A watershed moment

I got an object lesson from God today. It came at the strangest time in the middle of the most ordinary circumstances. I was over at a friend's house - we were just chatting about everything and nothing (a very common occurrence for us) and the subject came around to the goings on in our church. We were discussing ways to spiritually "wake up" the congregation and encourage a more authentic worship.

At some point in the middle of this discussion we both noticed that a thunderstorm had crept up and that a downpour was going on outside. Suddenly out of a nowhere she hops out of her chair, rushes toward the front door, and says, "Come on!" I follow her, puzzled, as she says, "Take off your glasses and follow me."

"What?!" said I. "Where are we going?"

And she proceeds to go out her front door, across the porch, and runs out into the middle of her driveway in the pouring rain. "Come on! Get out here!" Now, you have to understand that I am well used to such impulsive moments from this particular friend. And I almost followed her. But I stopped up short, just under her porch roof. She's laughing and dancing and yelling at me to stop being silly and just get out there. I couldn't make myself do it. It was so dumb, and I knew that. And the more she scolded me the more firmly my feet were rooted to the spot.

And then she yells from where she stands "See? This is what's wrong - this is why we can't get people to let go and really worship!" Oh, God....at that moment it was like God ripped a gaping hole right through the middle of my soul. It physically hurt, stunned me, took my breath away.

She came in, grabbed some towels - talked about how good she felt - clean and refreshed. I sat shell-shocked in the corner of her couch, unable to understand why such a silly, simple thing had pulled the rug out from under me. I am still in the middle of processing it. I don't fully understand. Somewhere along the way, I erected a mask - only lately I'm learning that it has layers. Like the part in the C.S. Lewis story "Voyage of the Dawn Treader" where Eustace turns into a dragon. And Aslan comes to rescue him - he tells him to undress, or shed his skin in order to swim in the magic lake to be healed. But no matter how many times he sheds it, it grows back. Until Aslan says, "You must let me undress you" and proceeds to rake his lion's claw right through to the heart of him, and this time the pain is nearly unbearable for Eustace, and Aslan tosses him in the lake, and he is healed and becomes a boy again.

Every time I think the mask is off, something happens that makes me realize it goes deeper than I ever imagined. God help me, I feel like a hypocrite. I sings songs to God about being free, but I am still bound. I sing about being loosed from my chains but they are still there. No wonder I have felt numb during the worship time at church.

If I ever finally remove the last mask what will I find? Who am I anymore?

Insanity

I am having one of those days where I ask myself why on earth I ever wanted to be a mom. Just in this one afternoon, my oldest son managed to topple his baby brother upside down in his stroller. (Thank you, God, for stroller seatbelts!) And angels who watch over little ones...

The neighbors suddenly decided TODAY at 4:30 this afternoon (with no warning) to rip out and replace the dividing fence between our houses, which of course utterly fascinates my not quite 5 yr. old daughter. Normally we a have a competely fenced in yard that I don't have to worry about her escaping from. She is now running amok between the two yards and houses and I don't know the neighbors well enough to just go waltzing in there to get her.

Oh, yes....and the oldest also has a school project which he has been dragging his feet on for the past 3 days, which the neighbor's fence is now distracting him from.

Arggghhh! I wonder if God ever feels about me like I feel right now? Well, I'll have to ponder that when I have more time.....

Choices and perspective

I am in the process of learning that sometimes the good choices we make in life are just as hard to live with as the bad ones. Almost 9 years ago my husband and I took a leap of faith and moved to Northern VA. This was partially choice and partially necessity as I was 6 months pregnant with our first son at the time and the only position Brian was offered that met our needs was in Virginia. Having lived in a large metropolitan area for 5 years (1/2 hour outside of Philly) we thought we were prepared for what awaited us.

Ha. Ha. It is hard to convey to someone who hasn't lived here that living in the area surrounding our nation's capital is not like living in a different country - many times it's like living on a different PLANET! I still find myself experiencing culture shock, and it leaps up to nip me when I least expect it. This is where those good choices we made constantly collide with the world view of the area God has placed us in.

Brian chose to follow his heart and become a music teacher like his dad. We chose to have 3 children. We chose for one of us to be a stay at home parent (it turned out to be me, but who it was didn't concern us.) We recently chose to start paying down our debts rather than continue to live on the knife edge of crisis.

And every single day I struggle to retain perspective on what our choices have brought us. I have to constantly remind myself that somewhere between 80-90% of the world's population would consider us ridiculously wealthy. We live in a clean, modest town house in a decent neighborhood. We own two 11 year old cars that, God willing, we can manage to keep running for several more years. We have two 7-8 year old computers (one purchased used, one salvaged - that both work, at least until technology outpaces them.) The house is furnished, though all the furniture was passed down to us secondhand, with the exception of one or two pieces that were presents and a few storage things we purchased. We always seem to manage to put food on the table and gas in the cars, though most of what we eat is variations of hamburger, chicken, pasta and rice. We have decent clothing to wear, but most of our new things are purchased for us as gifts. God has provided me with dear Christian friends who generously pass on good used clothing for our kids, and I am so grateful to them. No one in either of our home town neighborhoods would have considered any of the circumstances unusual. Rather for many families, this was just normal, everyday life in small town America.

But in this area where (kind of like Texas) everything has to be bigger, better, faster, newer, sleeker, and more expensive - our perfectly ordinary circumstances quite often make me feel like the poor country cousin. I can't tell you how many times I've walked into a friend or acquaintance's home and been stunned by the luxury that surrounds me. Beautiful matching furniture, tasteful art and knicknacks, cutting edge technology, exquisite decor assault my senses from all sides. These folks don't have to stand in the grocery store with a calculator, don't have to agonize between new tires for the car or fixing its air conditioner (a necessity for VA summers), don't have to wonder what they're going to do if the ailing TV, dishwasher, and clothes washer all decide to keel over at once. They don't throw all the summer camp flyers directly into the trash, knowing that such a thing is an unaffordable luxury.

It's enough to make me feel like I'm a foreigner in my own land. I speak a different language than these people. I wrestle with this dichotomy, sometimes daily. I often wonder why God has put me in such a strange position. My spiritual eyes can see that by intentionally living differently we can be salt and light in this jaded city. But many days I'm too caught up in figuring out how we can afford salt and light (the basics of living) for ourselves to wonder whether our light is shining in the dark places of others' lives.

God help me to learn, as the apostle Paul said, contentment in all circumstances....

An uncomfortable discovery

I wrote this shortly after nursing my family through a 2 1/2 week bout of sickness. It was something that had been building up within me for a while, but the extreme isolation I felt during that time brought it all to a head. One caveat - this is not my normal happy, fluffy musings about life. I actually debated with myself for quite some time before posting it, but one of the things God is working with me on is "dropping the mask." So, taking a deep breath......here goes.....

(from May 6, 2008)

I made an uncomfortable discovery this week. It is in fact so uncomfortable it's hard to put words to it. It began this past Sunday night, after hearing a sermon Sunday morning which affected me like someone ripping a bandage off a wound in my soul. We were studying the book of Jonah and listening to how Jonah ran from God - both his reasons for it and the consequences of it.

I've been running from God for some time now. Nobody would know this to look at me. My husband and kids are cared for, fed, clothed and gotten to where they need to go. I go to church, go to meetings, talk to friends and family. The mask is firmly in place. But all the while I go around feeling like my God-connection is missing.

So on Monday morning, feeling like couldn't stand this disconnectedness any longer, I sat down with God. I asked Him to show me what was standing between us. And as He showed me I suddenly felt like I'd been shoved off a cliff into a bottomless abyss. For His answer was...everything. I'd been running around trying to fill myself up with relationships - husband, kids, friends - and busyness, activities. Even at home by myself I never stopped and let myself feel what was driving me.

But I felt it then in all its enormity - the grinding, aching loneliness - a vast, empty cavern within my own soul. The tears ran down my face and wouldn't stop. I finally saw, with spiritual eyes, that God-shaped hole everyone talks about. Saw for the very first time that even the perfect church, perfect small group, perfect family, friends, life, work - NOTHING could bandage this vast aching wound in my soul. We are all forever alone before God.

And God did not come and pour Himself into me at that moment to fill up the hole. I somehow knew that He was standing there - watching, waiting, holding me - but not filling the void....yet.

Though I do not understand it, I know I am to somehow embrace the pain, with Him holding me, in order to come to the next step in my journey.