June 28, 2011
Jeremiah 31:25 “For I satisfy the weary ones and refresh everyone who languishes."
When I read this scripture, I thought what does my Lord mean “satisfy?” How does He satisfy the weary? I feel extremely weary and tired. Will He satisfy me? I know He can, but will He? I have felt weary for years now. Recently, it seems the weariness is greater and I wonder what does it look like or feel like to be satisfied in this place?
I am in a foreign place… A place of letting go, giving up, sitting back, resting. Not because I don’t want to fight or can’t fight, but because I am learning that it is not my fight; it is the Lord’s. For so many years I have yielded my sword, built up walls, created kingdoms, and established boundaries, all in the name of God. I fought against the spirit of religion, the lies of the enemy, the generational curses, the governmental bondage, and the systems of this world. I have been successful in most of these areas. I have established a reputation of kicking ass and taking names. I have built a kingdom that has my stench all over it. I set boundaries up to keep people out and to stay safe. I did what I was supposed to do to be a “woman of faith.” Yet, yet… it was all in vain. All of it was a façade of Churchianity and Christianese. All of it was manmade, man directed, man appointed crap. And so, now, at this place I see that I am weary from building in vain. I am tired of getting no return on my investments. Psalm 127:1 says, “Song of Ascents, of Solomon. Unless the LORD builds the house, they labor in vain who build it; unless the LORD guards the city, the watchman keeps awake in vain.” So what is it that the Lord built in my life?
My marriage was built by God and my family- Elijah, Noah and Carah. The Lord built that house in us. All of our decisions and all the things we built outside of our family we merely surface changes to the actual structure built by God. I wonder at how I got to this place. Believing I was building alongside my Lord, only to realize I was building without Him. And that is when the weariness set in. Fighting, fighting, striving, grasping. Ironically, I was noticing all the “other” people who were building in vain and pointing my finger at them in discontent. I would pat myself on the back and say, “Good thing I am not like them!” And in a lot of ways I was not like them. I was not building the same kind of building they were building. I was building one that was more humble, lowlier… or at least that was the appearance. I pointed out religious nonsense and lies and wondered how people would build such things, when all the while I was building up a strong tower of “faith” and “righteousness” that was holy… right?
Well that is where reality set in. I was building the right stuff. I was just using the wrong tools and the wrong materials. It is like showing the world the diamond you made by your own hand…only it is not a diamond at all. It is a Cubic zirconia, the cubic crystalline form of zirconium dioxide (ZrO2). The synthesized material is hard, optically flawless and usually colorless. Although it looks like a diamond, is flawless, is beautiful, and sparkles with great intensity… It is still just a synthetic copy of the organic, timeless, true diamond that can only be created by the hand of God in the deepest darkest places of pressure and heat and time. It cannot replace the true original creation. I became a master builder of the synthetic. Like cubic zirconia, it has value and is the strongest competitor to the real thing. I prayed and fasted, ministered the gospel, fed the hungry and cared for the orphaned and widowed; because I am supposed to, right? Or was I? Of course we are all commanded to do those things, it is right the in the Bible. But that is where most Christians get tangled up in the manmade mandate of Christianity. It is not that we are not supposed to do those things, we are. What I am getting at is the heart of it. What is the material made of, what are the tools we are using? In reality the most important thing, the foundation of our buildings is Jesus Christ. And while he was here on this earth, He was not concerned with the mandates; He was only concerned with LOVE. How do I love my people, how do I love the sick, how do I love the lost, how do I love the downcast, the wicked, the rebellious. Jesus loved. He said, “The greatest commandment is this; LOVE the LORD your God with all your heart, mind and soul and love your neighbor as yourself.”
So the tools are love. In that space, Mary sat at the feet of Jesus, while Martha reprimanded her for not helping “build” what was needed. Jesus said that Mary had chosen what was better and it would not be taken from her. (Luke 10:38-42). Martha was doing what was right, but Mary was doing what was best. Martha-cubic zarconia; Mary-diamond. Both beautiful, both valuable, but one is synthetic and one is authentic.
I have been Martha, building the good stuff, serving, laboring, and preparing for my Lord. But now the Lord is requiring I sit and be satisfied by His glory. I made myself weary, the sorrow of life made me weary, and the pain of suffering mad me weary. And I hear the Lord say, I will satisfy you. And so I am learning to rest and be satisfied by my Lord ALONE. “There remains, then, a Sabbath-rest for the people of God; 10 for anyone who enters God’s rest also rests from their works,[a] just as God did from his. 11 Let us, therefore, make every effort to enter that rest, so that no one will perish by following their example of disobedience.” Hebrew 4:9-11
Thank you Lord for satisfying me when I am weary and teaching me to rest in you and not labor in vain.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Friday, June 24, 2011
Collision Course
June 24, 2011
The roads converging…bracing myself. It is no wonder my chest tightens with anxiety. I feel as if my skin is crawling… Respite Lord, that is what we need. Will this never end? I think, “What are we doing wrong? What could we do better? What did we miss? It is as if one bomb after another after another explodes. Is it just me? How many other people are experiencing this mayhem of the soul? How many other people are tormented by the past and fear the future?
I feel the rumbling of the present coming near to me. All at once the present circumstances and realities are converging right now, right at this moment. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! All I want to do is scream! I have no control, no way of changing the outcome. It is. Just a present time.
I was told today that I have to respect my parent’s wishes, even if it means no more doctors, no more alternative treatments, no more of anything. All my parents want is the hope of healing or the reality of death. That went right to the heart with a sharp piercing pain I was not ready to behold.
I was also told today that my other parents (Bill’s parents) sold their house, that they have lived in for 40 years. They have not bought another house and are staying in their motor home until they buy one. My husband fell into depression instantly when he heard his dad in the background say there was a lien on the house due to our restaurant failure. My heart felt heavy with burden and anxiety at the thought that my lost dream has not only cost us 100’s of 1000 dollars, but also my in-laws!
My children are growing and sharing their disapproval of our current financial situation. My husband said he felt betrayed, trusting God in all things and the end result total destruction. His heart stopped all dreams in this moment tonight. I do not know what just happen, all I know is that in this place of feeling like he let his parents down, AGAIN, something changed in my husband. I do not know how it will manifest. I only know my husband is broken, crumbled on the floor, beat down. I want to hold him and help him, but I am on the floor besides him in a very similar state.
Every little morsel of joy is savored and cherished. I hold onto my kids with a tenacity that will not end. Reminding them that this too shall pass…only I barely believe this myself. Holding on to my little mustard seed of faith, my body aches with anxiety. It is revolting in response to the roads colliding. It feels as if shrapnel from the collision and explosion have entered my body… and I know there are more collisions to come. Help my Lord, Help me!
Hope deferred makes the heart grow sick , but a dream fulfilled is the tree of life. Proverbs 13:12
Please Lord, redeem, restore, rebuild. Please Lord... come and rescure us from this hardship!
The roads converging…bracing myself. It is no wonder my chest tightens with anxiety. I feel as if my skin is crawling… Respite Lord, that is what we need. Will this never end? I think, “What are we doing wrong? What could we do better? What did we miss? It is as if one bomb after another after another explodes. Is it just me? How many other people are experiencing this mayhem of the soul? How many other people are tormented by the past and fear the future?
I feel the rumbling of the present coming near to me. All at once the present circumstances and realities are converging right now, right at this moment. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! All I want to do is scream! I have no control, no way of changing the outcome. It is. Just a present time.
I was told today that I have to respect my parent’s wishes, even if it means no more doctors, no more alternative treatments, no more of anything. All my parents want is the hope of healing or the reality of death. That went right to the heart with a sharp piercing pain I was not ready to behold.
I was also told today that my other parents (Bill’s parents) sold their house, that they have lived in for 40 years. They have not bought another house and are staying in their motor home until they buy one. My husband fell into depression instantly when he heard his dad in the background say there was a lien on the house due to our restaurant failure. My heart felt heavy with burden and anxiety at the thought that my lost dream has not only cost us 100’s of 1000 dollars, but also my in-laws!
My children are growing and sharing their disapproval of our current financial situation. My husband said he felt betrayed, trusting God in all things and the end result total destruction. His heart stopped all dreams in this moment tonight. I do not know what just happen, all I know is that in this place of feeling like he let his parents down, AGAIN, something changed in my husband. I do not know how it will manifest. I only know my husband is broken, crumbled on the floor, beat down. I want to hold him and help him, but I am on the floor besides him in a very similar state.
Every little morsel of joy is savored and cherished. I hold onto my kids with a tenacity that will not end. Reminding them that this too shall pass…only I barely believe this myself. Holding on to my little mustard seed of faith, my body aches with anxiety. It is revolting in response to the roads colliding. It feels as if shrapnel from the collision and explosion have entered my body… and I know there are more collisions to come. Help my Lord, Help me!
Hope deferred makes the heart grow sick , but a dream fulfilled is the tree of life. Proverbs 13:12
Please Lord, redeem, restore, rebuild. Please Lord... come and rescure us from this hardship!
Monday, June 20, 2011
The graveyard
I wrote this on Friday, June 3, 2011. The next morning was when I got a phone call from my little brother that my mom was in the hospital and might not make it...I never came back to it, until today. It is not finished... but is Part 1 of this intimate journey of healing I am on... It will be continued.
June 3, 2011
I have come to this place, this gloomy place. It looks like a graveyard, marked with crosses and adorned with flowers. My heart hurts. I can feel the death all around me. I smell its fearful fate. I look around and see so many graves imprinted with my name. So many parts of me I have buried. So many times I have been here. But I have lingered here longer than I have ever before.
My footprints are still fresh in the ground at the grave next to the one I am standing over. It is never a labor to come here. The graves are already dug. The grave stones already marked. I am alone, or so it seems. There is no joy here, only regret, pain, fear, suffering...it lingers in the air as a stale stench that burns my nose. I want to run, but am beckoned by this hole calling for me.
I once thought these graves were dug for my life...but in my frequent visitation to this yard, I now know they are dug for the death to those things inside of me that cause destruction to my life. In this death I see life in my soul, in my flesh, in my spirit. The wind shifts and I smell the fresh earth, bringing me back to this place where I stand. I want to get the hell out of here, I want to run, but the quiet pull of freedom keeps me still.
What is it... why am I here again? What is dying? that I have to bury?
I look up and see a man standing on the other side of this chasm...I tremble at the thought that someone else is here. HE is holding a shovel, hands dirty, deep eyes. I turn my gaze to the empty hole in the ground. The range of emotion overtakes me and tears flow down my face and drop into the hole beneath me. One by one they fall until there are no more.
I am mourning.... the loss... of the deepest part of me that has defined my being. I ponder the intensity of the pain, the burden of others. I am lost in this place, trying to find my way. Wondering how I can get through it, when it will be over. In my thoughts I see, in my heart I hear. I must take a breath, I must breathe in with deep conviction of truth. So I come back to the grave to bury the contents of the tears. I open my eyes and see new earth before me. The hole is covered, the cross is at the foot and the fragrance of the flowers fills my nostrils.
I did not fill the hole. I stand and ponder this process. The only thing I came to do was let go of the part of me that did not belong, grieve the loss, rejoice in the freedom this death brings me. The sun is setting and the orange glow reflects of the cold stone that protrudes though the earth. I walk to read the inscription of the stone that is capturing the sunlight. It reads “Untimely death.” The earth trembles beneath my feet and I shutter at the thought. Below those words is my name, written by the hand of a child. There is no cross here to mark this death, only cold stone. It is not shadowed by the cross and adorned with flowers. It is the part of me that I shoved into death and buried in order to survive in this world. The part of me I denied.
My heart feels constricted, panic overtakes my mind. Breathe, breathe, breathe. A deep sigh comes from my lungs and I am able to rest, for a moment. There is a shovel leaning on the tree that shadows this place. My heart embraces this truth, I must unearth her! I must set her free! This part of me that is decaying must be raised from the dead. Frantically I grab the shovel and start to dig. With fervent ambition I dig and did and dig. The deeper I go, the more intense the emotion that consumes me. I am dirty and sweat is dripping from my brow. I am getting tired, I am in pain. I hit something with the shovel. The sound echoes in the hole and surrounds my head. My hands ache from the perpetual motion of digging. I am weak and shaking. Breath comes from my mouth and clears the dirt from the words... I relinquish. I do not want to know what it says. A shadow falls on the words and I cannot make out what it said. In this dark hole of death, as the sun sets, the man who was one before me, stood over me, looking down into the this place. “Open the box,” He spoke almost in a song. I can no longer stand as fatigue saturates my being. I cannot and will not open this box! Why did I do this? Why did I come to this place? My hands tremble from pure exhaustion, yet he beckons again, “Open it…”
June 3, 2011
I have come to this place, this gloomy place. It looks like a graveyard, marked with crosses and adorned with flowers. My heart hurts. I can feel the death all around me. I smell its fearful fate. I look around and see so many graves imprinted with my name. So many parts of me I have buried. So many times I have been here. But I have lingered here longer than I have ever before.
My footprints are still fresh in the ground at the grave next to the one I am standing over. It is never a labor to come here. The graves are already dug. The grave stones already marked. I am alone, or so it seems. There is no joy here, only regret, pain, fear, suffering...it lingers in the air as a stale stench that burns my nose. I want to run, but am beckoned by this hole calling for me.
I once thought these graves were dug for my life...but in my frequent visitation to this yard, I now know they are dug for the death to those things inside of me that cause destruction to my life. In this death I see life in my soul, in my flesh, in my spirit. The wind shifts and I smell the fresh earth, bringing me back to this place where I stand. I want to get the hell out of here, I want to run, but the quiet pull of freedom keeps me still.
What is it... why am I here again? What is dying? that I have to bury?
I look up and see a man standing on the other side of this chasm...I tremble at the thought that someone else is here. HE is holding a shovel, hands dirty, deep eyes. I turn my gaze to the empty hole in the ground. The range of emotion overtakes me and tears flow down my face and drop into the hole beneath me. One by one they fall until there are no more.
I am mourning.... the loss... of the deepest part of me that has defined my being. I ponder the intensity of the pain, the burden of others. I am lost in this place, trying to find my way. Wondering how I can get through it, when it will be over. In my thoughts I see, in my heart I hear. I must take a breath, I must breathe in with deep conviction of truth. So I come back to the grave to bury the contents of the tears. I open my eyes and see new earth before me. The hole is covered, the cross is at the foot and the fragrance of the flowers fills my nostrils.
I did not fill the hole. I stand and ponder this process. The only thing I came to do was let go of the part of me that did not belong, grieve the loss, rejoice in the freedom this death brings me. The sun is setting and the orange glow reflects of the cold stone that protrudes though the earth. I walk to read the inscription of the stone that is capturing the sunlight. It reads “Untimely death.” The earth trembles beneath my feet and I shutter at the thought. Below those words is my name, written by the hand of a child. There is no cross here to mark this death, only cold stone. It is not shadowed by the cross and adorned with flowers. It is the part of me that I shoved into death and buried in order to survive in this world. The part of me I denied.
My heart feels constricted, panic overtakes my mind. Breathe, breathe, breathe. A deep sigh comes from my lungs and I am able to rest, for a moment. There is a shovel leaning on the tree that shadows this place. My heart embraces this truth, I must unearth her! I must set her free! This part of me that is decaying must be raised from the dead. Frantically I grab the shovel and start to dig. With fervent ambition I dig and did and dig. The deeper I go, the more intense the emotion that consumes me. I am dirty and sweat is dripping from my brow. I am getting tired, I am in pain. I hit something with the shovel. The sound echoes in the hole and surrounds my head. My hands ache from the perpetual motion of digging. I am weak and shaking. Breath comes from my mouth and clears the dirt from the words... I relinquish. I do not want to know what it says. A shadow falls on the words and I cannot make out what it said. In this dark hole of death, as the sun sets, the man who was one before me, stood over me, looking down into the this place. “Open the box,” He spoke almost in a song. I can no longer stand as fatigue saturates my being. I cannot and will not open this box! Why did I do this? Why did I come to this place? My hands tremble from pure exhaustion, yet he beckons again, “Open it…”
Friday, June 17, 2011
The deep waters..
June 17, 2011
“He reached down from heaven and rescued me; he drew me out of deep waters.” -Psalms 18:16
Thank you Lord, for rescuing me from the deep, dark places of my heart. Thank you for giving me hope, by setting my feet on solid ground, so that I do not sink into the quiet abyss of pain and suffering; into the deep dark corners of the unseen heart of depression and hopelessness. Thank you for reaching out your hand to me. To me, this broken woman who is trying to BE all I want to BE and think I should BE.
I wonder how we get to the “deep waters” that consume us. How do we get to the place of needing to be rescued by the Living God? We are all there, or have been there, in some way in some capacity. I wonder how many of us have pushed the hand of God away and told Him, we can do it on our own; or even worse, I would rather drown. I have been in the place of almost drowning, the place of wanting to give up, because I became to weary to tread water. It was at that place, when death was upon me that I knew the only way I could live is if I stopped treading water and let my Savior save me. He watched me intently; to be sure I did not drown, as I stopped trying to do it on my own. And just as I began to sink into the dark deep waters, the Lord reached down from heaven and rescued me.
He brought me out into a spacious place; he rescued me because he delighted in me” Psalm 18:19
Once he rescued me, He brought me to this place that looks a lot like freedom; open and big and filled with love and joy and peace. Not because he had to, but because He wants to; because HE delights in me. The creator of the universe delights in who I am. He delights in who he created me to be, flaws and all. The concept is something most of us desire. This unconditional love that covers a multitude of sins is overwhelming and is hard to grasp. All we have to do is receive it. Just open our hands, let go, begin to sink and receive the love our God has for us.
So here I am Lord, STANDING on solid ground, in this spacious place. Things look different, smell different, and feel different. It feels very dry and I am a little wobbly in this place, but I am determined to live here. I am determined to live under the shelter of your wings, so that I do not have to build my own fortress, to protect me. In my vulnerable state, I will trust that you will protect me.
I breathe a deep cleansing breath and look out to this spacious place where I now stand… I move my legs and take my first step.
“He reached down from heaven and rescued me; he drew me out of deep waters.” -Psalms 18:16
Thank you Lord, for rescuing me from the deep, dark places of my heart. Thank you for giving me hope, by setting my feet on solid ground, so that I do not sink into the quiet abyss of pain and suffering; into the deep dark corners of the unseen heart of depression and hopelessness. Thank you for reaching out your hand to me. To me, this broken woman who is trying to BE all I want to BE and think I should BE.
I wonder how we get to the “deep waters” that consume us. How do we get to the place of needing to be rescued by the Living God? We are all there, or have been there, in some way in some capacity. I wonder how many of us have pushed the hand of God away and told Him, we can do it on our own; or even worse, I would rather drown. I have been in the place of almost drowning, the place of wanting to give up, because I became to weary to tread water. It was at that place, when death was upon me that I knew the only way I could live is if I stopped treading water and let my Savior save me. He watched me intently; to be sure I did not drown, as I stopped trying to do it on my own. And just as I began to sink into the dark deep waters, the Lord reached down from heaven and rescued me.
He brought me out into a spacious place; he rescued me because he delighted in me” Psalm 18:19
Once he rescued me, He brought me to this place that looks a lot like freedom; open and big and filled with love and joy and peace. Not because he had to, but because He wants to; because HE delights in me. The creator of the universe delights in who I am. He delights in who he created me to be, flaws and all. The concept is something most of us desire. This unconditional love that covers a multitude of sins is overwhelming and is hard to grasp. All we have to do is receive it. Just open our hands, let go, begin to sink and receive the love our God has for us.
So here I am Lord, STANDING on solid ground, in this spacious place. Things look different, smell different, and feel different. It feels very dry and I am a little wobbly in this place, but I am determined to live here. I am determined to live under the shelter of your wings, so that I do not have to build my own fortress, to protect me. In my vulnerable state, I will trust that you will protect me.
I breathe a deep cleansing breath and look out to this spacious place where I now stand… I move my legs and take my first step.
Jesus Wept
Wednesday, June 15th
The emotions are high. Feeling as if I am coming out of my skin. I have been here before. This all to familiar place of anxiety and lack of control; feeling overwhelmed and uneasy. I need help! I want to call every person I know to help, but then pull back and remind myself I need to go to my Father in heaven first. Then I sit quietly trying to talk… and the air is silent. I hear Him tell me to breath; sit on His lap, put my head on His chest and just breath. So I do. I it so hard to just sit and listen to the heartbeat of God. I want to run and conquer and take over territory, so my mom will live. But my Father holds me tight, to keep me still. It reminds me of what I used to do with Elijah. He was so active that in order to get him to bed at night, we would have to use brut force to hold him close to us, to keep him still long enough, so he would fall asleep. I am picturing that with me and my Father.
Yet even in the quietest places of my space, I feel as if my soul (emotions) are in control. I want my spirit always to be in control, yet there is a constant battle that rages between my soul, flesh and body… My emotions are usually the last part of me that has control… My spirit and flesh war more than my soul… My soul usually takes a back seat and watches the other two parts of me battle it out. That is because I trained it to do so. I go into full bore William Wallace mode when I am hurting and it keeps the emotions down.
Recently, however, that side of me is fighting for control as well… I went outside when some things were said about my mom’s healing and started to cry. Then I got angry, then I wanted to go off… I felt overwhelmed again!
An in a very loving voice, I heard the Lord say, “Jesus wept.” “I know Jesus wept!” was my response. And then the Lord said it again. I was trying to figure out what that had to do with me… and the Lord reminded me that Jesus, His son, had the power to raise Lazarus from the dead, yet he still wept. Jesus knew he was going to raise him from the dead, yet he still wept. In the most powerful man on earth, was a soul. A soul that became overwhelmed with emotion of the thought of his friend being dead, and so wept. I felt amazed at this insight. He wept, not because Lazarus was dead! He wept, because he had deep emotions about his friend’s death… even in knowing he was going to raise him from the dead!!! WOW!!!
I am now, trying to embrace this emotional overload of reality that keeps hitting me in the face! So Lord, help me feel, not to the point of a total meltdown, but to the point that is heathly and helpful and real… Amen
The emotions are high. Feeling as if I am coming out of my skin. I have been here before. This all to familiar place of anxiety and lack of control; feeling overwhelmed and uneasy. I need help! I want to call every person I know to help, but then pull back and remind myself I need to go to my Father in heaven first. Then I sit quietly trying to talk… and the air is silent. I hear Him tell me to breath; sit on His lap, put my head on His chest and just breath. So I do. I it so hard to just sit and listen to the heartbeat of God. I want to run and conquer and take over territory, so my mom will live. But my Father holds me tight, to keep me still. It reminds me of what I used to do with Elijah. He was so active that in order to get him to bed at night, we would have to use brut force to hold him close to us, to keep him still long enough, so he would fall asleep. I am picturing that with me and my Father.
Yet even in the quietest places of my space, I feel as if my soul (emotions) are in control. I want my spirit always to be in control, yet there is a constant battle that rages between my soul, flesh and body… My emotions are usually the last part of me that has control… My spirit and flesh war more than my soul… My soul usually takes a back seat and watches the other two parts of me battle it out. That is because I trained it to do so. I go into full bore William Wallace mode when I am hurting and it keeps the emotions down.
Recently, however, that side of me is fighting for control as well… I went outside when some things were said about my mom’s healing and started to cry. Then I got angry, then I wanted to go off… I felt overwhelmed again!
An in a very loving voice, I heard the Lord say, “Jesus wept.” “I know Jesus wept!” was my response. And then the Lord said it again. I was trying to figure out what that had to do with me… and the Lord reminded me that Jesus, His son, had the power to raise Lazarus from the dead, yet he still wept. Jesus knew he was going to raise him from the dead, yet he still wept. In the most powerful man on earth, was a soul. A soul that became overwhelmed with emotion of the thought of his friend being dead, and so wept. I felt amazed at this insight. He wept, not because Lazarus was dead! He wept, because he had deep emotions about his friend’s death… even in knowing he was going to raise him from the dead!!! WOW!!!
I am now, trying to embrace this emotional overload of reality that keeps hitting me in the face! So Lord, help me feel, not to the point of a total meltdown, but to the point that is heathly and helpful and real… Amen
Monday, June 13, 2011
Letting Go
Monday, June 13, 2011
Letting go…
I hold on, tight, to everything I love. I don’t want it to slip through my fingers. I love my husband and hold him very tight, very close to me. My children are my heart and I squish them and hold them, as much as I can, as long as they will let me. I hold on to my extended family and love them, sometimes from a distance, but deep inside my heart.
This morning Elijah went to summer school at the local high school. A sophomore, my baby is a sophomore. The time has flown by and I am not sure where it went. He looks so confident, so sure. He is in a new environment, new town, new surroundings. I want to hold on to him. Keep him at home and home school him until he graduates, but chances are I would be writing this same thing 3 years from now about letting go. It is so hard. I want to savor every moment and I am nowhere near him. When he gets home from football or school, he gives me a 10 minutes lowdown of an 8 hour day. He is becoming a man and I have to let go so that he can walk all the way down the road to adulthood.
These are the moments I wish I had more kids. These are the days when my heart beats out of my chest in agony of having to let go. I ponder these things and wonder why I don’t want to let go. Where is the root of this? I wonder if it has to do with letting go of my dad when he and my mom were divorced. Maybe it has to do with letting go of believing my parents would get back together. Maybe it is letting go my siblings when I got married and left home when they were still young. Maybe it has to do with letting go with my father, who I try to make have a relationship with me. Perhaps it is letting go of the hope of being close to my extended family. Could it be letting go of the anger I had for the person who stole my innocence and then denied it. Or maybe it is letting go of the pain I have felt for so long. Maybe it is the pain that chiseled and defined me as a person. I have had to let go of that false identity and learn all over again who I really am.
The hardest thing I had to do so far was let go of my sister. I always had to protect, and encourage and inspire and push. Or did I? I had to let go of feeling responsible for her and just being her sister. I have an amazing relationship with her, but have had to learn how to redefine my relationship with her, hands open, instead of hands clenched.
So I hold tight, since so many things were taken out of my hand, without my consent. So many things in my life were ripped from me, leaving scars on my hands. I do not want to do that to my kids, my husband. I want to love them with open hands, open arms, so they have the freedom to be who God created them to be. I let go, because they belong to God, everything I hold tight to, belongs to God.
And now I am sitting here, wondering how I am going to let go of my mom. Learning how to let go of the control I think I have in her healing, in her health. I am a fighter and so believe that if I fight hard enough, I will conquer the cancer. But I am learning that it is not my fight. All I can do is pray, lover her and surrender the rest to God.
Funny, today my devotional was called “Letting Go is Hard.” Hmmmm…
Letting Go Is Hard
I am the LORD your God. You shall have no other gods before Me. Exodus 20:2-3
What are you needlessly holding on to so tightly today? Corrie Ten Boom once said that she learned to hold on to things loosely because it hurt too much when God pried them away. There are many things in our life that we get attached to: our work becomes our identity, our homes become our personality, our children become our goals. Sometimes it is hard to know who we were before these things came in and took over our lives. Where do I end and these things begin? When God challenges us on our priorities, it is difficult to truly understand what He is doing.
Because I work in the ministry, it gets confusing at times to separate my walk with the Lord from my work in the Lord. Recently, I have fallen in love with the plans of a ministry that truly helps people and honors God. I received His promises and His revelation of how to get the ministry started. Then, out of the blue, I had the sense that He wanted me to give the ministry to someone else to do. He used me to get the ministry going, but now He wanted me to let it go and not feel that I must do the work for Him. It was hard to let go because that ministry had become a key part of my life. How do you let go of something that God placed in your heart to do, so that you can honor God by not doing it?
We have to remember that nothing is ours. We are just stewards entrusted with the Master's gifts. Our calling is to be obedient. Our hearts are to have nothing above Him, including His ministries or His children or His blessings. These things become little gods in our lives if we are not careful, because even they can be all-consuming over dedicated devotion to Him. We are to align ourselves up with Jesus, to rest at His feet and to have a relationship with Him. Jesus wants you, not what you can do!
Lord, thank You that You don't want my attention divided. I am sorry that I fall in love with the blessings You have given me to a point of missing Your will. Help me to walk in Your paths and stay in step with Your call. You have given me everything I have and I give it all back to You. Be glorified in me, Lord. I know I can't let go on my own, so I will pray for Your guidance. May I be an open vessel for You, only allowing what You desire to flow through me in whatever timing You want it to flow. Thank You for reminding me that nothing that I own is really is mine: work, family, accomplishments, possessions. It is all Yours. I look around me this moment and think of all the blessings You have provided, reminding myself that none of it is mine to keep. Father, I just want to be a faithful steward of everything You have provided me, offering it all back to You in some way. Show me how I am to do that today. I want to use what you have provided me to glorify You. Amen.
Original source: Daily Disciples
Letting go…
I hold on, tight, to everything I love. I don’t want it to slip through my fingers. I love my husband and hold him very tight, very close to me. My children are my heart and I squish them and hold them, as much as I can, as long as they will let me. I hold on to my extended family and love them, sometimes from a distance, but deep inside my heart.
This morning Elijah went to summer school at the local high school. A sophomore, my baby is a sophomore. The time has flown by and I am not sure where it went. He looks so confident, so sure. He is in a new environment, new town, new surroundings. I want to hold on to him. Keep him at home and home school him until he graduates, but chances are I would be writing this same thing 3 years from now about letting go. It is so hard. I want to savor every moment and I am nowhere near him. When he gets home from football or school, he gives me a 10 minutes lowdown of an 8 hour day. He is becoming a man and I have to let go so that he can walk all the way down the road to adulthood.
These are the moments I wish I had more kids. These are the days when my heart beats out of my chest in agony of having to let go. I ponder these things and wonder why I don’t want to let go. Where is the root of this? I wonder if it has to do with letting go of my dad when he and my mom were divorced. Maybe it has to do with letting go of believing my parents would get back together. Maybe it is letting go my siblings when I got married and left home when they were still young. Maybe it has to do with letting go with my father, who I try to make have a relationship with me. Perhaps it is letting go of the hope of being close to my extended family. Could it be letting go of the anger I had for the person who stole my innocence and then denied it. Or maybe it is letting go of the pain I have felt for so long. Maybe it is the pain that chiseled and defined me as a person. I have had to let go of that false identity and learn all over again who I really am.
The hardest thing I had to do so far was let go of my sister. I always had to protect, and encourage and inspire and push. Or did I? I had to let go of feeling responsible for her and just being her sister. I have an amazing relationship with her, but have had to learn how to redefine my relationship with her, hands open, instead of hands clenched.
So I hold tight, since so many things were taken out of my hand, without my consent. So many things in my life were ripped from me, leaving scars on my hands. I do not want to do that to my kids, my husband. I want to love them with open hands, open arms, so they have the freedom to be who God created them to be. I let go, because they belong to God, everything I hold tight to, belongs to God.
And now I am sitting here, wondering how I am going to let go of my mom. Learning how to let go of the control I think I have in her healing, in her health. I am a fighter and so believe that if I fight hard enough, I will conquer the cancer. But I am learning that it is not my fight. All I can do is pray, lover her and surrender the rest to God.
Funny, today my devotional was called “Letting Go is Hard.” Hmmmm…
Letting Go Is Hard
I am the LORD your God. You shall have no other gods before Me. Exodus 20:2-3
What are you needlessly holding on to so tightly today? Corrie Ten Boom once said that she learned to hold on to things loosely because it hurt too much when God pried them away. There are many things in our life that we get attached to: our work becomes our identity, our homes become our personality, our children become our goals. Sometimes it is hard to know who we were before these things came in and took over our lives. Where do I end and these things begin? When God challenges us on our priorities, it is difficult to truly understand what He is doing.
Because I work in the ministry, it gets confusing at times to separate my walk with the Lord from my work in the Lord. Recently, I have fallen in love with the plans of a ministry that truly helps people and honors God. I received His promises and His revelation of how to get the ministry started. Then, out of the blue, I had the sense that He wanted me to give the ministry to someone else to do. He used me to get the ministry going, but now He wanted me to let it go and not feel that I must do the work for Him. It was hard to let go because that ministry had become a key part of my life. How do you let go of something that God placed in your heart to do, so that you can honor God by not doing it?
We have to remember that nothing is ours. We are just stewards entrusted with the Master's gifts. Our calling is to be obedient. Our hearts are to have nothing above Him, including His ministries or His children or His blessings. These things become little gods in our lives if we are not careful, because even they can be all-consuming over dedicated devotion to Him. We are to align ourselves up with Jesus, to rest at His feet and to have a relationship with Him. Jesus wants you, not what you can do!
Lord, thank You that You don't want my attention divided. I am sorry that I fall in love with the blessings You have given me to a point of missing Your will. Help me to walk in Your paths and stay in step with Your call. You have given me everything I have and I give it all back to You. Be glorified in me, Lord. I know I can't let go on my own, so I will pray for Your guidance. May I be an open vessel for You, only allowing what You desire to flow through me in whatever timing You want it to flow. Thank You for reminding me that nothing that I own is really is mine: work, family, accomplishments, possessions. It is all Yours. I look around me this moment and think of all the blessings You have provided, reminding myself that none of it is mine to keep. Father, I just want to be a faithful steward of everything You have provided me, offering it all back to You in some way. Show me how I am to do that today. I want to use what you have provided me to glorify You. Amen.
Original source: Daily Disciples
Christmas music
My sister and I are sitting her listening to Christmas music... Why... well perhaps it is the joy of memories... the happy times we shared as kids with our mom and father and with our own kids... Maybe it is because it reminds us our Savior... who is the only one who is walking this out with us...
We laughed as We wish you a Merry Christmas came on... and I wanted to bring my sister some figgy pudding, since she is pregnant.. Then, "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas" came on... We bust out laughing...because you know 85 degree weather is a lot like Christmas...
We kept on laughing and was so glad... we needed to. The intensity is overwhelming around here with my mom's cancer.
I am thankful for our daughters who wanted to dance before this. We all swung our arms and shook our boodies to the music. There was a lot of joy. The boys were playing LIFE and looked at us like we were some crazy moms... we are. After we put the kids to bed it seemed appropiate to listen to Christmas music... and it gave us a calm and a peace that can only come from God.
Silent night, holy night, all is calm all is bright!
We laughed as We wish you a Merry Christmas came on... and I wanted to bring my sister some figgy pudding, since she is pregnant.. Then, "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas" came on... We bust out laughing...because you know 85 degree weather is a lot like Christmas...
We kept on laughing and was so glad... we needed to. The intensity is overwhelming around here with my mom's cancer.
I am thankful for our daughters who wanted to dance before this. We all swung our arms and shook our boodies to the music. There was a lot of joy. The boys were playing LIFE and looked at us like we were some crazy moms... we are. After we put the kids to bed it seemed appropiate to listen to Christmas music... and it gave us a calm and a peace that can only come from God.
Silent night, holy night, all is calm all is bright!
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Depth of Emotions...
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Stayed up late talking to my brother Eric and sister Cari… The depth of emotions is great. My mom sat all 4 of us kids down in her room with my step-dad and began to talk to us about things she did and did not want us to do. I was irritated, mad, frustrated, sad, overwhelmed… Micah, the youngest said, as we walked in, “I feel like a kid, like we are about to get in trouble.” We all chuckled. My heart was aching mostly for Micah. He has always felt like the odd man out. My mom made comments like, I am mostly talking to you (referring to Eric, Cari and I). Sigh… divorce is soooo hard…No matter how hard you try, it seems like someone is left out. She told kept talking about unity… We prayed together, my step dad started and then it was silent. I was about to pray, but before I could get myself together emotionally, my mom prayed. I felt like, oh crap… she thinks no one want to pray for her… anxiety… guilt… breath Teresa, breath…
My mom’s house was filled with people… mostly family. There were a few friends there… One of my mom’s friends is so negative… I wanted to tell her to get the f#*% out of my mom’s house… not the most Christ like and loving thing… It is as if she has some spell on my mom and was sucking the life out of her. The rage rose up in me and I had to walk outside… letting go God… letting go. I do not how…breathing, praying, and breathing. My cousin Christie came out and talked to me, prayed with me…
Went to church today…surrounded by people who speak life. Came home and talked to my Tia Karen. She told me my mom was going to die in 2 weeks… What the Snapple!!! If one more person gives me a time frame of my mom’s death I am going to punch them. Only God knows…like I said before, I am being sure of what I hope for, until she dies (whether that be 2 weeks or 40 years from now0.
Today, I am not sad… I am angry… I want to fight, but have to surrender to God… urgh!
Stayed up late talking to my brother Eric and sister Cari… The depth of emotions is great. My mom sat all 4 of us kids down in her room with my step-dad and began to talk to us about things she did and did not want us to do. I was irritated, mad, frustrated, sad, overwhelmed… Micah, the youngest said, as we walked in, “I feel like a kid, like we are about to get in trouble.” We all chuckled. My heart was aching mostly for Micah. He has always felt like the odd man out. My mom made comments like, I am mostly talking to you (referring to Eric, Cari and I). Sigh… divorce is soooo hard…No matter how hard you try, it seems like someone is left out. She told kept talking about unity… We prayed together, my step dad started and then it was silent. I was about to pray, but before I could get myself together emotionally, my mom prayed. I felt like, oh crap… she thinks no one want to pray for her… anxiety… guilt… breath Teresa, breath…
My mom’s house was filled with people… mostly family. There were a few friends there… One of my mom’s friends is so negative… I wanted to tell her to get the f#*% out of my mom’s house… not the most Christ like and loving thing… It is as if she has some spell on my mom and was sucking the life out of her. The rage rose up in me and I had to walk outside… letting go God… letting go. I do not how…breathing, praying, and breathing. My cousin Christie came out and talked to me, prayed with me…
Went to church today…surrounded by people who speak life. Came home and talked to my Tia Karen. She told me my mom was going to die in 2 weeks… What the Snapple!!! If one more person gives me a time frame of my mom’s death I am going to punch them. Only God knows…like I said before, I am being sure of what I hope for, until she dies (whether that be 2 weeks or 40 years from now0.
Today, I am not sad… I am angry… I want to fight, but have to surrender to God… urgh!
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Hope is...letting go
June 10, 2011
My posture seems different… hoping. Hope, what is hope exactly?
I am hoping my mom gets well. I am hoping God is healing her, even now. The amazing thing about hope is that is seems to need companions… It seems to me that hope fades when you are hoping alone. It is my experience that the more people who are around who are hoping for the same thing. The easier it is to hope.
I didn’t see my mom today. Instead I spent 5 hours talking, praying and pondering this experience with Becky, who God has brought into my life to be a spiritual midwife, of sorts. My cousin came with me and the spirit of God gave me even more hope. Hope of restoration, hope of healing, hope of joy, hope for the future. At this moment, I can not see death in my mom, only life. I do not see hopelessness, only hope. My sister spent most of the day with her. My mom has people around her 24/7. My brothers are staying at her house until Sunday, a friend is staying with her until Sunday. She has visitors that stop by all day long and receives phone call and packages every day. My Tia Karen just flew in and my Tia Jaunita (my mom’s sister) her husband Jun and my cousin Roxanne are all visiting her tomorrow. My cousin Roxanne flew in from Kuwait tonight. Today my cousin Christie and her family are coming with me and my kids to visit.
I felt angry that my mom was not getting rest… Wait what? Angry… what the hell… why would I be angry? I seriously have some control issues… or is it that I feel like my hope for healing is getting trampled on because she is not getting rest… I had to breath… my husband said, “Honey, it is probably better than worse that people are lining up at the door to see you mom.. It will bring her joy and she will feel loved. Perhaps that part of the healing process for her. You just have to trust God.”
He is so right… I determined that I am a fixer. If there is a problem, I fix it. If I cant fix it, I get pissed… I get frustrated… so here I am Lord, giving it up to you… I can not fix it, only you can. You are in control.. I am letting go…
My posture seems different… hoping. Hope, what is hope exactly?
I am hoping my mom gets well. I am hoping God is healing her, even now. The amazing thing about hope is that is seems to need companions… It seems to me that hope fades when you are hoping alone. It is my experience that the more people who are around who are hoping for the same thing. The easier it is to hope.
I didn’t see my mom today. Instead I spent 5 hours talking, praying and pondering this experience with Becky, who God has brought into my life to be a spiritual midwife, of sorts. My cousin came with me and the spirit of God gave me even more hope. Hope of restoration, hope of healing, hope of joy, hope for the future. At this moment, I can not see death in my mom, only life. I do not see hopelessness, only hope. My sister spent most of the day with her. My mom has people around her 24/7. My brothers are staying at her house until Sunday, a friend is staying with her until Sunday. She has visitors that stop by all day long and receives phone call and packages every day. My Tia Karen just flew in and my Tia Jaunita (my mom’s sister) her husband Jun and my cousin Roxanne are all visiting her tomorrow. My cousin Roxanne flew in from Kuwait tonight. Today my cousin Christie and her family are coming with me and my kids to visit.
I felt angry that my mom was not getting rest… Wait what? Angry… what the hell… why would I be angry? I seriously have some control issues… or is it that I feel like my hope for healing is getting trampled on because she is not getting rest… I had to breath… my husband said, “Honey, it is probably better than worse that people are lining up at the door to see you mom.. It will bring her joy and she will feel loved. Perhaps that part of the healing process for her. You just have to trust God.”
He is so right… I determined that I am a fixer. If there is a problem, I fix it. If I cant fix it, I get pissed… I get frustrated… so here I am Lord, giving it up to you… I can not fix it, only you can. You are in control.. I am letting go…
Being sure...
June 9, 2011
This morning I was praying and talking to God about my faith. The verse "Faith is being sure of what you hope for and certain of what you do not see," came to mind. The Holy Spirit spoke write to my little broken heart and said, "faith is being sure of what your HOPE for... not sure of God's will, not sure of your understanding, not sure of the future... Sure of your hope.... just hope...You are HOPING your mom is healed... just continue to hope and be sure of that hope... don’t worry about whether or not it is God's will or if you have enough of faith... you just be sure of that hope you have for healing in your moms body..." Being sure... okay… being sure….
sure
adj.
1. Impossible to doubt or dispute; certain.
2. Not hesitating or wavering; firm: sure convictions.
3. Confident, as of something awaited or expected: sure of ultimate victory.
4.
a. Bound to come about or happen; inevitable: sure defeat.
b. Having one's course directed; destined or bound: sure to succeed.
5. Certain not to miss or err; steady: a sure hand on the throttle.
6.
a. Worthy of being trusted or depended on; reliable.
b. Free from or marked by freedom from doubt: sure of her friends.
7. Careful to do something: asked me to be sure to turn off the stove.
8. Obsolete Free from harm or danger; safe.
This morning I was praying and talking to God about my faith. The verse "Faith is being sure of what you hope for and certain of what you do not see," came to mind. The Holy Spirit spoke write to my little broken heart and said, "faith is being sure of what your HOPE for... not sure of God's will, not sure of your understanding, not sure of the future... Sure of your hope.... just hope...You are HOPING your mom is healed... just continue to hope and be sure of that hope... don’t worry about whether or not it is God's will or if you have enough of faith... you just be sure of that hope you have for healing in your moms body..." Being sure... okay… being sure….
sure
adj.
1. Impossible to doubt or dispute; certain.
2. Not hesitating or wavering; firm: sure convictions.
3. Confident, as of something awaited or expected: sure of ultimate victory.
4.
a. Bound to come about or happen; inevitable: sure defeat.
b. Having one's course directed; destined or bound: sure to succeed.
5. Certain not to miss or err; steady: a sure hand on the throttle.
6.
a. Worthy of being trusted or depended on; reliable.
b. Free from or marked by freedom from doubt: sure of her friends.
7. Careful to do something: asked me to be sure to turn off the stove.
8. Obsolete Free from harm or danger; safe.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
The journey of hope and healing...
Saturday, June 4th
My brother called me this morning and told me that my step dad was in hysterics and falling apart. My mom has not been eating or drinking and can’t sleep. The tumor has exploded in her body and all of her systems are shutting down. My brother told me that she probably has only one more week to live.
I cannot even begin to tell you the range of emotions I am feeling. I am angry and sad, hurt and confused... There are so many factors involved in my relationship with her and I am brokenhearted. I do not do sadness well... only anger... thanks to my "spiritual midwife" who pointed that out. I can control anger and so when I am sad or hurt, go there... I do not know how to be sad or hurt. I have been experiencing a lot of hurt these days and I am deeply emotionally jacked up. It is as if someone took the cap off the well and now everything I have controlled for all of these years is gushing out with uncontrollable intensity.
I love my mother deeply. I always have. I wish I was closer to her. I wish I could share my heart with her. Sigh
I am telling you these things because you are all close to me in some capacity. I need you to help me through this...in prayers, in words, in just being next to me. I do not know how to mourn; I do not know how to grieve. I am not sure what it will look like. So let me apologize ahead of time for any abnormal behavior I may exhibit in this process.
I am the strong one in my family... I have said for years... but am learning that this is not my identity. I don't know what my identity is, and is learning who I am in Christ. It is a process, and I might flip flop like a fish out of water in this place.
Please give me grace, please.
Monday, June 6th
So here it is... my heart open... it is easier for me to write this down for all to read, then talking to people... so if I am not answering your calls, it is because I am too tired and emotional to talk... You know me, I love to talk... but these days I am finding I would prefer to stay in my house, in my room listening to birds chirp, and watching the clouds go by. I feel like I am forgetting people, so if I added you to this conversation after my initial, it is only because I am overwhelmed, not because I do not love you or you are not valuable to me. My mom is frail. She is holding on for everyone else, I discern, to be sure to say their goodbyes and to talk about things that need to be talked about. She seems peaceful, ready to go. Not fighting it, not angry. I can't help but think of all the times my mom is going to miss... She is not going to see my son graduate from high school in three years. She will miss seeing my Noah play quarterback this year. She will not be at my daughter’s wedding. She will not see my sisters new baby.... pain... so much pain... she will not see her grandkids grow up. My sisters kids are 10 and under and my brothers kids are 4 and 2. MY youngest brother is not married and has no kids... She will not see my youngest brother get married... sigh... she won’t be there for my stepdad when his parents pass away, as she will go first. This is so wrong, so crazy... I want to scream and yell... I want to fast and pray and put sackcloth and ashes on my head until she is healed... My understanding of things is being tossed around in a tornado, causing havoc and grief... What the HELL... why... Even in the hardest moments with my mother, even in the most painful areas in my heart that my mother inflicted, there was still a love, still a hope I help onto for complete and total healing and restoration for our relationship so that we could laugh together and go to tea together and takes walks together... but now that hope is gone. I WILL have restoration, I do, even now... but I will not get to walk it out in this life. I will not get to feel her flesh and touch her hair... Then I think, am I giving up? Do I not have enough faith for her healing? Have I just surrendered to what my eyes see and not what my spirit hopes for? Is it her time? Or has her life been cut short? I do not know... All I can do is cry... I spend half the night crying... I can’t read my Bible, don’t say much to God. I felt as if I had crawled up on Gods lap, put my head on his chest and just cried....this is the worst feeling I have ever experienced in my life... My chest hurts, my head hurts, and my body aches with sorrow... My mom said all she wants prayer for is healing and NO pain...That God would take her physical pain away... If you could partner in prayer with me, I would be appreciative.
Wednesday, June 8th
4am...
Awake, feeling overwhelmed...my chest aches with pain...I have to make sure I breath in deep to counter the aches...it is from anxiety. I have had these pains before, been rushed to the hospital before in fear, only to be told I am suffering an anxiety attack... I don't really know where that is coming from. Is it the fear of mom dying? Is it the sadness that is too overwhelming? Is it sorrow?
Today I met with the hospice lady with my mom and step-dad. She explained things and I took notes. She talked to my mom about code status... I heard what she said but asked her to repeat herself many times. Finally my mom said," Teresa I am not going home on full code. If the worst happens, they will not recessitate." The hospice lady asked me IF I could do it. If, worst case scenario, and her body is not healed, could I watch her die and not panic. Could I just sit there with her and watch?
I did not fully process the question...Here I am, a daughter of the God who created the heavens and earth. The God who raised Jesus from the dead. The God who gave power to his son to heal the sick, give sight to the blind, and raise the dead. Could I just let my mom die at 57, never to fulfill the long life, I believe God intended us all to live?
My mom told me this morning that she believed God would heal her body, but now, as she is sitting in the hospital, she is beginning to doubt her own faith. Wondering, do I not have enough? I sat there in silence, not knowing how to assure her or comfort her, as I too am questioning my faith. Then, as if God picked her up from her seat and dropped her in the room, a friend of mine stopped by the hospital. I did not tell her where my mom was and had not talked to her much other than Facebook. She came in, with her comedy central personality and began to minister to my mom in a way I wish I could. She talked about the very thing my mom had just spoken of… It was divine and poetic. She reminded my mom of the verse that says we need to labor to rest… in other words it is hard work to just rest. She reminded my mom that she only needed a mustard seed of faith and God would do the rest. She told my mom not to worry about how much faith she has or does not have, but to just rest in the knowledge that so many others are fighting on her behalf. She gave the analogy of Moses fighting and fighting in faith, by raising his hands to the heavens until he was too weary to fight any more. It was at that point that people raised his hands to help carry his burden to win the battle. She assured her that there were so many more people raising her hands in faith and hope and life. Then she gave me permission to do the same. To allow others to help carry my burden of faith and pain…and so my mom agreed to do just that… labor to rest.
There were so many things happening today, Tuesday, June 7th. So many roads colliding in my life. My mom told me I am an angry person and she wished I would not be so angry. She told me I am a talented writer and need to use it for God’s glory and not to destroy or devastate people, as I had done to her so many times… I usually get pissed off when she makes those kinds of comments, but today I was able to say what was in my heart without fear of rejection or denial. I explained to my mom that it was never my intent to devastate or destroy her, but rather share the pain of my heart. Apologized for hurting her and told her that in sharing my heart with her it came through a filter of pain and not attack. She told me specific things that had wounded her most by my words, very true things I had shared with her. I don’t really know if it was my speaking these things out in the open that wounded her the most, or the way in which I told her. She told me she understood and left it at that.
I read her some of my poetry, and began to read her John 14. More visitors came, and I left to give her some time. My sister and Tio Mike met me for lunch. He shared with us memories he had with my mom when they were kids. Kiara, my sister’s 2 year old daughter brought so much life, so much hope of the future. We went back to the hospital and my uncle spent one on one time with her, sharing his heart. My step-dad was setting up hospice at his house, so my sister and I just sat with her… talked with her… laughed with her. Her countenance lifted and she looked light-hearted, not so heavy hearted. She ate most of her meal; we took her for a walk around the hospital and massaged her hands and feet.
We talked about wounds and hurt and how it is real and affects relationships. How we all deal with hurt differently and that relationships deteriorate because of not understanding how that person deals with hurt or because they are protecting themselves from getting more hurt. There were so many things happening in the spirit that were changing and breaking and moving. Without even trying restoration was taking place, boundaries were being redrawn, hearts were being understood. My dad came back and my sister, Tio and I drove back home. I had been there most of the day and was emotionally tired… I am so thankful for my niece Trinity and nephew Skyler who are here for my kids, and I guess my kids are there for them too…
My husband, who is unemployed, trying to get this salsa business off and being the parent who is in the “life goes on” side of this, is running around registering Elijah for school, watching kids, doing laundry, dishes, and enduring the emotional trauma I bring. His heart is so for the things of God. How he interacts with God and my and the kids is shifting. If is a wonderful thing. Part of these roads all colliding in my life…
It is as if I am standing in an intersection on a road. Only there are not four roads leading there, there are more. One road is the journey of the healing of my soul, another is the transformation of my spirit, and another is the renewal of my mind. Then there is the business road, that looks pretty jacked up and broken; the financial road that is pretty bleak; the road of family; the road of marriage; the road of broken relationships; the road of healthy relationships; the road of pain and suffering; this new road of sorrow; the road of hope; the road of faith; the road of love…. All intersecting at one time, at the same place… I am bracing myself for what is to come when they all reach this intersection… I am hoping there is a reconciliation of myself, so that I can continue down just one road, that leads me away from this intersection, and that is the road of God’s promises…
So tired… I have been writing for an hour. My chest pains have subsided, my burden is lighter. Thank you all who help carry it. Your love and encouragement is a gift that I cherish.
June 8, 2011
Mom cried today...when the hospice nurse told her that watching her blood sugar was kinda pointless... I wanted to punch her and tell her to f-off... It is not pointless... so if she goes into a coma from high blood sugar, that is okay... urgh!!!
I told mom, that is does matter and I will watch it. She began to express some regret, which she had not earlier. She told my sister and me that she wished she spent more time with her grandkids... and was crying...
It was so eye opening to me... I realized at that moment that when I was angry at my mom for not showing up to events, it was not because I was a crazy, physco control freak... It was because I did not want her to have regrets... I did not want her to ever say the words she said today...
She cried herself to sleep... I hated to see that, but was thankful for her vulnerability to me...
Praise God for another day of life... I curse cancer in the name of Jesus and speak life into her pancreas, liver, lungs and limp nodes... Be healed in the name of Jesus mom... be healed...
My brother called me this morning and told me that my step dad was in hysterics and falling apart. My mom has not been eating or drinking and can’t sleep. The tumor has exploded in her body and all of her systems are shutting down. My brother told me that she probably has only one more week to live.
I cannot even begin to tell you the range of emotions I am feeling. I am angry and sad, hurt and confused... There are so many factors involved in my relationship with her and I am brokenhearted. I do not do sadness well... only anger... thanks to my "spiritual midwife" who pointed that out. I can control anger and so when I am sad or hurt, go there... I do not know how to be sad or hurt. I have been experiencing a lot of hurt these days and I am deeply emotionally jacked up. It is as if someone took the cap off the well and now everything I have controlled for all of these years is gushing out with uncontrollable intensity.
I love my mother deeply. I always have. I wish I was closer to her. I wish I could share my heart with her. Sigh
I am telling you these things because you are all close to me in some capacity. I need you to help me through this...in prayers, in words, in just being next to me. I do not know how to mourn; I do not know how to grieve. I am not sure what it will look like. So let me apologize ahead of time for any abnormal behavior I may exhibit in this process.
I am the strong one in my family... I have said for years... but am learning that this is not my identity. I don't know what my identity is, and is learning who I am in Christ. It is a process, and I might flip flop like a fish out of water in this place.
Please give me grace, please.
Monday, June 6th
So here it is... my heart open... it is easier for me to write this down for all to read, then talking to people... so if I am not answering your calls, it is because I am too tired and emotional to talk... You know me, I love to talk... but these days I am finding I would prefer to stay in my house, in my room listening to birds chirp, and watching the clouds go by. I feel like I am forgetting people, so if I added you to this conversation after my initial, it is only because I am overwhelmed, not because I do not love you or you are not valuable to me. My mom is frail. She is holding on for everyone else, I discern, to be sure to say their goodbyes and to talk about things that need to be talked about. She seems peaceful, ready to go. Not fighting it, not angry. I can't help but think of all the times my mom is going to miss... She is not going to see my son graduate from high school in three years. She will miss seeing my Noah play quarterback this year. She will not be at my daughter’s wedding. She will not see my sisters new baby.... pain... so much pain... she will not see her grandkids grow up. My sisters kids are 10 and under and my brothers kids are 4 and 2. MY youngest brother is not married and has no kids... She will not see my youngest brother get married... sigh... she won’t be there for my stepdad when his parents pass away, as she will go first. This is so wrong, so crazy... I want to scream and yell... I want to fast and pray and put sackcloth and ashes on my head until she is healed... My understanding of things is being tossed around in a tornado, causing havoc and grief... What the HELL... why... Even in the hardest moments with my mother, even in the most painful areas in my heart that my mother inflicted, there was still a love, still a hope I help onto for complete and total healing and restoration for our relationship so that we could laugh together and go to tea together and takes walks together... but now that hope is gone. I WILL have restoration, I do, even now... but I will not get to walk it out in this life. I will not get to feel her flesh and touch her hair... Then I think, am I giving up? Do I not have enough faith for her healing? Have I just surrendered to what my eyes see and not what my spirit hopes for? Is it her time? Or has her life been cut short? I do not know... All I can do is cry... I spend half the night crying... I can’t read my Bible, don’t say much to God. I felt as if I had crawled up on Gods lap, put my head on his chest and just cried....this is the worst feeling I have ever experienced in my life... My chest hurts, my head hurts, and my body aches with sorrow... My mom said all she wants prayer for is healing and NO pain...That God would take her physical pain away... If you could partner in prayer with me, I would be appreciative.
Wednesday, June 8th
4am...
Awake, feeling overwhelmed...my chest aches with pain...I have to make sure I breath in deep to counter the aches...it is from anxiety. I have had these pains before, been rushed to the hospital before in fear, only to be told I am suffering an anxiety attack... I don't really know where that is coming from. Is it the fear of mom dying? Is it the sadness that is too overwhelming? Is it sorrow?
Today I met with the hospice lady with my mom and step-dad. She explained things and I took notes. She talked to my mom about code status... I heard what she said but asked her to repeat herself many times. Finally my mom said," Teresa I am not going home on full code. If the worst happens, they will not recessitate." The hospice lady asked me IF I could do it. If, worst case scenario, and her body is not healed, could I watch her die and not panic. Could I just sit there with her and watch?
I did not fully process the question...Here I am, a daughter of the God who created the heavens and earth. The God who raised Jesus from the dead. The God who gave power to his son to heal the sick, give sight to the blind, and raise the dead. Could I just let my mom die at 57, never to fulfill the long life, I believe God intended us all to live?
My mom told me this morning that she believed God would heal her body, but now, as she is sitting in the hospital, she is beginning to doubt her own faith. Wondering, do I not have enough? I sat there in silence, not knowing how to assure her or comfort her, as I too am questioning my faith. Then, as if God picked her up from her seat and dropped her in the room, a friend of mine stopped by the hospital. I did not tell her where my mom was and had not talked to her much other than Facebook. She came in, with her comedy central personality and began to minister to my mom in a way I wish I could. She talked about the very thing my mom had just spoken of… It was divine and poetic. She reminded my mom of the verse that says we need to labor to rest… in other words it is hard work to just rest. She reminded my mom that she only needed a mustard seed of faith and God would do the rest. She told my mom not to worry about how much faith she has or does not have, but to just rest in the knowledge that so many others are fighting on her behalf. She gave the analogy of Moses fighting and fighting in faith, by raising his hands to the heavens until he was too weary to fight any more. It was at that point that people raised his hands to help carry his burden to win the battle. She assured her that there were so many more people raising her hands in faith and hope and life. Then she gave me permission to do the same. To allow others to help carry my burden of faith and pain…and so my mom agreed to do just that… labor to rest.
There were so many things happening today, Tuesday, June 7th. So many roads colliding in my life. My mom told me I am an angry person and she wished I would not be so angry. She told me I am a talented writer and need to use it for God’s glory and not to destroy or devastate people, as I had done to her so many times… I usually get pissed off when she makes those kinds of comments, but today I was able to say what was in my heart without fear of rejection or denial. I explained to my mom that it was never my intent to devastate or destroy her, but rather share the pain of my heart. Apologized for hurting her and told her that in sharing my heart with her it came through a filter of pain and not attack. She told me specific things that had wounded her most by my words, very true things I had shared with her. I don’t really know if it was my speaking these things out in the open that wounded her the most, or the way in which I told her. She told me she understood and left it at that.
I read her some of my poetry, and began to read her John 14. More visitors came, and I left to give her some time. My sister and Tio Mike met me for lunch. He shared with us memories he had with my mom when they were kids. Kiara, my sister’s 2 year old daughter brought so much life, so much hope of the future. We went back to the hospital and my uncle spent one on one time with her, sharing his heart. My step-dad was setting up hospice at his house, so my sister and I just sat with her… talked with her… laughed with her. Her countenance lifted and she looked light-hearted, not so heavy hearted. She ate most of her meal; we took her for a walk around the hospital and massaged her hands and feet.
We talked about wounds and hurt and how it is real and affects relationships. How we all deal with hurt differently and that relationships deteriorate because of not understanding how that person deals with hurt or because they are protecting themselves from getting more hurt. There were so many things happening in the spirit that were changing and breaking and moving. Without even trying restoration was taking place, boundaries were being redrawn, hearts were being understood. My dad came back and my sister, Tio and I drove back home. I had been there most of the day and was emotionally tired… I am so thankful for my niece Trinity and nephew Skyler who are here for my kids, and I guess my kids are there for them too…
My husband, who is unemployed, trying to get this salsa business off and being the parent who is in the “life goes on” side of this, is running around registering Elijah for school, watching kids, doing laundry, dishes, and enduring the emotional trauma I bring. His heart is so for the things of God. How he interacts with God and my and the kids is shifting. If is a wonderful thing. Part of these roads all colliding in my life…
It is as if I am standing in an intersection on a road. Only there are not four roads leading there, there are more. One road is the journey of the healing of my soul, another is the transformation of my spirit, and another is the renewal of my mind. Then there is the business road, that looks pretty jacked up and broken; the financial road that is pretty bleak; the road of family; the road of marriage; the road of broken relationships; the road of healthy relationships; the road of pain and suffering; this new road of sorrow; the road of hope; the road of faith; the road of love…. All intersecting at one time, at the same place… I am bracing myself for what is to come when they all reach this intersection… I am hoping there is a reconciliation of myself, so that I can continue down just one road, that leads me away from this intersection, and that is the road of God’s promises…
So tired… I have been writing for an hour. My chest pains have subsided, my burden is lighter. Thank you all who help carry it. Your love and encouragement is a gift that I cherish.
June 8, 2011
Mom cried today...when the hospice nurse told her that watching her blood sugar was kinda pointless... I wanted to punch her and tell her to f-off... It is not pointless... so if she goes into a coma from high blood sugar, that is okay... urgh!!!
I told mom, that is does matter and I will watch it. She began to express some regret, which she had not earlier. She told my sister and me that she wished she spent more time with her grandkids... and was crying...
It was so eye opening to me... I realized at that moment that when I was angry at my mom for not showing up to events, it was not because I was a crazy, physco control freak... It was because I did not want her to have regrets... I did not want her to ever say the words she said today...
She cried herself to sleep... I hated to see that, but was thankful for her vulnerability to me...
Praise God for another day of life... I curse cancer in the name of Jesus and speak life into her pancreas, liver, lungs and limp nodes... Be healed in the name of Jesus mom... be healed...
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A Child Again
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