Showing posts with label Mom. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mom. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Monday, November 2, 2009
730 days.
I'm sitting at my desk today hoping I have received every single ounce of refining that the last two years and a gracious God have offered me. Every moment with every lesson that came with every hardship and every day that I wanted to pull the covers over my head and hide but didn't--I hope that none of them were wasted.
As I stood by my dying mother's bedside two years ago today, I remember thinking:
"If you are everything you say you are, you better do some good out of this. Because THIS is not good."
I was begging God to prove that He was the faithful, loving, enduring, trustworthy God I had always said He was. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't questioned everything that I have believed in the past two years. I'd also be lying if I said there are no questions that remain unanswered. The thing that I've learned in the past 730 days is this:
I serve a God who doesn't mind me asking them.
I have always thought it presumptuous to assume that God doesn't like our questions and doesn't deal with us in our doubt. After all, we are told to be like little children-for such is the Kingdom of Heaven.
....Oh, to be like the little hearts who ask a million questions every day. "Why is the sky blue? Why is the grass green? Why are you singing so loud in the car, Aunt Wah?"
(ok, maybe I am the only one having to field that last question.)
We are told in Hebrews that we don't have a Great High Priest who can't sympathize with our weaknesses. I have demonstrated that one of my own weaknesses is the fact that I like to understand exactly why things happen the way I do. I believe with all my heart that God understands why I ask the questions. He may choose not to answer them in the way that I expect, but that my doubt is faith seeking some understanding.
It's frustrating when people act as if they have a corner on the mind of God, whether it be in approaching the grief-stricken such as:
"God needed another angel."
"He must've had work for her to do up there."
and my personal favorite
"She's one of those stars shining back at us at night."
Okay, your Lion King meets angelic being meets works in Heaven theology might be a little off.
or about life in general:
"Here's how the end of time is going to play out, step-by-step."
"We know when Jesus is coming back."
"God didn't heal you because you didn't have enough faith."
It take some serious, errr, intestinal fortitude, to assume the mind of God. Now I don't know about you, but I am not really interested in serving a God that I completely and fully understand with my finite mind.
But we can't be angry with humanity for searching for the answers to the questions out of a mostly pure desire to understand. The reason that people say things like that is because their faith is seeking understanding--but they are looking for understanding in places other than in God's Word.
Another thing that I've learned is that God doesn't need me to explain why He allows certain things to happen. He doesn't need my commentary to make people still love Him even in the midst of suffering.
What He needs from me is to be His PRESENCE around people in the face of it. What He desires is for me to love those who are suffering, not get them to avoid blaming God for it. It's not my responsibility to explain God--it's my honor to let them know that they can ask Him directly about it. It's also my honor to help them feel His love so that when they ask, "Where is God in the midst of this?"
Their answer will look like mine:
God was in the room 730 days ago when I kissed my mama goodbye for the last time.
How do I know?
His people were there.
730 days ago I began a journey of asking the God of the Universe if He really is who He says He is. For the first time in my life I found myself in the Dark Night of the Soul. The crossroads of faith. 730 days ago I began the journey of realizing that He is everything He says He is and that there is coming a day when, as Steven Curtis Chapman says:
But in my mind’s eye
I can see a place
Where Your glory fills every empty space
All the cancer's gone
Every mouth is fed
and there’s no one left in the orphans’ bed
Every lonely heart finds their one true love
And there’s no more goodbye
And no more not enough
And there’s no more enemy
no more
It's not enough to just believe in that day, though. it's our joy and responsibility to see that the Kingdom comes here and now. It's our job to point people in the direction of the Kingdom to come by seeing it enacted now.
I'm glad to know a God who is willing to go to great lengths to prove His love for us. The last 730 days have been some of the hardest of my life so far, but His promise is true. He is who He says He is, and I am thankful I have had the chance to discover it firsthand.
As I stood by my dying mother's bedside two years ago today, I remember thinking:
"If you are everything you say you are, you better do some good out of this. Because THIS is not good."
I was begging God to prove that He was the faithful, loving, enduring, trustworthy God I had always said He was. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't questioned everything that I have believed in the past two years. I'd also be lying if I said there are no questions that remain unanswered. The thing that I've learned in the past 730 days is this:
I serve a God who doesn't mind me asking them.
I have always thought it presumptuous to assume that God doesn't like our questions and doesn't deal with us in our doubt. After all, we are told to be like little children-for such is the Kingdom of Heaven.
....Oh, to be like the little hearts who ask a million questions every day. "Why is the sky blue? Why is the grass green? Why are you singing so loud in the car, Aunt Wah?"
(ok, maybe I am the only one having to field that last question.)
We are told in Hebrews that we don't have a Great High Priest who can't sympathize with our weaknesses. I have demonstrated that one of my own weaknesses is the fact that I like to understand exactly why things happen the way I do. I believe with all my heart that God understands why I ask the questions. He may choose not to answer them in the way that I expect, but that my doubt is faith seeking some understanding.
It's frustrating when people act as if they have a corner on the mind of God, whether it be in approaching the grief-stricken such as:
"God needed another angel."
"He must've had work for her to do up there."
and my personal favorite
"She's one of those stars shining back at us at night."
Okay, your Lion King meets angelic being meets works in Heaven theology might be a little off.
or about life in general:
"Here's how the end of time is going to play out, step-by-step."
"We know when Jesus is coming back."
"God didn't heal you because you didn't have enough faith."
It take some serious, errr, intestinal fortitude, to assume the mind of God. Now I don't know about you, but I am not really interested in serving a God that I completely and fully understand with my finite mind.
But we can't be angry with humanity for searching for the answers to the questions out of a mostly pure desire to understand. The reason that people say things like that is because their faith is seeking understanding--but they are looking for understanding in places other than in God's Word.
Another thing that I've learned is that God doesn't need me to explain why He allows certain things to happen. He doesn't need my commentary to make people still love Him even in the midst of suffering.
What He needs from me is to be His PRESENCE around people in the face of it. What He desires is for me to love those who are suffering, not get them to avoid blaming God for it. It's not my responsibility to explain God--it's my honor to let them know that they can ask Him directly about it. It's also my honor to help them feel His love so that when they ask, "Where is God in the midst of this?"
Their answer will look like mine:
God was in the room 730 days ago when I kissed my mama goodbye for the last time.
How do I know?
His people were there.
730 days ago I began a journey of asking the God of the Universe if He really is who He says He is. For the first time in my life I found myself in the Dark Night of the Soul. The crossroads of faith. 730 days ago I began the journey of realizing that He is everything He says He is and that there is coming a day when, as Steven Curtis Chapman says:
But in my mind’s eye
I can see a place
Where Your glory fills every empty space
All the cancer's gone
Every mouth is fed
and there’s no one left in the orphans’ bed
Every lonely heart finds their one true love
And there’s no more goodbye
And no more not enough
And there’s no more enemy
no more
It's not enough to just believe in that day, though. it's our joy and responsibility to see that the Kingdom comes here and now. It's our job to point people in the direction of the Kingdom to come by seeing it enacted now.
I'm glad to know a God who is willing to go to great lengths to prove His love for us. The last 730 days have been some of the hardest of my life so far, but His promise is true. He is who He says He is, and I am thankful I have had the chance to discover it firsthand.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Hungry for Love
I was having dinner with my dad and some friends the other night when he mentioned something that made me stop and think. As he told my new friends a little bit about my mom, he shared about our bookstore and the ministry that came of it.
"Cheryl always said that when people came in and wandered around for a little while, and then came up to the counter and said, 'I don't know why I'm here,' that she was to encourage and pray with them."
I want to be careful not to make the woman who birthed me into some kind of saint on this blog, but she was a mighty fine lady. She was also onto something.
People are hungry for something and they don't even know what.
But we do.
It's called love. Sometimes people just need to be loved.
Even mean people.
Even cold people.
Even difficult people.
Even people who have abandoned the faith.
Even people who have hurt us deeply in the past.
Even people who are absent--those who have checked out of life as they knew it.
It's true that some people need a swift kick in the rear as well--that is also loving when appropriate.
They wander in and out of our lives just like they wandered in and out of our store.
Do you see their hunger? Do you even notice them?
Maybe it's a coworker that's always hanging out at the water cooler with sad looking eyes. Maybe it's your daughter's friend Aubrey who is ALWAYS over at your house and requires much more patience than you have to offer at times. Maybe it's a family member who is always critical to you and everyone else but keeps coming over to visit.
Do we see them? Do we hear their unvoiced cries for help? Do we have the courage to passionately share His truth with them in love? Or do we ignore them in order to maintain our pristine image and perfect social life and some sense of our sanity?
We have a divine responsibility to take the time and spare willingly the energy required to truly love people who float in and out of our lives. (Don't get me wrong, I am not saying that we should enable people or allow them to abuse our bodies, minds, or spirits.) Everyone so desperately needs love.
Maybe it's you, dear reader. Maybe you're the one who stumbled upon this blog and you don't even know why you are reading or following this blog. Can I know your name and your story? It would be my honor to pray with you and to encourage you along this sometimes bumpy road called life? If you're not sure why you are here, please email me at lauren.thatgirl@gmail.com and tell me about you. It would be my honor to listen.
If you know of someone who has wandered into your life, I dare you to show them the love of Christ and see what happens. If that's the case, I encourage you to leave a comment with a prayer over the first name of the person in your life who needs the most love.
"Cheryl always said that when people came in and wandered around for a little while, and then came up to the counter and said, 'I don't know why I'm here,' that she was to encourage and pray with them."
I want to be careful not to make the woman who birthed me into some kind of saint on this blog, but she was a mighty fine lady. She was also onto something.
People are hungry for something and they don't even know what.
But we do.
It's called love. Sometimes people just need to be loved.
Even mean people.
Even cold people.
Even difficult people.
Even people who have abandoned the faith.
Even people who have hurt us deeply in the past.
Even people who are absent--those who have checked out of life as they knew it.
It's true that some people need a swift kick in the rear as well--that is also loving when appropriate.
They wander in and out of our lives just like they wandered in and out of our store.
Do you see their hunger? Do you even notice them?
Maybe it's a coworker that's always hanging out at the water cooler with sad looking eyes. Maybe it's your daughter's friend Aubrey who is ALWAYS over at your house and requires much more patience than you have to offer at times. Maybe it's a family member who is always critical to you and everyone else but keeps coming over to visit.
Do we see them? Do we hear their unvoiced cries for help? Do we have the courage to passionately share His truth with them in love? Or do we ignore them in order to maintain our pristine image and perfect social life and some sense of our sanity?
We have a divine responsibility to take the time and spare willingly the energy required to truly love people who float in and out of our lives. (Don't get me wrong, I am not saying that we should enable people or allow them to abuse our bodies, minds, or spirits.) Everyone so desperately needs love.
Maybe it's you, dear reader. Maybe you're the one who stumbled upon this blog and you don't even know why you are reading or following this blog. Can I know your name and your story? It would be my honor to pray with you and to encourage you along this sometimes bumpy road called life? If you're not sure why you are here, please email me at lauren.thatgirl@gmail.com and tell me about you. It would be my honor to listen.
If you know of someone who has wandered into your life, I dare you to show them the love of Christ and see what happens. If that's the case, I encourage you to leave a comment with a prayer over the first name of the person in your life who needs the most love.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Troubled.
I had a meltdown last Saturday.
I still have bad days-they seem to just get fewer and farther between-but they still have the intensity they did when Mom died.
My dad, aunts, and I went out with Toots to celebrate her 83rd birthday. We were in the restaurant laughing at Toots and her penchant for pink sweetener all over everything on her plate to 'doctor it up' and my aunts innocently began making small talk-asking me about my life and such. I began to share about how things were going well, but....
This bit of perhaps unwarranted vulnerability-sometimes June comes bustin' out all over, and by June I mean That Girl- surprised everyone. They tried to make me feel better that things take time and sometimes we're living on dreams and spaghetti-Os wondering where our lives are gonna go, as Martina McB says. Bless their hearts, they didn't know what to do with That Girl who suddenly turned on the waterworks and began to cry. I wasn't crying about my life. It really is lovely. I am thankful for my many blessings.
Honestly, I was weeping because I had looked at the occupants of my table and realized that there was a seat with no occupant. In that moment I felt so defeated and sorrow filled my heart as I realized for the millionth time that she would never be at a special family event again. There will be a hole at K's 7th birthday party this weekend. No one to call me early in the morning and tell me she was thankful for her unexpected pregnancy @36 when I turn 24 next month. No one to light the unity candle someday or to talk me through my first baby's fever. No one to tell me that she's still my biggest fan when I mess up, cry with me when my feelings are hurt or to tell me ever so gently that the skirt makes my hips look big and wouldn't this be a better choice for my body shape?!
No more of those beautiful things.
My heart was troubled.
I think as believers we have a responsibility to ask why. Jesus instructs us to be like children, and all the children I know ask 3 billion questions, sometimes again and again if they forget the answer of why the sky is blue or the grass is green.
After my tiny yet embarrassing scene crying in front of my family, where I wandered around looking like Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer because of my slightly ugly cry trying to find the bathroom, somehow I attracted the stare of every.single.patron in the whole joint who were trying to figure out who is That Girl anyway and why did she just open up the door to the supply closet?
( Can't I even have a moment of sadness gracefully here?! )
Then Dad decided to drive by the cemetery. Here comes Waterworld again.
I got out of the car and shut the door. Through my tears I stood and looked at the butterfly on her stone. I couldn't really see it that well through all the tears collected in my eyes. I looked at her birth and death dates and got mad all over again.
why?
this is really no good, in case You haven't noticed, I told Him.
Then I do what I always do, mad or not but always through teary eyes, went to the other side of the grave.
I made myself read it.
I ran my fingers along the words and tried to get the dust off off the grave, so cool to my touch in the heat of the day.
My peace I leave with you. My peace I give to you. I do not give as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid. John 14:27
Then it came. Not the answer I wanted, but the one I needed.
Don't be troubled.
It sounds really simple, and yet when my eyes focused in on the word troubled, I could hear my Savior's voice. Not audibly of course, but that still small voice.
In this world you will have trouble. The tricky part is not to let it trouble you.
I may have Trouble. But Trouble doesn't have me.
After typing the word trouble so many times I want to also tell you that the word looks weird to me now. My apologies.
My heart has seen difficulty. My life has been changed. The fact that I belong to Jesus has not changed, and although tragedy and heartache have come knocking on my door and I have repeatedly asked why, he has told me that sometimes the answer is not as important as the faith it takes to ask the question. I may ask why, but I won't let the lack of a full blueprint trouble my heart. I won't be troubled by the lack of answers. Instead, I will let that perfect peace rest deep in my heart and soul--the peace that even as I ask the same questions again and again, I may not get every answer just this second but I will be safe and he will provide for me, like a parent cares for a child. The peace that he loves me and that he knows how much of the answer I can handle right now, and how much needs to be saved for later.
I won't be troubled come Saturday. I'll see my mom's smile on K's face when she opens her brand new Princess Protection Program DVD (the gift that keeps on giving-shhh) and I'll know that Mom is no longer troubled by things like cancer, or chemo, or bills to pay, or even sin. He will grant me the peace of HOPE in redemption and resurrection.
I leave you with a Puritan prayer that has really encouraged me.
I've been praying for you today. May the peace of Christ be with you now and forever.
I still have bad days-they seem to just get fewer and farther between-but they still have the intensity they did when Mom died.
My dad, aunts, and I went out with Toots to celebrate her 83rd birthday. We were in the restaurant laughing at Toots and her penchant for pink sweetener all over everything on her plate to 'doctor it up' and my aunts innocently began making small talk-asking me about my life and such. I began to share about how things were going well, but....
This bit of perhaps unwarranted vulnerability-sometimes June comes bustin' out all over, and by June I mean That Girl- surprised everyone. They tried to make me feel better that things take time and sometimes we're living on dreams and spaghetti-Os wondering where our lives are gonna go, as Martina McB says. Bless their hearts, they didn't know what to do with That Girl who suddenly turned on the waterworks and began to cry. I wasn't crying about my life. It really is lovely. I am thankful for my many blessings.
Honestly, I was weeping because I had looked at the occupants of my table and realized that there was a seat with no occupant. In that moment I felt so defeated and sorrow filled my heart as I realized for the millionth time that she would never be at a special family event again. There will be a hole at K's 7th birthday party this weekend. No one to call me early in the morning and tell me she was thankful for her unexpected pregnancy @36 when I turn 24 next month. No one to light the unity candle someday or to talk me through my first baby's fever. No one to tell me that she's still my biggest fan when I mess up, cry with me when my feelings are hurt or to tell me ever so gently that the skirt makes my hips look big and wouldn't this be a better choice for my body shape?!
No more of those beautiful things.
My heart was troubled.
I think as believers we have a responsibility to ask why. Jesus instructs us to be like children, and all the children I know ask 3 billion questions, sometimes again and again if they forget the answer of why the sky is blue or the grass is green.
After my tiny yet embarrassing scene crying in front of my family, where I wandered around looking like Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer because of my slightly ugly cry trying to find the bathroom, somehow I attracted the stare of every.single.patron in the whole joint who were trying to figure out who is That Girl anyway and why did she just open up the door to the supply closet?
( Can't I even have a moment of sadness gracefully here?! )
Then Dad decided to drive by the cemetery. Here comes Waterworld again.
I got out of the car and shut the door. Through my tears I stood and looked at the butterfly on her stone. I couldn't really see it that well through all the tears collected in my eyes. I looked at her birth and death dates and got mad all over again.
why?
this is really no good, in case You haven't noticed, I told Him.
Then I do what I always do, mad or not but always through teary eyes, went to the other side of the grave.
I made myself read it.
I ran my fingers along the words and tried to get the dust off off the grave, so cool to my touch in the heat of the day.
My peace I leave with you. My peace I give to you. I do not give as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid. John 14:27
Then it came. Not the answer I wanted, but the one I needed.
Don't be troubled.
It sounds really simple, and yet when my eyes focused in on the word troubled, I could hear my Savior's voice. Not audibly of course, but that still small voice.
In this world you will have trouble. The tricky part is not to let it trouble you.
I may have Trouble. But Trouble doesn't have me.
After typing the word trouble so many times I want to also tell you that the word looks weird to me now. My apologies.
My heart has seen difficulty. My life has been changed. The fact that I belong to Jesus has not changed, and although tragedy and heartache have come knocking on my door and I have repeatedly asked why, he has told me that sometimes the answer is not as important as the faith it takes to ask the question. I may ask why, but I won't let the lack of a full blueprint trouble my heart. I won't be troubled by the lack of answers. Instead, I will let that perfect peace rest deep in my heart and soul--the peace that even as I ask the same questions again and again, I may not get every answer just this second but I will be safe and he will provide for me, like a parent cares for a child. The peace that he loves me and that he knows how much of the answer I can handle right now, and how much needs to be saved for later.
I won't be troubled come Saturday. I'll see my mom's smile on K's face when she opens her brand new Princess Protection Program DVD (the gift that keeps on giving-shhh) and I'll know that Mom is no longer troubled by things like cancer, or chemo, or bills to pay, or even sin. He will grant me the peace of HOPE in redemption and resurrection.
I leave you with a Puritan prayer that has really encouraged me.
O God, most high, most glorious, the thought of Thine infinite serenity cheers
me, for I am toiling and moiling, troubled and distressed, but Thou art for ever
at perfect peace. Thy designs cause thee no fear or care of unfulfilment, they
stand fast as the eternal hills. Thy power knows no bond, Thy goodness no stint.
Thou bringest order out of confusion, and my defeats are Thy victories: The Lord
God omnipotent reigneth.
I come to Thee as a sinner with cares and sorrows, to leave every concern entirely to Thee, every sin calling for Christ's precious blood; revive deep spirituality in my heart; let me live near to the great Shepherd, hear His voice, know its tones, follow its calls. Keep me from deception by causing me to abide in the truth, from harm by helping me to walk in the power of the Spirit. Give me intenser faith in the eternal verities, burning into me by experience the things I know; Let me never be ashamed of the truth of the gospel, that I may bear its reproach, vindicate it, see Jesus as
its essence, know in it the power of the Spirit.
Lord, help me, for I am often lukewarm and chill; unbelief mars my confidence, sin makes me forget Thee. Let the weeds that grow in my soul be cut at their roots; grant me to know that I truly live only when I live to Thee, that all else is trifling. Thy presence alone can make me holy, devout, strong and happy. Abide in me, gracious God.
I've been praying for you today. May the peace of Christ be with you now and forever.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Meet Me In St. Louis!
First of all, let me say that you, my delightful and marvelous Bloggerotsky, NEVER let me down.
Your prayers for our sister who wishes to remain anonymous blew my mind and as I approved each comment, I was mindful of the fact that we each come from different places, situations, and walks of life, but the thing uniting us is our belief in the power of the Gospel of Jesus Christ to save, heal, deliver, and give victory.
I am thankful for each of you who have been praying sweet ms. anonymous, whether you left a comment or not. I ask you to remember some friends of mine who are at the doctor today and my friend Chelsa, who is taping her testimony to share--what a bold step of faith!
Of course, I love you more than Silly String and Cyndi Lauper.
______________________________________________
Tomorrow I leave with my precious friend Krystal to have a weekend of fun in St. Louis! I am so excited I could practically pee myself! We are going because she is graduating with her bachelor's in nursing. She deserves major props for many reasons.
When my mom was in the hospital on and off the last month of her life, Krystal was a nurse at a new hospital about an hour and a half away. She worked 12-hour shifts at the Monroe hospital and then got in her car. She passed up her house (it would have been so easy for her to go home and crawl in bed) and showed up in my mom's room with a large pizza, some shampoo, and the ability to turn off those annoying machines. She did this several times in October 2007. I am so blessed to have such self-sacrificing friends and I don't take it lightly that many people, including Krystal, gave up their lives for us. How beautiful is the Body of Christ?!
Krystal loves all things Meatloaf and 80s. She has bright red hair and drives a silver VW Bug, which Seth assures me is super safe for our travels. She has a delightfully if slightly warped sense of humor and has a bigger movie collection than most blockbusters. She has a huge heart for missions and adoption, and we have been friends since the first grade.
Since we are heading out to St. Louis tomorrow, I was hoping some of you midwestern Bloggerotskys could offer some assistance regarding things we SHOULD NOT MISS. We already have plans to go to the Arch and some other historical sights, but we are looking for good hole-in-the-wall restaurants and attractions. I am hoping to go see the Cards play the Tigers on Thursday and see the new stadium up close, but am halfway afraid it will be sold out or something or all the cheap seats will fill up too fast, so we'll just have to see about that. I am cautiously optimistic!
Let me know if you have suggestions! Pray for our safe travels--I am hoping to update once or twice from Missouri so you can join in the fun on our V-A-C-A-T-I-O-N!
Your prayers for our sister who wishes to remain anonymous blew my mind and as I approved each comment, I was mindful of the fact that we each come from different places, situations, and walks of life, but the thing uniting us is our belief in the power of the Gospel of Jesus Christ to save, heal, deliver, and give victory.
I am thankful for each of you who have been praying sweet ms. anonymous, whether you left a comment or not. I ask you to remember some friends of mine who are at the doctor today and my friend Chelsa, who is taping her testimony to share--what a bold step of faith!
Of course, I love you more than Silly String and Cyndi Lauper.
______________________________________________
Tomorrow I leave with my precious friend Krystal to have a weekend of fun in St. Louis! I am so excited I could practically pee myself! We are going because she is graduating with her bachelor's in nursing. She deserves major props for many reasons.
When my mom was in the hospital on and off the last month of her life, Krystal was a nurse at a new hospital about an hour and a half away. She worked 12-hour shifts at the Monroe hospital and then got in her car. She passed up her house (it would have been so easy for her to go home and crawl in bed) and showed up in my mom's room with a large pizza, some shampoo, and the ability to turn off those annoying machines. She did this several times in October 2007. I am so blessed to have such self-sacrificing friends and I don't take it lightly that many people, including Krystal, gave up their lives for us. How beautiful is the Body of Christ?!
Krystal loves all things Meatloaf and 80s. She has bright red hair and drives a silver VW Bug, which Seth assures me is super safe for our travels. She has a delightfully if slightly warped sense of humor and has a bigger movie collection than most blockbusters. She has a huge heart for missions and adoption, and we have been friends since the first grade.
Since we are heading out to St. Louis tomorrow, I was hoping some of you midwestern Bloggerotskys could offer some assistance regarding things we SHOULD NOT MISS. We already have plans to go to the Arch and some other historical sights, but we are looking for good hole-in-the-wall restaurants and attractions. I am hoping to go see the Cards play the Tigers on Thursday and see the new stadium up close, but am halfway afraid it will be sold out or something or all the cheap seats will fill up too fast, so we'll just have to see about that. I am cautiously optimistic!
Let me know if you have suggestions! Pray for our safe travels--I am hoping to update once or twice from Missouri so you can join in the fun on our V-A-C-A-T-I-O-N!
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Finally a Whisper.
So this weekend, I served with an incredible group of people to bring over 40 women a little closer to the knowledge of God's love for them. I did come expecting Jesus, but not in the way that He spoke.
Sometimes it's hard for me when I see young women and their moms hanging out together, or shopping, or sipping lattes at Starbucks. It's obviously a beautiful thing to see mothers and daughters connecting in healthy relationships, but I would be lying if I said my heart didn't break all over again for the sadness I feel to never have that again. Sure, I have LOTS of women who love me, speak over my life, pray for me, minister to my heart, and challenge me to be more like Jesus. God saw to it that I will always have some mamas-in-heart ready and willing to take care of me when this 23-year-old kid gets overwhelmed by ministry, relationships, or life in general. I do not take that lightly and thank Him every day for providing in such special ways.
it's still hard. The pain is still there--I have moments. As my friend (and one of my most precious "mamas") Kathy said, "We don't fall apart [as believers in Christ]. We have moments."
Well, Bloggerotsky, I still have my moments. As well as my friends Jan and Janet and Abby and Chelsa and Ali and Annie and Shellie and Janelle and lots of others who have lost someone they loved.
This weekend, I was reminded that God is in the details. If you want to debate that, it's a truth for which I will go to the mat. Let me demonstrate:
Jeremiah 33:3 was a verse that my mom discovered late in her battle with cancer. God spoke to her through that verse and she shared with everyone that "God has secrets, you know!" with her sweet little eyebrow-raising wink and a smile. That was the truth that got her through some really hard days--the truth that God had secrets that she searched out---secrets that we don't know unless we go searching for them...
Around that same time, the scripture from I Kings 19 really spoke to me--about how the Lord was not in the earthquake, or the fire, or the wind. Instead, He made Himself known in the gentle whisper or, as some scholars translate it, the sound of sheer silence.
One day, as that scripture was still turning over and over in my mind, feeding me and ministering to me about my future, my mom's health, my college career, and all the things through which I was straining to hear his voice, I passed by our rack of little cards in our family's Christian Bookstore. I saw this one that caught my eye--it was bright purple and had these callalillies (normally I can't stand callas but this one time... hee hee) on it. I took the card and laid it on the counter where I would see it often. I kept thinking, "Lord, I know you are speaking comfort in a whisper--so I have to be quiet to hear it.
Little did I know that He would speak in a whisper a year and a half later.
This weekend, I opened this sweet card from my mama's BFF, Julie, who now runs and manages our store as well as taking care of my dad and me (she helps me to remember important things and I can ask her for help with anything--including accompaniment to my Lady Doctor appointments...she's another "mama" for sure). Inside was a cute little paperweight that said 'BELIEVE' which was my mom's favorite word. Inside was also what is now one of my most treasured possessions.
It was a sticky note in my mom's handwriting stuck to the card I told you about.
It said:
Jeremiah 33v3
secrets
WHAT ARE THE ODDS?
don't tell me He is not interested in what I call details ministry.
A gentle whisper from the heart of Father to a daughter. A daughter who sometimes doesn't understand but tries to trust that heart. A daughter who misses the mother she lost. A daughter who sometimes has to strain to hear that oh-so gentle whisper.
I continue to see the facet of the character of God that proves the Holy Spirit is a comforter. If you need comfort today, listen to that gentle whisper, or that sound of sheer silence, and know that this One we serve, this Master to whom we bow, has secrets He longs to show you. Secrets of His power, His might, and His love. Secrets that only YOU AND HE UNDERSTAND.
Julie didn't know about the card--she just thought I could use a little piece of my mom's memory--but God did know. He did see me fall in love with that I Kings passage that day and He sees our needs right here as I type.
I know He is only a breath, a whisper, away from all of us this day. Won't you ask Him to whisper His secrets in your ear?
Sometimes it's hard for me when I see young women and their moms hanging out together, or shopping, or sipping lattes at Starbucks. It's obviously a beautiful thing to see mothers and daughters connecting in healthy relationships, but I would be lying if I said my heart didn't break all over again for the sadness I feel to never have that again. Sure, I have LOTS of women who love me, speak over my life, pray for me, minister to my heart, and challenge me to be more like Jesus. God saw to it that I will always have some mamas-in-heart ready and willing to take care of me when this 23-year-old kid gets overwhelmed by ministry, relationships, or life in general. I do not take that lightly and thank Him every day for providing in such special ways.
it's still hard. The pain is still there--I have moments. As my friend (and one of my most precious "mamas") Kathy said, "We don't fall apart [as believers in Christ]. We have moments."
Well, Bloggerotsky, I still have my moments. As well as my friends Jan and Janet and Abby and Chelsa and Ali and Annie and Shellie and Janelle and lots of others who have lost someone they loved.
This weekend, I was reminded that God is in the details. If you want to debate that, it's a truth for which I will go to the mat. Let me demonstrate:
Jeremiah 33:3 was a verse that my mom discovered late in her battle with cancer. God spoke to her through that verse and she shared with everyone that "God has secrets, you know!" with her sweet little eyebrow-raising wink and a smile. That was the truth that got her through some really hard days--the truth that God had secrets that she searched out---secrets that we don't know unless we go searching for them...
Around that same time, the scripture from I Kings 19 really spoke to me--about how the Lord was not in the earthquake, or the fire, or the wind. Instead, He made Himself known in the gentle whisper or, as some scholars translate it, the sound of sheer silence.
One day, as that scripture was still turning over and over in my mind, feeding me and ministering to me about my future, my mom's health, my college career, and all the things through which I was straining to hear his voice, I passed by our rack of little cards in our family's Christian Bookstore. I saw this one that caught my eye--it was bright purple and had these callalillies (normally I can't stand callas but this one time... hee hee) on it. I took the card and laid it on the counter where I would see it often. I kept thinking, "Lord, I know you are speaking comfort in a whisper--so I have to be quiet to hear it.
Little did I know that He would speak in a whisper a year and a half later.
This weekend, I opened this sweet card from my mama's BFF, Julie, who now runs and manages our store as well as taking care of my dad and me (she helps me to remember important things and I can ask her for help with anything--including accompaniment to my Lady Doctor appointments...she's another "mama" for sure). Inside was a cute little paperweight that said 'BELIEVE' which was my mom's favorite word. Inside was also what is now one of my most treasured possessions.
It was a sticky note in my mom's handwriting stuck to the card I told you about.
It said:
Jeremiah 33v3
secrets
WHAT ARE THE ODDS?
don't tell me He is not interested in what I call details ministry.
A gentle whisper from the heart of Father to a daughter. A daughter who sometimes doesn't understand but tries to trust that heart. A daughter who misses the mother she lost. A daughter who sometimes has to strain to hear that oh-so gentle whisper.
I continue to see the facet of the character of God that proves the Holy Spirit is a comforter. If you need comfort today, listen to that gentle whisper, or that sound of sheer silence, and know that this One we serve, this Master to whom we bow, has secrets He longs to show you. Secrets of His power, His might, and His love. Secrets that only YOU AND HE UNDERSTAND.
Julie didn't know about the card--she just thought I could use a little piece of my mom's memory--but God did know. He did see me fall in love with that I Kings passage that day and He sees our needs right here as I type.
I know He is only a breath, a whisper, away from all of us this day. Won't you ask Him to whisper His secrets in your ear?
Friday, October 24, 2008
Like Waves.
It comes and goes. Either in strong doses or a weak ache, it's my constant companion in these last few months.
The grief is not as strong as he is.
But honestly, I can feel it more than I feel him sometimes.
I know Truth. It has settled deep in my bones, just like it did for the prophet Jeremiah. But I refuse to lie to you tonight. Truth is not some kind of painkiller, a Lortab to make me sleep it off or something. It does not erase the pain.
Instead, it reminds me who can calm the waves.
the waves around me. the waves in me.
A wonderful thirtysomething mom was taken from her loving husband and children this week. I cried lots of tears for them tonight. Then I cried a little for my own self.
I was in the shower sobbing and I decided to once again take Anne Lamott's advice:
"Help me. Help me. Help me."
help me let the pain do its work so You can change me. help me survive this broken heart. help me be broken. help me not to be mad at You right now. help me to be brave enough to go ahead and ask the questions that scare me. help me to receive even the answers I cannot understand.
but also tempered with
"thank you. thank you. thank you."
thank You for twenty-two years of wisdom. of hugs and kisses. of snuggling on friday nights. of laughter. of loving each other and macaroni and tomatoes at ten pm. of living life with that beautiful creature that made me her priority.
I just hate it for that sweet lady's little boys. and I pray that they can start praying helpme/thankyou earlier than I did. and that they don't feel swallowed by all these waves.
"he is close to the brokenhearted. he rescues those who are crushed in spirit."
The grief is not as strong as he is.
But honestly, I can feel it more than I feel him sometimes.
I know Truth. It has settled deep in my bones, just like it did for the prophet Jeremiah. But I refuse to lie to you tonight. Truth is not some kind of painkiller, a Lortab to make me sleep it off or something. It does not erase the pain.
Instead, it reminds me who can calm the waves.
the waves around me. the waves in me.
A wonderful thirtysomething mom was taken from her loving husband and children this week. I cried lots of tears for them tonight. Then I cried a little for my own self.
I was in the shower sobbing and I decided to once again take Anne Lamott's advice:
"Help me. Help me. Help me."
help me let the pain do its work so You can change me. help me survive this broken heart. help me be broken. help me not to be mad at You right now. help me to be brave enough to go ahead and ask the questions that scare me. help me to receive even the answers I cannot understand.
but also tempered with
"thank you. thank you. thank you."
thank You for twenty-two years of wisdom. of hugs and kisses. of snuggling on friday nights. of laughter. of loving each other and macaroni and tomatoes at ten pm. of living life with that beautiful creature that made me her priority.
I just hate it for that sweet lady's little boys. and I pray that they can start praying helpme/thankyou earlier than I did. and that they don't feel swallowed by all these waves.
"he is close to the brokenhearted. he rescues those who are crushed in spirit."
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Eleven Months...
...so short and so long all at once. The month anniversaries came and went without much notice as I kept myself busy...but today I looked down at my calendar and there it was.
That number 2 staring back at me.
Today, especially today, I remember the day she took her last breath. The day my life changed forever.
This day will forever be etched in my history. The human condition, no matter how accustomed to change, can never forget what it was like before.
Hearing her voice down the hall.
Seeing her eyes light up with the presence of her grandchildren.
Tasting the food she lovingly made for the army of China "just in case."
Smelling her perfume (Thank you Donna, for that very beautiful birthday treat--now I sleep with that precious fabric under my pillow sprayed with just a hint of Eternity by Calvin Klein, ironically the name of my mom's favorite scent.)
Feeling her cold feet on my warm legs when watching television on Friday nights. (I'd get so mad at her--"Quit it, Madre, you are making my legs cold!!" She'd just ignore me...)
You know, I used to complain about the many Friday nights I spent at home with my parents during my teen years.
Now I'd give anything to be able to make that hour drive tomorrow night and find her there again, ready to have a mother-daughter slumber party of epic proportions.
I can't forget those things. I don't want to. Ever.
I also can't forget His faithfulness. The way He carried me up to the stage five days after her death to deliver her final farewell. The way He gave me grace at the lowest points and helped me finish my last two semesters of college with some level of excellence as my world crumbled around me. The Friday nights as He gathered each of my tears into His bottle carefully preserving my pain.
Someday, that bottle will no longer be needed. When He makes all the wrongs right. When death, as the song says, waves its' white flag, and we find out what "more than a conqueror" means.
For the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd;
he will lead them to springs of living water.
And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes."
Revelation 7:17
Until that day,
Lauren.
If you are struggling with the loss of a loved one and need prayer or support, feel free to email me through the link on the side of my page.
That number 2 staring back at me.
Today, especially today, I remember the day she took her last breath. The day my life changed forever.
This day will forever be etched in my history. The human condition, no matter how accustomed to change, can never forget what it was like before.
Hearing her voice down the hall.
Seeing her eyes light up with the presence of her grandchildren.
Tasting the food she lovingly made for the army of China "just in case."
Smelling her perfume (Thank you Donna, for that very beautiful birthday treat--now I sleep with that precious fabric under my pillow sprayed with just a hint of Eternity by Calvin Klein, ironically the name of my mom's favorite scent.)
Feeling her cold feet on my warm legs when watching television on Friday nights. (I'd get so mad at her--"Quit it, Madre, you are making my legs cold!!" She'd just ignore me...)
You know, I used to complain about the many Friday nights I spent at home with my parents during my teen years.
Now I'd give anything to be able to make that hour drive tomorrow night and find her there again, ready to have a mother-daughter slumber party of epic proportions.
I can't forget those things. I don't want to. Ever.
I also can't forget His faithfulness. The way He carried me up to the stage five days after her death to deliver her final farewell. The way He gave me grace at the lowest points and helped me finish my last two semesters of college with some level of excellence as my world crumbled around me. The Friday nights as He gathered each of my tears into His bottle carefully preserving my pain.
Someday, that bottle will no longer be needed. When He makes all the wrongs right. When death, as the song says, waves its' white flag, and we find out what "more than a conqueror" means.
For the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd;
he will lead them to springs of living water.
And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes."
Revelation 7:17
Until that day,
Lauren.
If you are struggling with the loss of a loved one and need prayer or support, feel free to email me through the link on the side of my page.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Strong.
I got called out on Monday. And it was such a good feeling. I know, that's a weird definition of getting told you are WRONG. Sounds stranger than Nelly and Tim McGraw's duet. Normally, getting called out makes me feel bad. Not this time.
He said the sweetest words..."Nobody expects you to just get over all of this. Except yourself."
yep, he pegged that girl in one sentence.
My expectations of myself have always been high. I can't think of a time when I didn't have them. They have been my constant companion over the years. But in that moment, I started wondering why in the world I squirmed so warily against the strong arms (both the tangible ones and the transcendent ones) that held me. The only place that offered a haven for the grief.
But I already knew why. I like being strong. I like being both spiritually and physically dependable at all times and I feel that I lose some of my purpose if I'm not being available to meet the needs of everyone in the free world. And heaven forbid, if you see me without my cell phone, somebody has pried it out of my cold, dead fingers...
For a really, really long time I took some amount of pride in being the one everybody could count on. Now the Lord has so gently allowed me to come to a place where the pride dies because...
other people have to care for me this time.
I know it sounds ridiculous, but it's so scary for me. It's terrifying at times to think about how to act in this new role. A few weeks ago, I was watching a movie with Seth. (The movie is called Bella and it's brilliant, by the way.) At the end, the main characters are sitting on the beach. The woman talks about losing her dad and the pain that she endured as well as watching her mom suffer.
I lost it. I couldn't help it. I mean to tell you that I had a full-on ugly cry with snot everywhere and not a tissue to be found. For probably two or three minutes I sounded like a dying partridge.
I let it all out for just a minute. Then I switched to Superthatgirl mode where I suddenly remembered that my poor boyfriend was probably scared to death at my ridiculous outburst of emotion. I got up and walked out of the living room, hiding my pain and my tears and my emotions in the atrociously wallpapered bathroom where Seth keeps my special Bath and Body Works Freshwater Cucumber soap. I sat on the toilet and cried like a little girl.
Meanwhile, Seth sits in the living room frustrated that I felt like I had to run away until I could pull myself together. He just wanted to let me cry and rub my head until I felt better again. Why can't I let him? Or anyone else for that matter?
Everyone in my life wants to be strong so that I don't have to. Why can't I let them? I find it's much easier to push the ones I love away so that I can do it on my own. I used to be good at that, you know.
But now, God has brought me to the place where I am not able to do that. I used to be the one that could support everyone, spin all the plates, and never drop a one. I took some really intense pride in the fact that my problems never overtook me.
I have to laugh thinking about that last sentence. How deceived was I? I regret pushing those that I love away and constructing a wall for my own protection. It just hurt me more.
I know all the right answers. I have heard all the lines. I have gotten all the pat explanations as to why my mom died and why I feel this way.
But it doesn't take away the ache.
and that's okay.
I am thankful that this has been repeatedly brought to my attention by caring loved ones. I am thankful that they are not scared of my pain, or my loneliness, or my grief.
Most of all, I love that God is allowing me to now feel the grief instead of ignoring it. Although it's much harder to work through than to walk around it, it is beautiful that I know I will be more like Jesus when I have finally beat my fists against his chest over and over and over again until I finally quit fighting His embrace. I have it on good authority that he is waaaay stronger than me and will hold me until I relent and let him comfort me.
He said the sweetest words..."Nobody expects you to just get over all of this. Except yourself."
yep, he pegged that girl in one sentence.
My expectations of myself have always been high. I can't think of a time when I didn't have them. They have been my constant companion over the years. But in that moment, I started wondering why in the world I squirmed so warily against the strong arms (both the tangible ones and the transcendent ones) that held me. The only place that offered a haven for the grief.
But I already knew why. I like being strong. I like being both spiritually and physically dependable at all times and I feel that I lose some of my purpose if I'm not being available to meet the needs of everyone in the free world. And heaven forbid, if you see me without my cell phone, somebody has pried it out of my cold, dead fingers...
For a really, really long time I took some amount of pride in being the one everybody could count on. Now the Lord has so gently allowed me to come to a place where the pride dies because...
other people have to care for me this time.
I know it sounds ridiculous, but it's so scary for me. It's terrifying at times to think about how to act in this new role. A few weeks ago, I was watching a movie with Seth. (The movie is called Bella and it's brilliant, by the way.) At the end, the main characters are sitting on the beach. The woman talks about losing her dad and the pain that she endured as well as watching her mom suffer.
I lost it. I couldn't help it. I mean to tell you that I had a full-on ugly cry with snot everywhere and not a tissue to be found. For probably two or three minutes I sounded like a dying partridge.
I let it all out for just a minute. Then I switched to Superthatgirl mode where I suddenly remembered that my poor boyfriend was probably scared to death at my ridiculous outburst of emotion. I got up and walked out of the living room, hiding my pain and my tears and my emotions in the atrociously wallpapered bathroom where Seth keeps my special Bath and Body Works Freshwater Cucumber soap. I sat on the toilet and cried like a little girl.
Meanwhile, Seth sits in the living room frustrated that I felt like I had to run away until I could pull myself together. He just wanted to let me cry and rub my head until I felt better again. Why can't I let him? Or anyone else for that matter?
Everyone in my life wants to be strong so that I don't have to. Why can't I let them? I find it's much easier to push the ones I love away so that I can do it on my own. I used to be good at that, you know.
But now, God has brought me to the place where I am not able to do that. I used to be the one that could support everyone, spin all the plates, and never drop a one. I took some really intense pride in the fact that my problems never overtook me.
I have to laugh thinking about that last sentence. How deceived was I? I regret pushing those that I love away and constructing a wall for my own protection. It just hurt me more.
I know all the right answers. I have heard all the lines. I have gotten all the pat explanations as to why my mom died and why I feel this way.
But it doesn't take away the ache.
and that's okay.
I am thankful that this has been repeatedly brought to my attention by caring loved ones. I am thankful that they are not scared of my pain, or my loneliness, or my grief.
Most of all, I love that God is allowing me to now feel the grief instead of ignoring it. Although it's much harder to work through than to walk around it, it is beautiful that I know I will be more like Jesus when I have finally beat my fists against his chest over and over and over again until I finally quit fighting His embrace. I have it on good authority that he is waaaay stronger than me and will hold me until I relent and let him comfort me.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
A Peace Greater than our Understanding.
When my mom, Cheryl, was a little girl, she attended St. John's Lutheran Church in a local town. They also had a Lutheran school at that time.. She was baptized as an infant into the Lutheran denomination, so it was only natural for her to be confirmed as an eighth-grader after two years of instruction in the catechism.
During my mom's early years, she was surrounded by tension in her home. Her father was unfaithful to her mother, but my grandmother's strong love for Christ kept her in the marriage after repeated infidelities by her husband. Eventually, after taking him back eight or nine times, she took steps toward ending the marriage. My mom was the oldest of three children, and in the eighth grade, she felt the storms brewing all around her. It was no secret that my mom's life had not been a dream. She did not understand God's love for her because of her earthly father. She was not a stupid little girl, and unfortunately, even my grandmother, who tried very hard, could not shield her from the harsh realities of this life.
When the marriage was at the point of death, my mom's pastor and confirmation leader called her into his office--it was time for him to pick a verse for her. It was customary for him to pray and seek out a scripture to direct the young person's life; a banner, so to speak.
He said in essence (I wasn't there, you know ;D), "Cheryl, I know that your life feels like a mess right now. I picked this verse out for you because God wants you to know when things are warring around you, they don't have to war within you."
He gave her this verse:
Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.
John 14:27
That spoke to her so much that for the rest of her life, that verse was etched into her mind and heart. When they struggled with infertility issues for years. When she faced her first cancer diagnosis in 1994. When we opened our store. Every circumstance in her life was a reminder to rest in the peace of Christ.
I don't think just those who are giving talks are feeling anxiety in this season of life.
God has led me to believe that some of you may suffer from an anxiety that you feel cannot be controlled. You worry about everything. You worry about things that you cannot even change.
God is calling your troubled heart to peace this very day. HE KNOWS everything. He is the MASTER of every little detail you stress over. Your ulcers are in VAIN because all He needs is one thing: to be in charge!
Fast forward to 2005. My mom was called to be a Lay Director and was faced with the task of choosing a theme for the team and pilgrims to consider. She kept hearing God whisper John 14:27 to her as she prepared and prayed. When she finally told him she didn't just want to pick that verse because it was "her" Confirmation verse. He gently spoke to her heart (I will never forget when she told me this) that HE ALONE had known all that that verse would come to represent in her life. He also knew when He laid it on her pastor's heart that she, as an eighth-grader, would one day be called to lead SIWE #31A. So He gave her the peace and confirmation she needed that it was to be John 14:27.
Now, I am sitting here at my desk almost in tears because I do miss her so very much. I am not sure why He made me type this out and be vulnerable. But God deserves praise for His unfailing peace, and so I tell you that story not to glorify anyone but OUR JESUS. Now, when I go to the cemetery to put flowers or a pinwheel or just to spend time with Jesus as I am still in the grieving process, that verse is what I see. We had it put on her tombstone because God told me that I would need a reminder of the PEACE that only He can give in really hard times or desperate circumstances. I hope this has clicked and reasonated with you that God wants to give you PEACE. PEACE OF MIND AND PEACE OF HEART.
Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Phil. 4:6-7
If you need prayer concerning anxiety, please call or email me and I will be happy to pray with you.
I love you all.
Lauren
I'm sorry if you received this in an email already and you were looking for a new blog. Felt like somebody needed to see this on the blog as well.
Some Housekeeping: if you don't know how to leave a comment, you can feel free to email me (it's listed on the side of the blog).
Thanks, Kristi A., for the sweet email and for keeping up with a fellow Martin Countian. I love you, sister!
xoxo.
During my mom's early years, she was surrounded by tension in her home. Her father was unfaithful to her mother, but my grandmother's strong love for Christ kept her in the marriage after repeated infidelities by her husband. Eventually, after taking him back eight or nine times, she took steps toward ending the marriage. My mom was the oldest of three children, and in the eighth grade, she felt the storms brewing all around her. It was no secret that my mom's life had not been a dream. She did not understand God's love for her because of her earthly father. She was not a stupid little girl, and unfortunately, even my grandmother, who tried very hard, could not shield her from the harsh realities of this life.
When the marriage was at the point of death, my mom's pastor and confirmation leader called her into his office--it was time for him to pick a verse for her. It was customary for him to pray and seek out a scripture to direct the young person's life; a banner, so to speak.
He said in essence (I wasn't there, you know ;D), "Cheryl, I know that your life feels like a mess right now. I picked this verse out for you because God wants you to know when things are warring around you, they don't have to war within you."
He gave her this verse:
Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.
John 14:27
That spoke to her so much that for the rest of her life, that verse was etched into her mind and heart. When they struggled with infertility issues for years. When she faced her first cancer diagnosis in 1994. When we opened our store. Every circumstance in her life was a reminder to rest in the peace of Christ.
I don't think just those who are giving talks are feeling anxiety in this season of life.
God has led me to believe that some of you may suffer from an anxiety that you feel cannot be controlled. You worry about everything. You worry about things that you cannot even change.
God is calling your troubled heart to peace this very day. HE KNOWS everything. He is the MASTER of every little detail you stress over. Your ulcers are in VAIN because all He needs is one thing: to be in charge!
Fast forward to 2005. My mom was called to be a Lay Director and was faced with the task of choosing a theme for the team and pilgrims to consider. She kept hearing God whisper John 14:27 to her as she prepared and prayed. When she finally told him she didn't just want to pick that verse because it was "her" Confirmation verse. He gently spoke to her heart (I will never forget when she told me this) that HE ALONE had known all that that verse would come to represent in her life. He also knew when He laid it on her pastor's heart that she, as an eighth-grader, would one day be called to lead SIWE #31A. So He gave her the peace and confirmation she needed that it was to be John 14:27.
Now, I am sitting here at my desk almost in tears because I do miss her so very much. I am not sure why He made me type this out and be vulnerable. But God deserves praise for His unfailing peace, and so I tell you that story not to glorify anyone but OUR JESUS. Now, when I go to the cemetery to put flowers or a pinwheel or just to spend time with Jesus as I am still in the grieving process, that verse is what I see. We had it put on her tombstone because God told me that I would need a reminder of the PEACE that only He can give in really hard times or desperate circumstances. I hope this has clicked and reasonated with you that God wants to give you PEACE. PEACE OF MIND AND PEACE OF HEART.
Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Phil. 4:6-7
If you need prayer concerning anxiety, please call or email me and I will be happy to pray with you.
I love you all.
Lauren
I'm sorry if you received this in an email already and you were looking for a new blog. Felt like somebody needed to see this on the blog as well.
Some Housekeeping: if you don't know how to leave a comment, you can feel free to email me (it's listed on the side of the blog).
Thanks, Kristi A., for the sweet email and for keeping up with a fellow Martin Countian. I love you, sister!
xoxo.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
When Dreams and Reality Collide.
I had a dream last night. It was the dream I had been waiting to have. I know it sounds silly, but since my mom died I have wanted to have a dream about her. It started a couple of weeks after the funeral when my dear friend Dee came to me. She prayed over me and asked God to comfort me in my pain.
I was still slightly numb at that time, trying to hold it all together and pass my college and grad classes as she died in November and I had missed a lot of school The semester was to end in December, and if you know me, you know that I am pretty driven about certain things characteristically.
Dee told me about a dream she had. My mom was a part of the dream, and it brought so much comfort to her. She said it was a beautiful dream and she prayed the same for me. I immediately started to ask God for that.
Actually, I think "whined" might be a more appropriate word to describe my conversations with God about this. I absolutely whined to Him about it like a spoiled child.
I'm about to be very blunt. But this is real life. These are real emotions. God is big enough to handle them.
"You took her away...The least you could do is to let me have a dream."
He said nothing.
How could I blame Him?
Fast forward almost nine months. Still no dream.
Months filled with nights of laying in bed sobbing because of a pain that goes so deep it almost arrests me physically. Days of getting so lost in my own thoughts that I'm no good to those I love. Using unreasonable logic. Lack of focus on tasks at hand. Moments of frustration with others that quickly evaporates into anger. My days are now also marked with a lack of patience that comes with the territory of wondering if I, unlike my mother, will live to see sixty.
This is my reality. I am learning to accept that.
Last night, my prayer was answered.
I went to bed close to 12 AM, tired as all get-out.
Honestly, I don't remember any specifics at all,
except that my mom was in her bedroom, sitting up in the bed. She had her 'old-school wafro' going on (if you knew my mama way back before her Sally Field football hair helmet days, you know of what I speak...)
At one point, we were standing in the hallway of our house.
She was so close.
The dream was so real, and my eyes are watering as I type this because the one thing I have truly missed was
the nearness of her
OR
being in close proximity with her.
Anyone who has lost a loved one knows what I mean.
For a few blissful moments, I felt that again. And it was so good to feel close to her again. I only wish it hadn't been a dream.
I was still slightly numb at that time, trying to hold it all together and pass my college and grad classes as she died in November and I had missed a lot of school The semester was to end in December, and if you know me, you know that I am pretty driven about certain things characteristically.
Dee told me about a dream she had. My mom was a part of the dream, and it brought so much comfort to her. She said it was a beautiful dream and she prayed the same for me. I immediately started to ask God for that.
Actually, I think "whined" might be a more appropriate word to describe my conversations with God about this. I absolutely whined to Him about it like a spoiled child.
I'm about to be very blunt. But this is real life. These are real emotions. God is big enough to handle them.
"You took her away...The least you could do is to let me have a dream."
He said nothing.
How could I blame Him?
Fast forward almost nine months. Still no dream.
Months filled with nights of laying in bed sobbing because of a pain that goes so deep it almost arrests me physically. Days of getting so lost in my own thoughts that I'm no good to those I love. Using unreasonable logic. Lack of focus on tasks at hand. Moments of frustration with others that quickly evaporates into anger. My days are now also marked with a lack of patience that comes with the territory of wondering if I, unlike my mother, will live to see sixty.
This is my reality. I am learning to accept that.
Last night, my prayer was answered.
I went to bed close to 12 AM, tired as all get-out.
Honestly, I don't remember any specifics at all,
except that my mom was in her bedroom, sitting up in the bed. She had her 'old-school wafro' going on (if you knew my mama way back before her Sally Field football hair helmet days, you know of what I speak...)
At one point, we were standing in the hallway of our house.
She was so close.
The dream was so real, and my eyes are watering as I type this because the one thing I have truly missed was
the nearness of her
OR
being in close proximity with her.
Anyone who has lost a loved one knows what I mean.
For a few blissful moments, I felt that again. And it was so good to feel close to her again. I only wish it hadn't been a dream.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
"Why Haven't I Heard From You"
Yes. As a matter of fact, I DID use a Reba MacEntire song as the title of this here blog. Whatcha gonna do about it?
Okay, I am sorry. I have (hopefully only temporarily) lost my little green 88-cent spiral notebook that had all my trip journals recorded therein. I have lost the auh-oof-ta (helps if said with a grunt) to blog because I am still praying it will turn up. I think it got missplaced between the Thompsons' and my new apartment and my office. So if you want to read the rest of the week--errr, let me rephrase--since you want to read about the rest of my Haitian adventure, please join me in prayer that it turns up quickly.
In other news, I could write a book on what the Lord is doing in my heart currently. It's a beautiful thing to learn gently to take my hands off of the things to which I cling so tightly, and place them in His instead of wringing them in worry. Don't worry, it only hurts a little. And that's because of me, not Him.
I must also tell you that despite the fact that I thought I was "over" the most painful parts of losing my precious mom, the grief has also kept me away from this blog. It is a difficult and tricky thing to describe. As I wept the other night and sleep eluded me, I found myself comparing grief to the very tears that lately have so often rolled down these cheeks.
Some days the grief comes on me like a little tear in the corner of my eye. I will think of her, be it a funny memory or a little quip she always used, and a little piece of sadness will well up inside me much like that tear in the corner of my eye.
Other days, the sadness comes early and lasts all day. One tear after another rolls down my cheek as I struggle with the questions that He is big enough to listen to and answer...or not answer.
The sadness comes and goes. But not Jesus. He stays.
Even in the moments when I temporarily forget and think, "Gosh, mom hasn't called me at all this week...I better give her a call-Why in the world haven't I heard from her?"
and painfully remember that I cannot.
Or when I lay in bed and cry because I want so badly to talk with her, laugh with her, hear hear her voice again, pray with her. And I know that I won't.
But God in his Fatherly patience, again brought this scripture to mind, personalizing it with my own name.
"I know it hurts, Lauren. But do not grieve as those who have no hope."
I know you are probably thinking, "Well, that should be easy. Everybody knows her mom was dedicated to Jesus and is now experiencing eternity with Him." But in reality, it is much easier at times to let the grief overtake the hope.
I want her back here. She wouldn't come even if she had the chance.
But I want her to sit with me on the couch and watch What Not to Wear.
Instead, I watch it by myself.
I want her to see Mamma Mia! with me when it comes out in a week or so with me so that we can sing Abba songs at an obnoxious decibel in the middle of the theatre with me.
But I will be singing without the Dancing Queen.
I need to practice making noodles with her because Seth loves noodles and I want to make even better ones.
But I will practice alone.
It takes much less discipline to dwell on the uglies of the raw deal that a fallen world offers than it does to cling to the Truth of the Gospel: that Jesus came for us to have an abundant life...not just there, where she is, but here where I am. That comes with embracing life. The goods and the uglies. I am learning to experience the pain so that I can love Jesus for His commitment to me. His goodness, His kindness, and His love.
For example, I went to the cemetery yesterday. I never did that with my Grandma Liz, because I knew she wasn't there and it brought me no comfort. But since my mom died, even though she isn't there either, I find a great comfort in meeting with God there.
A few weeks ago, I had gone to cry and pray, and was tremendously upset by the fact that someone had stolen the beautiful flower arrangement on the top of the grave.
It ached. Who could do such a thing?
Oh, but how God demonstrated his love for me yesterday in His active pursuit of my good. He sent someone to put an even more beautiful arrangement on the grave.
"I notice. I notice your pain. I know it aches." He whispered gently.
It aches,
but because of you, God,
it doesn't sting.
"The bodies we now have are weak and can die. But they will be changed into bodies that are eternal. Then the Scriptures will come true,
'Death has lost the battle!
Where is its victory?
Where is its sting?'"
Lauren
Okay, I am sorry. I have (hopefully only temporarily) lost my little green 88-cent spiral notebook that had all my trip journals recorded therein. I have lost the auh-oof-ta (helps if said with a grunt) to blog because I am still praying it will turn up. I think it got missplaced between the Thompsons' and my new apartment and my office. So if you want to read the rest of the week--errr, let me rephrase--since you want to read about the rest of my Haitian adventure, please join me in prayer that it turns up quickly.
In other news, I could write a book on what the Lord is doing in my heart currently. It's a beautiful thing to learn gently to take my hands off of the things to which I cling so tightly, and place them in His instead of wringing them in worry. Don't worry, it only hurts a little. And that's because of me, not Him.
I must also tell you that despite the fact that I thought I was "over" the most painful parts of losing my precious mom, the grief has also kept me away from this blog. It is a difficult and tricky thing to describe. As I wept the other night and sleep eluded me, I found myself comparing grief to the very tears that lately have so often rolled down these cheeks.
Some days the grief comes on me like a little tear in the corner of my eye. I will think of her, be it a funny memory or a little quip she always used, and a little piece of sadness will well up inside me much like that tear in the corner of my eye.
Other days, the sadness comes early and lasts all day. One tear after another rolls down my cheek as I struggle with the questions that He is big enough to listen to and answer...or not answer.
The sadness comes and goes. But not Jesus. He stays.
Even in the moments when I temporarily forget and think, "Gosh, mom hasn't called me at all this week...I better give her a call-Why in the world haven't I heard from her?"
and painfully remember that I cannot.
Or when I lay in bed and cry because I want so badly to talk with her, laugh with her, hear hear her voice again, pray with her. And I know that I won't.
But God in his Fatherly patience, again brought this scripture to mind, personalizing it with my own name.
"I know it hurts, Lauren. But do not grieve as those who have no hope."
I know you are probably thinking, "Well, that should be easy. Everybody knows her mom was dedicated to Jesus and is now experiencing eternity with Him." But in reality, it is much easier at times to let the grief overtake the hope.
I want her back here. She wouldn't come even if she had the chance.
But I want her to sit with me on the couch and watch What Not to Wear.
Instead, I watch it by myself.
I want her to see Mamma Mia! with me when it comes out in a week or so with me so that we can sing Abba songs at an obnoxious decibel in the middle of the theatre with me.
But I will be singing without the Dancing Queen.
I need to practice making noodles with her because Seth loves noodles and I want to make even better ones.
But I will practice alone.
It takes much less discipline to dwell on the uglies of the raw deal that a fallen world offers than it does to cling to the Truth of the Gospel: that Jesus came for us to have an abundant life...not just there, where she is, but here where I am. That comes with embracing life. The goods and the uglies. I am learning to experience the pain so that I can love Jesus for His commitment to me. His goodness, His kindness, and His love.
For example, I went to the cemetery yesterday. I never did that with my Grandma Liz, because I knew she wasn't there and it brought me no comfort. But since my mom died, even though she isn't there either, I find a great comfort in meeting with God there.
A few weeks ago, I had gone to cry and pray, and was tremendously upset by the fact that someone had stolen the beautiful flower arrangement on the top of the grave.
It ached. Who could do such a thing?
Oh, but how God demonstrated his love for me yesterday in His active pursuit of my good. He sent someone to put an even more beautiful arrangement on the grave.
"I notice. I notice your pain. I know it aches." He whispered gently.
It aches,
but because of you, God,
it doesn't sting.
"The bodies we now have are weak and can die. But they will be changed into bodies that are eternal. Then the Scriptures will come true,
'Death has lost the battle!
Where is its victory?
Where is its sting?'"
Lauren
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Enjoying Where You Are at (on the Way to Where You are Going)
This is a collaborative post. Cue that song from the Wonder Years ("I get by with a little help from my friends... whoa oh oh oh"). Actually just one friend.
Turns out I get by with a lot of help from her. She gave me the title.
Which brings me to tonight's topic.
I live in the home of Randy and Terri, beloved friends who are now family to me and who see me as part of their family as well. I sleep on the most beautiful red couch I have ever seen. By a fireplace (which in truth doesn't do me much good during these summer months--most of you know that I find myself sweating in the most Arctic of conditions) that is most legit. In a house filled with warmth and love and laughter and joy and beauty and a Wii.
I have become a gypsy. A vagabond.
It's so weird. I never once thought that after college I would be gypsying my way through the summer before I became a full-time grad student. But here I am, at the Thompson family home, living in a town I said I would never live in (love makes you do some crazy things--and I'm talking about the love for God and His people--the benefits of living in the town extend much further than being close to Seth (definite bonus, though!). I am close to the people I fellowship with, which is why I love being here.)
So why am I paranoid about where I am headed?
in life.
in ministry.
in relationships.
The wise sage Dr. Seuss knew a few things about this place...
"You can get so confused that you'll start in to race down long wiggled roads
at a break-necking pace and grind on for miles across weirdish wild space, headed, I fear, toward a most useless place.The Waiting Place...
...for people just waiting. Waiting for a train to go or a bus to come, or a plane to go or the mail to come, or the rain to go or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow or waiting around for a Yes or a No or waiting for their hair to grow. Everyone is just waiting." excerpt from Oh! The Places You'll Go
My mom once told me as we chatted through the night that she felt she wished portions of her life away, waiting on the next thing to come along. For example, when she graduated high school, she couldn't wait to get married so life could "really" start, she said. Then when she was married, she looked forward to having kids so that she could have the American Dream--the picket fence family. Then when my brother was little and later when I was little, she couldn't wait for us to quit running around amok and get potty trained already. The list goes on and on. That is, until she built a viable relationship with Jesus and quit wishing her life away. So her advice to me as cancer ravaged her body and at times her mind, was to avoid wishing this precious gift, this life, this breath, away. We cried and prayed and found ourselves wishing for all the things she had wished away so we could keep enjoying each other's company.
Slowly, I am learning that difficult lesson. God has put me in a place in my life where going forward in some ways is what I would have considered failure to be before. Like not having my own place, for example.
But is it really failing...
- to live in community with people you love because the realization that the blood of Jesus has the capacity to make you one That is more powerful than DNA and public opinion. Don't believe me? Check this out.
- to stay up late with your BFFs and sleep in really late the next morning because you know this is the only time in your life you may have the opportunity without little fingers pulling your eyelids open*
- to be able to serve others and surprise someone with finished dishes or folded laundry because you had no other pressing commitments
- to read every book on your to-read list and never once feel guilty about it
- to swing all afternoon if you darned-well please?
- to sit at Starbucks all afternoon and spend time with the One who knows you best while listening to the same Coldplay song a million times
- to be able to work three walks in one spring because nothing and no one can hold you back?
- to take a trip that's a little unplanned and unstructured and totally irresponsible because there are things to do at home (but you know it will make you a better, happier person full of life and the joy of Christ)
- to have time to cry and pray and seek the Lord with a brother or sister just because you can take time to really get it
If this is failure, I want an F on every report card life ever writes me.
I want to enjoy where I am at on the way to wherever the heck I am going.
*this has happened to me. Hannah was the culprit on that one. I know you are surprised...
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Lyrics with Lauren: Izzy and Laur Rock Out!
I get paid to take care of this precious little one:
Best job EVER!
I'd do it for free, but don't tell Josh and Sara that!!
Anyway, every Wednesday, Izzy and I like to turn off the T.V. and put on the praise music. And we get down with our bad selves like the Rock Princesses that we are.
I was having a rough day and was really missing my mom, but Izzy just giggled and laughed and how can anyone be sad and cry while staring into that beautiful child's face?
Anyway, here's one we love:
Visible by 4Him (I realize I may lose all musical street cred with some of my audience on this one, but give me the benefit of the doubt...).
Sometimes I feel so inadequate.
I start to question am I ready for these things you ask.
My words are not so eloquent.
but if I speak the truth in love.
even simple words are equal to the task.
Oh Lord let your spirit rise within me.
until the world cannot deny that you exist.
This is my only passion
the very reason why I live.
To make you known, to make you seen,
to be your hands, to be your feet.
Oh I want to be a Revelation of love.
I want to make the invisible God visible.
May my life be an offering,
so completely given till there's nothing left but you alone.
This is my prayer, my destiny,
that my life reveals your glory
so that you remain long after I am gone.
Oh Lord you have made me for this purpose.
And all I have is just one life to give my all.
Make it clear to see who you are revealed in me
(a sacrifice) the beauty of the life you gave.
unending love amazing grace, my one desire
yep. That's what we're trying to do today. Me and Izzy and our little dancing praise band of two rocker chicks.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
A Beautiful Remembrance.
Hey. Check out Michal's blog today for some special memories she shares about her relationship with my mom.
http://michalbrennemans-confessional.blogspot.com/
also, check out Jonathon Martin's blog for Feb. 24-the Beattitudes. SO good.
http://jonathanmartin.wordpress.com/
you won't be sorry.
http://michalbrennemans-confessional.blogspot.com/
also, check out Jonathon Martin's blog for Feb. 24-the Beattitudes. SO good.
http://jonathanmartin.wordpress.com/
you won't be sorry.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Happy Birthday, Mom!
Today would have been my mama's 59th birthday. Last year on this day, we surprised her on this day with dinner at Biaggi's and three tickets (awesome seats) to see the Broadway musical "Mamma Mia!" My mom was a huge, huge ABBA fan and had been dreaming of seeing it since it came out.
I will never forget the beautiful smile on her face after I explained what the tickets were for.
Tonight, I will go and have a meal with two of my favorite people in the world: Jami and Seth. We will be eating at Biaggi's to celebrate the life of the most beautiful woman I ever met: the "Dancing Queen" and my best friend.
We will laugh a lot, cry a little, and have dessert.
Because life is too short not to.
I will never forget the beautiful smile on her face after I explained what the tickets were for.
Tonight, I will go and have a meal with two of my favorite people in the world: Jami and Seth. We will be eating at Biaggi's to celebrate the life of the most beautiful woman I ever met: the "Dancing Queen" and my best friend.
We will laugh a lot, cry a little, and have dessert.
Because life is too short not to.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
That Girl... = So Sick.
I am sicker than a dog.
(I've always wondered about that statement. Like, how sick are dogs? And why are they used as a reference point to how sick a human is? Oh well. My brain is too clouded to think of something better.)
Julie is on her way to get me from school to take me to the doc.
I almost went to the E.R. last night. Had a really, really high fever (but no thermometer!) and Rach took care of me and told me she would take me (at 1 in the AM...good friend.). Called Dad, thought he was back at the ranch, but he's flying home from Texas today. Unintentionally made the poor guy feel really helpless because I was scared and crying on the phone. I know, I am a pansy. But in all honesty, I was missing my mom, too. This is the first time I have been ill since she died, and there is just something about moms that make us feel better. Plus, they always know what to do.
To be continued...
just got back from the doc. Three prescriptions and a bottle of water later, I am feeling a little better.
YES!
...and I lost nine pounds since dec. That knowledge practically cured me altogether.
(I've always wondered about that statement. Like, how sick are dogs? And why are they used as a reference point to how sick a human is? Oh well. My brain is too clouded to think of something better.)
Julie is on her way to get me from school to take me to the doc.
I almost went to the E.R. last night. Had a really, really high fever (but no thermometer!) and Rach took care of me and told me she would take me (at 1 in the AM...good friend.). Called Dad, thought he was back at the ranch, but he's flying home from Texas today. Unintentionally made the poor guy feel really helpless because I was scared and crying on the phone. I know, I am a pansy. But in all honesty, I was missing my mom, too. This is the first time I have been ill since she died, and there is just something about moms that make us feel better. Plus, they always know what to do.
To be continued...
just got back from the doc. Three prescriptions and a bottle of water later, I am feeling a little better.
YES!
...and I lost nine pounds since dec. That knowledge practically cured me altogether.
Saturday, February 9, 2008
Community + Answered Prayer.
After years and years of seeking the Lord to find someone to mentor me spiritually, God finally opened a new door for me today! (Dee says it's the year of open doors, so...)
I have desired an intentional relationship with someone spiritually seasoned and mature (T-that does NOT mean old!!) who can challenge, encourage, and hold me accountable as I grow in Christ. There have been many opportunities but it has never quiite worked out.
To make up for this, God has sent wonderful women into my life who each teach me a different aspect of how faith integrates with life. Julie just loves on me. Dee teaches me about prayer. Kathryn encourages me to love people more. Vicki is really good at investing in people's lives. The list goes on and on. These are beloved women in my community of faith who have spent much time to be Jesus to me in so many ways, especially since they were all really good friends of my mom's as well.
Today the Lord allowed my dear friend Terri and I to enter into a very intentional, all-up-in-ya-business kind of mentorship. And man, is it such a blessing and so needed for both of us. I really hope I can encourage her as much as she encourages me and my family. (BONUS: My mom lovedlovedloved Terri and I think that is pretty special too...who knew what God was gonna do later?) It's nice to be totally honest with someone and know that they possess enough knowledge of your heart to realize you didn't mean what you actually said, but something else...
It's interesting that in the midst of all the chaos, God is again doing something unexpected by providing this relationship I so deeply need and have longed for. Someone I can really let down my guard with and learn how to be more like Jesus in the process of transparency and vulnerability. I feel like Jonathon:
"Perhaps the Lord will act on our behalf..."
It's really good. I am really blessed. Thanks Terri!!
I have desired an intentional relationship with someone spiritually seasoned and mature (T-that does NOT mean old!!) who can challenge, encourage, and hold me accountable as I grow in Christ. There have been many opportunities but it has never quiite worked out.
To make up for this, God has sent wonderful women into my life who each teach me a different aspect of how faith integrates with life. Julie just loves on me. Dee teaches me about prayer. Kathryn encourages me to love people more. Vicki is really good at investing in people's lives. The list goes on and on. These are beloved women in my community of faith who have spent much time to be Jesus to me in so many ways, especially since they were all really good friends of my mom's as well.
Today the Lord allowed my dear friend Terri and I to enter into a very intentional, all-up-in-ya-business kind of mentorship. And man, is it such a blessing and so needed for both of us. I really hope I can encourage her as much as she encourages me and my family. (BONUS: My mom lovedlovedloved Terri and I think that is pretty special too...who knew what God was gonna do later?) It's nice to be totally honest with someone and know that they possess enough knowledge of your heart to realize you didn't mean what you actually said, but something else...
It's interesting that in the midst of all the chaos, God is again doing something unexpected by providing this relationship I so deeply need and have longed for. Someone I can really let down my guard with and learn how to be more like Jesus in the process of transparency and vulnerability. I feel like Jonathon:
"Perhaps the Lord will act on our behalf..."
It's really good. I am really blessed. Thanks Terri!!
Sunday, February 3, 2008
A Life of Sundays.
Today was a most wonderful day. Not because I bungee jumped, or I found five bucks, or I got a golden ticket on American Idol. Today was just a good day.
[Those have been hard to come by in the last few months.]
After my mom died, I missed celebrating just plain ol', regular, good Sundays because every Sunday that we spent together before she went to be with Jesus, after my church's service, we would come home, put our comfy cozys on and take a nap. Or mama and me would stay half-awake and talk in her bed as we drifted in and out of sleep. Yes, I am proud to say that sometimes I still slept in my mom's bed even after it was "age-appropriate" to do so. I can't even describe how thankful I am for those beautiful moments now. We talked about everything from how to be a Godly woman to the events of the week to boys to family issues and all that was in between.
Since her death, Sundays have not been the same. It's been difficult to think about facing yet another week without her. And although I like to think that sometimes I am brave, when I think about facing a life of Sundays without her, I don't feel so brave anymore.
But God is faithful and He is the One giving me strength to face each Sunday without my biggest fan and cheerleader.
And today He gave me such a gift. A good Sunday.
First of all, I heard from the Lord on two big decisions this weekend, and both of them were confirmed at church this morning. [more on that later...] Then I headed to Bicknell where I discovered that my love's vote went well (see previous post...) and he is now officially the Senior Pastor at FBC Bicknell, shepherding a community of people I love a little more every day.
As if those things weren't enough, I went out to lunch with some delightful people. There is nothing like sharing a meal, being silly, and learning people by heart.
It just kept getting better.
But my favorite part of the day were the little, mundane, regular things that Seth and I did today. We spent some of the afternoon "cleanting" with Caedmon's Call's best album blaring as we sang along. We also collaborated on carpet and paint choices for the sweet parsonage Seth will be living in soon. And he helped me develop a graphic for the retreat. (More on that later.)
But the best of all was Seth and I laughing and talking and hanging out with all of our "shenanigans and tomfoolery" (as Matt Orth calls it.). Then I got to come home and watch a couple of my favorite Grey's episode with my dear Jami.
The everyday things of this Sunday all contributed to make it so wonderfully special in its' simplicity.
And I keep thinking, although life is different now, a life of Sundays like this one are something I can definitely look forward to.
[Those have been hard to come by in the last few months.]
After my mom died, I missed celebrating just plain ol', regular, good Sundays because every Sunday that we spent together before she went to be with Jesus, after my church's service, we would come home, put our comfy cozys on and take a nap. Or mama and me would stay half-awake and talk in her bed as we drifted in and out of sleep. Yes, I am proud to say that sometimes I still slept in my mom's bed even after it was "age-appropriate" to do so. I can't even describe how thankful I am for those beautiful moments now. We talked about everything from how to be a Godly woman to the events of the week to boys to family issues and all that was in between.
Since her death, Sundays have not been the same. It's been difficult to think about facing yet another week without her. And although I like to think that sometimes I am brave, when I think about facing a life of Sundays without her, I don't feel so brave anymore.
But God is faithful and He is the One giving me strength to face each Sunday without my biggest fan and cheerleader.
And today He gave me such a gift. A good Sunday.
First of all, I heard from the Lord on two big decisions this weekend, and both of them were confirmed at church this morning. [more on that later...] Then I headed to Bicknell where I discovered that my love's vote went well (see previous post...) and he is now officially the Senior Pastor at FBC Bicknell, shepherding a community of people I love a little more every day.
As if those things weren't enough, I went out to lunch with some delightful people. There is nothing like sharing a meal, being silly, and learning people by heart.
It just kept getting better.
But my favorite part of the day were the little, mundane, regular things that Seth and I did today. We spent some of the afternoon "cleanting" with Caedmon's Call's best album blaring as we sang along. We also collaborated on carpet and paint choices for the sweet parsonage Seth will be living in soon. And he helped me develop a graphic for the retreat. (More on that later.)
But the best of all was Seth and I laughing and talking and hanging out with all of our "shenanigans and tomfoolery" (as Matt Orth calls it.). Then I got to come home and watch a couple of my favorite Grey's episode with my dear Jami.
The everyday things of this Sunday all contributed to make it so wonderfully special in its' simplicity.
And I keep thinking, although life is different now, a life of Sundays like this one are something I can definitely look forward to.
Friday, January 25, 2008
A Change Will Do You Good?
I know none of you may believe it, but there are many reasons I haven't blogged since AUGUST. I know, tears are streaming down your faces at my return to blog world. (sense the deep sarcasm.) But let me say this: some of my excuses are really good.
it's been a rough few months. My lovely mama(=best friend, spiritual mentor, confidante, style coach, and bed-tucker-inner--it's true, she tucked me in often even after it became socially unacceptable for her to, and boy, am I glad now...) passed away in November, and life has gotten really interesting. Whoever wrote that song "A Change Will Do You Good" (unsure of exact title...) apparently liked change more than me. The changes that have taken place are not all difficult ones, and some have even been the biggest blessings yet in my young life....more on that in another post so stay tuned.
All the changes in my life have repeatedly proven the faithfulness of the One who will never change. He holds my heart and I find His presence in my sorrow, even if He is frustratingly silent at times.
more change is coming...
"well, Miss Lauren, is it the kind that's good or the kind that's bad?" good blog reader asks.
Well, GBR, I'm glad you asked. Because I am at the point where I am wondering how we distinguish the two. The difficult ones seem to always produce the most spiritual fruit although I like happy changes the best, which may speak to a lack of spiritual maturity. You know what? At least I am honest. If anyone said that they actually ENJOYED every change, stellar or difficult, I wouldn't believe them. But This girl's heart tells her the most painful changes are making her [painfully] stronger, and that she's okay with for sure. There are no black and white lines for defining change as good or bad.
Changes are challenging, but they are also always revelations of God's faithfulness if we allow them to be.
and that's NEVER a bad thing.
it's been a rough few months. My lovely mama(=best friend, spiritual mentor, confidante, style coach, and bed-tucker-inner--it's true, she tucked me in often even after it became socially unacceptable for her to, and boy, am I glad now...) passed away in November, and life has gotten really interesting. Whoever wrote that song "A Change Will Do You Good" (unsure of exact title...) apparently liked change more than me. The changes that have taken place are not all difficult ones, and some have even been the biggest blessings yet in my young life....more on that in another post so stay tuned.
All the changes in my life have repeatedly proven the faithfulness of the One who will never change. He holds my heart and I find His presence in my sorrow, even if He is frustratingly silent at times.
more change is coming...
"well, Miss Lauren, is it the kind that's good or the kind that's bad?" good blog reader asks.
Well, GBR, I'm glad you asked. Because I am at the point where I am wondering how we distinguish the two. The difficult ones seem to always produce the most spiritual fruit although I like happy changes the best, which may speak to a lack of spiritual maturity. You know what? At least I am honest. If anyone said that they actually ENJOYED every change, stellar or difficult, I wouldn't believe them. But This girl's heart tells her the most painful changes are making her [painfully] stronger, and that she's okay with for sure. There are no black and white lines for defining change as good or bad.
Changes are challenging, but they are also always revelations of God's faithfulness if we allow them to be.
and that's NEVER a bad thing.
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