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.

Convicted... But Not Condemned

I say it over and over again for a week.

There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.
~ Romans 8:1

It soaks into me in the first week of my journey to memorize Romans 8. This verse... the beginning... this verse I will say the most.

No condemnation.

But how? How can this be?

I stand in the shower, rivulets running over my head, drops falling from the tip of my nose. And I ask.

How, Lord? How can it be that all our righteousness is as filthy rags and all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God and no one does good, no not even one...

Yet there is now no condemnation? No guilt?

In the middle of the waterfall it comes.

A picture of a judge. And clarity.

No, my love, there is much guilt. I stand to determine guilt, and yes you are convicted. But precious child, I the Judge choose the punishment. And I do not condemn you.  

For you are in my Son and He has already borne the punishment.

Conviction, but not condemnation.

Found guilty, but upon sentencing let go. No bond required. But the bond of love ties me up in Him and I am entangled and free at once.

I daren't ever pretend I am not guilty. For if I say I do not sin truth is not in me.

If I were to believe it to be true that I am not guilty how could I fall with abandon into the saving arms of Jesus? For what purpose would He have died?

This mystery, this walking with sin heavy, yet free in Christ, it astonishes me. It ties the bonds of love ever tighter, makes me yearn to shed the striving, to rest in His mercy. To lay myself down in all my brokeness at His feet, and just love Him.

For the law of the Spirit of life has set you free in Christ Jesus from the law of sin and death.
Romans 8:2

The water washes away the dirt of the day. Drips it right down the drain.

For if I have been set free, then I am free indeed.




flickr photo by walknboston

The Wise Woman Builds Her House

This joy thing.  It does not come naturally.

There I stood, hands in a sink of dirty dishes.  Grumbling.  Silent grumbling... turning over grievances, rehearsing rebuttals.

Yet knowing this grumbling is wrong.  What is it in me, Lord, that makes my brain fill with stinkin' thinkin'? 

The wise woman builds her house,
But the foolish tears it down with her own hands.

It breathed into my brain.  My grumbles paused as I tripped over something new in that well-worn passage.  She builds her house.  Not... she built her house then sat smugly back to survey her domain.  No... she builds.  She is doing.  She keeps doing.

She doesn't stop.

There it is.  The thing that makes me grumbly.  It never stops.  I don't mean the dishes (although their perpetuity elicits grumbles at times as well).

Building my house, my family, my legacy... it never stops.  Seeing my own sin... it never stops.

Having to grow, to try, to ask forgiveness... to start again... it never stops.

There is no resting on laurels.

Funny, a few months back I stumbled over the present tense in another scripture.   He makes the barren woman a joyful mother of children.  He never stops. 

Did I mention?  This joy thing.  It does not come naturally.

Grumbling yes.  But the joy?  Only grows when I give the grumbling over.  When I lay it down at His feet and give thanks.

Like a bud deep within me it waits, needing living water to grow and bloom.  And I hold the handle to the door that lets the Gardener in.

No, it does not come naturally.  It is nothing but a gift when I sense the creaking of unfolding petals.  The melting of snow.

He is making ALL things new.  And He never stops.


scriptures ~ Proverbs 14:1, Psalm 113:9, Revelation 21:5
photo credit ~ Karen Miller

Who defines me?

Some day I will say it and it will be true...

I am no longer defining myself.

I will be far enough along on my spiritual journey.  I will be completely free.

Today, there are parts of myself that I am still hanging on to.  Wanting to be liked.  Wanting to be understood.

Despite the reality that all that I have given up of myself for His use, He has turned for greater joy in my life.

Still, I look at outward signs, and I measure myself.

This is what I long for, glimpses I've seen, but have yet to fully grasp with both hands...

To lean only on God for strength

To not worry if others misunderstand me

To be a quiet yet strong voice speaking truth

To trust every detail to Him

Less of me, Lord.  More of you.

Take my weakness Lord.  Send your holy fire to burn my pride. 

Beauty from ashes.

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?"

Lessons From the Garden ~ Morning Glory

Oh Morning Glory, how beautiful you are.

You cover my garden with your delicate purple petals, your lush greenery rich and plentiful.  Innocently your flowers nod in the breeze.

Yet underneath is a mass of choking vines.  You are also called Bindweed.

Your tendrils reach out and grasp anything near.  You choke the life out of every plant you climb.  You slow my weed cutter with the mass of your vines... it sputters to a stop.

Oh sin which so easily entangles, how alluring you look.  

How lovely it seems to think about myself.  How lush and rich other women's lives appears.  Gently nodding, yes, yes, think about you.  What about you...

Wretched sin... when your shallow beauty is ripped away, nothing remains but lifelessness.  Nothing but death. 

Oh Lord, wrench the morning glories from my soul.  Help me run with endurance the race set before me.  Show me your face Lord, that I may fix my eyes on you and bask in your light, that the flower of my heart may open wide to receive you.

"Therefore, since we have so great a cloud of witnesses surrounding us, let us also lay aside every encumbrance and the sin which so easily entangles us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, fixing our eyes on Jesus"  Hebrews 12:1-2