God is faithful, this much I know, and Jesus loves me. Why isn't this enough? I am struggling these days with how much is enough. Is food and shelter enough? It's enough to survive, yes. It is not enough to thrive, which flies in the face of what I believe(d), the Jury's still out.
I am grateful for the essentials, I truly am, more than words can ever express. But I miss some of the other stuff. Laying down at night, reasonably assured, notwithstanding some dastardly event that threatens mankind, that the mortgage...not the rent...would be paid every month, no sweat. Then after the unthinkable happened, that the rent would be covered every month. Now that is no longer true and it robs me of peace, but then my peace should be in Him, so i'm doing something wrong.
I miss shopping, and I didn't even like to shop! I miss having options about things, things to purchase occasionally. What kind of couch do we want? What thread count for the sheets, what about that piece of art? When you go into someone's home, you can see what kind of personality they have by what they've chosen as their surroundings. So, that said, you can see our personality is worn out crap. This bothers me, so i'm doing something wrong.
I miss going places. How exciting, after 20 years of nothing, going almost nowhere, the world opened up with a wonderful man and some money to make the occasional weekend trip. Multnomah Falls, Disneyland, Portland, Monterey, I felt like a dried piece of leather that at last was drenched in moisture and was returning to life. It ended all too quickly when no job came, and it really bothers me, i'm doing something wrong.
I want to have people over at will, not decided by how many food stamps are left. I want to laugh, have conversation and just the exchange of one soul to another. I want to have a place that looks decent when people do come over and this one in particular is really getting to me. So i'm doing something wrong.
I know that Biblically, it's okay to feel these things, but that in reality, if I have enough bread and a roof, all the rest is unnecessary. But I am now questioning this. We are created in His likeness, we are creative, if that is totally stifled, can we be content? Hey, I tell myself, and it's truth, Corrie Ten Boom wasn't concerned with all this crap in the concentration camp, and she survived, and with grace and sweetness. So then I have to ask, was it because she wasn't alone there, those around her were like her. I decide, no, it's because she has more faith and fortitude than I do. So i'm doing something wrong.
Ok, so the only other thing I know for certain is, I'M DOING SOMETHING WRONG and don't know exactly what it is. I mean are we to ignore that restlessness that comes with discontent? Or is it a catalyst for change? I really have no idea, I have exhausted every way to change things that I can think of.
If something comes between me and Christ, that is a clue that it probably isn't good. And these longings are preoccupying my mind far too much. I do not have to look very far to know that I am fortunate in many ways, even in this straight place.
There is no conclusion.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Monday, January 3, 2011
Musings 1/3/11
I'm 56, I have a picture of myself, the matriarch of my family, full of wisdom, imparting life's secrets to my appreciative children and grandchildren. Scratch that.
With each passing day I am more and more convinced that I know less and less about it all. Nothing makes sense anymore. Things that should be timeless seem not to withstand that test. Common sense seems not to count for much. And while this is not a bitter lambasting of how everything's gone to hell in a hand-basket, it is perhaps the proverbial shaking of the fist at the sky.
There is something drastically wrong when good men want to work, and send out resume after resume with zero results. Men with Master's degrees, or two good hands, both represent hard work. I have lost my good man for a while. He's lost himself and his dignity I fear and it breaks my heart. I try to carry the load, but how I miss him, and I'm so scared I won't make it. I'm tired and weary of all this. And without him, what's the point? So i'm trying to hold on until he returns. I miss him so much, his jokes, his laugh...I really miss his laugh...his twinkle in his eyes. I've watched him slowly fade away. He remains faithful to duty, but his eyes are blank. I will stand by him until I fade away myself. So we pass the days, living in the same space, but just floating from room to room.
All that said, and meant, that afore mentioned clenched fist thrust upward to the sky, was not a thinly veiled reference to God. God is the only One who makes waking up each day possible right now. God is the only One who gives strength when mine fails, comfort when there's nowhere to go and peace when I think there is none. God is the power that places one foot in front of the other each day. When I find my heart filled with doubt, anger, skepticism and apathy all at once, I know where my answer lies. I go, be alone with Him, pour it all out, even when my anger is misguided because it is at Him. He takes it all, lets me talk and rant, then...like magic...He holds me in His arms and it all washes away, like dirt. I came in the room in one state and leave in a completely different state. He is my Refuge, my Hope, my Salvation, my Peace.
So, tomorrow, i'll do it all again and try to be grateful for all that I do have, there is much.
With each passing day I am more and more convinced that I know less and less about it all. Nothing makes sense anymore. Things that should be timeless seem not to withstand that test. Common sense seems not to count for much. And while this is not a bitter lambasting of how everything's gone to hell in a hand-basket, it is perhaps the proverbial shaking of the fist at the sky.
There is something drastically wrong when good men want to work, and send out resume after resume with zero results. Men with Master's degrees, or two good hands, both represent hard work. I have lost my good man for a while. He's lost himself and his dignity I fear and it breaks my heart. I try to carry the load, but how I miss him, and I'm so scared I won't make it. I'm tired and weary of all this. And without him, what's the point? So i'm trying to hold on until he returns. I miss him so much, his jokes, his laugh...I really miss his laugh...his twinkle in his eyes. I've watched him slowly fade away. He remains faithful to duty, but his eyes are blank. I will stand by him until I fade away myself. So we pass the days, living in the same space, but just floating from room to room.
All that said, and meant, that afore mentioned clenched fist thrust upward to the sky, was not a thinly veiled reference to God. God is the only One who makes waking up each day possible right now. God is the only One who gives strength when mine fails, comfort when there's nowhere to go and peace when I think there is none. God is the power that places one foot in front of the other each day. When I find my heart filled with doubt, anger, skepticism and apathy all at once, I know where my answer lies. I go, be alone with Him, pour it all out, even when my anger is misguided because it is at Him. He takes it all, lets me talk and rant, then...like magic...He holds me in His arms and it all washes away, like dirt. I came in the room in one state and leave in a completely different state. He is my Refuge, my Hope, my Salvation, my Peace.
So, tomorrow, i'll do it all again and try to be grateful for all that I do have, there is much.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
In the Wilderness
Knowing I am safe in His hands, there are days that the flesh wins. Tonight I am weary to the point of oblivion. I feel as tho there is no more me. Every layer gone, the core is left and in the process of the peeling, the purpose is lost. What's left is a mystery. There seems to be no life, no salvagable parts. I will journey to the well again, and soon, but for tonight I have no energy to take the first step. Still, I know even that He will do for me. I will remain in this desert, contemplating, reflecting...but to what end? Feeling misunderstood times a hundred, filled with personal failures, dreams and ideals lost in time, hope lies spilled out before me, soaking into the dried ground. I'll spread my blanket under the stars and look up into the face of God and weep. Weep for all that was lost, for every sparkling dream that dried up and fell to earth to shatter, for the imperfections that have permeated the present. For the inability to live in these present times without swallowing so much pride that I silently choke while smiling. To be strangled by invisible hands and lie down in a disguised coffin. Tomorrow, I am confident that I will wake in His presence, and all these words, these ideas will feel as foreign to me as tho someone else penned them. I trust in His ability to transform, renew and fill with promise. For now, i'm tired.
Monday, September 6, 2010
Once in a while....
You get one of those days. Days when possibilities seem endless, when peace reigns in your corner of creation and all seems right with the world. The morning began with getting to church with the little dog in tow. Seemed only right, being the last Sunday outdoors, serving special food. And so she went bedecked in her little pink-heart halter, kept always on her leash. Sadie doesn't mind, she can even sit up and beg impervious to it's pull. Several kids were delighted to see our furry child, one even wants to grow up and be a mommy and have a baby and name her Sadie. :) And many adults showed their softer side at the sight of her and commented on her cuteness. :) The food was fabulous, Jon's pulled pork was sublime, and the spicy slaw I made was a perfect accompaniment. The gentle people of Calvary Church seemed to enjoy the meal and I have had several requests for my slaw recipe. :) It was a scene worthy of a painting, or some kind of remembrance. People ate their food, chatted, laughed. As I watched from my chair perched on the edge of the green by the BBQ, I was moved at how this family loved one another. Smiles everywhere, kids running and playing around the circumference of parents and grandparents, harmony personified. And over all, the subtle and sweet Holy Spirit we share between us. After the festivities were over, Dave stayed to clean up, I headed home with our little beast, she so very tired after all the socializing and pleading for crumbs. Once home, comfortable clothes put on, I turned on the TV, the little dog curled up beside me, and we rested. In the meantime Dave came in and said he was going to take a nap, so we took our little friend's bed in with us and laid down and had a nice nap all around. The phone rang, it was Ron telling us to come over if we wanted, Mick was home. So we gathered up the little dog once again, after all, Ron is like her Godfather, she loves him so, and headed out. We all sat and chatted on the porch about venison, goats, llamas, sermons, food, various insignificant subjects, and Dave told Mick and Kate about living in Sicily for 2 years. Meanwhile, our furry child was out and about the property, ending up with a coat full of stickers for me and Dave (mostly Dave, bless him) to pick out of her velvety fur, poor baby, some hurt. But i'm certain if she could speak, she would say..."pull on dear ones, the adventure was well worth the pain!" We came home, had something to eat and settled in with TV. Our little furry child curled up on Dave's Steeler throw and was out like a light. Big day for the little dog. And now the other 2 are in bed and i'm in here. What a perfect day I have been thinking, so full of life and people and love. To end the day knowing you were with those you love and care about from start to finish is a very contented feeling....and a precursor to eternity....sounds pretty great. :)
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
When does it come? When finally all your kids are doing okay, you have a home that's paid off, you have decent health insurance and a little money to do some things you waited all your life to do?
My life couldn't be more the extreme opposite, some my own doing, some not. And when does forgiveness include forgetting? Never I fear. There is no security outside of Christ for us, and that, perhaps, is why it is what it is. Most of us, even Christians, tend to lean wholly on the Lord only when things are not so perfect, the tougher the sitch, the harder the leaning. Which is of course, exactly what He wants all the time. But something in us eases up on the prayers when things improve. What is that?!
I resist the urge to launch into a discourse on how ungrateful we are and how we ought to be thankful. We know this, and there is no condemnation in Christ....and I have found none. Still, there is something to be said for an awareness of grace and mercy.
In my life, regardless of the cause, I have survived a heartbreak so all-encompassing that I feared I would not survive it, and indeed, part of me didn't. That idyllic, child-like trust is gone for good, never to return. I have found I can trust...but not like that, not again. Maybe that's good. Maybe that kind of naivetee is destructive. But I do know this, i'll never be one to destroy it in another, never. "Let your illusions last, until they shatter," Jackson Browne got it right.
I have never supported myself, probably never will. That is something that I am ashamed of, but looking back, i'd do it the same. No way after a child is molested do you even consider leaving them in anyone's care ever again. So you live on high-starch meals because they're cheap, make movie night as good as a theater...or close, buy items only on sale, and pray every night for things to get better somehow. You stand in line at Human Services, one face in a sea of faces, hoping, praying that all goes thru and you can get just a little help. I think it's amazing and right that people get help with their medical issues, and housing, my gosh you've got to live so you can try and better yourself. But the whole experience is de-humanizing and impersonal. To go from your very nice middle-class home, new cars, comprehensive medical and dental insurance, to a very small apartment with 2 kids, no insurance and no real way to pay the rent, leaves a scar I can tell you. We survived, and many times we shouldn't have...only God. But now, this much farther down the line and nothing's changed really.
I am grateful and thankful to have food, to have a roof over our heads, etc. But I miss some of the things I had years ago. And there's a thick, impenetrable scar on my heart, and when you hurt me, even a little, it says to me, oh yeah, dummy, you forgot, you can't trust anyone...ever...EVER. But I want to trust you, with all my heart. But survival is paramount, so only time will tell.
So, I see I have written something down here, good, finally. I will end and go back to wondering why.
My life couldn't be more the extreme opposite, some my own doing, some not. And when does forgiveness include forgetting? Never I fear. There is no security outside of Christ for us, and that, perhaps, is why it is what it is. Most of us, even Christians, tend to lean wholly on the Lord only when things are not so perfect, the tougher the sitch, the harder the leaning. Which is of course, exactly what He wants all the time. But something in us eases up on the prayers when things improve. What is that?!
I resist the urge to launch into a discourse on how ungrateful we are and how we ought to be thankful. We know this, and there is no condemnation in Christ....and I have found none. Still, there is something to be said for an awareness of grace and mercy.
In my life, regardless of the cause, I have survived a heartbreak so all-encompassing that I feared I would not survive it, and indeed, part of me didn't. That idyllic, child-like trust is gone for good, never to return. I have found I can trust...but not like that, not again. Maybe that's good. Maybe that kind of naivetee is destructive. But I do know this, i'll never be one to destroy it in another, never. "Let your illusions last, until they shatter," Jackson Browne got it right.
I have never supported myself, probably never will. That is something that I am ashamed of, but looking back, i'd do it the same. No way after a child is molested do you even consider leaving them in anyone's care ever again. So you live on high-starch meals because they're cheap, make movie night as good as a theater...or close, buy items only on sale, and pray every night for things to get better somehow. You stand in line at Human Services, one face in a sea of faces, hoping, praying that all goes thru and you can get just a little help. I think it's amazing and right that people get help with their medical issues, and housing, my gosh you've got to live so you can try and better yourself. But the whole experience is de-humanizing and impersonal. To go from your very nice middle-class home, new cars, comprehensive medical and dental insurance, to a very small apartment with 2 kids, no insurance and no real way to pay the rent, leaves a scar I can tell you. We survived, and many times we shouldn't have...only God. But now, this much farther down the line and nothing's changed really.
I am grateful and thankful to have food, to have a roof over our heads, etc. But I miss some of the things I had years ago. And there's a thick, impenetrable scar on my heart, and when you hurt me, even a little, it says to me, oh yeah, dummy, you forgot, you can't trust anyone...ever...EVER. But I want to trust you, with all my heart. But survival is paramount, so only time will tell.
So, I see I have written something down here, good, finally. I will end and go back to wondering why.
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