Where to Find Joy When You are Worn and Weary

When the relentless rest-less days turn into weeks, and the weeks turn into months, all the hurry and rush can make a mama see the world through a lens of gray.

It's a worrisome place to be... feels a bit like days of old, days of depression and gloom.

The need to get out bed is more urgent than ever, but the will lacking.

Air is crisp and the bed is warm. It's a fight to make feet hit cold ground.

In the middle of the dark-inside days doesn't joy seem a flickering memory? A dream dreamed on a long ago night?

Toes touch the floor and seek soft slippers. Little comforts soften the edges.

Shuffling to the kitchen for a hot drink, a bible lies near.

It is closed.

Eyes stay focused on the floor because legos and books and marbles and cheerios make feet grumpy, even feet in soft slippers. The mess in the house feels like the mess in the mind.

In the kitchen the electric tea kettle whooooshes bubbly water, and steam winds to the ceiling. The counter has crumbs.

And this mama wonders... will I ever get there? Will I ever ever ever get it all done? And is any of it worth doing anyway?

A little rustling sound and then a tangle of small arms and warmth from behind.

Crumbs and legos and fog are forgotten as we two wrap all up for the morning snuggle, sitting right there on the kitchen floor.

Love pushes the clouds a bit and says, "Are you hungry?"

Then love gets up off the cold floor and wipes the counter. Love melts the butter and cracks the eggs. Love grinds the coffee for Papa and wakes other children.

And love makes the mama remember... it is in doing love that joy is found.

The day never gets perfect. The race against household entropy is never ending and the people are all still sinners. Every day.

That closed bible calls out and is cracked wide, and as pages are turned and the realest truest words read aloud, brains start to clean and clear.

Hope. Life. And this is the hope that does not disappoint.

Even for gloomy mamas on dreary days joy glimmers.

joy in doing love for beloveds

joy tucked in Word truth

joy in resting mind quiet on Him

The vanilla smell of a lit candle turns my face and my eyes linger on the solitary flame. Waving, straight, now fluttering again.

And when still, it always points straight up.

 

Blessed to join
imperfect prose
for the first time.

Family Culture - It is Better to Light a Candle Than to Curse the Darkness

I'm sitting in a cafe. The table is piled with my children's school books.  I had been working on school lessons, but my heart's steady beat of write-write-write won't be ignored.

I plop my little ipad, its attached keyboard making it look like a miniature laptop, on top of my son's open planner.

The song of the cafe is loud. I sit and stare at the screen, ready to burst. Nothing comes.

My ears are so full they ache.

Still the cafe-song pulses. Medical terms sing out from the nurses-in-training studying at a nearby, book laden table. The blender whirs its tune of frozen caffeine and sugar.  The speakers blare pop music, jarring, much of the tunes and lyrics meaningless. Some of it despairing.

With a deep breath I plug in my headphones.

Higher and higher I press the volume button, until I am alone in a song of hope. I close my eyes as peace washes over me.

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It's not just the cafe. Distractions swirl around me all the time. Everywhere I go they are fighting for my attention.

How desperately I want the laser-like focus that is required to walk the narrow path in our loud culture. 

I think about how like a magpie I am all day, every day.  So many things on the to-do list, so many shiny electronic distractions. I scurry around from task to task as if speed will keep me from forgetting anything. Then inevitably I wear down and sit to stare at a screen for a minute. I use it almost like a pacifier, a retreat.  Is this where I really want to find rest?

I think about the example this sets for my children.

I can't escape the culture. None of us can. 

The culture-at-large is not a culture of peace. Our culture is not singing a song of hope. Our culture's theme song is "Me, Myself and I in Our Virtual Life."

Moving to the country does not protect you from this culture, in case you were wondering.

And you know, I don't want to be protected from the culture, frankly. It is our world, our mission field. Filled with hurting and hungry souls desperate for the love that does not disappoint.

But the din, oh so loud. So distracting.

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Sally Clarkson encourages parents to develop a family culture. In a way that reminds me of Charlotte Mason's idea that education is an environment, the Clarkson parents strove to surround their children with beauty and great thinkers, with a family culture of unconditional love and acceptance.

My desire for our family is to create a home culture of peace and quiet of soul. A safe place, a nest to which we can return from the clamor of our culture. A place where beauty and truth prevail. Where we are nourished in heart, and soul-fed to return to the sweaty work of loving in this dark world.

We must be in our culture but not of it. And oh how hard to draw the line.

We can not isolate ourselves and walk in the footsteps of Jesus. He who came to this ugly hard world and spent his days amongst the most dirty in body and soul, who loved the unlovable, who served without hesitation.

It is only fear that would keep the door closed. 

Love opens the door.

There is no rule book for this, no manual for how children serve in an unlovely world. For my husband and me, it is a matter of prayer and the individual child. What can they handle? But if we are to live in this world, and walk out the command to love... and if we believe that love is action and serving... we must must walk out into it.

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Sally Clarkson sometimes quotes the old Chinese proverb, "It is better to light a candle than to curse the darkness." I feel that truth in my bones.

...each of us in our own little alcove, shining bright, pushing back the darkness...

Jesus lit a candle. He lit one in you and one in me when we became His.

“You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden; nor does anyone light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all who are in the house. Let your light shine before men in such a way that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father who is in heaven." - Jesus (Matthew 5:14-16)

We get to do this. Shine light into the darkness. Hope. Meet real needs. Even in our own weakness and neediness. Because we do it in Him, for Him.

Imagine. Worn out mamas like you and me, we are lights.

I want to let my light shine into the darkness around me instead of complaining about it. I want to nurture a family culture of peace and love so that when we feel overwhelmed by the culture-at-large, we have a safe haven.

A place of protection from the winds that want so badly to blow out our little flames.

And then I want to go back out and shine.

joining the Write It, Girl and Thought Provoking Thursdays communities this week

cafe photo by naggobot
candle/alcove photo by Dave W Clark
Mighty to Save sung by Laura Story

Sometimes the Gift that is Needed Most is the Hardest Gift to Give

Thank you for walking through the Give Back Giveaway with me.

It has brought me much joy to highlight these ministries for your support, to see the hope and healing being brought into lives around the world, and to give away lovely and delicious gifts to you from these ministries. I do hope you will seriously consider supporting them as you give this Christmas.

But I will confess that reading and writing about the brokenness and need in the many precious lives served through these programs has grieved me. The hiddenness and magnitude of the problems threaten to overwhelm this tender heart.

Can we be honest?

There is never enough that we can do. Because the hurt is so huge.

But we must do something. Our love for Jesus, because of His love for us, simply must overflow and embrace those who hurt.

In the end, we truly are never enough. But He is enough. He is enough for us, He is enough for all who suffer. He is the only hope we have.

We can be His hands and feet, His eyes and ears, pouring ourselves out in love and service right here and right now.

This may sound funny, given that I have spent a month sharing various ministries with you, but I believe this firmly...

If you have a choice to send money somewhere, or to reach out and touch a hurting person right near you, turn to that hurting person.

Yes, money matters, it does make a difference and people and ministries REALLY need it. So many are struggling financially.

But you have neighbors who don't have a group ministering to them. So you be the ministry, you minister to their needs. You are equipped for this in Him!

I look around me now, here in the middle of a burned out forest, and I see an incredible amount of real and present need. When 1600+ homes and businesses are completely destroyed in a rural community, the list of needs is overwhelming.

Sometimes the way to meet a need does require money. But creative lovers of Christ can serve, no matter the circumstance.

The balm for all wounds, ultimately, is love, and love doesn't require money.

If we are honest with ourselves, we have to admit that love may be the more costly of the two, as it requires giving of our very selves.

This is what is required of us, I believe. And I fail abysmally most of the time. But I long to live love and pour out my life as an offering.

Will you try with me?

Open your heart to the need right next door, and give yourself away this Christmas.



photo by JoyLove7

What Do You Want Me To Do For You?

The Princess has always been a helper.  One of her God-given gifts is a servant's heart.  When she was four, her baby brother was born, and she went instantly into mini-Mama mode.  On the one hand this was sweet, and I wanted to encourage her.  But we often faced the dilemma of her help being a hindrance.

I had to teach her to ask me before jumping in and doing something when it involved the baby.  Because she was little, she was not always able to make good judgments.  It was a safety issue sometimes, a practical issue others.  "Help is only helpful when it is needed" we'd say together.  I wish I could tell you that I was always sweet and gentle with her about it, but I must confess that at times my irritation showed. 

Occasionally we still face this issue with her.  This weekend it became clear to me that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

Our family was working on a farm project on Saturday, and my husband, The Bard, had a frustrating problem.  I jumped in to help him and immediately made the problem worse.  He was mad.  I backed off and apologized, then without thinking, did it again not ten minutes later.  Not surprisingly, he was mad again. 

Did I think, "Oh, of course, help is only helpful when it is needed"?  No, of course not.  I thought, "Why is he being so mean!  I am just trying to help!  Aaaargh!"  I knew that it was in everyone's best interests, given my emotions at that moment, to clear out.  So I went for a walk.  As I walked I fussed and prayed.  I was embarrassed and frustrated.  That man... so impatient... it just wasn't fair!

As I turned to head back it dawned on me.  I had never asked him if he wanted help, and if he did, what might be most helpful.  I just shoved myself into the situation, not having all the information, and made things worse.  It felt very familiar.  Not only did it remind me of my experience with The Princess, it reminded me of myself just about every day.

That kind of self-realization is a bit uncomfortable, to say the least.  And it wasn't done.  The very next day, I stuck my nose into another situation where it didn't belong and was called on it.  Ouch!

The alarming thing to me is the underlying arrogance in this habit.  Yes, I have long prayed for a servant's heart, and I believe God wants me to help others.  And there are times when I am going to need to make a judgment call on how best to help, without the input of the other person.  But to operate under the assumption that I know best how to help others is just plain arrogant.

This morning I was praying for wisdom to help a woman in dire circumstances.  Her situation and background are so profoundly outside my realm of experience that I am completely at a loss.  As I was praying, God brought to mind His own son.

Mark 10 recounts the story of the blind beggar Bartimaeus.  As Jesus came near where he was sitting, Bartimaeus cried out repeatedly, "Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!"

And Jesus stopped and said, "Call him here." So they called the blind man, saying to him, "Take courage, stand up! He is calling for you." Throwing aside his cloak, he jumped up and came to Jesus.

And answering him, Jesus said, "What do you want Me to do for you?" And the blind man said to Him, "Rabboni, I want to regain my sight!"

And Jesus said to him, "Go; your faith has made you well." Immediately he regained his sight and began following Him on the road.  (Mark 10:49-52)

"What do you want Me to do for you?"  Jesus, who knew most what was needed, who of all people never had to ask that question to know the answer, still asked.   There are all sorts of theological implications of this - we must desire to be healed, God never forces us, it is a relationship, we are cared about as individuals, and more.

But for me, today, what stands out most clearly is the fact that He asked.  What an example.  I too need to be asking, "What do you want me to do for you?"

Like Bartimaeus, I want to regain my sight.  I want spiritual eyes that will see my world and myself rightly.  I want to see when my outside actions, no matter how righteous they might look, are driven by inner sin, and I want to expose that sin to God's healing touch.

Because I know what God is seeing:

"God sees not as man sees, for man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart." 1 Samuel 16:7

Today I am going to go to the house of the woman I was praying about.  She doesn't have a phone, so face to face I am going to ask her what she needs.   Would you pray for me?  I am out of my comfort zone.  I don't know her well, and it is difficult for me to communicate with her.  But I feel strongly that this is what God is calling me to do.

"What do you want me to do for you?"