My provider

Yesterday, I had a meltdown in the middle of the day.  No one was here.  I needed to consult with PJ's therapy director but I just couldn't bear the weight of my pain anymore.  I usually do pretty well in general.  I know the path I'm on.  It's not an easy one, but I know my life is going in the right direction.  I'm walking in obedience and it's just a matter of being disciplined enough to stay on the path.  Unfortunately, my dreams at night tend to trip me up a bit.  That's when I have to come face to face with the pain of this path in ways I can't blow off.  So I had a meltdown.

As I laid in my bed in the agony of brokenheartedness, the phone rang.  That meant that I had to get up.  The Lord sent a good friend to comfort and encourage me.  She knows the struggles I face.  She knows how painful they are.  She called just to listen and encourage.  It was important to know that I am not alone.  It didn't change the path.  It didn't eliminate the pain, but it did help me recenter on Jesus and carry on. 

After my friend picked me up off the floor, I was able to meet with PJ's therapy director who helped me prioritize his work and moved me forward in getting him help.  Last night, PJ had great victories to tell me about from school.  This morning there was a small crack in the issues that hurt me the most.  Even my dog came and gave me big sloppy kisses to comfort my heart.  One of my morning devotionals was right to the point as well, reminding me that until I get the core issue dealt with, these things will remain unbearable.  The catch is that the core issue isn't my issue, so all I can do to deal with it is continue to choose to starve it out, like starving out a cancer, until the Father can be allowed to remove it surgically. 

Sometimes the way we have to walk is not going to be easy.  James tells us:

^"2 Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters whenever you face trials of many kinds, ³ because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. ⁴ Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything."--James 1:2-4

Ginny Owens once said in reference to this verse: "So there's going to come a day when I don't lack anything?!?  Well, it's not now!"  I'm not there yet either, but He promises we will get there.  In the meantime, my great Provider gives me all it takes to perservere. 

Thanks, Father!

Dreamscaping 14--Poured out...

This weekend's sermon was on the story of how Jesus recognized the widow who gave two coins.  The point of the sermon was that it's not how much you give--it's about what's left over.  In this series on dreamscaping, I've talked a lot about what God does, but He chooses to do it through us.  At the end of Paul's life, he said: 

"For I am already being poured out like a drink offering, and the time for my departure is near.  I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith." II Tim 4:6. 

A drink offering was completely drained out over the offering on the alter until it was drained dry.  The pastor spoke about an experienced marathoner who told his own sons that if they finish the race with anything left over, they haven't run their best race.  I hear in Paul's voice the satisfaction that he left nothing on the table; the joy of finishing well.  This week I've been wrapping up a work project and I've been asking my prayer partners to pray that I finish well.  I'm still asking that, but I was in for a surprise. 

See, I'm struggling to declutter and get free of the stuff around my life.  I feel like I don't even know where to begin sometimes and I feel like what I give is so small.  When the pastor talks about what's left, what I see is a lot left around me.

As I came out of the prayer room last night, I watched as an older woman hugged and held a younger woman as they both cried.  When the younger woman left, the older one was still there crying.  I reached out and held her and talked with her for a few minutes, encouraging her to release her niece to Jesus as she grieves.  It's a lesson I learned earlier last week.  Then as I walked down the hallway to join my husband in the service, another woman I barely know was walking beside me and asked if she could sit with me, but it was clear that she needed more than that.  We sat in the back and she cried for the rest of the service as I comforted her and prayed with her.  Then, in the middle of the night, the Lord woke me and after a sweet time together, another, very troubled friend called (at 3:00 am!!) crying because her food stamps hadn't come in, even though I had tried to help her get them the information they needed to continue them.  Each time, I had the priviledge of pointing them back to the Father's resources, His comfort, His care for them.  (We did eventually have to set some boundaries on that one...but that's another story). 

What I realized this morning as I finally listened to the sermon for myself was that when I looked at what I had to give of my stuff, the Lord looked at what I had to give of my time and care.  I don't know that I'll always end up being the one people cry with, but I don't mind for now.  It's ok.  I know that I left nothing He asked for on the table.  I didn't even get to see most of the sermon during that time--my time was all used up and I wouldn't have it any other way.  It was my joy to direct them to Him, whether they were able to do that right then or not.  Years ago, I gave it all to Him.  It's still His--the stuff and the non-stuff. 

Don't be afraid to give it all.  What He wants is your heart.  Leave none of it on the table and He'll have all He needs of everything you have.  Of course, an empty vessel begs refilling, and He is delighted to do it--the pipe can't help getting wet. 

An uncomfortable support

"Faithful are the wounds of a friend;
profuse are the kisses of an enemy."
--Proverbs 27:6

Yesterday I got a call from a friend who has had a lot of trouble with her marriage.  As we talked about the issues at hand, I recognized many of them as mirrored images of the issues John and I have had for years.  They are not exactly the same, but very similar--and the roles are somewhat reversed.  He is pushing too hard for emotional closure (like I would) and she is frightened by his direct approach (which is loud and often hurtful). 

There were several times during the conversation that she seemed astounded that I might take his side--which was only partly true and demand that she bravely engage with him.  I'm sure she felt wounded or felt like I wasn't adequately commiserating with her.  I know her pain.  I validated her fears, but in validating them, I also challenged them.  Yes, she was afraid, but not immediately so.  Yes, she would leave if she ever felt like she was in danger--and she had left under those situations in the past. 

Part of me wishes I could have just salved her wounds like so many people say is important.  I'm just not built that way.  In the end, we both are writing "Waddya Want From Me?" guidelines for our husbands--a guide to what we want with objective, measureable criteria and consequences to answer the question from her husband (that I'm sure my husband is wondering too). 

The Bible verse above talks about the wounds of a friend and the kisses of an enemy.  I could have multiplied kisses in false encouragement but that would have left her with the same (or more) confusion about what to do and where to find answers.  I want to be a real friend to her and I think some of our conversation might have stung a bit, but those wounds were faithful and true and hopefully will lead to healing for both of us. 

That's how Jesus did it and I hope I did it as faithfully as He does now for me.

Crisis and failure...

 
I have a dear friend who went through a serious crisis again this week.  She's experienced significant pain throughout her life, both physical and emotional, and it often erupts in gut-wrenching crisis without warning.  Early in our relationship I committed that I would hang in with her, knowing that it wouldn't be easy.  But, as a part of that commitment, I promised her that I would continually redirect her to Jesus as the source for her hope.  I know I have nothing to offer her that will fix her life.  It took her 49 years to get to this place.  Only God can get her out of it. 

This week, I failed her.  The crisis came in hot and fast.  It was life and death.  It was weeping and gnashing of teeth.  I managed the circumstances.  I worked the details.  There were a lot of details that needed addressing.  I thought I encouraged her family to support her, but found out later they only saw it as being pushy.  Worst of all, the closest I could do to draw her back to Christ was to ask her again if God is good (as she knows He is), and encourage her to choose loyalty to Him over trying to please her unpleasble dying father. 

Even more, in failing her, I failed myself.  Every time I've been able to bring her back to Jesus, it has also allowed me to release her back to His care for my own sake.  I have repented and released her again, but it makes my heart ache knowing that I only committed to do one thing and didn't do it well.  I spent time helping her that I needed to spend on my own home and family. 

I will learn better.  I will do better.  I will love my Lord and friend better. 

^"12 Not that I have already obtained all this or have already reached my goal, but I press on in order to make it my own because Christ Jesus has made me his own. ¹³ Brothers, I do not consider to have made it my own; but this one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and reaching out to what lies ahead, ¹⁴ I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus."--Phil 3:12-14

Dreamscaping 8...You have a purpose

Today Katie and I got to go to see Hugo at the Milk Money Movies at the Garden Theater in our little town.  It was an amazing movie about life purpose.  The quote that caught my heart was near the end.  Hugo takes his friend Isabel to the top of the clock tower to show her the Paris skyline at night:

Isabelle: I wonder what my purpose is.

Hugo Caberet:   Right after my father died, I would come up here a lot. I'd imagine the whole world was one big machine.  Machines never come with any extra parts, you know. They always come with the exact amount they need. So I figured if the entire world was one big machine... I couldn't be an extra part. I had to be here for some reason.  And that means you have to be here for some reason too....Maybe that's why a broken machine always makes me a little sad, because it isn't able to do what it was meant to do... Maybe it's the same with people. If you lose your purpose... it's like you're broken.

They go on to talk about her Godfather and how he seems "broken" in that way and how much they would love to "fix" him. 

Dreamscaping is not just about fulfilling your own dreams, it's also about helping others remember their dreams--to find out or remember what part of creation they were made to fulfil and help them do it.  It reminds me of a description Paul often used for the church:

^"4 For just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, ⁵ so in Christ we, though many, form one body, and each member belongs to all the others."--Romans 12:4-5

Everyone needs to be needed.  Everyone needs to receive too.  How can you help others find their place this week?

Listening at camp

Ok, this time I get to brag...

Last night I picked up my son, PJ, from his first church camp.  He's 12 and just beginning to get oriented within that group of kids.  He shared a cabin with about 8 guys his age, and only really knew about 3 of them when he left.  As he ran into the building to get something, one of the guys from his cabin said,

"Hey! That's PJ!  He is so cool!" 

That was pretty shocking to me since he's had such a hard time with friends at school, so I asked him why PJ was so cool.  The kid basically said, "He really listens to people and doesn't hurt anybody." 

Wow!  He must have gotten it from his dad--his mom would talk anyone's ear off.  This is a huge change for a kid that has been diagnosed in the past with ADHD--and deserved it. 

Besides the obvious gratitude, the Lord reminded me this morning of James 1:19:

"My dear brothers and sisters, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry,"   

He's not necessarily slow to speak, but I am grateful to see him recognized for being quick to listen.  Gotta go now.  I'm going to cry...