What kind of light are you?

"You are the light of the world." Matthew 5:14

Quick - what's the first image that pops into your head as you read that? I'm only guessing, but for me it's always the same image - the kind of lamp perhaps that would have been used in the first century (you know, like the kind Jesus mentions with the wise and foolish bridesmaids?)

But during a really low point in my dark musings recently, I was pondering this passage, asking God to (ha ha) shed some new light on it. I myself was feeling rather like a match just before it sputters and goes out - not much good to anybody, least of all myself. However, since I had made the decision to simply sit at Jesus feet and let Him hold me, I let go of my usual associations with the passage and just let my mind focus on God.

Instead of trying to wrap my mind around the Light, or being light to others - I simply pondered light, and lights and their function.

It suddenly occurred to me that Jesus did *not* say that we were supposed to be any particular *kind* of light - just that we were to be light. Well, in our house we have all different types of lights - and they all serve their own unique purpose. Some of them can be substituted one for the other (like an overhead light for a table lamp or vice versa) pretty easily. Some have very particular uses, like my husband's heavy duty work light. And some are used less often but there really is no substitute for them. Like a flashlight. I'd look pretty silly hauling a table lamp out the door on an extension cord to look for something in my car trunk at midnight. And if the power goes out? Well, then flashlights or candles are your only option - and mighty necessary they are especially if one has small children.

I think I've been suffering from an acute case of "light identity crisis". God has blessed me with some amazingly brilliant friends. One friend, a natural born evangelist, has a passion for sharing God with the lost and disenfranchised. Her light is like a searchlight - a burning beacon calling broken and hurting people back to God. Another friend, a worship leader - her light is like those flashy club lights or fun Chinese party lanterns (or anything with bling). She brings the party with her when she walks into a room (and being a musician, she brings the band too!) A dear friend who's been a pastor these past 10 years or so - well, she's one of those "We'll leave the light on for ya!" kind of people. Like one of those pretty lamps people light to shine out their kitchen or living room window when they know that someone's coming home late. Always there to welcome you home, no matter how long and tiring your journey's been.

Since form follows function, I wondered if I've been asking myself the wrong question these past few years. Instead of praying for God to show me *how* I should shine - perhaps I would be better off asking *where* I should shine. After all, a flashlight is not necessary in a well lit house. But in the middle of the woods when you're camping? Well, let's just say one year we took a camping trip and realized after we got there that we only had one small flashlight with us (the one kept in the car) and leave it at that.

What kind of light am I anyway? Not a searchlight, that's for sure. Or party lanterns. Maybe I'm a more specialized sort of light. Maybe I'm a candle in a dark house when the power has gone out, or the mini Maglite that's ever so helpful for rummaging through your tent in the dark for that extra sweatshirt you know you packed.

Perhaps I am meant to shine in darker places than my friends who shine so brilliantly. Perhaps I am the night light left on so someone will not fall down the stairs in the dark. Or the lighted exit sign that points the way out.

Right now I'm just not sure - I need a bit more *illumination* on the subject. Until then, I will spend my time basking in His light, content to recharge.

Clearing out the spiritual cobwebs

It's been a loooong time since I posted. Some of you may have wondered if gave up on blogging. Or ran out of things to say. Actually the words have been knocking around my brain pushing to get out, but I needed to wrap my head around them first.

I've been on quite the spiritual journey since just past Easter. It was not one that I meant to go on, nor did I seek it out. Except, in a way I did. In a way this journey has been an answer to many prayers. How to explain?

Well, first you need to know that I am both a very sensitive person and an extrovert. I like to be busy and involved, and I like to be liked. As a younger person this meant that I sometimes had a frantically busy life, but since no one was depending on me but me it was okay. When my husband entered the picture, I still managed to find time for us around all my busy-ness. Then 3 children came along, each in their own time, and still I played juggler.

For the past year or so I've been very heavily involved with the creative team at the church we've been attending. Mostly playing "right arm" to my dear friend as she worked to get her new ministry (stage design) off the ground. I enjoyed being with her, and I enjoyed the work, but over the past few months leading up to Easter I noticed (in my rare unoccupied moments) that I was becoming increasingly irritable, anxious, strung out, and fighting off sickness. And even though God was literally placing Bible verses and meditations talking about rest and resting in Him, I studiously ignored them and went about my frantic way figuring I'd catch up with God sometime soon.

Ahem....yeah.

Over a period of a week or two so many crises came raining down on my head - it wasn't like God letting me run my nose into a brick wall.....it was like God literally threw the brick wall down on top of me!

From underneath said brick wall I raised up my hand and cried "uncle" to God. And disappeared off the radar....of church, of my friends, of everyone and everything except my immediate family.

The next month or so was spent in a great deal of prayer as my family and I weathered the various crises. When the dust cleared and I could finally think again, I realized I was neither ready nor willing to simply jump back into the fray. During the crisis, I did something I'm not sure if I have ever done in my whole Christian experience. Out of sheer desperation for my sanity - I gave myself permission to leave all my "good works" and "service to God" by the wayside. I gave myself permission to skip church and catch up on sleep. I gave myself permission to set aside all those "Christian expectations".

For a while I found myself pacing the floors like a caged lion - restless, still irritable. And then an amazing thing happened. When my restless spirit finally came to the end of itself, I found myself cradled in the hand of God. And for perhaps the first time in my life I realized that God benched me to the sidelines because He wanted to heal me. Heal me of the grace-less works-based mindset that has dogged my spiritual journey from almost the very beginning. Heal me of the notion that a real Christian has to do or has to look like anything in particular.

That sounds like a rather mundane notion, but it was a really big deal for me to realize that I am loved and accepted by God even without my works of service. That God loves me because He loves me and not because I do the right things or serve in the right ministry or fill the right role for the kingdom.

As I let God hold me and speak to my heart, I realized that in trying to find the right "role", the right "ministry", the right "fit" - I had inadvertently left pieces of my heart and soul by the wayside. As I spent time sitting at Jesus' feet, I found that He gathered up the broken pieces of my soul, dusted them off and gave them back to me - washed my feet, as it were. And in those quiet moments began to show me the direction I must go. Truly, it will be a narrow path - and steep and rocky too. It won't make me popular, and many will think I've turned my back on God. But it will be okay - I will be following my Master, and I will finally be whole....

Happy anniversary to me!

Wow. As of this very day I have been married for 15 years! I realized just before falling asleep last night - oh, yeah - it's our anniversary tomorrow! When you have 3 small children sometimes it's all you can do to keep up with your to-do list and never mind what day it actually is.

Brian and I have always been pretty low key about holidays and celebrations - we like to have some sort of celebration somewhere around the actual date, but many times will just plan it for the weekend before or after. Sometimes people look at us funny when we say that, but it works for us.

It's weird to realize that I've now known my husband for more than half my life. We met when I was 18 and he was 19, though we weren't dating until after college. Funny to think that we almost didn't meet (I made a sort of last minute decision to change which college I would attend). Or that I could have met his brother instead (who went to a college I'd also been accepted to). Weird, huh?

One of the things that has characterized our marriage is our ability (singly or combined) to get into the most bizarre scrapes and situations - the absurd seems to follow us around and pop up at the most inconvenient times. I can't remember all of them of course, but here's a small sampling...

1. Been lost while driving too numerous times to count, including driving to a friend's wedding in a huge thunderstorm (missing the ceremony because of it), and finding ourselves in the middle of a cornfield in the middle of nowhere at night when we took the wrong shortcut.

2. Myriad inconvenient car trouble - like having our alternator obliterate itself halfway between PA and Massachusetts (but Brian had a spare, can you believe it!?!), having our car air conditioner die (temporarily thank goodness) while driving from PA to Florida in August, and getting a flat tire while out in WV camping with the kids.

2. Went on our first camping trip to celebrate our anniversary only to have the campground we wanted full up, and a pouring rainstorm that wouldn't quit forcing us to seek shelter at my folks' house for the rest of the weekend.

3. Me getting lost coming home from work at night shortly after moving to our new city and needing Brian to come rescue me. Brian accidentally locking himself out of our apartment and needing our neighbor to drive him in to get my keys.

4. Literally running from one end of the Atlanta airport to another with all our baggage when our first flight was delayed and our connecting flight was running on time while on our way to San Francisco to visit friends.

5. Renting a moving van for our move to Virginia, only to find out that 2 feet of its 14 feet were a tiny little shelf thing that held hardly anything. Brian managed to do a Chinese puzzle box thing with our belongings and make everything fit. And he drove v..e..r..y....c..a..r..e..f..u..l..l..y down the Washington Beltway, with me frantically trying to keep up with lane changes behind.

Of course, we really should have been prepared for such, seeing as one of our best "I can't believe that actually happened" stories happened on our wedding day.

Yep. We managed to break the key off in the lock of our honeymoon suite. Go ahead and laugh. We did - later.

Anyway, because Brian and I lived in two different cities while we were dating, when we got engaged we decided that it would be easier for the wedding to be held in my city - since I was doing that end of the planning. I would be moving to his city, so he would take care of the honeymoon and find us an apartment. Made sense. So it ended up that his whole family and our out of town friends simply decided to stay at the hotel where our reception was being held. And we (unknown to them) accepted a complimentary honeymoon suite for our wedding night so that we wouldn't have to pack up and drive bleary eyed to our honeymoon location (about a 6-7 hour drive away).

Well, it all looked good on paper. Except that Brian's best man and his brothers were determined to prank us, if they could find us. We'd kept our suite a secret, and so after we left the reception, we had to get in our car, drive around town for awhile, and come in the back way so they would think we were going to another hotel. Since our suitcases were in the suite, we simply stayed dressed in our wedding clothes figuring everyone would assume Brian had taken our luggage over earlier in the day (which, he had). We left, we drove around, we snuck in the back way, we found our room (after almost walking past their rooms) and we went to go in the room. The key wasn't working right so, operating on the "if it won't work just force it" principle (stop snickering) broke the key clean off in the lock. Brian held up the broken stub and we just looked at each other.

There was nothing for it but to go back down to the lobby and tell them what happened. So there I sat, in my wedding gown, in the lobby, just 50 feet from where our family and friends were having an "after" party and could come walking through the door at any minute. Amazingly, the locksmith came before we were detected and we got into our room with no one the wiser, and the pranksters were outwitted.

Yeah, we pretty much knew then how our married lives would go. And so it has followed with adventures too numerous to count or remember.

But hey - we keep each other laughing! And that's a good thing - I pray God gives us many more years to laugh together....

Tossed on the Refiner's fire....again

If anyone is wondering what has happened to me, well... the title of this post about sums it up.

Every so often I find that God has dumped me back into His refining furnace. The past two weeks have been almost non-stop - no earth shattering disasters, but still a constant, unending series of events - illness, health crises, behavior issues, finances. Dropping on me like Chinese water torture with little time to stop, or process, or rest.

I know God is holding me, but I can't help it - it hurts. I've been trying something different this time, though. Usually my first response is to call all my friends, get on the prayer list, tell everybody I know at church. This time - something inside me told me that that wasn't what I was supposed to do.

So I grabbed my Bible and got on my knees before God - a lot. I've had my share of "dark nights of the soul" over the course of my journey with God. This one feels different. More significant somehow. I think it's a part of that whole breaking through the glass ceiling thing.

The difference between Christianity and "churchianity". The difference between doing church, and seeking the face of God.

Pain is a potent teacher

I'm in a lot of pain today. A couple days ago I managed to wrench my shoulder muscles in the midst of wrestling my strong and stubborn baby son into his car seat. I didn't notice it right away - but by that evening the whole upper left side of my body was throbbing in pain. Even with pain killers in me it kept me from sleeping that night. For the past two days I've felt like a bird with a broken wing. You'd be amazed at how many times a day you use that muscle between your neck and your shoulder blade.

Some would say well, go to the doctor. Except I already know what he'll say - here's some pain medication and rest it as much as possible. I've been trying to rest it but I've been learning a little more just how fearfully and wonderfully God has made us. Did you know you use your shoulder muscles to type? I didn't - but I'm quickly learning it now. Did you know you use your shoulder muscles for balance, even when you're not carrying anything in that hand? I do now. Every time you reach for something, every time you drive your car, even just holding something in your hand - you use your shoulder muscles. Arrgh....ow....ouch.

This comes on the heels of a very annoying, exhausting week last week. Easter Sunday - we'd gotten home at 1 am, but staggered and stumbled our way to church that morning. Only to get there and find out it's family Sunday so there is no child care except for the little ones (which we're keeping Connor out of right now to keep watch on his teeth). So after 90 minutes of trying to hold them still (I was out in the hall with Connor for half of it) they were just done....finished....done. We dragged our grumpy children home, fed them, then Brian did grades for 4 hours (I collapsed for a nap). I woke up to the kids complaining they didn't get to do Easter eggs (I'd thought Brian was going to do that in the afternoon but his work took too long).

Made dinner to the sounds of complaining children, ate, got them started on baths. Realized I'd forgotten to call my mother - call her up and find out she was in a car accident coming home from church. Thank God she was okay, but her car was probably totaled. Talk to her for over an hour trying to comfort and calm her down. Fall exhausted and sad into bed.

Monday tried to catch up with things.

Tuesday took the kids to the pediatric dentist for (what I thought was regular cleaning/checkup). Chris was fine, but the dentist insisted Charlotte was going to need $2,000 worth of work on her teeth. Huh?!? Said that she had all these cavities between her teeth. Was there all morning, the kids missed half of school - terrified, exhausted and depressed I slogged through the rain to drop them off at their respective schools.

Tuesday afternoon called my husband, my mother, and my in-laws for comfort and advice. Fell into a deep, dark hole of depression - took a nap in hopes that recovering from my adrenaline rush would help.

Wednesday and Thursday - sun came out - felt a little better - made appointment with original dentist for second opinion. Mom had talked with insurance company, gotten rental car, and though the car would be totaled, she felt better and more optimistic about car shopping.

By the time the weekend rolls around, all I want to do is sleep - tired from being on this emotional rollercoaster.

All this has left me feeling far removed from my "normal" life and its busyness.

Added on top of some of the things I experienced while away on spring break (which were good things) has had me spending a lot of time with God, pondering whether I'd had too much busyness and not enough life, in my life lately.

My assignment for the next 8 weeks

Just when I think perhaps I have a handle on the direction God wants me to go in this journey with Him, He throws me a curveball. I have a new assignment for the next 8 weeks - I will be playing the role of bodyguard for my youngest son Connor. Not that I don't usually do this in some capacity, but for the next 2 months I will be doing it at the extreme sport level.

You see, Tuesday morning my fearless little daredevil managed to launch himself from the top of the high-backed office chair we keep at our computer desk in the kitchen - and crash landed on the kitchen floor face first. He'd been most impatiently waiting for me to get him some more breakfast and had climbed up on the chair, with his feet on the armrests and leaning on the tall back. (Before you think I'm completely crazy or irresponsible he had done this maneuver hundreds of times and is normally as sure footed as a cat). Well I grabbed him up, sat him down, moved the chair away from the counter, and turned around to finish fixing his food.

Not thirty seconds later I hear a tremendous crash and crying and turn around to see Connor now on all fours on the chair back, with the chair toppled over on the floor. I didn't see what happened, but my guess is that he was trying to propel the chair forward and simple managed to tip it over. Well, I did the usual mommy triage - check head, face, teeth, limbs, look for blood. Amazingly, he did not hit his head or his face - he must have instinctually cushioned his fall on his arms and the high padded back of the chair.

Unfortunately, since he must have been peering over the chair when it tipped, most of the force of his fall landed on his top front teeth. For when I looked inside his mouth and saw all the blood, I figured he'd bitten his lip (that happened with Chris at this age, and I know what to do for that). Except that.....I couldn't see anything wrong with his lips or tongue, but he was bleeding profusely from under the tops of his top teeth. Ohhhhh..... this can't be good. And he was crying hysterically, so hard he was practically making himself sick. This from the little boy who usually just picks himself up and toddles away after a few minutes of consolation.

Well....I had a snap decision to make. Emergency room or pediatrician? Since it didn't look like he had any other serious injuries and since all his little teeth still seemed pretty firmly in his mouth, I opted for the pediatrician (cause I knew that we'd be all day in the emergency room. And since our pediatrician's office is in the hospital complex it would be a simple matter to get him down there if she thought it necessary. (Did I mention it was 9:30am and I hadn't had coffee, breakfast, or shower yet? We'd only just gotten back from dropping his brother and sister off at the bus stop.)

So the pediatrician confirmed that his only real injury was to his teeth, but she couldn't say what exactly he'd done - just give him soft foods, medicine for the pain, and call his dentist. I called our family dentist, explained what happened - they said that he should have an x-ray but they wouldn't do it because he was under age 4 (he's 2 1/2). I would need to take him to a pediatric dentist.

Sigh.....red tape, and more red tape. I found a pediatric dentist in the next town north of us (Centreville, for those who'd recognize it) and made an appointment for the next day. Well, the dentist was lovely and took very good care of him, took an x-ray, and surveyed the damage. Turns out there was good news and bad news.

The good news - he did not fracture any baby teeth or damage his permanent teeth underneath, and since his baby teeth were not really loosened, there was a good chance they'd be just fine.

The bad news - what he did when he fell was jammed his teeth up into his gum, causing them to spring back out and sever all the nerves in the front 4 or 5 teeth. That's what caused all the bleeding (sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach).

In order to give his little teeth the best chance possible for a full recovery, for next 8 weeks, this is what we must do:

1. Cut up all his food so he will automatically chew it on his back teeth.
2. Do not let him use a sippy cup anywhere he could hit a bump and jostle his teeth (car, stroller).
3. Do not let him put any toys in his mouth that he could bite on (and, being 2 - he's still at this stage a bit, especially when he gets mad). Because he won't feel pain if he does since it was the nerves that were affected.
4. Brush his teeth very thoroughly and gently twice a day and check his gums for signs of infection - any signs of infection warrents immediate call to the pediatric dentist.
5. Somehow keep him from falling and re-injuring his teeth (harder than it sounds because this is daredevil boy who jumps and pelts himself everywhere).
6. Bring him in for x-rays and re-evaluation in one week and then 7 weeks later.
7. Somehow manage to let him be a normal happy playing little boy during this time.

There you go. Mission Impossible Connor. For the next 8 weeks.

I keep reminding myself that he didn't give himself a serious head injury or scar his little face. It's not like he's been diagnosed with some incurable disease. He's happily playing as I type this. But for the next 8 weeks I will feel as though I'm juggling raw eggs....

Bats in my belfry

Well, actually in my basement.

We had a very busy weekend. I was away Friday night and Saturday at a church retreat, then spent Saturday night and early (6am early) Sunday morning preparing for the very intricate Passover Seder worship service our creative team had planned. Brian took care of the kids all weekend. Around 11pm, exhausted from our weekend, we were preparing for bed. And then I spied the 2 coolers I had taken with me over the weekend (to hold foodstuffs for the Seder service) sitting in the front hall, still needing to be washed out and put away. Grff.

I yelled up the steps and asked Brian if he would please, pretty please come do it before bed (he's the only one who can get them back where they live under the basement steps). He let me know rather grumpily that he was not going to do it tonight. Not wanting the coolers to get all icky inside from sitting closed up unwashed I carried them down to the basement and turned them upside down open on the back patio. Turned the lights out and got ready to go upstairs for bed.

As I was coming up Brian was coming down muttering and grumbling about "might as well get it over with" and stomped down into the basement. And about 30 seconds later a sound issued from the basement the likes of which I have never heard my husband make before. I can only approximate it in writing as "Aaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiigggghhh!!" Suffice to say my heart nearly stopped as I couldn't imagine what had happened. While removing my heart from my throat I became even more puzzled as this strange yell was followed by hysterical laughter.

Ooooookaaaay.

Utterly perplexed, I cautiously opened the basement door and yelled down to ask if Brian was all right and what on earth had happened? He yells "Shut the door we've got a bat in here!!"

Slam the door.

Open the door a crack - "We've got a WHAT?!?"

"A bat!!"

My overtired brain tries to process this (whatwhenhowwherewhyhow?)
Brian meanwhile managed to shoo the bat back outside. He said it was simply sitting and fluttering on the basement steps and after he opened the door it silently shot out the door like, well, a bat out of youknowwhere.

However, we spent at least half an hour trying to figure out when and how our erstwhile houseguest stowed away. Came in Saturday afternoon while Brian and the kids had their (rather drizzly) cookout? Snuck in while Brian cleaned up the grill Saturday night? Pelted in unseen while I ran back up to get the other cooler? Somehow flew right past Brian as he went back outside?

We still have no idea.

The coup de grace? I'd forgotten to tell the children about it this morning, but Chris was reading this over my shoulder which reminded me. So now Charlotte is crying because we didn't save the bat for her to see.

Sheesh.