post script

Post Script on last post:

My son has been a jewel today! Only misbehaved once before noon. Praise God!

Upside Down Blessing List

My front flower bed, beautifully arranged years ago by the previous owners, has its flaws now. Wide splits advertise the wood frame's age. Wayward grass peaks out from among the daffodils, tulips, and hyacinth. Last fall's crunchy, curled leaves cling to the grass and weeds, unwilling to blow the way of the wind.



But still each year, bloom delights us. Beauty shines through the messy.



Mulch, much needed, runs high in price for large amounts. I need food for the family more than I need a perfect flower bed. 


As I stare at this bed now, I think of my life. I'm grateful for my children and my husband. They're like the blooms. Their beauty strikes me daily. Each one so unique. Each one special in some way. 


But there's something else about this life


It's messy too. 


Sin exists here, within the wood frame of our home, like the weeds, grass, and leaves in the flower bed. Disease and disorder visit here daily. People complain about the food. They want something different, something better, something more. They don't want to clean and straighten, wash and fold, sweep and mop. They want their own way, not His. They want it easy, not hard. Smooth, not bumpy. 


Soon, we'll kneel down and pull the weeds and the grass, disengaging the leaves, putting it all in the trash bin. 


Similarly, we'll say about our wayward hearts...we're going to do better.


But within days of the purging, sin and weeds will return, taking root. As hard as we try here, we can't get just the blooms. We want the beauty without the messy. 


Even though God takes care of the blooms, allowing them to grace us year after year, we forget about His faithfulness. 


We worry about the lack of mulch, the decaying wood. We worry about frost and flooding. 


We fret about lack of clothes, lack of healthcare, lack of savings, lack of decent vehicles, lack of repair money, lack of fun money. We fret about lack, itself.


And yet, what does Jesus say about lack? Does He regard it as something to worry about?


Luke 6:20-26

Looking at his disciples, he said:

“Blessed are you who are poor,

for yours is the kingdom of God.

21Blessed are you who hunger now,

for you will be satisfied.

Blessed are you who weep now,

for you will laugh.

22Blessed are you when men hate you,

when they exclude you and insult you

and reject your name as evil,

because of the Son of Man.

23“Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, because great is your reward in heaven. For that is how their fathers treated the prophets.

24“But woe to you who are rich,

for you have already received your comfort.

25Woe to you who are well fed now,

for you will go hungry.

Woe to you who laugh now,

for you will mourn and weep.

26Woe to you when all men speak well of you,

for that is how their fathers treated the false prophets.

Scripture Source

What does Jesus consider as blessings? Being poor (spiritually poor, specifically), being hungry, being hated.


What does Jesus consider as woes? Being full, being well liked, being one who laughs.


It's so hard to disengage from this world, with its vacations, gourmet food, and abundance, and see with new eyes. See with Jesus' eyes. 


We can't properly take care of ourselves and our children. The numbers on paper? They just don't add up in our favor. And the lack steals our peace. 


When we let it. When we're stuck in this world.


When we choose to focus on the weeds, instead of the blooms. When we focus on the wait, instead of on His faithfulness.


Jesus makes us some soothing promises, delivered if we seek first his kingdom and his righteousness (Matt 6:25-34).


It's all upside down, his kingdom and his righteousness: a woe is a blessing, and a blessing a woe; too hard is good, too easy is bad.


When we count our blessings today, shall we count them the way Jesus does? The upside-down way?


My Upside Down Blessing List:


~ There's no money for mulch. I'm blessed.


~ Paul went to church in an old, faded shirt. At the thrift store today, I could only find one decent spring church shirt for him. I'm blessed.


~ The toilets still aren't fixed. I'm blessed.


~ The kitchen faucet leaks. I'm blessed.


~ The yard needs weed killer that we can't afford. I'm blessed.


~ The back door needs to be refurbished. I'm blessed 


~ There's ground turkey for dinner. Again. I'm blessed.


~ I'd like a bike so I can ride with my kids, but there's no money. I'm blessed.


~ My son will wake up tomorrow and annoy us many times before noon. I'm blessed.


~ My daughter might not be able to walk tomorrow when she gets out of bed. I'm blessed.


For really, if I had all these things taken care of, would I need Jesus as much as I do? Would I cling just as tightly? Would I seek His kingdom? And His righteousness? 


Or would I be distracted by my abundance and my choices? Would I run around from place to place, adventure to adventure, seeking fun and laughter, instead of seeking Him?


I know the answer. Yes, I would. 


Blessed are those who know lack in an abundant world, for they need Jesus to survive, both physically and spiritually. His Truth, they know.

Thanking and Praising Him

Exodus 15:11
Who is like You among the gods, O LORD? Who is like You, majestic in holiness, awesome in praises, working wonders? 


The diseases and disorders around here, they overwhelm me, the caregiver, this week. Compassion fatigue it's called, suffered by people who provide care for a special-needs population whose suffering "is continuous and unresolvable".


Yes, that describes Peter and Beth, who are in flares this week. 


Added to these chronic problems are Mary's fear issues--she's awakened three times per night over the last three nights, due to dreams and fears. And my Paul, who has a pervasive fear of throwing up. 


My husband and I, we don't know what normal is anymore, but we wish normal resided here, at least once in a while.


What to do? 


Katie (Kisses From Katie) writes from Uganda this week:

Sometimes my 16 passenger van and I clamor down the driveway and I think that I will get out and life will be easy. That 14 daughters will greet me laughingly at the gate and there will the smell of fresh wheat bread baking in the oven and a long run at nap time and clean laundry on the line and 14 bodies pressed close against mine on the couch before bed.

 It was once.

 Except today life is messy. And there are 14 girls at the gate but they are fighting with each other and one comes with a grouchy birth mother who lives in my guest room and there are burn victims in the yard who need their infected skin scrubbed out and a ten pound three year old abandoned little girl on the couch and my baby has pneumonia and life is busy so cuddling on the couch gets postponed until tomorrow because today I just want to go to sleep and wake up when some of the mess is over.

I park. Turn the keys in the ignition, close my eyes, open my hands and just sit. And He fills up my spirit with just one word, enough.

 Enough.

 Jesus.

 Jesus bent and carrying my burden. Jesus with nails in His hands and water, living water flowing from His side. And even when I think that I have learned this already, He teaches me AGAIN.

 Jesus.

Katie doesn't title her blog posts, so I can't give a specific link to the above excerpt, but it's from her March 22, 2010 entry. 


I read her words and I know their truth. Jesus is enough. 


And through Him, I can do this. I can rise above the fray of the moments and know Peace...a Person.


Instead of wanting normal, I can find beauty and give thanks for messy. His graces are new every day:


~ Tulips in bloom


~ Bird nests all over


~ Children helping mommy


~ A husband's loving arms


~ A husband who endures and believes


~ 80-degree weather with skies all blue 


~ After an unspeakably unpleasant verbal bullying incident, one of the consequences is for Peter to write 20 loving things about Paul. And the list of 20? It's beautiful.


~ A Holy Spirit who reminds me that ADHD children? They always feel unloved because they displease others so frequently. Keep up the fair consequences, He tells me, but don't forget the love. He must feel loved.


~ I worry about Peter's future but He reminds me: The future is His. Being faithful in the small things of right now? That's my job. Read the Bible. Love. Pray. Give thanks. Disciple.


~ I make mistakes and He redeems them.


~ Food prices scare me. We're already living on lean ground turkey, and Walmart quit selling their large family whole chickens--the ones without the hormones and solutions. What to do? He interrupts my anxious thoughts, reminding me that...He owns the earth and everything in it!


~ Peter took the camera outside to capture spring for me. Included are some pics of the children celebrating the eggy and bunny part of Easter (last weekend).

Passing Him Out

Miss Beth awoke at 11:00 PM and as I soothed her, I too fell asleep. That is, until 2:30 AM when insomnia started. No disaster precipitated the insomnia, other than perhaps peri-menopause? I haven't known insomnia like this since the first trimester of all my pregnancies.

One of my downward-spiral thoughts: What am I doing spilling my heart on the Internet? I should look into printing this off and then hit "delete blog".


The story of the soldier who snapped in Afghanistan weighs heavily on my mind lately. Never before has the toll of war hit me so hard. Am I off base in thinking we simply don't have enough soldiers to fulfill our commitments? More than one or two combat tours is unacceptable. The scars run too deep and affect too many people intimately. Recent evidence indicates that soldiers' combat-related disorders aren't given enough weight by superiors, and often a disability classification is denied, despite the soldiers struggling to make a living with their deeply-felt physical and emotional scars.

If we send them to defend us, shouldn't we take care of them upon their return? Shouldn't we deeply appreciate them and their families, regardless of our political feelings about war?

This soldier's wife, she spilled her heart on the Internet in her own family-adventures blog. After major newspaper outlets began delving into every aspect of their lives, a few sentences from her blog were published, which have since been taken down. I can't even imagine what this wife is going through, knowing her husband will either be put to death or spend his life in prison. How will she explain it to her children and how will she make a living? What if they show her face, and her two children's faces, in the newspapers? Will they dare do that, these news outlets with the low ethics standards? This family is surely at risk for assassination.

While I don't anticipate any of us being fodder for a news outlet, I'm still taking a risk with my words here, even with fictitious names.

I tossed and turned about this, and about the number of people I know who are struggling to make a living. Some skill sets have become obsolete, and many more are in less demand because of outsourcing and the state of the economy. My eyes roll back thinking what the cost of education has become, compared to wages. My $26,000 in student loans borrowed for an undergraduate degree followed by a teaching credential back in 1984-1990, has risen to between $60,000 -  $72,000 for a comparative education and credential.

There are no guarantees for anyone and how do we deal with that reality? How do we live a life with no earthly securities? Savings accounts, investments, and college degrees aren't guarantees, as we've seen in the last several years.

And what will I do for a living after my husband, eight years my senior, retires? His work keeps him in the best physical shape possible, but still, that doesn't mean he won't suffer from a disease or injury. Last week I renewed my California teaching credential for another five years; it's easier to get a credential in another state if you have a valid one somewhere else.

Life...it's sweet, isn't it?

But the blessings around every corner, they don't always outnumber the hardships.

In the wee hours, the answer came to me. This is why I write brave. Because our stories matter. Our stories point the way for those coming after us, and for those in the trenches right now. Definitely when my children venture into the world, I'll print off the best of this blog and then hit "delete blog". My grandchildren won't know me long before I die, but they'll have this accounting of my heart.

Will it matter? Will this picture of my life, with all its nuances and sorrows and joys, help them move forward bravely in the face of hardship and after loss? Will they learn to give thanks, to weep at His feet, to love sacrificially?

My words here, the pagan world will twist them, painting me a religious lunatic who woefully misled her children. This remote thought scares and saddens me, but the other side is this:

When I read brave stories telling of real life--sorrowful, complicated, messy life--I'm changed. 


Those stories help me move forward in many difficult areas. They remind me I don't suffer alone. They remind me to rejoice with those who rejoice, and suffer with those who suffer. They remind me that joy is there for the taking, even when my impulsive ADHD son kills his new pond fish by scooping them up with the net far too frequently, to study them. Or when he scribbles with ink on the table basket I keep the napkins in, or on the decorative baskets I keep the crayons and pencils in.

Brave stories help me to love, to forgive, to see my own depravity. They compel me to give my fellow man room to make mistakes, to be human, to be aggrieved descendants of Adam and Eve.

When we water down life with protective words, we don't spill wisdom. We aren't changed through the catharsis of expressing sorrow to arrive at Truth.

My words here are my worship, my listening-to-the-Holy-Spirit time. I could write privately in a journal, but I need the connection with other hearts. That connection is one of His graces.

I need every grace he offers to navigate this most uncertain journey, with adjustments around every turn, like wrinkles, insomnia, and mood swings...all things I can't will away but must embrace.

Rejecting God's story for us leads to bitterness; embracing and giving thanks lead to joy.

I want that soldier's wife to know this right now. I want you, my heart friends, to know. And I want to keep preaching it to myself and to my grandchildren over and over.

Embracing brings surrender and in surrendering we die to ourselves to inherit His vertical love.

And then when our hearts are so full they're bursting, we can pass Him out horizontally.

This is the meaning of life as I know it...

...becoming engorged with Him and passing our abundance along.

When Peace Doesn't Bring Happiness

That letter I needed to write to the marginal Christian woman, the one who left her husband because "he was too fat and he wouldn't go to church"? I finally wrote it in the wee hours last night.

I prayed before writing, while writing, and before hitting "send". It may be too little, too late? They both lawyered up and negotiations commenced, but this is when the words came together for me. I'll trust God that the imperfect effort was not in vain, and that the woman won't punch me in the face at church come Sunday.

Christian Truth, it offends.

I don't know the woman well, but the thing I hear around is this: She's a receiver. Some people give and some receive and the receivers are harder to love. I sense the people who deal with her only half want God's transforming miracles. In the recesses of their minds, they wonder if they're better off without her.

"Won't family times goes smoother, without the strain of dealing with a difficult person? We'll just breathe easier with her gone."

Isn't that Satan's lie in every divorce situation? "We're better off without the strain. It's just too hard."


Part of me always loves the underdog. No one wants this woman. Yes, she's made her bed by being difficult, but who gave her this personality? Can she snap her fingers and will something different from her brain, and doesn't God love her so much he endured the nail piercings for her?

Does the cross only cover the easy-to-love? The givers and not the takers?

The mother-in-law, she says it will take a miracle like the parting of the Red Sea. She believes in miracles, she tells me, and as I listen, I am certain of this: She doesn't want this miracle. She wants to be rid of this daughter-in-law.

What will God do, I wonder all day today. Will He let the strong-willed, marginally-Christian wife keep shoveling herself into a lonely hole?

Or will He let the mother-in-law, the one who's been a strong Christian for years, see something she's never seen before?

That in embracing the hard route--the one we can least stomach--we get the most peace? And isn't the hardest route the one that always leads us back to His Word?

Peace comes when we're exhausted from our efforts, emptied, weeping, and ready to let Him take over.

But peace isn't happiness. Life can still be difficult, in the presence of peace. Even with the strong presence of God's spirit, personalities don't fundamentally change--I've seen that in my own home.

Peace is a Person.

Please pray with me that all involved will embrace Peace? That they won't be afraid of the Red Sea answer?