The Saxophone on the Sidewalk

Today it’s been five years. FIVE. That seems like a significant number in terms of years I’ve survived on this earth without my son. Perhaps almost milestone-ish. I felt like this anniversary demanded something significant. Some celebration. Some meaningful activity. Some planned-out remembrance.

But as the days drew nearer to this anniversary, I found myself weighed down with work and family obligations and more work and errands and travel and…(did I mention work?)…before I knew it, the day was here. Today there is no celebration. No meaningful activity. No planned-out remembrance. In fact, not even time to PROCESS what this day would be like. I felt very frustrated with my circumstances and maybe even a little guilty, that I couldn’t – or didn’t – have the time to give this important day enough thought. I mean, I am Joe’s MOM. Shouldn’t I be more…with it?

Yesterday, I had a chance to take a walk down to the beach, as I often do when I’m in California. I thought, “Finally! Here is my designated time to think and process and come up with a plan for this big anniversary tomorrow!” But as my thoughts wandered all over the place, I began to hear a noise, other than the music coming from my airPods. It was music….and not just some annoying neighbor blasting a song with their windows open. It was LIVE music. I looked up from the sidewalk and saw a man on his 2nd story balcony, playing the saxophone. Removing one of my airPods, I could hear the music much more clearly. It was upbeat. Lively. Joyful.

And as I watched him, with a smile on my face, I realized that this might just be the first September 5th in many years that I wasn’t dreading or merely trying to survive. That just like the saxophone music, I was feeling…pretty joyful. Not about losing Joe, but because….well. I have a lot to be joyful about. I’d get to spend this anniversary with my husband. (I still love saying that word.) I’d get to hear him preach about the grace of God in worship and celebrate his birthday with family. I’d get to make snacks for my husband and his friends who came over for their annual fantasy football draft. And hear his thunderous laughter travel down the hallway. I’m certain by the end of the day, I’ll get to relax on the couch and share Joe’s favorite candy – a Kit Kat – with my husband who was thoughtful enough to have one waiting for me just for today. And I have a host of friends who have messaged me today to say they are thinking about me. How those messages have brought me great joy this year, rather than sadness!

But I’m also joyful, but because I know the significance of this day for Joe. That even though he lost his life on this earth, he gained eternity in heaven with Jesus. And it was for the JOY set before Jesus, that He endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. (Hebrews 12:2) Think about that: What could have possibly been the JOY set before Jesus? Suffering? Pain? Humiliation? Death? No. The joy was that Jesus knew that all of those things would mean eternal life for those who believe. That He was fulfilling his Father’s plan as the ultimate sacrifice for sin. There’s not only forever JOY for my son and all believers in Christ, but for those grieving with that hope, we are living proof that though “weeping may last through the night, JOY comes with the morning”! (Psalm 30:5)

Maybe you, like me, have experienced your share of “toilet on the sidewalk” moments. You know, those terrible life-altering moments that you never saw coming. Perhaps you’ve had some “recliner on the sidewalk” moments as well, where God allows seasons of rest and rejuvenation. But I encourage you today to also look for the “saxophone on the sidewalk” moments that God has placed in your life. Those moments where, despite the sadness and grief and pain, there is JOY.

In big things. In small things. In ALL things.

Alterations

“So, when’s the big day?” The seamstress looked at me expectantly in the full-length mirror, waiting for me to give her an answer as she zipped up the back of my wedding gown. “Uhmm….we still don’t know.” I forced a smile on my face, and reassured myself that by the end of the alterations process I surely would be able to give her a more definitive answer. It had been nearly a year since I bought my dress and even though there was really no impetus in getting the gown to fit, I wanted to be ready. Just in case. But what seemed like a possibility when I began the fittings at the end of July seemed even more impossible when the alterations were finished three months later.

When I found my dress back in the fall of 2019, the sales consultant was sure that not much work really needed to be done. In my blissful bridal state, I agreed and took the dress home. However, on my first visit to the seamstress’ house, it was obvious all the alterations that would need to be made. The hem would clearly need to be taken up several inches. The top was too loose and falling off my shoulders. Things weren’t lining up in the chest area. I could clearly see what needed to be fixed. And yet, I didn’t have slightest clue how it needed to get done. But Terry did.

“Oh, I’ll just pin this here and cut this off here and restitch this here…” Her words were like a foreign language to me. I nodded in agreement with everything she said. I mean, it wasn’t my job to tell Terry what to do. She was the master seamstress, not me. She was the one with all the tools, the thread, the needles and other supplies. She was the one with decades of sewing experience, where all I’ve mastered in my lifetime is how to sew on a button that came loose. I had no expertise in how to alter anything at all, let alone something as complicated as a wedding dress. My only job was to stand still, let her make the necessary alterations and then marvel at her handiwork. When I left each time, I had complete faith and trust that the next time I returned, the dress would fit even better than before.

And it did. Because the master seamstress knew exactly what needed to be done. And had the ability to do it. Whenever I returned to her home to put the dress on for the next fitting, I could envision that maybe a wedding really was possible someday in the near future. But after driving away, my own personal circumstances would soon remind me that I was no closer to a wedding date now than I was when I bought the dress. My current situation seemed unchanging. Frustrating. Hopeless. IMPOSSIBLE. I could see what needed to be done, but I didn’t know how to do it. Or rather, how God was going to do it. Couldn’t he just alter the course of my life if He wanted to?

It soon dawned on me that here I was, putting my complete faith and trust in an earthly seamstress to produce a beautifully altered gown….yet doubting and mistrusting my God, the Master Seamster, to produce beautifully-altered circumstances for my life. Was it because I feel like He’s taking too long? Or not moving in ways I think He should? Or rather, in the time I feel He should?

Dear friend, I am sure you, like me, have had times where you have felt impatient for God to make some grand alterations to your life. And I don’t believe we’re alone in that thought. So many times in Scripture, God’s people were waiting for some circumstance to be changed and for God to bring them our of seemingly impossible situations. They, like us, might have seen what needed to be done, but had no clue how it would be accomplished.

Remember Sarah who waited for a child and was still barren at age 90? Look what God did!

Sarah said, “God has brought me laughter, and everyone who hears about this will laugh with me.” And she added, “Who would have said to Abraham that Sarah would nurse children? Yet I have borne him a son in his old age. ~Genesis 21:6-7

Remember the Israelites who waited hundreds of years to be delivered from slavery and found themselves standing before a sea, with Pharoah’s army in pursuit? Look what God did!

Then Moses stretched out his hand over the sea, and all that night the Lord drove the sea back with a strong east wind and turned it into dry land. The waters were divided, and the Israelites went through the sea on dry ground, with a wall of water on their right and on their left. ~Exodus 14:21-22

Remember Daniel who waited all night in the lions’ den, wondering if he’d still be alive in the morning? Look what God did!

Daniel answered, “May the king live forever! My God sent his angel, and he shut the mouths of the lions. They have not hurt me, because I was found innocent in his sight. ~Daniel 6:21-22 

Remember Mary who, with all of God’s people, had been waiting for the Messiah? Look what God did!

The angel answered and said to her, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; for that reason also the holy Child will be called the Son of God. … For nothing will be impossible with God.” ~Luke 1:35, 37

Remember the disciples who waiting behind closed doors in the days that followed Jesus’ death? Look what God did!

But God raised Him from the dead, freeing Him from the agony of death, because it was IMPOSSIBLE for death to keep its hold on him.~ Acts 2:24

Did you catch that last one? Of all the “impossibles” in the Bible, this is the one that altered the course of our lives forever! The only impossible for God was that death couldn’t win. It wasn’t possible for us to save ourselves or change our lives and secure our salvation. Only the One who has woven together the most amazing story of all time could do that. And He did it, not only with the death of His Son, but with the resurrection.

I don’t know what “impossible” you are facing today that you desperately want God to alter. Perhaps it’s your job, your relationships, your health, or your finances. Rest assured, dear one, that the Master Seamster at work through it all. He is carefully measuring the days, trimming the unnecessary fabric, adding details we could have never imagined. It’s not our job to grab the scissors out of His hand to start cutting or pull the needle from His hand and begin stitching. It is simply to watch Him, marvel at His handiwork, and BE STILL while He makes the necessary alterations.

Be still and know that I am God. ~Psalm 46:10

The Recliner on the Sidewalk

A few of my faithful readers may remember when I began this blog over three and a half years ago, with the first post titled, “The Toilet on the Sidewalk”.  For lack of creativity, it also became this blog’s name.  You may recall (but if not, I’ll fill you in) that nearly every night since my 14-year-old son had died, one of the only ways I could function and process what was going on in my world was to plug in my earbuds, crank up the worship music on Pandora, and go on one of my nightly walks. One particular October night , I came across an actual toilet on the sidewalk, directly blocking my path.  I stopped for quite a while looking at that toilet and decided it was appropriate timing, given my present circumstances.  The more I thought about it, the more I realized that toilet was significant, and not just for me.  I’ll let my previous blog post explain:

We all have a “toilet” in life, don’t we?  Something we didn’t see coming, something we didn’t plan on happening.  Something we wish were different in life.  But we don’t need to stay stuck in that reality.  We can chose to, by God’s help, get off “our” path and move forward.  Keep fighting the fight.  Keep running the race of the Christian life.

In case you’re wondering, I finally did bypass that toilet.  I kept moving forward.  And I am still running the race.  Just with more of a limp than before.

But recently I found myself thrust into yet another “toilet” moment as soon as this past school year ended (as if COVID and teaching remotely for the last quarter wasn’t a toilet-worthy moment of its own).   It was definitely a moment which fueled my anxiety, caused unreasonable fear and panic, and precipitated the need to leave my home of several years to move into the desired high school district for my daughter.  June became a flurry of legal dealings, apartment hunting, online postings to sell half our furniture, garage sale organization, packing of boxes, moving (which is a story unto itself)…and then the unpacking of said boxes.  It was a series of tasks that required just as much emotional energy as physical energy.   Mainly because it required letting go of “Joe’s room” and the last home he lived in.  And that was going to be tough.

It was at the height of all this chaos that once again, I found myself plugging in the earbuds, cranking the worship music on Pandora and walking around the neighborhood to try to sort out and process all this change.  As I tried to calm myself and prepare for what I knew was going to be a particularly tough day ahead, it just so happened that as I looked up in the middle of my prayer, there it was.  You guessed it:

The recliner on the sidewalk.

Right in my path.  Directly in front of me.  After six years of living in my ‘hood, I can’t say I was that surprised to encounter such an item just out there on the sidewalk.  (I still attest that you could furnish a small apartment by simply walking around the block.)  But this recliner, much like the toilet, was dead center in my path, facing me head-on.  I stood there for a while, chuckling to myself.  “OK, God.  Surely You have something to say to me through this,” I said out loud.  But as I continued on my way, back home to the daunting to-do list and the fears and worries that overwhelmed me, that recliner or what God was trying to tell me left my thoughts.

Fast forward a few weeks, past all the moving chaos.  Even though the boxes were unpacked, the child got enrolled, and the to-do list shrunk, I still found my brain unable to shut down.  I worried about my daughter’s future, I stressed if I’d have time to do everything I needed to get done, and lost sleep trying to figure out all the new rules and procedures if we’d be returning to school.   And before all the craziness of a new school year comes…quick!  I’ve got to feel relaxed and rested for at least some part of summer, right?

Since July, I’ve been chasing some kind of elusive rest for my heart and mind and can’t seem to find it.  I feel like I’ve tried it all….sleeping without setting an alarm, watching Netflix, playing games, lounging in the pool, aimlessly scrolling on Pinterest and Facebook whenever my heart desires.  I even thought getting up to the mountains would do the trick.  I thought by getting away from the heat and the to-do list and even the temptation to get a jump-start on school work that I would achieve some type of soul rest.  But even that didn’t accomplish any type of relief from the anxiety and fears that plagued me.

So….why didn’t I feel at rest?  What was I doing wrong?  And in desperation, I opened my Bible app, as I often do much too late in the game.  Perhaps Scripture had some answers for me.

“Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.” ~ Psalm 91:1

“My Presence will go with you, and I will give you rest.” ~ Exodus 33:14

“Come to Me, all who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest.” ~Matthew 11:28

Those were great verses, but OK, God – where is this elusive rest you keep referencing?  I can’t find it! How can I get some of that for myself?  Maybe God and I had different definitions of “rest”.  Or perhaps, it was that I kept trying to find a deep kind of soul rest, when all this world really offers is, at best, physical rest.

I came back to words, “Come to Me, all who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest.”  I repeated it over and over in my head.  And in doing so, what I realized was that I kept trying to focus these words on me and what I  hoped to gain.  Don’t get me wrong, “I will give you rest” is a beautiful promise.  However, that promise is a result of the first three words of that verse, “Come to ME.” 

It didn’t say “Come to the mountains” or  “Come to Facebook” or  “Come to the swimming pool” or “Come to Netflix” to find rest.  It says, “Come to ME.”  It’s like God was saying, “Hey, remember that recliner I put in your path when you were overwhelmed?  That was my reminder to you to REST.  To rest in ME, not in the things of this world.  Stop walking and talking and thinking and worrying.  It’s accomplishing nothing! Come sit in the comfy, familiar recliner of My love, put your feet up, lean back and look up.  Take a break from this world and spend time with ME.  Pray to ME, talk to ME, worship ME, listen to MY Word.  I am your rest from everything this world throws at you.”

It sounds so basic, so simple, doesn’t it?  Just pray, read the Bible, worship, and focus on God to find rest. Check! Done!  But let me be honest here.  If all we need to do to achieve true rest in God relies solely on us, we will fall short.  Every time.  Friends, the reason we can even come to God, whether it be in prayer or the Word or in worship is because He first came to us in the human form of His Son.  Jesus came to this earth to relieve the burden of sin and death and everything else that overwhelms us just so we could have access to the Father forever.  Not because we deserved it, but because of His great love for us and His great desire to be with us in eternal rest one day.

That eternal rest is sounding better and better with each passing day, isn’t it?  But until that day is here, we can still come to Him, shelter in the shadow of the Almighty, and find rest for our souls whenever we need it.  It may not mean getting more sleep or having more time to watch Netflix.  But soul rest is so much deeper and so much more satisfying.  So sit down and put your feet up in the recliner of God’s love and mercy.

And REST.

 

 

 

 

Out of the Silence

True confession:  I did not stick to my “no Facebook during Lent” goal.  Not even close.

I had taken the app off my phone.  I was only checking briefly on Sundays, which technically weren’t part of Lent.  I was feeling more freedom.  Having more time.  Not worrying so much about missing out or comparing my life to others.

And then COVID-19 hit.  Well, not me personally.  But it was just beginning to turn our world upside down.  It closed down my school and forced me to figure out how in the world to teach my Kindergartners online.  I needed to see what others were doing, how they were connecting with their class, things to try and things to avoid.  So….enter Facebook.  Sooner than I had planned.

Besides Facebook, I also found myself watching the news quite a bit more than I usually do.   (Let’s face it….the vast majority of us have discovered we have a bit more time on our hands than pre-coronavirus.)  I don’t really care for the depressing and overdramatized news of our current world situation, but prefer the local, more positive, and hopeful outlook on life.  You know, like how the community is coming together to help others through food drives and neighborly acts of kindness.

But through all this positivity, there was a prevailing theme, consistent among the news shows, the articles, and the deep meaningful posts about our current situation.  And it’s one I can’t shake, one I can’t just “let go”, no matter how hard I try.  I know it’s well-meaning and I understand the intent, but to be honest…it’s misleading.  Untruthful.  And to be honest, just. plain. wrong.  And it’s this:

“When this pandemic is over, we are going to come out of this being better people.”

Don’t get me wrong.  There are definitely things in which we may become better at doing.  We may become better at puzzles.  Better at cooking.  Better at sewing.  Better at communication.  Better at home-schooling our kids. Better at being creative with our time.  We may have cleaner homes and more fit bodies from walking around our neighborhoods so dang much.  We may have read more books, binged more Netflix and caught up on all those home projects.  Perhaps we will have even become more patient, more compassionate, and more understanding.  But even if we became all of these things and more, us being a “better person” will not be the result of this pandemic.

Because *spoiler alert*…when this is over, I’m going to put money on the fact that I’m still going to be selfish on occasion.  I’m still going to get jealous.  And be discontent.  And not hold my tongue sometimes when I should.  I’m still going to be impatient at times and not do things I know I should do.  And you know what?  So are you.

It doesn’t matter how many rolls of toilet paper you’ve lent your neighbor or how much food you’ve given to a food bank or how many times you ordered from restaurants to support them (not that these aren’t all wonderful things to do).  Nor does it matter how many glasses of wine it takes you to make through a day of homeschool or how many times you’ve lost your temper with people in your household or have secretly been angry at the person who isn’t distancing themselves a proper six feet from you.

Friends, we are ALL in the same boat.  Whether we feel we are doing the right thing or nothing we do seems right, we are sitting in this boat called sin.  There’s no ‘better’ or ‘worse’.  Because we are ALL sinners.  That might seem harsh.

But the good news (no spoiler alert here) is this:

While we were still sinners, Christ died for us. ~ Romans 5:8

You see, Good Friday is the moment when all the “better” we try to do or become would never be enough to pay the price for heaven’s admission.  Only the blood of Jesus can do that.  Only the blood of Jesus DID that.

If Jesus’ death is the assurance of forgiveness, then Easter is the assurance that there is hope of a life to come.  That death does not have the final word in our lives.  That Satan was defeated once and for all.  And that we have the promise of eternity with our Savior.

As I walked the streets of my neighborhood for what seemed like the hundred zillionth time this week, the words from Phil Wickham’s song “Living Hope” recently played in my earbuds.  Every lyric was incredibly fitting for this Holy Week season, but once the last verse started, I could barely contain Easter tears of joy:

Then came the morning that sealed the promise
Your buried body began to breathe
Out of the silence, the Roaring Lion
Declared the grave has no claim on me
Jesus, Yours is the victory!

It seems fitting to break my social media silence on Easter with this declaration:

“The grave has no claim on me.  Jesus, YOURS is the victory!” 

Becoming a better person isn’t an option for you.  Or me.  But we CAN choose to offer hope to a world that is hurting, broken, and hopeless.  And that hope is the living hope of Jesus.

My dear readers, the day of hope to mark on your calendars isn’t the day you get to go back to work with your coworkers, or have a party with your family, or attend a ball game with friends.

The day of hope is TODAY.  It’s EASTER.  And it’s FOREVER.

You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy, that my heart may sing your praises and not be silent. Lord my God, I will praise you forever!  ~ Psalm 30:11-12

 

 

2020: Into the Unknown

It was the best of times.  It was the worst of times.  Well, actually it was 1:37 p.m. on the Tuesday after Christmas break, which meant show-and-tell time with Kindergarten.  My students?  They LOVE this time.  And me?  Let’s just say there are days when a root canal sounds more enjoyable.  But, here we were, the first school day of 2020 and one of my little darlings was beyond excited to share her most prized gift she had received from Santa.  Oooo’s and ahhh’s rose from the children as she slowly revealed a brand-new Elsa doll with a shimmery purplish-bluish dress and perfectly braided platinum blonde hair.  But, folks, this was no ordinary Elsa doll.  This Elsa doll could SING.  And if you’ve seen the new Frozen II movie, you know exactly which song we heard that day.  As soon as the button was pressed to start the music, a chorus of “Into the Unknooooooooown” began from the doll.  And nearly every child on the carpet.  And, if I’m being honest…from me, too.

Oh yes, I’m hip enough to know the vast majority of the lyrics to this song, thanks to my teenage daughter, who upon watching the movie has played this song on repeat.  (And I mean, REPEAT.)  My students all were stunned that their middle-aged teacher would be familiar with a Frozen II song.

“How do you know this song?!” they all wanted to know.

“Because,”  I replied with a laugh, “this is Ms. Brinkman’s theme song for 2020!”

While they all giggled, I thought that, indeed, there is so much unknown about this year:

Where will my daughter go to high school?  Don’t know.

Where will I move to find more affordable housing this summer?  Not a clue.

Will my fiance find a job here?  Who knows?

When is the wedding?   No idea.

All of these unknowns feel a little bit like I’m one of the characters in Frozen, standing at the edge of the enchanted forest, staring at the heavy fog of this new year.  It’s all just so…mysterious.  What will I find when I walk into this year?  Will the end of the year still contain just as many unknowns?  And while I do take great comfort in that fact that I know who God is (all-powerful, all-wise, loving, faithful, trustworthy, and present), it struck me the other day that perhaps I should be equally comforted by the fact of what I don’t know about God. About the mystery of who He is and what He chooses NOT to reveal.  In other words, the secret things.

The character and nature of God are clearly revealed throughout Scripture, but have you even stopped to wonder just how God is able to be who He is? How can He be loving?  How can he be merciful?  How can He be patient with me time and time again when I mess up?  Maybe it’s because I’m the opposite of all those things that make me scratch my head in wonder at the nature of God.   And clearly I’m not the only one.

I love this article about the mysteries of God, written by Mike Cosper from InTouch Ministries.

“It is in the spirit of humility that we embrace mystery, whether we do so in the midst of sorrow or the mundaneness of ordinary life. A humble willingness to accept that “the secret things belong to the Lord” is part of our everyday experience as believers. The psalmist wrote in Psalm 131:1-3 (ESV):

O Lord, my heart is not lifted up;
my eyes are not raised too high;
I do not occupy myself with things
too great and too marvelous for me.
But I have calmed and quieted my soul,
like a weaned child with its mother;
like a weaned child is my soul within me.
O Israel, hope in the Lord
from this time forth and forevermore.

We take comfort in mystery like a child who takes comfort at his mother’s breast, knowing we belong to a world too large and too vast for us to comprehend.

The gospel is often referred to as a “mystery revealed,” but even that remains profoundly enigmatic. In the book of Romans, after Paul has given his readers 11 chapters of detailed exposition concerning God’s grace revealed in Jesus, he’s still able to say, “Oh, the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are His judgments and unfathomable His ways! For who has known the mind of the Lord, or became His counselor?” (Rom. 11:33-34).

This cry reveals a deep truth: The more profoundly we press into the person of God and the wonder of the gospel, the more we will be confounded by their mysteries. God’s Word and God Himself are wonders we behold, not subjects we master.”

The more I learn about God’s deep love for us, the more in wonder I am.  Because it is the mystery of this love which compels God to forgive us without number, to show us mercy when we don’t deserve it, to send His only Son to die for us when we had no hope of salvation.  It is a love that defies logic and comprehension.  I can’t for the life of me even wrap my head around that kind of love. But yet, through faith, I know this love is true.

To rest in the mystery of who God is and how He loves us…is also to rest in the mystery of how God will work out the details of our lives.  It’s not ours to solve, to manipulate, or to figure out on our own.  If we don’t need to comprehend how God loves us and merely trust that He does, then we surely don’t need to know all the answers of how He will direct and guide our lives.  With childlike faith, we simply trust that, too.

“May we live humbly enough to behold the mysteries of our faith, to press more deeply into the wonders of our God and His creation, and to find satisfaction not because we know all the answers, but because we know God Himself.” ~ Cosper

 

 

Standing on the Rock

As a self-proclaimed hiker, I’ve learned a few things over the years about the do’s and don’ts on the trail.  Rule Number One is to always bring way more water than you think you’ll need.  Pack a snack, even if you don’t think you’ll be hungry.  Have a quality pair of hiking boots.  Give uphill hikers the right of way when on the trail.  When passing someone, call out “On your left!” to signal your presence.  But perhaps the most important thing I’ve learned about hiking (due to sheer experience of hiking in rocky Arizona) is to always find the most stable rock or ground on which to put your weight.  This not only applies to hiking up in elevation, but down as well.  There are often loose rocks that provide very little stability or that aren’t necessarily anchored in the ground.  The larger rocks are better to hold your shifting weight, but sometimes even those rocks can be shaky if you don’t look at the other rocks surrounding it.  That’s why most of the time, hikers are often looking down and just ahead to their next move.  Because if they don’t (and trust me, I’ve embarrassed myself on more than one occasion by ignoring this rule), the rock will slip out from under them and down they go.

I was reminded of this principle the other day as I was out on the trail near my home. I became enamored of the impending sunset and mistakenly kept my eyes on the gorgeous sky, rather than what was under my feet.  (And just maybe I was also trying to keep a strong pace up as some hunky hiker guy was just behind me.)  In my haste, I stepped on an unstable rock, and as I pushed off of it to take the next step, I felt it begin to slip out from under me.  Fortunately, I was able to recover without completely falling down and shaming my hiker-self, but not without a bit of embarrassment.  And reprimand.  “I should know better!” I angrily thought to myself.

As I continued on my way, eyes firmly planted on each step in front of me, my mind went back to that same idea of standing on a firm rock.  But not one found on a rocky, desert trail.

You see, it was seven years ago that I began to realize something was very wrong with my 15-year marriage.  I couldn’t quite get to the bottom of it and mistakenly carried on with life as if all were fine.  Just before Thanksgiving, I made the trek to the annual teacher’s conference for our district.  As I sat in the required plenary session of the day, I got out my notepad and began making a long list of things to do when I returned home to prepare for the holidays.  It was then that I heard a voice other than my own say,  “Stop what you’re doing.”

I looked around to see if anyone else had heard it, but no one seemed to have any reaction. That voice, whom I firmly believe was the Lord’s, spoke again, “You need to write down what this man is about to say.”  I didn’t quite understand why I was supposed to take notes, but as the speaker went into depth about our conference theme, my hand flew across the page for the next hour.  I soon had two pages of notes in my book by the time he had finished.  Looking back in my journal, here are just a few of the actual notes I jotted down that morning:

“God is my rock.  God is my foundation.  He is my fortress.  I will not be shaken.

I am anchored in Christ, no matter what storm may come.

He is my rock, so I can ROLL with courage.  Fear not.

Beneath our feet is a God who will sustain us and give us strength for the journey.

He will hold us firm no matter what is shaking our world.”

I had a sinking feeling my world was about to be shaken and I knew I needed to be ready by standing on the firm foundation of Christ and His Word.  As much as I missed my family, I dreaded going back home the following day.  Something wasn’t right and I felt it the moment I walked in the door.  Life seemed normal enough.  Silly kids, sibling squabbles, bedtime routines.  But an hour later, my husband shut off the TV and turned to me with tears in his eyes.  I learned that he had been unfaithful.  He was leaving the marriage and filing for divorce.  And that was that.  My world as I had known it had fallen out from underneath me in a matter of seconds.  And the same thing would be true for my two unsuspecting children, sleeping all cozy in their beds just down the hall.

How was I supposed to survive this? How would I help my children survive this? I had been a self-assured, independent wife, teacher, and mother before this.  My life had been FULL.  But two days later on Thanksgiving evening, with my children sobbing and clinging to me in the driveway as their father drove away, there was such an utter feeling of nothingness.  There was no joy.  No peace.  No strength.  No love.  No hope.  Just emptiness.

As I stumbled back into the house, I had an overwhelming sense (despite feeling like I’d been run over by a mac truck) that it was going to up to me to somehow hold it together.  To be strong.  To be the healer.  To have enough hope for me and my children.  But as much as I looked inside myself to try to generate all those things, I quickly became disillusioned when I failed.  No matter what I did, I couldn’t seem to love enough, or be strong enough, or feel any sense of peace with what had happened.  It felt like I wasn’t doing something right.  I should be able to pull it together…right?

Oh, how wrong I was! Was I forgetting that when my world had fallen out from underneath me, I was still standing on the rock of Christ?  That despite what was taken away from me, I still had more than enough? More than I deserved?  And just as I have learned many things about hiking over the years because of experience, I have also learned many things about God as my rock – because of what I’ve experienced.

God has proven over and over to me through all these years that when HE is my rock, He is everything I am not.  All those things I didn’t have and couldn’t produce on my own were the very things HE would provide.  And did.  Perhaps more importantly, He’s taught me that even on my best days, when I seemingly have it all together, I still have nothing of value to offer Him – or this world.  Unless, that is, I have HIM as my foundation.  You see, it is HIS joy inside me.  HIS peace within me.  HIS strength that holds me up.  HIS love that shines through me.  HIS hope that helps me endure the hardest of days.  It’s been the rock of HIS grace that carries me, despite my many falls, and sustains me in every storm.  And let me tell you.  There have BEEN. STORMS.  But when God is your Rock…

….you have someone who is always faithful.  (He is the Rock, his works are perfect, and all his ways are just. A faithful God who does no wrong, upright and just is he. ~ Deuteronomy 32:4)

….you have someone to protect you.  (The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold. ~Psalm 18:2)

…you have someone who has redeemed you. (They remembered that God was their Rock, that God Most High was their Redeemer. ~Psalm 78:35)

Dear friend, I don’t know what storms you are facing.  Maybe it’s cancer.  Or addiction. Or the burden of caring for a loved one.  Or another miscarriage.  Or a struggling relationship.  Or death itself.  Perhaps you just feel like you’re between a rock and a hard place.  But, rest assured, if my God can make water come out of rock….and roll one away to reveal that He raised His Son from the dead so you could live forever, then standing on the Rock is the best place you could be.

“Therefore everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house; yet it did not fall, because it had its foundation on the rock.” ~Matthew 7:24-25

On Christ the solid Rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand.

Saying Yes to the Dress

Like a good boy scout, I was prepared.  Not for any kind of wilderness situation or survival training, but I was prepared for the world of……(dun dun dun)…..WEDDING DRESS SHOPPING.  I had spent hours scouring and pinning photos on Pinterest.  I had watched countless episodes of “Say Yes to the Dress”.  I had researched which silhouettes would look good on a petite body frame.  I knew the names of fabrics, necklines, and just about any other bridal dress term you could think of.  I had my entourage, my strapless bra, and my granny panties ready to go.  (Hey, nobody said the mid-40’s are glamorous.)  And I had the most important thing with which to walk into the bridal salon:  the engagement ring.  With that, I finally felt like I legitimately had the right to go try on some dresses.

The experience was more than I hoped it would be.  From the moment I walked in, I was congratulated on being a bride (something I still can’t believe I get to be), introduced to my bridal consultant Shae (who was a gift from heaven) and sat in the seat of honor to talk about the vision for my wedding.  Minus getting to wear the pretty lavender silk robe in the dressing room, it was much more “Say Yes to the Dress” than I thought it would be!

After selecting a handful of dresses from the racks, it was time to actually put them on (insert loud squeals).  There were smiles and ooo’s and ahhh’s from the entourage as I came out to parade around in a gown and stand on the little black pedestal.  There were a few giggles as some of the dresses weren’t quite what anybody had in mind.  And there were also big smiles and discussion about each style and how it matched or didn’t match my vision of what I wanted to look like on the wedding day.

As I narrowed down the field to the top two dresses, it became clear to me which one I loved more.  But it wasn’t until my sweet bridal consultant asked me, “Can you see yourself getting married to Jim in this dress?” that I had the bridal moment everyone talks about.  And quite honestly, it had nothing to do with the dress I had on.  It was the realization that this was what I would be wearing when I say “I do” to the man of my dreams.  The thought of getting a second chance to walk down the aisle – something I had praying about for so long and thought might never happen – left me with a lump in my throat.  Tears welled up as I thought of the promises I’d make to my future husband.  But mostly, the emotion came from an awareness of the promises God has made to me and kept for so many years.

When I felt abandoned and alone after divorce, God promised to be with me.

And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.” ~ Matthew 28:20

When I felt unloved, God promised to love me.

“I have loved you with an everlasting love…” ~ Jeremiah 31:3

When I felt scared and full of anxiety about the future, God calmed my heart.

For I am the Lord your God who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you. ~ Isaiah 41:13

When I didn’t know how I would care for my children as a single mother, God became my provider.

 So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ ~ Matthew 6:31

When I poured out the desires of my heart to Him, He heard my cry.

Take delight in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart. ~ Psalm 37:4

When my life was shattered by the death of my son, He comforted me.

Even though I walk through the darkest valley,  I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. ~ Psalm 23:4

And in those moments when I’m not even sure I feel worthy enough to wear a wedding dress again, God reminds me that HE is worthy.  Because of His son Jesus, I became the worthy recipient of all His promises and having second chances.

        For no matter how many promises God has made, they are “Yes” in Christ.                ~ 1 Corinthians 1:20

As I marveled at the promises of God, I turned from the full-length mirror to face my entourage and looked out at the faces staring back at me from the cushy turquoise couches.  And it was apparent that this moment was much more than just saying yes to a dress for them, too.

I saw my mother, who has faithfully prayed for me and has seen me through every joy and sorrow of my 44 years.  I looked at my dear colleague and friend, who has patiently listened to me in my grief and frustrations and has been a mighty prayer warrior on my behalf.  I gave a tearful smile to one of my truest friends, who came to my rescue in the Fry’s parking lot nearly seven years ago when my marriage had just fallen apart. I beamed at my beautiful 13-year-old daughter, who has walked and LIVED in the same valleys as me, surrounded by her two dearest friends, who have become like sisters to her.

That day wasn’t just for me.  It was for all those who have walked with me.

But ultimately, it was about my God who has sent truly amazing women to my side to love on me – not only in the hardships of life – but in the rejoicing, too.  Who has loved me, provided for me, comforted me, heard me, and walked with me every step of the way. Who has redeemed my story, not because I deserve it, but because of His undeserved love and mercy.

And who says “yes” to me every day.

 

 

 

Great Unexpectations

Our Chicago trip didn’t get off to a great start.  The plan to pick up a rental car from San Diego to Phoenix was thwarted by confusion at the rental car counter, which resulted in frustration and needing to scramble to find another vehicle.  There was miscommunication about the parenting schedule, which resulted in the changing of plans.  There was no gate to pull up to once we got to O’Hare, which resulted in another 45 minutes of sitting on a plane.  Finally, after many attempts to locate the Uber pick-up spot at the giant airport, we looked at each and laughed and decided to dub this trip, “The Trip of Great Unexpectations”.

However, after two years of dating and even recent ring shopping, there was one thing I was most definitely (and secretly) expecting.  And this trip seemed like the perfect opportunity to….well, you know.

I expected it might happen as we posed at the famed “Bean” sculpture.

Or in the pouring rain as we dashed through the streets of downtown Chicago.

Or on the architectural boat tour on the river as towering skyscrapers loomed over us.

Or as we were all dressed up for a nice dinner out on the town.

Or perhaps as we strolled hand-in-hand on the banks of the Chicago River.

Or as we visited the corner where his parents had their first kiss.

Or maybe at the iconic Wrigley Field.

Or overlooking the beautiful blue waters of Lake Michigan at Navy Pier.

But it was none of those times.  And with each passing hour, my heart sank a little deeper, thinking it just wasn’t going to happen.  At least not soon.  Or here.  I became irritated at the situation, at the heat, at my aching feet from all the walking, at the stifling humidity, at the crowds of people and public transportation….but mostly I was irritated with my self-created expectations.  I had built up so many scenarios in my head and now none of them happened.  I knew I needed to let it all go and trust God and His timing.  But that was easier said than done.

Just as we were about to leave the city with my semi-poopy attitude in tow, with my frizzy-hair mess pulled up in a ponytail, a Cubs visor holding back my sweaty bangs, my $5 Target t-shirt full of perspiration, and with hardly a lick of make-up left on my face…..well.  That’s when the most incredible man in the world got down on one knee on the Dearborn Street bridge in front of dozens of passersby and asked me to become his wife.  It was not the moment I had imagined…you know, the one with me looking oh-so-lovely and put-together, saying just the perfect thing in response to such a life-altering question.  It was me, looking like a hot mess (and probably acting like one), crying and saying, “I never thought you were going to ask me!”  (For the record, I did eventually say yes.)   That moment was definitely the greatest and most amazing unexpectation of the entire trip.

And even though the proposal wasn’t where or how or when I thought it would be, I couldn’t help but be reminded of how it’s precisely what Christ does for us.  In our worst state, our messiest lives, our sweaty ickyness (yes, I made that word up), when we feel the least loved and desirable, He still chooses us as His bride.  Not because we have it all together – or even appear to – but because His love for us was too great to abandon us.  He defied all expectations of what a king should be and humbled himself by coming to earth and living a perfect life and dying for all our messiness and brokenness.

Romans 5:6 says, “You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly.”  Some translations say we were “helpless”, “without strength”, “weak”, “frail”…. in other words, we had nothing going on for ourselves.  We were an utter MESS.

And then in the most unexpected move of all, Jesus came back to life to show victory over death!  But that’s not the end of the story.  Because now He willingly signs up for a life to walk beside us in our brokenness, to share our joys, and bear our burdens.  Day after day after day.  Exactly what someday my fiance (Isn’t that a glorious word???) and I will soon promise to do for each other.

So, what’s the next step you ask?  Well, the next step is the same step we’ve been doing for quite some time:  trusting God, who has already exceeded our expectations by giving us each other, to do the unexpected in His perfect timing and way.

Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.

~Ephesians 3:20-21

 

 

 

The Patience of a Peony

He was late again.  I’d have to add yet another tardy to his attendance record.  Surely he wouldn’t miss the last day of school, would he?  My answer came shortly after, when my little freckled-nosed Kindergartner rolled in at 8:24, along with his dad, both of whom were armed with vases of flowers.  One for me.  One for my aide. One for a principal.  I let the others pick their flowers first, and ended up with the vase of four pink peonies, all still tightly bound in their buds.  They looked a bit scrawny in the porcelain green vase, but as the first one, and then the second and third began to open up, I was reminded of the true size of a peony.  I deeply breathed in the fragrant smell and was instantly transported back to thoughts of my childhood.  Sweet memories of the white peony bush in our yard in Nebraska reminded me of late spring and running around the neighborhood barefoot.

I marveled at how large the flowers became after opening up.  To begin as the size of a small Brussel sprout and blossom into a flower nearly the size of my hand was incredible.  And, it was quite a fast process.  I’d leave the house for a couple of hours and return to find a completely transformed blossom.  So when the last flower stood alone in its vase after the others had wilted and been tossed, I had this desire to just sit and watch it open up.  I mean, surely if I sat there, I’d see some movement, right?  How amazing would that be?  (A true indication it’s summer break when there’s nothing better to do than stare at a flower…)  So I pulled up a chair and watched that little peony.  And watched.  And watched.  And waited.  “Do something!”, I impatiently screamed.  I waited some more and observed how there were already a few layers of petals that had blossomed from that tight little bud just moments earlier.  But I knew there were many more to come and I didn’t want to miss it.

You know that old adage, “A watched pot never boils”?  Well, the addendum to that should be, “A watched flower doesn’t bloom.”  It was hard to wait.  And tedious.  And really quite ridiculous to think I’d see anything.  But I began to think about my impatience with my own life and wanting it to bloom into a marriage my heart has desired for a very long time.  Truth be told, it’s been nearly two years of waiting to see what God is going to do with this relationship.  And so many times, I seem to be sitting, watching, waiting….and nothing.  Or seemingly so.  But when I looked at the complexity of all those layers upon layers of petals, I began to realize that God has slowly, deliberately, and quite carefully been peeling the layers of our lives down as the future is unfolding.  Perhaps it was the petals of preparing our children’s hearts, developing relationships, financial pieces, the healing of emotional wounds, learning to communicate, and the assurance that we are 100% committed to each other that was necessary to happen before anything else.  Regardless of all that needs to come before the opening of this beautiful flower, I am trusting that God has it all worked out, according to His perfect timing.

So many of the people I know and love are waiting for something, just as I am.  And perhaps you’re waiting, too.  Maybe you’re waiting for healing, relationships, children, retirement, new jobs, or simply vacation.  And to those of you in the wait, let me share something God put on my heart as I stared at that remaining peony:

There is still beauty found in an unopened flower. 

It may seem as if the bud is still shut tightly, with no sign of blossom.  It may have a layer or two peeled back, with no seeming indication that more petals will open.  But that doesn’t mean the flower is stagnant in its growth.  Or that growth will cease to happen from this point forward.  Each petal unfolded is the handiwork of God, carefully thought out and timed, with you and me in mind.  Celebrate each little piece of the bloom.  Occasionally step back and marvel at what God has already done in your life.  And trust that He will continue to work, regardless of how frustrated we get as we continue to watch and wait.

I was reminded of that very truth on the last day of school.  That tardy little student of mine who brought the peonies?  Every single day was a challenge for him.  There were tears, struggles, challenges and frustrations.  Most of the time he seemed tuned out as I talked or read a story.  I often wondered what was going on in that sweet little head of his each day.  But as I sat in the rocking chair, about to read the final story on the final day of school, he did something completely uncharacteristic.  He jumped up from his spot on the carpet, ran over to me, threw his arms around me and whispered, “I’m gonna miss you.”  I held him tightly for just a second as my eyes filled with tears and whispered back, “Me too, buddy.”

It took 172 days of school, but one small petal unfolded in that precious moment.  And it was worth the wait.

For still the vision awaits its appointed time; it hastens to the end—it will not lie.
If it seems slow, wait for it; it will surely come; it will not delay. ~ Habakkuk 2:3

 

 

 

Perpetually Saturday

I love Saturdays.  I may even go as far to say that I live for Saturdays.   Even my students could tell you that.  When we draw the little pink card on Friday at calendar time that says, “Saturday” and place it in the “tomorrow” slot, my kids all shout, “Your favorite day!”  Ah, yes….Saturday. It’s the one day I don’t set have to set an alarm and can lounge in bed.  I can move at my own speed and do things that need to get done without the stress of another work day to follow.  There’s something very expectant about Saturday – as if anything is possible.

But I can’t imagine that’s how Jesus’ followers felt on that Saturday after He died.  I’m sure it was a very still Saturday.  A day of utter shock.  A day of confusion and processing everything they had seen and heard.  A day of wondering, “Now what?”  A day of mourning.  Deep mourning.

Today, we can look at the Saturday after Good Friday and say with confidence, “But Sunday’s coming!”  Because we know what’s to come.  But the disciples didn’t.  They thought all had been lost.  They had lost their Savior.  Their friend.  Their very hope.  They saw that loss with their own eyes.

Living with daily grief is a lot like that Saturday.  It doesn’t matter if it’s been two days, two months, two years, or twenty since the loss.  The pain and the anguish of the loss from before is always present, always remembered.  There’s still shock some days.  Sporadic mourning.  Frequent processing.  Many questions.  It’s as if those of us who are still here on earth are living out the day after the death and before the resurrection in a perpetual Saturday.

But for the believer, there is one marked difference from that Saturday when Jesus lay in the ground and the perpetual Saturday of grief.  And that is this:  Hope is not lost.

Hope is not lost, because we do know what’s coming.  We know there IS a resurrection.  We know there IS the defeat of death.  We know there IS a Savior who did not stay in the grave.  Knowing this, believing this, HOPING in this truth is what sustains us.  It changes our hearts from grieving without hope to grieving with joy, knowing what’s to come.  It fills our hearts with an expectancy – because now everything has been made possible through Jesus’ suffering and death.  Forgiveness, life, hope, joyful reunions – it’s all ours!

And all because He IS risen.   He is risen indeed!  Alleluia!