Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns
If you think Jesus would have come into your home that day and not issued a strong rebuke to the head of household, you are mistaken. These words of condemnation have been haunting me for days now. They aren’t all that different than the soundtrack I play in my head on an almost-daily basis. It’s…
I am nesting. On Saturday I emptied the refrigerator. Last summer’s homemade pickles in their jars. The bread ends that seem to multiply on every shelf. The eggs. The milk. The fruit and veggies. All of it sat on the floor or the counter as I carefully removed the shelves and wiped them down with…
I’ve heard that life is like a highway. And it definitely seems like that sometimes. The pace of life swirls around me at dizzying speeds. We’re all so busy. In such a hurry. Always somewhere to be, something else to do. I’m a get-to-the-point, get-there-quick kind of girl. I don’t like to waste time on…
I walked out on my family today. Sure, it was just for 10 minutes so I could talk a walk around the block and regain some sanity, but in a way, I felt like I was quitting. I could say it’s been a rough week, but I’m not sure that it has. Some really neat things happened this week — conversations that I wouldn’t have expected, deeper friendship, openness to meeting new people, a greater glimpse of God at work in me, my family, this community. Despite a week where the high temperature reached 97-99 four days in a row, I’d call it a great week.
So, what gives? Why did I flip out today? I thought the walk would have helped, and it did somewhat. It prevented me from further yelling at my daughter because she wouldn’t give me a moment’s peace, not even to go to the bathroom. But even after the walk, I still ended up a ball of blubbering tears because Corban wouldn’t take his afternoon nap and I had no idea what to make for supper. I felt like a big, fat, motherhood failure with a capital F. I ran to our bedroom, locked the door and curled up on the bed, seeking just a minute or two of solitude and maybe a wink or two of sleep. My heart cried out to God, the only One to whom I can be 100 percent transparent without fear of judgment.
When it was over, this assault on my mind, I felt like I’d been held by my heavenly Father for a few minutes. Why should this surprise me? Didn’t Jesus say, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.”
Rest. For my body. For my soul. Both have been lacking, but the absence of the rest I’ve needed for my soul threw my entire world out of perspective today. I was spiritually tired and willing to believe any thought that entered my mind.
Those same verses, paraphrased in The Message, illustrate for me a better way to live my life.
“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”
“The unforced rhythms of grace” — what a concept. I thought of that as Isabelle helped me with the dishes. She doesn’t do everything the way I want her to. Sometimes she messes up. Do I get angry at her for that? Or do I calmly explain and show her a better way? I know what God would do with me.
So much of how each day with the children goes depends on my attitude, I’m learning. If I start the day pessimistic, worried, anxious, tired or stressed, then chances are, the kids are going to pick up on that. It really is true, that old saying, “If Momma ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.”
We took another walk tonight, me and the children. All the way around the “moo-cow” block as we sometimes call it. Isabelle didn’t dawdle as much. The weather didn’t bother me as much. She listened to my calm suggestions to stay on the grass and away from the fence, to not run too far ahead of me. We missed, by minutes, getting hit by a baseball that went foul from the park. It hit a parked car where we’d walk just a little bit before. We were gone for 45 minutes or so, and it was lovely.
Attitude, certainly, is everything. And mine can only be right when I take time for spiritual rest.
Gentle. Humble. Easy. Light. These are the things Jesus promises about walking and working with Him. When life is any other way, I fear it’s because I’m trying to do life without Him.
“Apart from me, you can do nothing,” Jesus also said.
I don’t want my life to be nothing. Or hard. Or heavy.
Come to Him, I must.
I’ve discovered the antidote to a good day. It’s the word “no” especially when directed at my 2-year-old daughter. If she even senses that I’m about to use the word “no” in response to her request, she prepares to throw a fit. What’s more, she responds the same way to the word “wait.” In her mind, “wait” and “no” are equally disappointing. Only immediate obedience to her request is acceptable. Funny how it doesn’t work the other way around. I nearly carried her the whole way when we went for a walk around the block today because I had no patience for her dawdling.
Ah, patience. A lost art, right? Or maybe it’s a discipline. Definitely a discipline. Art sounds more fun, and patience is not fun. I guess my daughter and I agree on something. Hearing “wait” is almost as bad as hearing “no.” And boy do I want to pitch a fit sometimes when I sense that God is telling me to wait on something. As I remind my daughter time and again, “wait” and “no” are not the same thing. “Wait” just means I need a little more time to fulfill your request.
One of the hardest waiting games I played with God was for Phil. We were friends for nearly four years before we started dating, and in that time, I pined for him. God said, “Wait.” Reluctantly, I did, even giving up on him a couple of times and turning my attention to other men who were around. When a bombshell hit Phil’s life, I knew then why God had told me to wait. I still wasn’t sure that we’d end up together, but I knew that God had His reasons. Three months before we started dating, I realized I loved Phil, and acknowledging that to myself was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do because I knew that if we weren’t together that I would lose his friendship, too. I could not be just friends with a man I knew I loved. Especially if he loved someone else. The stuff of romance novels and great dramatic movies this was. Or so it felt at the time.
Obviously, we did end up together, and I don’t at all regret listening to God and waiting on His timing. He worked it out more perfectly than I could have. Once again, I’m facing a couple of timing frustrations. God is surely saying, “Wait” where one situation is concerned, yet right now it feels like it might as well be a “no,” and on the other, I’m still not sure. If it’s a “no” I’ll be crushed. I think.
I’d like to think I’m mature enough spiritually to not throw a fit, but I know better than that. I will whine and cry and try to force Him to give me what I want, or think I want, right now, not days, months or years from now when it might be better for me. I will pout and try to manipulate Him into feeling guilty for not giving my desire to me.
And I will be reminded of this: “Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart.” Psalm 37:4, NIV
If I know God, though, He may change the desires of my heart, especially if I spend my time delighting in Him.
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Occasionally, I review books in exchange for a free copy. Opinions are my own and are not guaranteed positive simply due to the receipt of a free copy.