IF JESUS WERE ME...

   

  Random contemplation today... Some "things" have been on my mind... Some old wounds opened fresh lately... Old habits or thoughts rise up unexpectedly... And some hurts or hates just won't go away no matter how hard I think I try... I get weary of being me sometimes--of being so fractured and imperfect. Especially when it doesn't make sense. When the good should outweigh the bad and I count those blessings, these moments come unrequested and unwanted. I want to be beyond these brutal thorns of the flesh. I don't want these same old gremlins to keep nipping at my feet.  
    But even Paul told us, "THREE TIMES I PLEADED WITH THE LORD TO TAKE IT AWAY FROM ME..." So I'm NOT the only one!!! Not that misery loves company but that one statement puts me in GOOD company in my book! Paul never fails to be both holy AND human. So it's comforting to know I'm not the only one who feels like I'm on a merry-go-round going nowhere.
     I love to put myself in the shoes of the Gospel greats--Mary Magdalene, Peter, the adulteress, the woman at the well, Paul, and of course Jesus Himself. I love to see from their perspective and I learn soooo much from them. I often stand in those shoes and teach from the "who's who" perspective and watch as women begin to see themselves through new eyes. But you know--every once in a while, in the middle of my own struggles, their shoes just don't fit. So what to do?....
     WWJD... Walk where He walked, talk like He talked, think like Him, BE more like Him. But sometimes in my humanness, that seems so impossible AND discouraging. If I were Jesus who knows the ending from the beginning I wouldn't be struggling in the first place, now would I?
      I read a quote from Dallas WIllard today that caught my attention and reminded me that sometimes we need to turn things upside down or inside out. He said, "I am learning from Jesus to live MY life if He were I..." So maybe sometimes I need to turn it around. Instead of trying to put myself in His shoes, maybe I need to put Jesus with all His humanity and grace in mine. What if Jesus were a confused little girl, or a wounded young woman confused and hurt by people that should be trusted, a wife and mother trying to survive, or this older woman weary and worn, scarred and sometimes still bleeding? What if Jesus were me? What if He didn't look ahead to the ending but faced my experiences, my hurts, and my regrets from MY perspective? 
     And I suddenly remember the little girl in the laundry hamper with Jesus... When He held me tight and cried with me. He didn't always "change" things so I wouldn't hurt but He let me know I wasn't alone and He hurt too. And I realize that as big as God as, Jesus is just my size. He feels what I feel, hurts when I hurt, and cries when I cry. He even gets angry at injustice and meanness. He also rejoices when I rejoice, laughs when I laugh, and loves even more deeply when I love. 
     Sometimes I try to escape from my own life to go where He is in Scripture--Jerusalem, the Sea of Galilee, the Holy Land countryside where He walked and taught, even on Mt. Calvary. Those aren't bad places to find Him--I learn so much from Him there but sometimes I need to remember I don't have to go looking for Him. He is right here. He lives my life with me.... And He knows my heart. Then Grace covers it all and somehow makes the imperfect become perfect when He speaks peace to me, "In this world you will have trouble, but TAKE HEART! I have overcome the world." (John 16:33)

THIS IS MY STORY, THIS IS MY SONG...

"...Let us draw near to God with a sincere heart and with the full assurance that faith brings, having our hearts sprinkled to cleanse us from a guilty conscience and having our bodies washed with pure water."

 Hebrews 10:22 NIV

   She was blinded by a country doctor's desperate remedy for a cold when she was only six weeks old. Nothing could retrieve her sight. "Poor little blind girl..." were words she may have heard again and again, but Fanny J. Crosby turned her tragedy into a triumph. Though she had every human reason to be discouraged, she rejoiced in faith. "Blessed Assurance" was only one of more than 8000 songs she wrote in her lifetime. Her blindness only made her stronger and more certain of her faith. She heard the melody a friend wrote one day, and immediately these words poured out of her--her own story in song: "Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine..."
     As soon as I could mimic the words and find the pages in the hymnals, this one became one of my very favorite hymns. I may have only been 5 or 6 years old but some songs just captured my heart even though I didn't really know why. I remember those Sunday night sings so well. I would sing those words with all my little girl might, "This is my story! this is my song! Praising my Savior all the day long!..." I must have been quite a sight. This skinny little freckle-faced girl... 
     I could pick a thousand songs that mean a lot to me, but if I had to pick one that has endured through my whole life, it would be this one. Just as Fanny Crosby rose above her blindness to grasp the assurance of her unfailing faith, I grasped the heart of those words in the darkest or saddest moments of my own life. When I was down and out as a little girl, I didn't choose from the sounds of the Loretta Lynn and Patsy Cline vinyl records that my dad played so often. I chose those songs I loved best on Sunday mornings and especially Sunday evenings when the congregation--even little girls--could choose the hymns. 
     I look now at the words of "Blessed Assurance" and realize why they have held my heart captive my whole life. "Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine..." No matter what was taken from me--as a little girl, a confused teenager, an overwhelmed mom, or totally lost grown woman on my own at forty--no one, and I mean NO ONE, could take Jesus away from me. Even when I myself tried to push Him away or run from Him, He took me in His arms and reminded, "You are Mine, and I am Yours." And oh! When I held on to His words, my tears and troubles just evaporated away
     "Perfect submission, perfect delight...Angels descending, bring from above, echoes of mercy and whispers of love." When I couldn't see right and wrong or understand what was happening, I found hope in crawling in Jesus' lap and giving Him my heart...and my hurt. As a little girl, I would crawl into the dark mustly laundry hamper (I was a strange little kids sometimes!) and Jesus would meet me there and just hold me tight. I didn't understand what "submission" was back then, but I knew it MUST this way of letting Jesus hold me while He made the world go away for awhile. And when I was in that laundry hamper, I did just that. I submitted... Without trying to prove anything to anyone, I surrendered to Him with a sincere heart... Well today, I don't fit in the laundry hamper anymore (obviously), but there are still times He draws me close and holds me, echoing mercy and whispering love to my soul.
     "Perfect submission, all is at rest. I in my Savior am happy and blest. Watching and waiting, looking above--Filled with His goodness, lost in His love." It's hard to think why I would even want to hide in a hamper full of dirty old clothes but when Jesus took hold of my heart in there, He washed my "inside" dirty laundry clean. Nothing else mattered, and I really was happy and blessed. I would even fall asleep amid that pile of dirty clothes completely at peace and at rest. Even today, in surrendering my very worst to Him, I find myself in Him and He in me. I remain happy and blessed--whether my tough circumstances change or remain the same.
     "This is my story, This is my song! Praising my Savior all the day long..." When I was so little, I remember belting those words out as loud and as strong as I could in that church pew. My heart would pound with love for my Jesus, the friend of children. I don't think anyone could have shut me up if they tried. It's ironic how Jesus always said we should come as little children to Him. In human reason, it just doesn't make sense. As children, there's so much we don't understand, even more we just can't put into words, and so very little we can do. But when Jesus comes down and speaks to a little child's heart, she doesn't question--she just knows and responds without abandon, "Jesus is mine and I am His."
     No matter what I had done or what I had been through, Jesus was ALWAYS my blessed assurance. I didn't understand a lot in those days, but I understood that one truth. Today in my church, we don't sing the song nearly as much as I would like but when I hear it, those words still fill my heart to overflowing. No matter what I've done or what I've been through, He reminds me that He is still my blessed assurance. Because He has held me so close throughout the years, His blessed assurance truly IS my story and my song. He's held me through all the darkest moments. When I couldn't see, He made a way for me. "This is MY story, this is MY song..." so yes, for all He is and all He has done, I will praise Him all my life long.

A NEW GENERATION

    Written December 28, 2011--the night before Alice Madeline was born. My attention was turned elsewhere before I posted it.... But remembering my thoughts that night and seeing how Brittany has settled into motherhood, my sentiments are still the same...

    In just a few hours, my baby girl will become a mom. It's been quite a year. None of us expected what this year held. The year had barely begun when my children lost their father. And now it ends with a new life just beginning as little Alice Madeline makes her grand debut tomorrow. 
     Honestly, I'm a little overwhelmed--a lot overwhelmed. Just as I'm beginning to think I've got a handle on this thing called "life," it changes. Overwhelmed isn't always a bad thing though. I've seen my daughter grow more in this one year than seemed possible. She has fought and endured, overcome, and pressed on. She lost what was most precious and embraced love and treasures yet to come. I'm amazed at the woman she is becoming. And I'm overwhelmed as I realize what is yet in store for her--the pain, fear, responsibility, tears, and unending joy that comes with being a mom. I'm overwhelmed because I know that in these next hours, her whole life changes as Alice comes into her life. There is no turning back.
     My whole life I have heard that old warning that always comes with a knowing chuckle, "You'll pay for your raisin'!" I never quite understood it. I guess I never quite appreciated the sentiment. It's as if one generation finds joy in knowing that the next generation will suffer the same struggles and worries and troubles that they have endured. And I've decided I don't want my daughter or my sons to "pay for their raisin'." If I could wish anything for my daughter, I would wish that she would be at least twice the parent I've ever been.... That she will not make the same mistakes I made or have to make up for her own mistakes growing up. I hope that she will have more patience and wisdom and love than I had... That she won't stay up nights worrying and wondering what she is doing wrong as a mom. I wish...I pray that she keeps the confidence and assurance that she will be the best mom she can be... And that if or when her own children rebel or seek their own independence, she will know that no matter what they do or choose, she has given them the tools to survive and the weapons needed to fight the battle they will face.
     The truth is that I believe she will be a great mom. She may not do things the way did them. (Actually, I hope she does things better than I did.) She may have different ideas about child-rearing than I had or generations before me had. But you know what? That's ok. Different doesn't mean wrong. I just pray that I can be there for her whenever she needs me yet know when its time to get out her way so she can be the parent God has created her to be. I pray that she comes into her role as mom with confidence and joy. That fears will subside as she walks in the strength and wisdom that I know Christ will provide in this brand new journey and that her "raisin' " never costs her or brings her doubt or regret but instead, I pray her "raisin' " only makes her stronger. Daughter, the best is yet to come...

BEING REAL

    
 Sometimes the line between ministry and friendship is so very blurred, and the hurt of one so very precious to me runs deep in me too. Maybe because knowing her pain, I recognize that the chasm between where I was and where I am is not so very wide and not nearly wide enough for comfort. Yet that one small step taken to cross the chasm that separates the edge of despair and the edge of hope seemed like the journey of a thousand miles. I've come so far but not far enough to forget or to lose sight of what GOD has done in me and for me. Maybe this hurt is what keeps me humble, knowing that my crossing wasn't my achievement but God's work in me. 
      Maybe this hurt is just one more cog in the turmoil that's been churning in me for awhile if I was willing to admit it. One of the greatest paradoxes of this journey and how God uses it, I think, is the conflict between what my mind knows and what my heart feels--another narrow chasm that seems so uncrossable sometimes. Even now I look from where I came and I can't see the bridge that I crossed to get where I am. It seems impossible.
     I'm a "fixer." If there was ever anything I selfishly want from my own experience is that no one I love would have to walk down the same road that I had to walk or cross the same frightening chasms. From where she is now, she focuses so intently at deadly hopeless churning waters below her that she can't see His hand so near reaching across to her from the other side of this chasm of despair. I remember it all too well--when I couldn't see His hand either. I just want to grab hold of her and cry out to her, "Come on! I know the way. I can save you!" She can't hear my cries but I'm realizing this morning that God hears my heart. He remembers when I was at the brink too... 
     Last night, Chad spoke in a women's meeting about "One Thing," a message that, I have to admit, unsettled me with so much so heavy on my heart. I like the sermons that end with me knowing all the answers but this one left me with more questions than answers. Honestly, at this moment, I don't have a clue about the answers to any of the questions Chad posed before us...Except one. He even shared the answer that is my own. (It's ironic that I had all the notes to this message three weeks ago but I didn't "hear" it then. Maybe God saved it so I would hear it when I needed it most...)
     "What one promise do you need to cling to?" As he commonly does, Chad posted a scripture with the question to help us. Together we read through part of it:

This one thing I know: GOD IS FOR ME!

I am trusting God; Oh, praise His promises!

I am not afraid of anything mere man can do to me! 

Yes, praise His promises.

Psalm 56:9-11 TLB

Those words hit hard last night... "This ONE THING I know: GOD IS FOR ME!" I can't honestly say that I always trust Him enough or that I'm never afraid--I am even now I guess. But this morning I remember why those four little words took my breath away last night. "GOD IS FOR ME!" That was the very truth I had to learn AND believe before I could take His hand and cross the chasm. That was my one step. When all the rest of the world seemed against me, I had to believe that God is for me. Thankfully, I had someone on the other side yelling (in a manner of speaking), "LOOK UP! GOD IS FOR YOU!" And yelling loud enough to take my attention from the swirling waters below for just a minute. But that minute was enough to see that someone point me to THE One--to Jesus reaching out His hand to take me to the other side. One step is all it took and I was rescued. Even since then, that one promise has often kept me looking ahead instead of looking below or behind. It does now...

     And I wonder how I take that from my heart to hers--to my friend who is now where I was. I want an easy answer. Surely there is something simple I can say or do to make her see but in my heart of hearts, I know she's just as determined and stubborn as me. So I look again at the verses Chad gave and I realize that one promise goes even further. I'm not sure why I didn't read it three weeks ago... As I remember my own journey as if it were just yesterday, I remember my promise to Him when He kept me from falling...

I am bound by my vows to You, O God.

I will keep my vows by offering songs of thanksgiving to You.

You have rescued me from death. You have kept my feet from stumbling

so that I could walk in your presence, in the Light of Life.

Psalm 56:12-13 God's Word Translation.

"I will keep my vows..." Chad reminded me last night that my own experience is what is most valuable in reaching out to this one on the edge. Admittedly, I didn't like that answer because it just confirmed that I couldn't FIX it for her. That doesn't eliminate her struggle. As daylight comes this morning, so does new revelation. My promise to Him was NOT to fix for others all that is wrong. My promise was just to whisper, to sing, to tell, or even scream if necessary, what He did for me. Not to fix but to simply give hope and point to Him. My promise was in whatever way possible to call from this side, "LOOK UP! He's right here! GOD IS FOR YOU!" 

     There are moments in my journey that are so hard to share openly with even the closest to me--not just because it's so intimately personal but also because it's still so painful. And I don't like my weakness or pain to show...Who does?! Doesn't weakness make me less effective for Him? (Again, this conflict between my heart and my head...) But the truth is that my own journey is sometimes the only tool I have. He has so graciously given me my most precious gift--my rescue. But my story doesn't fix hers, so what's the point? ...As I remember once again. It's not my job to fix her problem. It's to give her hope.

     So as I offer my "song" of thanksgiving, I am most thankful for my journey and I wouldn't trade one moment or one step of it for anything in the world... Especially the hardest and most painful moments, for it was is in those very moments that I discovered that He is FOR ME no matter what. No matter where I had been or what I had screwed up or how pathetic and hopeless I was, He was still FOR me. He fought the battles I didn't have the will or strength to fight. 

    So in the light of day, I realize that the bridge I keep looking for to get to where she is now doesn't exist. It never did. I didn't cross a bridge to get from there to where I am. All I did was reach out to take His hand when someone cried out to me, "LOOK UP!" And He raised me up on eagles wings and carried me in those moments and miles of living death to the other side--to Life.

     So Friend, I can't possibly take away your journey. I can't "fix it" for you so you don't have to go through this. But I know your journey is your greatest gift. All I can do is whisper, cry, sing, or yell out to you in any way possible that I know that I know that I know this one thing: Even these darkest moments are precious because I've been where you are, so LOOK UP! He's right in front of you reaching out His hand. I am here waiting on the other side praying for you and waiting to watch you reach out and take His hand as He lifts you up in flight and carries you to the other side--to a life unimagined before, even with its struggles. Girl, He will do what you or I can't. GOD IS FOR YOU!

A Life-Changing Day

First glimpse of Alice Madeline Mora, my first grandchild.

 Alice & Mommy (my daughter Brittany)

 Alice & Daddy

 Alice & Uncle Mikey

Alice & Uncle Andy

Alice & Uncle Elias

 Alice & Uncle Zachary

Alice & G-Mom... that's ME!

There just aren't any more words to describe this day right now. If there was ever a day I wish I could have shared with Phillip, it would be this one. G-Dad is missed very much.

HOMECOMING

      There were some empty chairs at our table this Thanksgiving, each one bringing its own reflection and remembrances. The year has wrought extreme sorrow in losing and extreme joy in expecting so missing the ones I love resonated a little deeper. 
      Mikey and Kaci were absent only because her family had come from such a long way to spend the day with "Memaw." The time together with Kaci's family was precious and will always be remembered. Their chairs don't seem quite so vacant when I know they are making memories they will always hold dear. The blessing of marriage is that each partner is part of TWO families. Missing them isn't so hard because I know their hearts really aren't far from home. If home is where the heart is, it can be in more than one place. Though they couldn't share the day with us, they were making memories where their hearts needed to be... In reflection, their chairs really weren't so empty at all.
     Elias' chair has been empty at our table several times in recent years because he's served his country in distant lands... All of my children have left empty chairs through the years in pursuit of their purpose. For my Marine sons, MRE's have been a more likely holiday dinner than festive turkey and pumpkin pies, and knowing what they are missing deepens the longing to have them home. A mama's heartstrings always tug in awareness of these empty chairs because a Marine's coming home is never certain. And the unknowing if he is well and at peace or in the midst of conflict weighs heavy. This year, missing him and knowing that he misses his dad even more makes his empty chair seem lonelier because I just want him to know he isn't alone in his sorrow. We all share it together. But knowing this year that he was on a journey that led him out of danger leaves me hoping. He's coming home. From Afghanistan to Hawaii and in a few days...HOME. If home is where the heart is, his heart will be home this year for Christmas--my empty nest will be full though I look on at my fledglings alone now. Looking forward with expectation seeing him face to face reminds me that "coming home" makes the emptiness of Elias' chair seem less empty. Anticipation of his homecoming offers HOPE in place of despair. 
     Excitement and expectation of meeting our new little Alice Madeline brightens the shadow of that forever empty chair yet the forsaken chair still remains. There's no possibility  that he will eventually "come home" and, though many precious others may come and go, no one can fill the void that death leaves behind. There's no escaping it. All one can do is just believe, as Chad reminded us, that there was a special homecoming celebration in heaven this year. In believing, we must remember with joyful acceptance that a chair in heaven no longer sits waiting for him to come home. He sits at a new table with his dad, Grandma, Frenchy, Aunt Dutch, and all those others who have gone before from this world. He may remember but he isn't missing us because he is forever HOME where his heart belongs. How could we ever wish to take that from him? 
      Though our hearts grieve, we hold on to hope...We remember with sad fondness but we look forward with joyful anticipation of yet another homecoming--our own--when room for one more is made to share in the heavenly feast. We will finally be HOME--the home where our hearts will always be.

REMEMBERING THE WAVES

     Since Phillip--the children's dad--died in January, the question of how I will be remembered has lingered heavy on my heart. I've watched my children and those who loved him most deal with losing him by remembering him--each one remembering different and/or similar aspects of his character and nature. And remembering his words--those words that shaped who he was and how he influenced them. I remember still a whole different set of memories and words through our relationship as husband and wife...and mom and dad to our kids. Those memories have left an imprint on each one of us that will never fade. So especially as my children have remembered him, I've wondered how they will remember me... How others will remember me... Will their memories be positive? Will they leave a lasting imprint? Or will those memories be here today and gone tomorrow?

      I look back on my own life journey--and I realize I am not the same person I was five years ago, 10 years ago, or 20 years ago... I'm certainly not the person I was 40 years ago... (Gee, I'm sounding old!) I remember those who have walked in and out of my life at different points along the way. If I never see them again, they will never know the person I am today and that hurts.     

     The truth of it has become evident in the last few weeks since my youngest son came to stay with me since he got out of the Marines. We haven't lived together since he was in junior high. I've realized we don't know each other very well. When we talk, he often relates and responds to the mom he knew as a boy. I'm not "her" anymore; he's not that little boy anymore either. So I'm not so sure how to relate to this man either... This man who went through much of his "becoming" years virtually without me... Who has served duty tours in Iraq and Afghanistan for the sake of his country... Who has opinions, values, beliefs, strengths, and hurts that I'm just learning about. So I have to wonder: if I died today, who would he remember?

     Given the chance to return to "back then," I would have done many things differently. If I understood then what I know now, I would have lived differently. I would have been stronger, braver, kinder. I would have given more love and less anger... More hope and less hurt... More grace and less judgement... More of the Jesus-Me and less of the World-Me.

     But, in reality, I'm left with only today--being the best "me" I can be today. I can only hope that the person I am today makes a deeper imprint than who I was in my yesterdays. Today, I'm living in grace and by grace. Today, I seek to see the "me" that Christ sees...His workmanship, created for a purpose--those "good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them." (EPHESIANS 2:10 ESV) Today, I strive to walk in His purpose. And that purpose is what I hope people remember most... 

     It took me so long to even begin to see myself as Christ sees me. I saw a mess--ugly, scarred, and imperfect. I lost all hope in the "me" I used to see. But today, I have hope because the Christ IN me is my Hope of Glory (See COLOSSIANS 1:27). He shows me who I am and what He wants me to do. My purpose is to give others that same hope by helping them see themselves as His workmanship--His masterpieces. And to show them that He made something beautiful. I want them to KNOW Him as their "Hope of Glory" and to be changed.

     If people remember anything about me, I would hope that those memories would point to the Christ in me. If they remember love, compassion, grace, beauty, or hope in me at all, they would know that it's the "Hope of Glory" in me and that they would know HIM. Philip Yancey wrote, "You can gauge the size of a ship that has passed out of sight by the huge wake it leaves behind." The bigger the ship, the bigger the waves that follow. I hope that my life today is big enough to leave big waves--not because of anything I say or do so much as because of Him in me. I pray that the waves that follow me are waves of Hope bringing about change in the lives that touch mine.