The Blessing of Children

Written on August 6, 2008 by emily

I believe I have mentioned that I am a mother, and for those who don’t know, I have two little people in my care on a daily basis. One is an exuberant two-year old girl, and the other, a handsome 5 month old boy. This is a relatively new role for me (motherhood), but I have to admit, I’m surprised how well it fits me. If someone told me on my wedding day that within just three short years, I’d be the proud mama to these two children, I might have spit milk out my nose and laughed out loud. Not that I didn’t want to have children, but I certainly didn’t have plans to jump head-first into everything baby so soon. In fact, before I had my own, I was rather intimidated by the little things, fearful that I would never be fit for the challenge of full time care, and life-long investment in another human being. I think it is good to be a little intimidated. There is nothing more important than meeting the many needs of our little ones as they grow, learn, and discover the wonder of God for themselves. Parenthood is a journey of self-sacrifice…sacrifice that may seem tough to make until you behold the miracle of your own beloved looking up at you with eyes of innocence and hope. Parenthood is also a ridiculous amount of work, and is not anything like any other ‘full-time job’ I’ve ever had. That said, I wouldn’t trade even the toughest days (or nights) with my kids for anything. It is in the mundane routine I am surprised with the sweetest blessings, and the simplest life lessons from the Lord.

Skip back a few years, and you would have seen me on a very different road. If you’d asked me then, I had it all planned out, and didn’t really need anyone else’s input or wisdom. I was wise in my own eyes, and seemed committed to doing whatever I could to maintain a fast-paced and complicated life. Drama knew me well, and I narrowly escaped many dangerous situations, being just clever enough to barely avoid major catastrophes around every bend. But boy, was it a thrill! Too bad thrills don’t fulfill for long. I never thought a visit from the stork would be the thing to snap me awake, draw me closer than ever to God, and give me a renewed (or perhaps altogether new) appreciation for simplicity and uncomplicated faithfulness. How could the ‘burden’ of parenthood possibly be the very thing that would open more doors to freedom? Well, I don’t claim to understand the mysteries of God, but this is exactly what parenthood has been for me. My children are a blessing to me, not just because they’re adorable and hilarious (which they are), but because I can see what God intends for us in full dependence on Him. I have gleaned the most practical of lessons from my kids–that you can dance without thought of who is watching, sleep when you’re tired, run to your Daddy when you are hurt and see how He delights in you when you throw yourself in His arms. I’m learning that its not hard to be faithful at doing the mundane chores a mother does when she allows her heart to be moved, and even captivated, by the joy of her children. Those little smiles and hugs are all the motivation I need to get real about simplifying and keeping priorities straight. 

At this point, it would seem my children are growing me more than I am growing them. 

“Behold, children are a gift of the LORD, the fruit of the womb is a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior, so are the children of one’s youth…Blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them; They will not be ashamed when they speak with their enemies in the gate.”

Psalm 127:3-5

2 Comments | Emily

Pocket Rocks, Part II

Written on August 4, 2008 by emily

I know I still have my dad’s pocket rock…Somewhere. It is one of those little objects you put in such a safe place, you forget where it is and it becomes “lost” for a time. I know I have it, and usually I wouldn’t worry about not remembering exactly where it is but all this writing about it has sent me into a fanatic search to pinpoint it’s exact location, which I have not yet been able to do these past few days. Stinkbugs. I do think I’ve been annoying my husband in my search for it. He’s been giving me funny looks as I rummage high and low in the oddest places. I’m annoyed myself, since I know it is around somewhere, I just don’t know where. Seems like I’ll just have to set aside my need to know where it is for a little while.

I guess this is a good lesson in stashing stuff in “safe” places! I’m guilty of stashing, and its only been in recent (married) years that I’ve learned to let some things go. I think it is safe to say I’ve graduated from pack-rat to pack-and-purge-rat. Sometimes I surprise myself at how I cling to such silly sentimental things. While I don’t think there is anything wrong with that, I’ve also learned how satisfying it can be to clean out your closet. Or your bathroom cabinets, kitchen cabinets, dresser drawers…Seeing piles of forgotten wares make their way off to a better home. I’ve done all of the above in recent months, and knowing that all the extra stuff we don’t need or use is out of here feels really refreshing. On heart subjects, God has been cleaning out my closet for many years now, and those close to me can attest to the fact that my deep-heart journey toward personal wholeness has been an all-consuming one. I’ve described to a few close friends how my journey has in many ways felt like God was yanking one skeleton after another out of my closet, saying, “See this skeleton? This is now mine. Say goodbye to it. You will not be seeing it again.” A conflict in me always followed…the question of whether or not I could (or should) bid my wounds farewell; wounds that had become more like friends than wounds ever should. Our kinship made it so easy to play the victim. And here comes God, tearing them away from me. That doesn’t sound very gentle (it wasn’t) nor was it a very fun process, but now, ten years after the major breakdown (that’s an estimated number) I can say with confidence that I am thankful that those bony lifeless things don’t haunt me anymore, and the friends I have are truly wonderful (living) gifts from God.

In hindsight, I think the experience was more uncomfortable because I didn’t want to let them go, and what could have been a peaceful revolution became a torrential tearing apart. I guess sometimes the process can be a little messy, but when God gets to the business of restoring broken hearts, the victory is already won. When God has your number, just try to say no to Him. Ok, so that’s bad advice. Say yes to Him, but know that even if you do try to say no–He’s going to pursue you with all of heaven to capture your heart and restore it and breathe new life into it. Given what I now know about the famed “peace that passes all understanding”, I would relive every part of my journey in a heartbeat so long as I discovered the joy and purpose I have now. Freedom is worth the pain of the tearing and the ache of the surrender…and one side bonus is I’m no longer afraid of the process. I see its value and am ready at any moment to join with Christ in His suffering in order to rejoice with Him in His victory. Every heartache, disappointment, lesson, dream, and adventure is no match for His glory…and the dreams and adventures He gives us are so magnificent. I’m humbled to be part of His story at all.

I guess what I wanted to say most, is even in the midst of all that heavy skeleton stuff, Jesus was tenderly leading me out of bondage and into freedom. Sometimes I found an inner determination to overcome, sometimes kind friends would hold my hand, sometimes the Lord carried my frail and broken heart when I could not see one glimmer of hope. The thing that really gets me now is that unbeknownst to me, He was working the same kind of miracle in my dad’s heart, knowing that one day we would reunite with a new understanding of the unspoken promises we made to each other in the lagoon on the day we traded pocket rocks. That reuniting has happened, which is likely why the pocket rock experience has been on my mind. So, I can’t find my dad’s pocket rock, though I maintain that I do have it somewhere. And I haven’t specifically asked lately, but I’m sure my dad has mine. It’s probably in his pocket while he works each day, and if its not there, its on his famed table of treasures that sits beside his chair at home…the place where he gathers himself each morning to face the world, and the place he comes home to lay down his cares at the feet of Jesus each night. 

I can’t wait to fill in more of the details of our restored relationship. It is truly a wondrous thing, but it is also a very long (albeit great!) story.

2 Comments | Emily

Pocket Rocks, Part I

Written on July 27, 2008 by emily

We sat there together, suspended over the water on a one-foot-wide board stretched across the lagoon. It was a special little spot, a tiny alcove hidden away on one end of the famed fishing lake we camped at as a family as far back as I can remember. The water wasn’t deep, nor was it cold, which made for all kinds of exploratory water fun for my brothers and I. If you went at just the right time, there would be billions of tadpoles squirming around through the reeds and rocks, and we spent hours upon hours dumping them in and out of buckets and subjecting them to our many imaginative games. Poor tadpoles. But this particular afternoon, my darling brothers were elsewhere as my dad and I sat beside each other, dipping our toes in the water and unknowingly approaching a defining moment in our relationship.

I couldn’t have been more than 9 or 10, and was very much at the age of wanting to be everything my dad was, to do everything he did, and be like him in as many ways as possible. For years, he kept a little oval stone in his pocket alongside his loose change, keys, and blistex. It was white and polished to a shine, and us kids had always known it as Daddy’s pocket rock. Not sure where he got it from, but I don’t remember him ever not having it when he emptied out his pockets after a long day of work. At one point, likely in conjunction with our family rockhounding activities, I selected a pocket rock of my own to keep. It was a little smaller oval, slightly thicker, tan-colored, and also polished to a shine. I proudly kept it in my pocket ‘just like daddy’ whenever I remembered it. 

I discovered this magical lagoon one afternoon as I was “exploring” just beyond the outer edge of our campsite and in my childlike wonder, invited my dad to come see this special spot I had found. He seemed touched by the intentional gesture I made to include him in my little wonderland and it became a sort of daddy-daughter wilderness date, a moment in time we both agreed we would never forget. We carefully made our way out to the middle of this bridge, or board..whatever you’d like to call it. Not sure I can recall what we talked about, if we even talked much at all, but there was certainly a heart exchange that happened there in that spot. I don’t think either of us realized how prophetic a moment this would become, but we did recognize that this was a special experience. Reciprocating my intentional gesture to share a treasure, my dad spontaneously offered to give me his pocket rock. I was surprised and excited, because I had always thought his pocket rock was so lovely and was obviously valuable to him having lived so long in his pocket. I was more than happy to receive his gift, but was not willing to leave him no pocket rock in return. Hence, we traded our pocket rocks that day, and with them we exchanged unspoken promises that come what may, we were a pair. He loved me, and I loved him, and no matter what challenges were to come, we would stick together. That bond is one that has given me hope through many disappointments and struggles, and that very bond has proved to be God’s pipeline of healing in both of our lives–through divorce, through disobedience to the Lord, through disappointments and failures alike. And fifteen years later, we have quite a tale to tell. We’re still a pair. He loves me, and I love him. And the relationship we share is one of the most life-giving treasures I have ever had.

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All About Jesus

Written on July 23, 2008 by emily

Anxiety has always been a faithful companion to me. Those who know me well have rarely seen me without anxiety by my side or on my shoulders. We seem to have one of those twisted relationships where I full-well know there is something better out there, but I sometimes feel strangely comforted by this familiar ‘friend’. At least, that is how it has been for most of my life. I know I’m not the only person out there who has dealt with this, so if this is you, can I get a ‘whoop whoop’ or a ‘yee-haw’? Ok, so round the clock contact with a two-year-old makes me a little silly. But I DO know this is a wide-spread problem no matter your temperament or experience, especially among women. You may fret about different things than I do, but do you agree you might spend a little too much energy worrying about things you needn’t? I don’t know how many years I’ve taken off my life due to excess worry. Ah well, that is in the past now! I recently had an epiphany about the simplest lesson. Because I know you likely have struggled with unnecessary anxiety also, I will share. 

I’ll try not to be elementary about it, but I warn in advance, its not the most complicated of topics. It’s the kind of topic I usually skip right over because I think, ‘Oh, I know that’ and dismiss because I think I couldn’t possibly learn anything new from it. Silly me. The phrase/concept “It’s not about me – It’s all about Jesus” is one I’ve heard in various forms since my early childhood. I have always understood this in the contexts of the following:

1. Strive with all  your effort to look like you’re living up to the standard of Christ, whether you are or not. If you’re not, just try harder. (Mind you, by sharing this, I am NOT saying this is God’s way–only my childish perspective for years of my life)
2. Jesus is the standard we must live up to, but when it comes to measuring your success at it, you look for the affirmation of others instead of God. (Again, erroneous thinking) 
3. Don’t be selfish. If you try hard enough, you can be ‘good’ enough to please God. (Ha! It’s a good thing our salvation doesn’t depend on being ‘good’!)
4. It’s not about me = do my best to cover up the fact that much of what I do, I do for the attention it might bring me.

So there are some pretty fat confessions. Basically, I’ve pretty much missed the whole point of Jesus being the point. Truly, the more I realize what a fool I am, the more grateful I am to know that it really IS all about Jesus. And in my new understanding, this means that the point of life itself – of every blessing and trial, and of every breath we take – is to glorify God, to bring honor to Him, to proclaim the name of Jesus and His victory over darkness. That is all fine and dandy, but what does that mean to me, and how does it change me? Well. It means anxiety can no longer be my companion. My anxiety is that wily little creature that causes me to distrust that God is who He says He is, that I am His child, part of His story, and on His agenda, not mine. Anxiety is the lie that I am in control, not Him, and the pride that I know better than God what I need. It is the bondage of failing to recognize that it is for freedom that we have been set free. It is not for anxiety that we have been set free. I feel like I could smack my forehead (duh!) about now. 

“God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging. There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy place where the Most High dwells. God is within her, she will not fall; God will help her at break of day. Nations are in uproar, kingdoms fall; He lifts His voice, the earth melts. The LORD Almighty is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress.”

Psalm 46:1-7

It is an issue of trust in our loving God, in having confidence that His Spirit will renew our minds daily, and illuminate the path of freedom for us, including freedom from anxiety. So my discovery is this: ‘It’s not about me’ is not a way of proclaiming false humility, but is instead about recognizing that God is my refuge, and the One whose opinion ultimately matters. And He desires us to come to Him rather than go our own way. Blazing our own trail is a sure way to get lost! 

In practical terms, this simple realization has been changing every area of my life. When anxiety rises up (or pride, selfishness, or anger for that matter) I just close my eyes, take a deep breath, and say out loud, “This is not about me. This is about You God. So help me to respond with Your heart and be aware of Your agenda.” I think this simple epiphany has saved my life. Do you have a simple lesson that has saved yours? I’d love to hear it.

4 Comments | Emily

Forgiveness…

Written on July 19, 2008 by emily

I started telling the story of my journey to wholeness and just barely took a breath to mention forgiveness in my “Promise Number One” entry. Let’s revisit this theme, because of any theme out there, this one is rather important! I’m no expert at forgiveness, but I will say, I have had to offer it, and ask for it more times than I can count. As a result, I’m adequately acquainted with the process and can share about how forgiveness truly was my first step forward out of my internal pain. As mentioned, I was a broken-hearted child who truly did not understand how or why my family couldn’t be mended. The divorce was done, I felt very alone and devastated that everything dear to me simply ceased to be. Yes, the individuals I loved were still there (in a manner of speaking – physically present is so different than emotionally/spiritually connected), but the bond of love that had nurtured my siblings and I since our infancy, the bond that wove us together as a single unit, the bond that had every potential to grow us into healthy, well-adjusted adults was gone. I had known for a long time that this bond was diseased, or at best, not as healthy as it could have been in my early life, but I never once thought in all the years of tension that divorce would be the result. I think children are slow to understand how it is possible for their two loving parents to cease loving each other. This was certainly my experience.

My heart was a black hole where my family had been. I held each of my parents responsible. At that time, I felt entitled to a loving peaceful home, even though it had been literally years since I had one. My injustice meter read off the chart, and I was quick to blame them for every mistake they had made. In hindsight, the ‘injustice’ meter was my realization that this is not what God ever intended for my family, and some of my anger was warranted, just perhaps not some of my actions. Choosing to trust that God would lead me into wholeness if I obeyed Him required me to consider my circumstance differently than my childish heart wanted to. I could not blame my way to freedom and I could not absolve myself of any wrongdoing. Granted, the divorce was not my fault (I learned later), and not my doing, but I was not blameless. The short stretch I chose not to forgive was agonizing for me. It hurt bad enough that our family unit no longer was, but to alienate my parents further because of my anger toward them was even worse. I had no covering, no guidance, no one to go to. And the more I tried to keep record of the injustices committed against me, the more anguish I felt. I’m not sure the actual series of events that led to me choosing forgiveness are all that important, but the choice to forgive certainly was.    

“Out of the depths I cry to you, O LORD; O Lord, hear my voice. Let your ears be attentive to my cry for mercy. If you, O LORD, kept a record of sins, O Lord, who could stand? But with You there is forgiveness; therefore You are feared. I wait for the LORD, my soul waits, and in His word I put my hope. My soul waits for the Lord…[O Broken Heart], put your hope in the LORD, for with the LORD is unfailing love and with Him is full redemption. He Himself will redeem [us] from all [our] sins.”

Ps. 130: 1-8  (Partially Paraphrased)

Somehow I found the courage to pursue each of my parents with a message of forgiveness (mine and God’s), that I desired to accept them, know them, and move forward in our healing. From my perspective, I’ve actually done this many times, through conversations and letters, and intentional gestures of love for each. I cried out to the Lord innumerable times, through tears. And He heard me. His full redemption is in full swing, and I cannot begin to describe what miracles He has worked in my relationships with my parents. More than those, He has worked miracles in little me, as I’ve now got two feet into adulthood with a new family of my own. Forgiveness…it is for your health, your life, your future that you must choose it. I suppose I’ll be writing about this again and again, because it is a predominant theme in my life, but there’s a little tale on my first lesson in it. It wasn’t easy to do, but it was worth it. More on that soon.

2 Comments | Emily

Another Tiny Step

Written on July 18, 2008 by emily

It would be easy to get discouraged about this little endeavor and the fact that more than a month has passed since I last posted. Yet, all I can do is chuckle at the fact that this just seems to be the way I birth things into being. For me, ideas (and children) come all too quickly and are brought into the world in exciting/explosive/immediate deposits of creative energy and inspiration followed by a long lull and the reality that ideas (and children) do not grow well without care, intentionality, and patience. I’ve realized that I’m quite gifted at the first part of the process, and quite slow to learn the latter. I guess that is one way my children are growing me–teaching me in the most practical way that daily diligent attention is just as important (if not more) than a season’s onset. I’m exhilarated by immediate action, immediate results…and to be honest, I’m quite impatient and restless about the “sowing” season. Shove the seeds in the ground, call the rains from the heavens, blink, hold my breath, and hope there is a bountiful garden full of delicious, nutritious, beautiful plants before my eyes when I open them. HA! Wouldn’t that be something.  Well, in all my yearning for instant results, I am rather glad I don’t often get them. I fear I would become so addicted to the moving and shaking that I’d never sit still enough to hear God. He knows this about me. Perhaps it is even one reason why He has anchored me so. Now a wife and mommy, with a heart to give my very best to those who look to me for love, support, guidance, and so much more–I have three very good (and tangible) reasons to still my heart, and learn how to become Mary, though Martha I be. 

Joy Arising is another tiny step in my process to learn how to put my whole self in for the long haul. As much as it pains me to see my ‘failure’ to get on the boat and get rolling, truth is, its rolling…just slower than I expected or wanted. I’m here and have much flowing out of my heart–I just need a little help learning how to sit still and give it time to sprout. So little seed, be at peace. Feel the sunshine, soak in the rain, and let the miracles of God burst forth in the time He has decreed. Let yourself laugh and take joy in the process, and do not worry about what tomorrow will bring, or what has been left in the past. Delight in your ever-present Lord who shepherds you now. 

More to come very soon. I’m bursting to write, but it is also nearly midnight. Wisdom says, sleep is important and tomorrow is a new day. Thanks for taking the time to read.

1 Comment | Emily

Promise Number One

Written on June 10, 2008 by emily

I’ve always felt a little strange in my skin. I’m not sure if it is because I really am a different duck, or if the longing God has put in my heart for wholeness and unity with Him has simply required me to always be less than comfortable with the status quo to compel me to move forward through every kind of trial I’ve faced. For sure, I have not suffered as many others suffer, without food or shelter, without safety or certainty, but I have felt the bitterness of loss, the sorrow of sin, the brokenness of humility, and the anger of God against injustice and untruth. Let me be upfront in stating hardships cannot possibly be compared, because no matter what your experience, the pain you feel is real to you, and the peace that passes all understanding can be real to you as well. My longing for the fullness of the promises of God is the very reason I’m compelled to write now…I believe they are for me and you, for anyone who wants them and has the courage to pursue the heart of God. 

I’m a little intimidated to really begin writing on this blog. Give me a little blue couch, a cozy blanket, and a friend to talk to, and I’ll tell you anything without thinking about it. Broadcast the particulars of my intensely personal journey to wholeness for the nameless, faceless world to see–that’s a tough one for me. Still, I will make every effort to authentically and honestly reflect on the deepest experiences of my life to hopefully encourage your heart and glorify God. Like I mentioned already, it is from a less than comfortable place that God has healed my broken heart, and it makes sense I’d have to return to that place to share my story with you. This is my soul’s journey through faith, tragedy, healing, and love. I’m sure there will be many references to those close to my heart, but I will say in advance, for the authenticity of this reflection I will not be leaving out parts that might be uncomfortable for them. To those dearly loved ones, please know my heart is only to promote still more healing in all of us. To those who join me on this journey, I ask you to withhold judgement as you read. Instead, let your heart be impacted by this tale of restoration. 

Numbering the promises of God might get me into hot water within time, but I choose to number them now only to begin outlining this story I keep skirting around…Can you tell I’m nervous about this? Maybe the best way to start is to go straight to take you straight to the moment of decision, at my very lowest point, when God met me in a sea of tears and handed me quite possibly the most life-altering promise imaginable. I was sixteen, estranged from my immediate family due to my parent’s very recent divorce, and sitting out under the stars 2000 miles from my home. My youth group made the trek down to Southern California from Central Oregon for a youth ministry training program. We had arrived that afternoon, and together attended the first evening worship set. I sobbed the whole time. Very few people knew what had really been going on at home, and I’d put on a fairly strong front for months. Not this night. This was the first of many nights I would be keeper of the kleenex box (since I was the one who used the most!). Somehow on this night, I encountered God in a way that permanently altered my life-course. After the evenings events, we sat together outside a building on the Vanguard College campus and debriefed, sharing about what God was doing in our lives. I was a furious mess of brokenness, anger, confusion, and many other things I couldn’t possibly describe. I felt as though I would never have a joyful, peaceful, purposeful life because all I had known and put my hope in had been taken from me. But on this night God whispered to my heart, ‘Emily, if you will give your whole self to me, if you will courageously go where I lead you, if you will humbly listen to me, then I will make you whole. I will give you joy and hope. I will give you transformation like you have never seen.’ More tears. I’m sure my peers were very confused. Still, I decided that this promise was my only hope of survival. So I said yes with all that I had. ‘Take me where you will, and lead me on this path to wholeness.’ Little did I know that He actually would, even when I tried to change my mind a few times over the years. This was a sealed deal. 

This is likely a topic for an entire book, or at least, another entry, but I’ll mention that my first step forward was themed around Forgiveness. It was in that season of my life that I learned forgiveness is not something you feel toward others who have wronged you. It is something that you choose to do. That week, I started by choosing to forgive my parents for the heartache they had brought to our family as a result of their divorce. I’ll expand on that journey later, but let me say choosing to forgive them was quite possibly the toughest choice I had ever made, but as I look at it now, it is the smartest choice I have ever made.

“If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and will heal their land.”  2 Chron. 7:14

4 Comments | Emily

Dominoes

Written on June 6, 2008 by emily

Thanks for taking a moment to stop by this new blog – home of what will hopefully become an inspirational resource for anyone who struggles to see beyond their circumstances. For those who know me, this may seem like just another wacky idea I’ve cooked up (since my visionary brain doesn’t seem to pause for rest too often) that will pass when the next idea comes along. In truth, I have no idea what this will become, nor do I know how long before this ride stops. I do know that I absolutely have to begin to document the journey God has brought me on during my 25 years on earth in hopes that each entry will be like a domino; moving the hearts of others who have struggled to cling to God through hard times, and encouraging the hearts of those who struggle to cling to Him now. I’ll do my best to write, whether or not there is much feedback, but my hope is that if you are impacted by what you read, or you can relate to something, or you have bits of your own story that you’d like to share for your own healing and the edification of others…please leave comments, or send me an email! This is intended to be more a conversation than a private journal, all to the glory of God! Plus, I find it hard to stick to the business of writing my story, and I could use your help to draw it out of me.  

So here we go, friends. Join me on this adventure of exploring the depths of God’s heart through the hardship and suffering we all face in our lives. If you haven’t yet tasted His goodness, His faithfulness, and the all-consuming hope He can bring to even the most hopeless of people, stick around and you’ll be introduced. 

 ”We rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out His love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom He has given us.” Romans 5:2b-5

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