I will deal with the challenges in my life. I want to have the right attitude, the right undercurrent of thought about every big and small problem: this is just an obstacle, a minor issue, a relational blip, a financial challenge; and I can deal with this.

It's not a feeling of guilt that teaches me this perspective. And it's not so much relief either--relief that I'm not living through the aftermath of catastrophe-- but it's the understanding that in between those two opposing worlds of guilt and relief is the healthy balance of an appreciation for Life, sweet and full, messy and frustrating, challenging and precious.

I think our Japanese friends would tell us this, that when all is said and done, a hand in yours, an embrace of comfort, an understanding look, a listening ear--these are the things we all cherish, no matter what season of life we're in. This is what Life is--the flow and the undertow, the crisis and the calm after the storm, and everything else in between that makes us look up for help and then reach out for those around us.... gratefully.

Letting Go and Holding On

Okay, this is my last book review here on Faith Fuel- and what could be more appropriate than to review Sheila Walsh's book, Let Go ?

Sheila writes in chapter 9, "One of the scariest things to do on this earth is to voice that we have a problem. Shame tells us to keep the secret, but then who is holding the keys to our prison? When we decide that it is time to tell, we find that the keys have been in our hands all along."

Well, here at Faith Fuel, its always been about sharing what's on my mind, sharing what I think is on God's heart for us, sharing with each other what we're struggling with.

I don't think any of us should ever stop sharing what we're going through. Sheila Walsh is right- that it's time to let go of the burdens and let go of the things that hold us back from experiencing the abundant life.

She is gutsy and in this book, and particularly in chapter17, she shares honestly her personal situation that prompted the writing of this book. That it involves tight finances, unforgiveness, and the flat emotions of depression easily helps any reader identify with the author- no matter how famous a speaker or Christian personality she is.

This is the gift right here in this chapter- the opening up of herself, her struggle to let go of "fixing" everything (I know all about that), to let go of mentally rehearsing what a good plan would be (my mind is exhausted, frequently, because of this very thing).

"When from the depths of our hearts we can tell God, 'I trust you,' heaven celebrates, hell shudders, and we are at peace." She's right. And one way I am expressing my trust in God is to re-examine where I need to march on, and where I need to wind down, close up shop, and be still. Just be still. Just keep my mouth closed and in silence contemplate the wonder of it all.

I'm letting go of baggage, of blunders I've made, of botched up plans. But I'm grabbing on to God's love even tighter. I'm holding on for dear life- but He says its for my own dear life that He is really the One holding on...to me.

So You Think You Will Dance?

Maybe it's because he's seen my mother , his grandmother, so shaky and frail that he got a bit alarmed at what happens as we age. Or maybe my son is going to be a future fitness tyrant enthusiastically barking out orders to flabby flailing people trying to get in shape. Whatever the reason, Alex has decided that I must get in shape; that my bones are weak, my muscles minuscule, and nothing will change about this unless he helps me.

Help me, he does. He texts me throughout the day, "Have you done your exercises? Have you done your push ups?".

I text him back- "Leave me alone. I'm reading". And I smile, shake my head, get up, and then drop- and do 10 push ups.

Ah, the joys of doing what you should do- because someone is making you do it.

I'm glad, though, that he's gotten me into this daily habit. I feel stronger. I'm flexing my little arm muscles a lot and gleaming with joy over my accomplishment. I am woman. I am strong. I am under house arrest if I don't do my exercises.

At least I can accomplsih this. Even if I can't navigate the career path, the Path to Your Success- at least I can become less flabby and more firm, resolute, fixed on being a muscular mom and not a marshmallow of a thing that ages more rapidly than I should.

I'm exercising. I'm working out. And it only happened because someone made me do it. Someone harassed and hounded me to do it- and it was for my sake that my son did all that prodding. It's for my good. The more I work out, and see the results, the more I'm glad I'm doing it.

I think that this happens a lot, in our lives. Sometimes we start doing something we never intended to do. We wound up doing it because someone intervened, the circumstances became such that we had to, or we were given a loving push off the cliff and found out we could...fly. Or rejoice, if we had to. That's what the prophet Habakkuk tells us.

^{3: 17,18} Though the fig tree may not blossom,
Nor fruit be on the vines;
Though the labor of the olive may fail,
And the fields yield no food;
Though the flock may be cut off from the fold,
And there be no herd in the stalls—
Yet I will rejoice in the LORD,
I will joy in the God of my salvation.

Because of the devastation due to the Babylonian invasion, this was a bleak time for the believers. I think of the devastating economy and unemployment figures and notices of plants closing and I think, yes, it seems like an invasion. Bad news poured in and pillaged our land. Nothing is blossoming and blooming- like it used to.

And then we read the prophet saying, "YET...". Yet will I rejoice. And more than that, he says, "I will joy in the God of my salvation." Literally, it translates out to something like "I will dance for joy in the God of my salvation."

I've seen people holding signs, "Will work for food" when I've visited spots in the inner city, and even when I was living in Spain, years ago. The things we will do- when we're hungry. When we're out of luck, out of hope.

But in this passage, it's like the prophet is saying, "Things are bad. They're so bad and so bleak, that I'm out of hope. YET, I'm that desperate for a morsel of goodness, a mouthful of sweet sustenance, that I'll do anything. I could say, 'Will work for food'- but there's none to be had. So instead, I'll declare, 'Will dance for joy'- cause I may just need joy more than anything else."

I consider doing this. I think of how I've been working out... for the sake of getting muscles. And then I think, no, that's not right. I've been working out for love's sake. My son cares about me. He worries about me getting old and frail and falling. He wants me to be strong. So he prods me to work for muscles. Work out for strength. So I do. I post a sign as I start exercising: "Aging woman. Will work for muscles. "

Then I put on some loud boisterous music and stretch out some more, take a deep breath and exhale. I look up. Heavenward. I post another sign- that I want God to read. "Tired Christian. Will Dance for Joy."

And then I start dancing with great expectation at what will come next.

To That Man in China

This guy is not falling- he was pushed. PUSHED, mind you. At an hour and time in his life when he was debating the merit and value of his soul, his life- and someone pushes him off because he's frustrated and tired of the traffic jams that this suicidal man, standing on a bridge, was causing. This AP Photo tells a lot already, but you can read more about it here.

What's wrong with people that they can't seem to find empathy for someone in trouble- if it means that their own life will be inconvenienced or troubled momentarily?? Have we really come down to this- selfish anger over someone else who we feel is "selfishly" in trouble?

It seems that this is the underlying issue in this extreme case. One man is fed up and tired of those who are not stable and strong and successful. And maybe there's an underlying attitude here that the Pusher, in this story, felt- that if you're going to cause problems in society by not pulling your own weight, then at least fall apart quietly and away from my view and my route so that I am not hindered or inconvenienced by your agony!

Yes, according to Sir Walter Scott, its a tangled web we weave when first we practise to deceive, but it's a muddy, very deep hole we fall in when second we practise to add to some one's despair! From what I understand of the story, the Pusher guy was first going to try to talk the man down, but then he got fed up with it all, slipped through the police barricade, went up to the man and shook his hand- and then pushed him.

He survived the fall- but will he survive what happened to him? He was already battling mental illness of some kind, but maybe what he was battling was that he saw cruelty and meanness in the world and maybe nobody was agreeing with him. Maybe people made light of the heaviness and depression in his soul. His personal financial crisis was also enough that the man contemplated what no one should ever get to the point of contemplating. But we do. We sometimes get to a place in life where things look so bleak, so dark, so uncertain that we are not only beside ourselves, we are sick of our self, perhaps. And that's a scary place to be- if you have no friend, no dear one, to talk you down from your perilous perch on the top of a bridge.

Last night we got together with a couple I've known for a couple years, and my best friend Mu also, and we had a feast of fellowship. There was no pushing anyone over the edge. There was simply a lot of understanding, of "getting it", of camaraderie, of intuitive listening and a lot of nodding of head in agreement. We've experience some tough times, each of us, and we understood what the other was sharing.

I haven't felt that wealthy in a long time. You are rich when you have dear loving friends, when you have people who " get you", who know you, who see your value and your heart. You are not alone- when you are known.

I wish I could get a message to the man who was pushed from the bridge. I'd tell him that what happened to him was horrible beyond belief. But I'd also tell him that I'm so sorry that he got to the point in his life that he was so despairing of life and found himself on that bridge. I'd tell him that many times, many people have gotten to crisis points in their life, and we've all been on a type of bridge, at some point in our life.

The Apostle Paul, himself, had battled despair. At one point, Paul stated that “we were burdened beyond measure, above strength, so that we despaired even of our life. Yes, we had the sentence of death in ourselves, that we should not trust in ourselves but in God who raises the dead” (2 Corinthians 1:8-9).

But did you see that little tiny word in the above passage? Did you note that he said "we were burdened beyond measure"? There's nothing worse than being burdened and alone. But if we can go through tough times and crisis points with the arm of fellow comrade or friend around our shoulders, how blessed we are- even if we are blessed and burdened at the same time.

I'm so sorry, dear sir in South China, that you were burdened beyond belief. But I'm even more sorry that you felt so alone. I hope you feel the love and the prayers of those of us who have decided you shall not be alone anymore. We bathe you in our prayers. We uphold you with loving support, and we tell God- help this man, please. Overwhelm him not with trouble, but with your love. Let him know he is not alone.

Every Time I Eat an Avocado

I stuffed myself with more fajitas than I should have eaten, really- but only because I had put chopped avocado in the fajitas I custom designed, and I just can't say no to avocado or anything that has avocado in it. Sprinkle salt and pepper on a half a ripe avocado and eat it right out of the skin. Delicious.

I never eat an avocado without thinking of my Dad. Never. He was the one who introduced me to the taste of avocado- as well as to any other interesting, exotic, foreign flavor. Dad would be eating an avocado with a spoon and glancing over at me (well, glancing down at me, because I was little) and he would purse his lips and murmur how delicious it was and how I could not have any avocado.

But maybe someday I might be able to taste it, he would add. Someday. And so one day after he thought I had waited long enough, had longed for it long enough (because that was what he was trying to do- get me to long for something I wouldn't have normally longed for), he gave me a taste of it. And of course, I loved it. Mission accomplished.

So tonight, like several nights a week, I ate half an avocado, thought of my Dad, remembered how he wanted to always introduce me to the best and brightest of flavors and experiences. He still wants me to have the best of experiences. I thought of him tonight, and I thought of how he was trying so hard to be tender and caring with my Mom the other day.

Mom's not doing too well. It's getting bad again- the depression, her desire to stay in bed, the fear. I didn't handle it well. I had gone over for a visit and tried to get my Mom to enjoy the new clothes we had bought her: soft, pastel cotton tops, comfortable velour sweat pants, a sweater with pockets for her tissues. But that kind of comfort and beauty wasn't going to meet her need that day.

Dad was patient. He tried to talk to her and get her to accept our love, our help, our interest in trying to make things nicer for her. We wanted her to come for a drive with us, and get a bite to eat. She wanted to stay in bed. She wanted to sleep and let the world fade away- let whatever was bothering her fade into dreamland. She closed her eyes and took her nap. We took a deep breath...and went out for a quick lunch. And the world went on. I came home. Went to sleep. Got up today. Went about my day. Enjoyed the sunlight. Ate an avocado tonight.

This has been a long journey. Our whole family is on an interesting bumpy, uphill, sometimes downhill journey. It's a long journey spiced with good memories and sometimes sad ones, and flavored with love, salty tears, trying times, special times, and yes, the wonderful taste of avocado.

When the Power Returns

Now here is when you don't need to care what you look like: when it's dark, cold, and you're in the middle of a storm. Literally. The blizzard (well, more of an ice storm) hit us Thursday late at night. At 4:46am the power went off. The cold began- both outside the house and inside.

Friday morning I stumbled around the house, in the early morning hour, dressed in pajamas (mismatched), an aqua fleece robe, and Bill's coffee-stained white robe on top of that. I looked huge, Abby told me when she woke up. I felt warm, though- and that's what mattered. We heard the sleeting ice outside and the cracking sound of falling tree limbs everywhere. It was time for a pioneer type of survival, and the three of us relished the change of pace. This is what we do best. This is something we know- how to make do in a quasi-emergency of sorts.

Bill went to the family farm to pick up our generator we had in storage. This is the generator we bought back when we built our house, our dream house- not the house we are in now, but the one we always talk about like the way fishermen talk about the one that got away.

Abby and I holed up on the couch with more blankets over us and tons of books around us. We ate chunks of cheddar cheese (opening the fridge just once, lest we lose the remaining cool air left inside) and Pepperidge Farm Snack Sticks- toasted sesame baked with a touch of garlic. Delicious. (We also found juice boxes in the pantry downstairs and brought them up to our little fort). Then we cocooned into the couch and we read. And read.

When Bill got back with the generator, he rigged up a system where we could have heat and the coffee maker going at the same time. It was around 3pm when I first got that blissful cup of coffee. Then we heard the mailman roar up to our mailbox and we looked at each other in amazement. That old adage is true about neither sleet nor snow nor rain nor hail will keep you from getting your U.S. mail (or something like that).

And guess what was in the mail? The first of those two books I was waiting for!And this is the greatest part of our whole adventure with this Northeast Blizzard- that in the midst of it all, something I waited for, something I really needed to read- arrived! I had already read through a whole novel earlier in the day and was in need of something else to read. What I had eaten for the day, so far, was crackers and cheese. Later I would eat half a baked potato for my dinner and then a piece of leftover blueberry pie. That's what I had as far as food for the stomach.

But as for food for the soul....ah, now that's another matter. This book- Think and Make it Happen- sounds so cheerful and almost shallow by its title. It might even sound, to some, to be rather carnal- as though we replace God with the power of our mind and then we are all hunky dory.

But that's not what Dr. Augusto Cury is writing about. He is intent on addressing a very sad conclusion: that humans are living way beneath our God-given potential. And when it comes to thinking correctly, you have to deal with emotions and personalities because "the mind is really our control tower- the source of every word we speak, every action we take, every emotion we feel, and every thought we have."

Now, I never consciously realized that I had an unspoken rule about which books I read when it comes to self-help; but I realized as I read the first couple pages of this book that I did have a rule- an important one- that made me continue on with a book or made me toss it aside. Here's the rule: I have to see that the motivation for the book came out of a personal experience where the author triumphed over something and thereby wanted to share with others that victory. I can't stick with a book if I read it and see pride or arrogance splayed across the page. I can't read a book if legalism or fear of transgressing a law makes the author rigidly adhere to a certain success formula and then he wants to "share" it with me, the reader.

But that's not what I saw here in this book. I saw that the author, a learned and degreed gentleman, had an experience with depression while in medical school and that it was probably excruciating. He faced something dark and bitterly cold in his soul. Maybe he wasn't at all prepared for this type of ice storm that hit him. But he was prepared, years later, to share what he learned through it all, "that when the world abandons us, the loneliness can be overcome, but when we abandon ourselves, the loneliness is almost unbearable".

Don't abandon yourself, Lauren- I whispered to myself as I read the first couple pages. I've been so frustrated lately, so overcome with a sense of feeling unable and inept. And here, when I read these words, and outside the trees kept creaking and groaning under the weight of all the ice, I suddenly realized how I don't really need answers from God as much as I need a new perspective of myself, our situation, our past, our future.

I need a pick-me-up in my spirit, the way that a fighter needs a pep talk from his trainer after a particularly long, grueling fight where he looks like ground up sausage and feels worse than that. The ice storm is about over. Power is starting to be returned to households across the area, across the state, across the entire Northeast. And power has been given even unto me, to overcome, to run and not get weary, to rise up, and to rise up again and again every time I fall.

Can't wait to start reading chapter 2. I'm restricting myself with this book: there's so much to take in that I can't race through it. I'm savoring the journey. I'm dressed for the cold. And I'm ready for the sunshine...whenever it may come.

Your Choice of Words

What a week this past week was. I had tried to write a post here, had written a couple sentences, and had asked my husband if he thought I sounded too negative, too drained of life, as I recounted what this past week was like.

"Do you have to use the word grueling to describe it?" he asked me.

"Well, yes, " I answered back, surprised that he didn't see the aptness of the word. "This past week was one of the most grueling weeks in this entire year."

I know what he was thinking, though. A lot of good things happened this week- why should it be a grueling week? We had our son home this week, on Thanksgiving break from college. We had just been down to our niece's wedding in Nashville over the weekend. Then we drove home and celebrated Thanksgiving with a delicious feast at my sister's house on Thursday. And yesterday we got to go to church and worship and hear a message shared by a man who described himself as a pilgrim. I had poked Bill in the arm when the speaker said that word. That word has particular meaning for us.

So we had a meaningful week; a week of celebration and connection with loved ones. But it was emotionally grueling (and even physically, because of all the days of driving and the fact that I don't think we had a single night where we got to sleep more than six hours). And this morning when we got up at 4am ( yes, four o'clock in the morning), and drove to the airport to send our son back to college in Kentucky, we found out, once there, that he couldn't get his connecting flight. Holiday delays and bad weather were mounting an assault on our best laid plans. The next available flight for him would be tomorrow.

Forget about having all your ducks in a row. "For you have need of endurance" (Hebrews 10:36) comes to my mind. But what I'm craving and calling out for, right now, is refreshment- not the ability to endure. Refresh me, God- give me a second wind! Or at least 8 hours of sleep tonight, and maybe I'll see that the second wind is always available.

When you're weary or worn out, you are open to discouragement and depression. And I'm well aware of that creeping enemy of our soul that loves to capitalize on our times of being flat out of fuel. All week long I had a terrible running inner dialogue going that showed I was starting to talk myself down. I was not encouraging myself. I was not building myself up. And sometimes, sometimes, you just have to build yourself up if others don't see that you're fatigued in spirit and flailing and falling. Sometimes you just have to say the words, to yourself, that you need to hear:

He's with you.
HE is able to save.
He rules.
He reigns.
And He loves you- even when you feel tired and flat as a pancake.
He loves you.

All Kinds of Victory

The last couple nights I have slept terribly. I wake up with a throbbing heavy head, feeling exhausted and confused. Can't remember what I dreamt. There are no symbols or images in my mind to help me understand what I was grappling with in my sleep. Whatever answer I was trying to find, I didn't find it in my dreams.

I spent yesterday sighing a lot. Not good. For me that is the tinge of something near to depression. But its just a tinge; like a spot of mold on your cheddar cheese, and you decide it's only a spot and wipe it off...and then eat the rest of the cheese. And so yesterday I kept wiping off that tinge of darkness that hovered near me. I kept going over lessons with Abby, giving her a vocab test, making us a healthy lunch, running out to the post office and then grocery store later in the afternoon. But I did all this with the sheerest of determination and grit- like a cowboy on a dry dusty trail who finds out the trail is longer than he expected and so he digs in, he keeps going, but he feels lost.


It didn't help that in the morning I was reading the early news about the election results, and I was scanning forums and sites where people were writing words of exultation as well as scathing words of hostility, viciousness, and attack . One man won a presidency, there was a victory-and yet there was a lot of alarm, fear, and despair. I tried not to let this plague of distress enter my newly found grateful-thankful mindset...but it did. I felt my optimism and my happy outlook burst like a balloon that was shot at by a nasty little boy with a slightly evil grin. Even at the grocery store, it seemed like people were rude and mean, and children were out of control and screaming and flailing. One little boy was threatening to run out in the road and the mother was nervously trying to placate him as well as keep him alive at the same time.

"I never had to do that," I told Abby as we headed to the car with our groceries.

"Never had to do what?" she asked.

"I never had to worry about Alex acting up and throwing tantrums and terrifying strangers who passed by. He was a pretty mild kid," I paused in my reverie and then smiled at her. "But he made up for all that in his teenage years, didn't he?!". I wanted her to know that I try not to idealize the past. There are all kinds of pasts: the recent past, the real past, the long-ago past, the past that never really occurred but we keep thinking it did.

Here's why I often return to the past- cause that's when I can see God's hand, His presence, a lot better than I can see it in my "now". Like right now, I know He's with me, that He's for me, but is He in front of me paving the way? Because I often feel like I am in uncharted territory, stumbling forward only to look back for His approval of my direction and seeing that He is not there.

"Why do you look for the living among the dead?...He is not here" the angel said (Luke 24). Why do I keep looking back to see if I can find answers for my future? My past can't help me go forward- especially if I am often repeating it! And if I repeat a lesson that I already learned, that I thought I learned, then where exactly am I- in the past, or in the future regretfully remembering the past?

Either way my feet are dogged by memory, by the good memory of seeing how God intervened, and by regret over how bad it was, over how bad I was. But at least I am pretty clear on what happened in my past. I am not clear on what is happening now. If God is in front of me paving the way, I can't see Him, that's for sure. I can't always feel His presence. I only feel my frantic beating heart on those days where I wake up in a hostile world and remember that I have to go out into it. I do hear His words, though, calling to me from up ahead: Do it afraid, Lauren. Do it afraid.

And if I stumble ahead and go grocery shopping and grade a test and make dinner- even though I'm thinking Does any of this matter- if I do all this feeling wretched and dry and short on air, I find that this pleases Him. This. It's so ironic. I feel queasy and unstable- but He sees, instead, a beautiful sight. He calls it....Faith.

"And without faith it is impossible to please Him, for he who comes to God must believe that He is and that He is a rewarder of those who seek Him"(Hebrews 11:6). It's just that it seems God always wants to reward me with more opportunities to get to know Him, more chances to stumble ahead, and that's not exactly the Reward I had in mind.

I had in mind a warm blanket and a soft chair; a chance to exult in my recent victory of faith (Lord, I was grateful and optimistic for three whole days!). I had in mind a soothing, "Well done, my child". And instead I hear Him say- from ahead- "Now let's go onward, shall we?".

And so that's what I do.

Through it All

One child has a sinus and ear infection, the other child (young man) has pneumonia. He's very sick. The dog, even, has an infected mysterious spot on his back, and we are concerned about that. Thankfully we have the best of doctors, and amazingly the children's doctors' office is less than a mile from our house.

This morning as we got ready to go the doctors (they were open this weekend), we had a short little "service" in our living room. Very short- as our son was half asleep on the couch, and looking very ill. Our daughter wanted to share some Scripture verses with us that SHE felt strongly about. We smiled as she led our service. Lead on! We prayed and thanked God for His grace.We felt thankful that we have these minor illnesses to deal with. We know that there are many who are dealing with heavy, severe trials of disease and chronic illness. We have to deal with something that is treatable (even if we do have to watch carefully over our son's health due to his history of Asthma and pneumonia).

Lately, all I see is God's hand of Grace...in the midst of our small trials and obstacles. It's not that I don't think God wants to show up in some big Victories for us. He does. But for now, we are dealing with a number of concerns, obstacles, challenges, predicaments. And I see how God wants to be the stabilizing force in our life, the Hand that under girds us, the Way Maker, the Light, the Fire that continually reignites within us when we get weary or start to do too much sighing.

When I sigh a lot, I know something is wrong. It's not that I can't get weary or tired or that I am not allowed to ever feel overwhelmed. But sighing is- for me- a sign of impending despair. And that is one thing I can not ever afford to have in my life.

Despair is not supposed to be my portion in this life. Here's why:
Despair means you are without hope, and that you sense there is no way out.

a state in which everything seems wrong and will turn out badly; ...

the feeling that everything is wrong and nothing will turn out well

abandon hope; give up hope; lose heart; ...
wordnet.princeton.edu/perl/webwn

I am not ever giving up hope. I have more hope than ever. I have more confidence than ever in the hand of God, the loving heart of God, the will of God, and the plan of God for my life. I see more than ever that I don't have the answers, that I don't have resources for the challenges of my own making. I perceive that God's resources are not only stored up for me, but that He waits for my recognition of this fact and longs for me to tap into what HE has in mind for the battle at hand, the problem ahead, the challenge that looks too daunting for me to handle.

"Be strong and let your heart take courage, All you who hope in the LORD" Ps. 31:24. Let your heart take hold of what He has- and don't let yourself get near that dreaded word- despair.

There's no reason not to experience more of what He has laid up for you: hope, increased perception of His grace and His strength, and a path to take THROUGH the raging seas.

The Lifeblood of our Soul

I slept well, last night, for the first night this week. Bill is not coughing as much anymore and therefore I am sleeping better. He is becoming stronger and more like his usual self: the humor is returning, the joking and the teasing are starting again. I used to really get irritated by all that, but then I realized I need to be provoked into laughter. I need to not take myself so seriously.

I've been reading Beth Moore's book, Get Out of that Pit. Here and there, as I read, I'll catch a glimpse of myself, my chronic battle, and the things I fight. "The close confinement of a pit exhausts us with the endless echo of self-absorption...We can't see out, so we turn our sights in. After a while, nearsightedness breeds hopelessness. We feel too buried in our present state to feel passionate about a promised future."

When we battle some inner demons- whether its depression, worry, anxiety- we often are battling from a point of looking inward, looking down, and looking even at our past. But when we realize that we are in a pit, and that a pit is not supposed to be our permanent abode- we get mad and that fires up our soul. We get provoked to a perspective that includes the possibility of blue sky, new horizons, potential victory. Even laughter itself is a type of weapon. When you laugh you are telling the enemy of your soul that you are not at all riled up about his assault. When you laugh, you are looking heavenward, and you can see the power of God. You can almost feel it and you anticipate it.

Today I want to walk in the knowledge that His power is available for me. More than available. It has my name on it. God has designed powerful strategies for overcoming, and He wants me to know them, use them.

He wants me to remind my mom of this today. She's battling depression. And on top of that, she physically is more encumbered than I am- her body is old, her bones are brittle. But that can't be the determining factor of what she gets to enjoy. I'm going to lie down on the bed next to my mom and tell her that I've been feeling old and weary too. I lost perspective about some things. And then I'm going to hold her hand and pray that we can both know His power in our lives- even if His power shows up in a different way for her than it will for me. What does God's power at work in our life accomplish? I don't know, exactly. It's always something new, bigger, bolder than I could have imagined. I don't think I'm supposed to know how far we can go with God's power at work in us.

It doesn't matter if it's a deep pit you're in, or a tomb (as in Jesus' case)- there will be a Resurrection. Power to get out of the pit. Resurrection power. That's the lifeblood of our soul. It isn't just getting out of the pit that we have to concern ourselves with- it's going beyond the pit to the mountain top vantage point that helps us see how we have eagle's wings. We have so much more than we realized. That same power that raised Christ from the dead is at work in me, in you- and we don't know the half of it. We're just touching the hem of His garment and already we are emboldened, brightened, and ready to follow Him onward.

Battle Strategy

I somehow knew this battle was coming. I'm not talking about a confrontation with my teenage son, or with any other person. This is one of those battles with the unseen realm. Sometimes a combination of challenges, along with a sudden realization that you live precariously on the edge, along with the darker days of the dead of winter- all combine to leave you shaky on your feet, dry in the mouth. You wonder what in the world just hit you?!

I can't even tell you all the factors involved in this scene. Some I can share and some are private. When you're blogging, you have to continually decide what is helpful to share, what is humorous or sad, and what confidences would betray your soul if you shared them too early or too frequently with the world at large.

In a nut shell, I just am suddenly in the midst of upheaval. That's what you need to know. And what I'm battling for is stability, hope, and the confident conviction that my hope in God will not be in vain. Traveling on a small regional plane in a couple days does not help me right now. This adds to my feeling of being up the air about so many things. Having a self employed husband in the remodeling/housing industry which is critically failing right now- that doesn't help me feel grounded. Our part in helping our son get through college- that is so overwhelming right now. And then add in wanting to be a freelance writer, wanting to take that blessedly unstable career track? Am I crazy? I've never felt more sane, but so unsafe.

So I call out to God for His counsel, His strengthening presence. "This hope we have as an anchor of the soul, both sure and steadfast,..." says Hebrews 6:19. My NKJV commentary says, "An anchor is only as secure as that to which it is fastened." Hold on tight,Lauren- I tell myself. Hold onto Him and you can't go wrong.

"For you have need of endurance" begins Hebrews 10:36. Hupomone is the word in Biblical Greek. "It describes the capacity to continue to bear up under difficult circumstances not with passive complacency but with a hopeful fortitude that actively resists weariness and defeat."

That's the word, then, for this hour, this battle: Hupomone. Now I think hopeful fortitude has a certain look to it. It reminds me of an adult with a backpack on, who walks around with a smile and a helium balloon in their hand. They have a burden they're carrying, so to speak. But they are actively displaying a hope so boldly that they almost look ridiculous. Adults generally don't love walking around with childlike joy and a balloon in their hand. It singles you out of the crowd. Makes you look a little bit strange. People roll your eyes at you. "Don't get your hopes up" is a constant silent admonition we tell each other in the adult world.

Well, I have two choices. I can go down with the ship- let my emotions overwhelm me and suffocate me. I can feel like I'm drowning in fear or despair, gulping in water, flailing my arms as I go down, down, down with the feeling of the weight of the world on me.

Or I can let hope arise. It's a gutsy thing to do. Hope will lift you, cause you to rise up. You're anchored to Him and Christ has not remained in the grave. He has risen- just as He said He would. You're fixing your eyes on Him with all you've got. It doesn't matter what is causing you to feel down, overwhelmed, or dismayed. If you're in a battle, you're the one who knows what you feel like, what you need.

You and I need to bear up under difficult times. But we have the capacity to do so. He gave it to us. So I'm not casting away my confidence. I'm not silently (and supposedly heroically) going down with the ship. I'm reaching out with faith toward the One who can lift me up. You may just spot me carrying a balloon bobbing up high in the sky. I've got to do that. It's not a party I'm at. It's a battle. But I've got what it takes to wage war. He has given me hope.

"And hope does not disappoint us....".

Beyond Words

The movie, Persuasion, was good. Not great. Not as good as the film with Ciaran Hinds starring as Captain Wentworth. I thought the character development in last night's adaptation was weak. I could not connect with this version of Captain Wentworth, and could not see what motivated him, really. The previous dark haired Ciaran Hinds with his blazing eyes and strong set of his chin said so much more than last night's version of Captain Wentworth.

Before the movie, we had a family birthday party for Alex. He is 18. My father, brother, two sisters, and one nephew came to celebrate with us and to enjoy one of the best apple pies I have made in a long time. I may have just gotten my old baking touch back again. I didn't burn it. It wasn't dry or tasteless.

One thing that is never dry at these family gatherings is our conversations. Last night's rowdy conversation around the dining room table covered the republicans and democrats running for president, the efficacy of drinking raw milk verses pasteurized, how Americans use too much anti-bacterial hand soap and we may need to get back to playing in the dirt more, and the recent trouble my Mom is having with depression, again.

"Mom has the parapatitas," my brother said as he and my Dad entered through the front door last night. That word meant something to our family even it made no sense to anyone else. We talked about some of the signs of her health, how to read them, and how to know if it's okay so far; how to tell if we're in a rough sea in a tippy boat or if we're just gliding quietly, very quietly, on our own course of needing to be left alone.

I asked Dad how we got the expression "parapatitas". There's a Spanish expression "patitas en al aire" meaning you're flat on your back with your feet up in the air. Mom, at one point in describing her version of that phrase Dad used, just added "para" to the one word she heard. Some where along the way, we adopted it as one of the expressions we use to describe when Mom is feeling the effects of age, ill health, emotional fatigue. Some of us feel these things more acutely. Some of us have bodies that shut down when weary. Some of us battle this onslaught less effectively than we'd like to.

So there we were enjoying a good family discussion, eating a remarkably good pie for someone who hasn't done well lately in the baking department, and missing the one person who always makes our times lively and sweet. We were celebrating the birthday of a young man who is on the launching pad, ready to take off towards his dreams. We were also celebrating being a family, through thick and thin.

I looked around at everyone at the table. You could see everybody's expression, hear their words, and hear a bit of what was going on inside them. But it's always just a bit. There's way more deep down inside. Some of us just don't express everything we're thinking. And some of us look like we are.

But it's just the tip of the iceberg.

Unfinished Business

I am waking up in the morning, these last couple days, with a head heavy with fragments of dreams and unfinished thoughts. I've obviously been trying to mentally process a lot of unfinished business.

Last night we sat watching our daughter sing at her Christmas concert. She was radiant and beautiful, but of course, we are biased. We are also exhausted. Bill is physically tired, all the time. He looks better at 48 then he did at 28, bulging with muscles and finding his shirts too tight on the arms. That's what comes from hard, heavy labor, from swinging a hammer, from holding up sheet rock, from construction and remodeling. After dinner, he is usually falling asleep on the couch by 7pm. I don't begrudge him a single moment of that blessed rest.

The only muscles in my body that are tired are my mental muscles. My brain. I am mentally weary, right now. Perhaps even emotionally weary. I have been taking in a lot of info, but not really responsible to decide anything by what I hear. Listening is hard work. Listening means hearing something but not always having something you can do about what you hear.

So this morning, after I got everyone off, and Harry threw his toy around the room in an unusual burst of energy, I walked around my little house, hearing the icy rain come down, feeling so utterly grateful for the silence. And even feeling thankful for my little house.

I have not always been thankful for where I live. I never liked this house. I barely looked around in it when we told the realtor, two and half years ago, "We want to make an offer on it."

We had just returned from a year living in North Carolina- a type of sabbatical we had created for ourselves. It was a year where we delighted in southern warmth and graciousness, hated living in a house rental, and tried to find if down there might be a path for us that continued onward. When we returned to the great northeast (hear my sarcasm?), the housing market was hot and heavy. Crazy, really. We knew enough about housing values to not try to compete and pay top dollar for something that would decrease in value within a year or two.

So when we found our ugly ranch for sale, and found out the low asking price, we thought this could work. We spent more time looking around the full walk-out basement than we did looking at the ugly upstairs, because this is where the potential was. This is where we would do something, where we would finish off the lower level and create a little extra space for us to breathe.

Two and half years later, it looks like a warm, rustic retreat in the woods. Turkeys and deer cross our back yard. Squirrels frolic and birds fly from tree to tree to tree. It is my own personal retreat center. Not my dream house.Not my spacious place to stretch out in- but it is home. We've lived here longer than we thought we would because we have not sensed it was time to go on to another remodeling project.

Waiting is hard work. Waiting to do something significant and meaningful can feel like an elephant sitting on your chest or like a muscle man holding back your arms. But there's always work to be done while waiting.

Even if you are waiting for an opened door, a sign from God, a way to go, there is still unfinished business to attend to. I'm not just talking about filing, sorting and organizing. (I have come to hate that word- organization. Too much is praised as being organized. An organized life- what is that?! An organized family- I've never met one. I've only met people who think their life is tidy and organized. They are, though, just one step away from a sudden turn in the road that throws their planning out the door and opens them up to the unknown).

Unfinished business can include settling your own thoughts about a relationship, deciding how to view yourself in light of something or someone who might make you feel not so sure of yourself or your freedom. Maybe it includes finally deciding how you will "redeem the time" while you are waiting for an open door.

Some of the most determined people I know don't go around saying how determined they are. They just wear a look on the face that says I mean business. My kids have seen me wear that look. When their playful taunting of me enters into a different territory, watch out. No matter how weary I get, don't press me too far in disrespecting me. I'm your mother. I may be petite but I mean business!!

Now I'm not sure what unfinished business I have to take care of. I only know that I do have some to deal with. I can tell because I am walking slower, dreading certain encounters, and not wanting to talk much. I am very conscious of my sub- conscious understanding that there is a cost for declaring your priorities, your values, your progress that you intend to make. The progress includes walking away from any falsehood, especially lying to yourself. The truth will set you free, but it will also catapult you into new territory that you already know is rough terrain. Not impossible terrain, but rough, uneven.

I found this passage in the Message version of the Bible. It says what I'm dealing with, what my heart longs for:

Barricade the road that goes Nowhere;
grace me with your clear revelation.
I choose the true road to Somewhere,
I post your road signs at every curve and corner.
I grasp and cling to whatever you tell me;
God, don't let me down!
I'll run the course you lay out for me
if you'll just show me how.
Psalm 119:29-32

When you deal with things that hold you back, you wind up walking or even running in the path of His commands. Graced with clear revelation, you decide to deal with things that must be dealt with, so that you can walk a step farther on the true road to Somewhere.

When You See my Scars

It's Saturday morning, and it's time to clean house. I mean, really clean it- and not just pretend I am. It would help if I went out and bought a vacuum cleaner that actually works, instead of using the one I have that smokes and growls loudly as I push it across the carpet, making a lot of noise,but doing...nothing. I need to clean out my overflowing bedroom closet and sort things around my desk. It is an absolute mess, my room.

And the kitchen- that should be attended to. If I look out the window, I'm inspired enough to keep washing the pots and pans, scrub counters, contemplate the view, and reflect on my life while my hands are in sudsy, hot water.

As long as I am not the one in hot water right now, then I can handle having a messy house. But I can't handle having a mess of a soul. I can't cope if I have hidden emotions, not dealt with, and lies of the soul that I want to cling to- that no one would know are there. And who helps you really do a deep soul cleaning? There is no commercial service that can come in and clean up your soul- in one day.

So while I clean house today, I may just sort out some old ideas I have been holding onto. I may let go of some things. In the case of my book proposal on dealing with depression, I have to decide if "this" is the book that should be written.

It may be that I am more like my old vacuum cleaner than I realize. It may be that I am working and looking like I am "doing" something. But the reality is that I could just be giving off a lot of smoke and not accomplishing what I set out to do.

My Book Proposal came out of a workshop series I taught on last year. There was a great response to it. But not because I am some expert- although you usually look like an expert if you share on something that has not taken you down for the count- and kept you down. Women wanted to hear someone just talk about the biggies of fear, anxiety, depression and worry.

I think some women were not so much looking for answers to these issues, but were looking for someone just to say that she struggled with them. This person- me- had to look reasonably sane, and hopeful; had to be someone who made it so far, in spite of these emotions and realities dogging their journey. So I stood there, last year, during this 4 week series, as a reflection of hope to these women. I was a symbol of success to them mainly by the fact that I was still standing. That's what they needed to see- someone who could talk about painful realities and stand, smiling, not scarred to the bone.

I'm not disfigured by fear anymore. But I do have scars. And that's what people want to see. Usually that's what encourages them, helps them know that you are real, and that they - being real- can make it on this journey through dark cavernous places.

Edward Shillito expressed this truth in his poem, Jesus of the Scars:

If we have never sought, we seek Thee now:
Thine eyes burn through the dark, our only stars;
We must have sight of thorn-pricks on Thy brow,
We must have Thee, O Jesus of the Scars.

The heavens frighten us; they are too calm;
In all the universe we have no place.
Our wounds are hurting us; where is the balm?
Lord Jesus, by Thy Scars, we claim Thy grace.
....
The other gods were strong; but Thou wast weak;
They rode, but Thou didst stumble to a throne;
But to our wounds only God's wounds can speak,
And not a god has wounds, but Thou alone.

So when people see me stumbling about in attempts to clean house, in my effort to draw near to God, they may be encouraged by how it looks to the eye to be made whole. It looks like a mess, often. You stand, somewhat exposed or raw. You share how you asked God, Put the salve here please. This is where it hurts.

That's why the books I will write have to be centered on...reality. I will have to zero in, even tighter, on things we normally back away from. I will have to be ruthless and daring. That doesn't come naturally to me- in spite of how some see me.

We are clamoring to know answers. Some of us are more in reach of these answers simply because we have put an honest hand out, raised it up, waved it furiously, and God came running. Or it least it seemed He came running.

The reality is, He was there all along. We just sensed His arrival because our eyes were suddenly opened, and we saw Him there. And then we took a stand, with Him supporting us. Or we wrote a book, daring to share with the world...what the world somehow knows, yet yearns to hear again and again.

There is a balm in Gilead. There is a salve that takes away the stain- but never takes away the scars. Take heart, though.Share those scars with the world. He meant for you to do so.

For the Living

Being in the right place at the right time can seem like an intelligent, purposeful thing we must do. But often it happens when we are bumbling around or flying out the door to a destination and God stops you in your tracks. It's just that when God helps you be in the right place at the right time, you often look like you're simply late for an appointment, or falling apart, messing up your organized day.

Yesterday, a day when I felt a black cloud over me but didn't want to dwell on why, I came home from the library, started to carry groceries I had bought earlier up to the house, got inside, stumbling around, trying to find room on the counter for all my bags, my purse, my dangling keys. The phone rings and it's my husband.

"Honey, Abby wound up taking the bus home, and she needs you to pick her up at the bus stop right now"- which was a drop off point ten minutes from our house. As he's talking, Abby calls me on my cell phone and I switch to her, "Yes, Abby, I'm on my way right now!" and I run out, locking the door behind me, only to get to my car and find out I have locked my keys inside the house.

To make a long story short, I fortunately had my cell phone on me and called Bill and sent him racing to meet the bus in time, while I stood outside and wandered around, trying to avoid Harry's poops all over the ground. I knew I would have about twenty to thirty minutes of doing nothing, so I wandered around the yard, near the woods. And wandered towards the front of the house...and then I saw them.

Two adorable little dogs , with the tags on their collars jangling like Christmas bells, were running down the street- in the middle of the road. Cars came whizzing around the blind corner we live on and narrowly missed one dog. I tried to call the dogs.

"Come here, sweet doggies," I called out. "Come on," I invited them- in my most inviting tone of voice. But they weren't buying. And they were not street smart either. They zig -zagged over the road, confused, frightened, and maybe a little happy for the adventure they were on- unaware they were in danger of losing their lives.

They took off in the other direction, now going up the street towards the main road- a busy, highly trafficked road where many accidents occurred- even without the addition of two sweet but stupid dogs prancing along.

I called Animal control and got the pager. Punched in my number. I get a call back and I yell out "Hurry!" and proceed to give him my street address and the details of these two little lost dogs.

"Oh, no" he says and then the officer is on his way. I can't see the two little dogs anymore and I'm guessing they are near the busy main road. I 'm standing on the hill in front our house and see my husband's work truck coming down the street. He has Abby with him, and as they get out of the truck, I tell them what has happened.

It all ended, miraculously, on a good note. I say miraculously because when the Animal Control Officer kindly called me back to relay the owner had gotten her dogs back safe and sound, he proceeded to share with me that this morning's incident with another dog in the street did not end so nicely.

Because I locked myself out of the house, all in a dither, I just happened to be at the right place at the right time to help save two little dogs' lives. For dog lovers out there, this is a big deal. For the more rational of sorts, this is not life changing news.

But let me tell you what I learned from this. This morning I chose to read some Scripture from Ecclesiastes- my book of choice when life is confusing, I'm not reading the signals from God too well, and I want to know if it's really worth all the effort I am putting into this thing called life. I turn the page and read this verse:

"But for him who is joined to all the living there is hope, for a living dog is better than a dead lion." Eccl.9:4

During the day yesterday, the fight had gone out of me. I can't tell you all the other circumstances as to why, but let's just say that I was aware that I had some influences in my life who were not "for" me. I did not feel like a roaring ,majestic lion yesterday. I felt like a pillow that had lost most of its stuffing- flat and worn out.

Then this episode with these adorable but confused little dogs happens. And God tells me something in all this: First, that I WAS in the right place at the right time.

And secondly, that it's better to be a living dog- maybe a little dumb at times as to safely navigating the roads of life. But at least I was alive. This world's exploits are for the living. And a living dog is better than a dead lion.

That's for sure.

When You Change Your Mind

It was hard to share last night, with the 60 women that were there for the Women's LIFE workshop, about a time in my life when I changed my mind. It wasn't the changed mind that was hard to share- that was the wonderful, turning point of my life! But what brought about this change of mind was years of striving to be accepted by God, fear of God, and inner chaos.

I don't like to remember such inner turmoil. All this occurred when I was growing up, in spite of the fact that I grew up in a home with Christian parents and was taught the Word of God everywhere I went. I knew a lot about God and His requirements, but I did not understand at all what the Good News, the Gospel, was. It all seemed like bad news to me: there was a heaven but there was a hell- and in spite of hearing about salvation, I was scared I might still end up there; there was a righteous Holy God- and I didn't think I could ever satisfy His requirements to walk in a worthy manner.

I may share here on this blog about days of interpersonal clashes (a nice way of saying my son was acting up and I was falling down), times of pain ( a gentle way of saying I'm tired of dealing with stuff and it makes feel like I'm getting old and gray), and times where I am wondering how God will get me further along on the path when I have stalled. But sharing about these times with you all do not trouble me as much- because I always have hope, and even when I'm really down, I do not feel lost. Not anymore. But sharing about my past- when I felt like a ship in a storm with no anchor- that I just don't like to dwell on or recount. But I did last night.

I shared with the women what I hadn't talked about in a long while. That years ago, all the way till I was 21, I was normal looking on the outside and just in shambles on the inside. I felt lost and so in a panic, so insecure- and with too much Bible knowledge but no revelation of the LOVE that God poured out to me, the hand He extended to me when Christ died on the cross.

And then I went to Spain, my junior year of college, and lived there a year. It started out great: cafe con leche, dancing at night, chats with friends at outside cafes. Then the novelty wore off, and the old feelings I had returned. Instead of the enjoying the heights of excitement and foreign intrigue, I plummeted , inwardly, into despair.

Jentezen Franklin writes in his book, Right People, Right Place, Right Plan:
"until your misery factor exceeds your fear factor, you won't change."

He's right. When my inner misery mounted to the point that I called out to God- in spite of the fact that I was afraid of Him- I changed my mind at that point. I realized that after all my years of trying to be good that I could not do it, and that had to be admitted. I simply told God, "I can't do this anymore." God replied to me, "Well, I can. Let me do it in you." And that's when I changed my mind about who I was, and Who God was and HOW I could make it in this world.

I knew I was a sinner- but I found out that not only is there a Savior- but that He knows we cannot do a thing to make ourselves worthy of being loved by Him. He loves us-in spite of the huge debt we owe, when it comes to righteousness. So He paid it all, for us. I saw that, finally. I realized what it was God offered to us, and what He wanted from us, which was -to change our mind.

That's what I did, back in 1982, in Spain. I changed my mind about WHO I could trust to lead me- and it was no longer myself that I wanted in the driver's seat.

It's called Repentance. That's what we are called to do upon hearing the good news that the Kingdom of God is at hand: Repent! But it isn't repent- as in grovel and loathe yourself because you are a sinner. Repentance is not even regret, so much, over your sin.

In the Greek, the word repentance is commonly translated as "a change of mind". To "see" something, decide what the truth is about it, and embrace it- that's what we are called to do when we are presented with the Good News, the Gospel.

The good, the bad, and the ugly- here it is, in reverse order: the ugly truth is that you're a sinner and I'm a sinner, the bad news is that you can't enter in to heaven as a sinner, but the good news is that there is a Savior with full recognition of your lost state, and HE made a way for you!!

God did it ALL. He wants us to simply acknowledge this powerful truth. If we grovel, feel lousy about ourselves and the mistakes we make, that isn't repentance. That's just us being frustrated that we can't do the good we know to do. False humility, smacking ourselves around mentally, chastising ourselves for being imperfect- what is new about that thinking? That's the same-old same-old. Been there, done that- and it profited me nothing. Just spiraled me downward.

No, I changed my mind a while ago about what God wants from me. What He delights in is Faith- our confident expectation that His loving hand extends to us "while we were yet sinners"- and that we can reach out and grab hold of His hand even as He grabs hold of us.

And if that doesn't draw you, pull you close to Him, cause you to come running to Him in relief-

....then what will?

It's Not an Option

Our family is dealing with several areas of our lives where we're pressing in by faith. These are not new issues. We have dealt with these matters before, and have not seen the breakthroughs,yet, that we need. "But we are not unaware of the devil's schemes"- and so we are not fully defeated, even if we are delayed a bit in our progress.

There is nothing so powerful as defeat- painfully powerful in its ability to lay you low, take you out of the game, take you out for the count. Whether you are a child, a teen, or an adult- makes no difference- the pain of defeat and denial is far reaching. It can take root in your life and causes you to start to pull back every time you approach something that even remotely looks like the matter that you failed in before.

Failure is not an option in our family. I do not mean failing a test, or failure in a game, or financial failure. We've experienced all those. That happens to many of us- and does not have to be the end of the matter.

I am talking about failure to thrive- that critical state where a person- even a tiny premature baby- has no will to go on, or such a weak system that they can not mount the assault against opposing forces in order to live.

Today there seems to be an even more insidious attack on the Christians will to live, his will to thrive, her will to go on. I know because I battle this often, and many would not know it. I seem capable, strong, and industrious- and I am. But I am not impervious to pain- and Satan knows how to dig deep at tender spots in my life, at beloved loved ones who I can't stand to see hurt- and he makes me know he has power to cause damage. He does- that's the plain hard truth. But damage is one thing-failure is another.

Christians who fail are not Christians who get hurt or who make mistakes. Christians dealing with failure are those deliberating giving up the fight, taking off their dignity and worth and succumbing to despair and humiliation, and letting Satan dance on them with demonic delight.

NO WAY. Not in my life, not in my family. So when we experience times of sadness or times of temporary defeat, I am on the look-out that the enemy of our soul does not get a foothold in our lives. He will not take those I love down to the grave of despair and kill their spirit.

I have authority from Him to speak to the enemy and tell him, "When I fall, I WILL arise". I have authority to come with boldness to the throne, in "full assurance of faith...(and I) hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering" (Hebrews 10).

And then I start "to stir up love and good works". The enemy hates good works- and these are not pious deeds so much as they are aggressive actions of faith done in conviction of the Lord's power to PREVAIL.

It could be when that motorcycle guy prayed for me at that service months ago (remember that?) and I asked him to pray for BOLDNESS for me- it could be that I have more of that now, than even before.

I have need of it. And so do you.

"Therefore, brethern, having boldness to enter the Holiest by the blood of Jesus....let us draw near with a true heart in FULL assurance of faith...." Hebrews 10:19,22

Cause we are not going down without a fight. We are not failing to thrive.

That's NOT an option.

This is What He Wrote Next....

You know, I normally don't avoid writing on my blog. I usually have a lot to say. (My poor sweet husband can verify this truth). But today, with my two kids at school- their first day back, and my son in his final, senior year- there is a feeling I have of being....blank. Like a blank page. And I think it's because God is going "next". I've said a lot lately, pondered, questioned, pursued and initiated...and now God has some things to say to me.

I don't want to have a scene, like Job and his friends did, where God shows up and says, in effect, "My turn to talk. Now you'll all answer MY questions." If God did that, I would be in a faint on the floor- me and my flabby heart all a dither. I don't think I have a pretty swoon- (I've never fainted and feel a bit defrauded of the opportunity to be a damsel in distress).

But the distress of my soul right now has to do with me feeling tired and not wanting to feel guilty about that.I need a reprieve. I'd like a period of my life to begin where everything just floats along, no big decisions need to be made, no financial pressures arise, no scenes of conflict occur...just peace. Doesn't everyone?! We're all in some stage of a battle. Where are you at?

The heat of the battle is where soldiers faint, not so much from physical exhaustion as they do from mental and emotional weariness-to-the bone.

Depression can begin when we don't know what we're dealing with, nor know the weight of what we carry. Often we don't realize our load has been getting heavier and heavier. Someone should shout out- 'Hey, that's too much for you!" or we should say to ourselves, "I'm going to roll this burden off on Him- HE can handle it!" But that would take a cognizant awareness of our state, a thermometer into our soul which we pull out and say, "Hmmmm, I see...."

Often we DON'T see. We think we must be brave and strong and forget to remind everyone, ourselves included, that we're only as brave as we should be. Should I take on one more load and break the camel's back? Should I add one more burden when I should really roll them off - all off- my shoulders?

We should speak to the enemy of our soul who seeks to make us unaware of our condition, of our need for liberation, of our need for refreshment, that we've seen his strategy to make us blind to our condition. When the well is dry, it must be refilled. When our shoulders are drooping, we need to hear a good word. And if we can't find someone to speak that good word to us, then we must say it to ourselves:

"Do not rejoice over me, O my enemy. Though I fall I will rise; Though I dwell in darkness, the LORD is a light for me" Micah 7:8

I can't even think "I WILL rise" if I don't know I have fallen. It's okay to have fallen down under the pressure, to get depleted. While It's not okay to make that your permanent state, it is something we go through at times.

I think people who get depleted can be the ones who are most ready for God to do a miracle in their lives. He can display His power and glory- and not just in renewing our strength but in reviving our soul so that it laughs again and is ready to fight onward. I feel the warrior spirit within me,rising, even now, just thinking about how God will revive my soul- make it feistier and bolder than what it was before.

The book of my life is open. God is about to write a new thing on the page. I lean over to see what it is- curious, hopeful, renewed even by the thought that GOD is going to do something in me. He smiles at me, commending me for wanting to know.

We should always want to know the truth...that sets us FREE.