Wings || Guest Post

Written by my dear friend Katie, mama of five and faithful follower of the Lord. Katie girl - thanks for letting me share your words. ;)
You can get a glimpse of her beautiful life here; you’ll be encouraged.

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I reach a point during the day - usually before 10am - where I wish I could grow wings and fly away.

Far away from the constant screaming. The fighting between siblings. The noise and clamor.

And when there is a brief moment of peace, there will always be the never-ending questions from inquisitive little toddlers. Multiple demands for juice. And the diaper changes. The many, many diaper changes.

I find myself only saying the words, “What is it?” “Don’t do that.” “Stop it.” “Not right now.” “Please wait.” I forgot what it is like to put complete thoughts and sentences together.

My heart is racing purely because I am on high alert. The adrenaline is rushing through my system at the sound of each shrill scream. Who is hurt? Who hurt who? Who needs discipline? How should I discipline? “Give me wisdom, Lord.”

My head is pounding. Another pregnancy migraine. I wish I could rest. And so I lie down on my unmade bed, hoping the children will realize I need a moment. Maybe the show I put on for them will keep them distracted for 30 minutes. But they find me. Rest is over. “Give me Your solace, Lord.”

I set the four kids up with dominos and Magna Tiles in the play room. They are playing peacefully. I slip away for 2 minutes to take a quick shower before the speech therapist arrives. But not even a minute in, I hear the toddler crying, and big sister close behind her. I get out of the shower, dripping wet, ready and armed to comfort and correct. “Give me gentleness, Lord.”

Crisis over for now. I glance at my phone, purely out of habit. Maybe something will distract me. There is a message on my blog from a woman who just found [my Facebook] page. She is reaching out with questions. I wish I had the answers for her, but I don’t even have the headspace to open up the message. If I turn my back for one second, or set my attention on my phone for longer than one moment, I don’t know what might happen. Chaos. And so I stay focused. In the moment. My eyes fixed on the children and their needs. The message will have to wait for later. “Give me purpose, Lord.”

My mind is working overtime, all the time - but then why am I drawing blanks all day? Why can I not be creative with the kids? I have no energy. It takes every bit of it out of me just to stay calm, present, in the here and now. Lunch on the table, dishes washed, children clean. I play peaceful piano music in the living room, desperate to bring an atmosphere of peace and calm to my home. But the music becomes just another annoyance, another noise to bear, and I end up shutting it off after only one song. “Give me Your peace, Lord.”

As I write, a child is crying. I don’t know why, but can probably guess.

Yes, I wish I could fly away and be at rest.

But here is where I am.

In the noise, in the chaos, in the unsettled.

I am undone.

My world is not right side up right now.

And yet in this place, I worship. I bow down, I lay down every burden, and I lift up my voice. I let go. I cry from the depths of my soul, “God, You are good! I love You! I worship You!” My voice weakens as the tears close up my throat. I drop to my knees, and am overcome by an immense, overwhelming realization that God loves me and is enough for me. In my mess. In my weakness. He is there, and He is ready to uphold me with strength in my soul.

He gives me wings. His wings of courage. Peace. Joy. Strength. My feet do not budge from this earth, but my spirit is lifted high. In this place of worship, I break free from every burden that would wish to weigh me down. Every lie from the enemy that would make me question His love and care for me. Every wrong attitude that would cause me to look at my children and despise my motherhood.

I have to go back to this place every day, this secret place with the Lord. My prayer closet. My resting place. It doesn’t look like what it used to. It is not always a physical place, but a place I go to when my heart is overcharged, and spirit overwhelmed.

Before children, my times with Jesus were carefully carved out every day. Some would call it “morning devotions” or “quiet time.” I sat in my clean bedroom, candle lit, hot tea in hand. Open Bible and pen ready to journal all the things I had on my heart. My mind was fresh and clear. There was no noise or clamor outside my bedroom door. Those days are but a distant memory to me.

But now. Now, the desperation I have for God to speak to me, to comfort me, to uphold me in the middle moments brings me to a different kind of “quiet time.” In this place, He meets me while I wash dishes. While I change the 10th diaper of the day. While I break up another argument. While I want to hide my face in the covers, blocking out the noise. While I simply do the next thing.

Have you met with Him today? Has your trouble made you run into His arms? Is He your hiding place and your shelter from every storm?

In this this place, you will find your wings to fly. Perhaps not away from your trouble, but towards sweet Jesus. Let Him be your song in the night. Your light in the darkness. Your joy in the mourning.

You can bear all things, believe all things, hope all things, and do all things through Christ who gives you strength.

"I said, Oh, that I had wings like a dove! I would fly away and find rest… As for me, I will call upon God; and the Lord shall save me. Evening, and morning, and at noon, will I pray, and cry aloud: and He shall hear my voice. Cast your burden upon the LORD and He will sustain you; He will never let the righteous be shaken."
Psalm 55

A Puddle! || Friday Magnify

"Oh, magnify the Lord with me,
And let us exalt His name together."
Psalm 34:3

We have had so little rain last year and this, that our town mandated a water ban. And out of all years, this is the year my garden is looking really good!

From what He does in Scripture, we know God sometimes uses natural disasters and weather as blessing or judgement. Watching current events all over lately, I can't help but wonder if He has withheld rain because of unrepentant, ungrateful hearts. So this week we have been praying: turn unbelievers in this area to their need for a Savior, bring them to repentance, and bring us rain!

Last night it started raining, and it has rained all the way into this morning. It has an extra sweet sound and smell this time! Regardless of what He chooses to do with the weather and people's hearts, my job as a Christian is to praise Him. Thank You Lord, for the rain. Thank You that you still send rain on the just and the unjust (Matthew 5:45). Thank You for sustaining us.

His grace is enough. We can't make the rain fall, and we can't stop it up. But we can - should - pray to Him for our needs and give Him all the thanks when He blesses us!

Let Me Tell You a Story - Part 5

As I said in the beginning of this series, I have no nice little bow to tie this up with. I wish I did - I wish I had answers, for my sake and that of my family. It would be so nice to know what to expect, what to plan on. It would be nice too for a reader, like you, to see how God carried things to completion in a well-written ending.

But the truth is, He isn’t done writing the story.

The last year+ has felt like a stripping of many things. Freedoms, in the world outside our door; plans, as Josh and I have made plans and watched them be thwarted time after time; foods, we make significant changes and rework our diet. I get exhausted mentally from adjusting and readjusting, researching, planning, budgeting, fighting fear. I get exhausted physically from fighting this disease and keeping up with littles.

There are so many questions; you may have wondered them too. How will we care for more children, with me being sick? What if I’m not healed of Lyme? How will we raise and earn enough money to adopt? When will we adopt? What if we face another medical emergency? When will we be able to have a larger home? What if He doesn’t give us the many children we have hoped and prayed for?

If we were talking in my living room, I’d open my Bible for you and tell you two things:

1) I don’t know!
2) But: “…we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose” (Romans 8:28).

God has seen fit to allow our family these hardships. They could have been a lot worse. I don’t know what tomorrow holds, if it will be easier or if it will be harder. But I do know that my husband and I love the Lord with all of our hearts, and He is working all things in our lives for good. He determines what is “good” - not me. (Hallelujah, because I’d make a terrible god!) I can trust Him with all of these things, and with whatever is to come.

Would I have asked Him for all of these hardships? I can’t say that I would. Yet at the same time, I wouldn’t change it because He has grown my faith immensely through the struggles. Walking through challenge after challenge is very sanctifying if we allow it to be. If we press into Scripture amidst trials, He will shape us to be more like Himself. There are lessons from the last year that I wish I’d learned sooner, and others that I wish I knew better. But I am thankful for the growth He has given me.

We are still walking forward with adoption, and He will show us how it all will look. We know He has called us to it. We’re taking days one at a time, doing what we can, and working to leave our worries at the door. He can handle them.

We are doing the same with Lyme, treating it as best we can and praying that He heals me. He has sustained me thus far, and He is capable of continuing to do so.

These posts may have made it seem like our family’s life is one big rollercoaster ride, and it kind of is. But it’s also very full of the mundane. Josh goes to work, I homeschool the kids and get meals on the table, we play in the yard and go for walks. We read Scripture and sing and wash dishes and play a million games of Connect4. There are fights and squabbles, and daily discipleship as we teach our children (and remind ourselves) how to become Godly adults. There’s joy, forgiveness, peace and contentment. He is a giver of good gifts.

So we wait, and we learn to trust better. We know that someday, in Heaven, life’s pieces will all make sense. It’s that analogy of a beautiful tapestry - He sees the front, the glorious picture; we see jumbled, messy threads in the back. For now, we rest in the fact that He knows what He’s doing and He cares for us.

“Therefore humble yourselves under the mighty hand of God, that He may exalt you in due time, casting all your care upon Him, for He cares for you. Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil walks about like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour. Resist him, steadfast in the faith, knowing that the same sufferings are experienced by your brotherhood in the world. But may the God of all grace, who called us to His eternal glory by Christ Jesus, after you have suffered a while, perfect, establish, strengthen, and settle you. To Him be the glory and the dominion forever and ever. Amen.”
1 Peter 5:6-11, emphasis mine

I pray that through this series of posts, you are able to see this reality I mentioned at the start:

Pain is not bad, and God is always trustworthy.

He never leaves us in the pain, He uses it for our good. He knows and He knows what is best.

And though this completes this particular group of blog posts, it is all to be continued…because God is not done. :)

Thank you for reading along. May He receive glory!

Read all the segments:
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4

Let Me Tell You a Story - Part 2

Sirens screeched as blue and red flashes lit up the street. I held him tighter and looked outside, wishing it was just a nightmare and the vehicles were really there for something else.

Please Lord.

Everything was a blur. Vitals. Papers. Phone calls. Find clothes, pack a bag. No, I’m not letting go of him. Yes, look wherever you need to. Lights. Doors open, doors close. Are we going?

Lord, please…

A whole town watching, on edge. Tears. Here comes the chopper. Please, let me fly with him. A reluctant nod, ear protection, tighten the belt. Off we go – food, stay down.

Lord, thank You for this provision.

Landed. Searching for a railing - there isn’t one, don’t trip.

What happened? Here’s his mother - I can tell you what I know. His frantic eyes, searching, found me: locked. Can I sit with him? Sure, then tests.

Scans, needles, questions. A smile. Thank You, dear Lord.

Daddy. Another smile. Scans, needles, questions. Texts, prayers.

The agony of waiting, feeling his heartbeat.

Lord, thank You that I can be here to hold him. Thank You for holding both of us. What time is it? I’m so exhausted. My arms are shaking but I’m not about to move him. Sustain me, Lord.

Nurse arrives, he’s clear.

What?

He’s good. We didn’t find anything.

Nothing?? How?

Not sure…but you can go.

Catch my breath, the shaking pauses. Relief. Awe. How?

---

I’d never prayed so hard. Never cried out to the Lord in such desperation, begging Him to hold my boy and let him miraculously be alright. Never have I held my little one so tight. I lived on edge weeks after the accident, waiting for something to take a turn for the worse. Waiting to see that everything wasn’t actually alright. What if this? And what if that?

We can’t live in what-ifs.

Live in thanksgiving.

How? How do you live in thanksgiving, when life is fleeting before your eyes? How, when you don’t know if your son will be here in the morning?

Praise.

“Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.
Finally, brethren, whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report, if there is any virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy - meditate on these things. The things which you learned and received and heard and saw in me, these do, and the God of peace will be with you.”
Philippians 4:6-9

I knew this section of Scripture. Memorized it from a young age. And here I was, in a prime situation to use it. Written from Paul, who faced imprisonments, beatings, shipwrecks. He knew challenges, and here he was saying it was possible to have peace in the midst of them. I had thought for sure I would be firm and steadfast in the Lord when hard-pressed, someday, somehow. Yet now, I was turning the other way and clinging desperately to fear.

I fought what He says in Philippians.

No, You can’t tell me to be calm. I might lose my child. Or he might never be the same. And You want me to think about things that are true and right and virtuous and lovely and praiseworthy?

Yes.

So I tried, and my husband helped me daily.

True: our boy is home. The scans didn’t indicate anything abnormal.

Just, right: he was seen right away, doctors listened and everyone worked together.

Virtuous: many people helped us through all stages of the accident, caring and going out of their way to serve.

Lovely: somehow, there was an element of beauty below as I flew over towns in the eerie, loud silence of the helicopter. Is that even worth mentioning?

Praiseworthy: all of the above. And most, that he is healthy.

Little by little, I began to experience something I’ve never understood to this depth. This Scripture is true, and it is truly comforting. The peace that passes all understanding? That - that is indescribable, and it only comes from the Lord.

I forced myself to praise Him even as I shook with fear. I praised Him for the little things in front of me, and I thanked Him for knowing all the big things around me. As I gave Him thanks, He reminded me that I do not hold control. What could I have done, really, to have any control the night of the accident? What could I have done, really, to control things in the helicopter or hospital? Nothing. We don’t control things.

The what-ifs come and I can think through scenarios, but then they must go because they aren’t mine to determine. He is trustworthy. The next step may be terrifying or it may be easy. It may be another degree of pain, or it may be a relief. God knows, and He gives the strength and peace necessary for each moment. He is not absent! He knows, and He is so ready to help us and heal our broken hearts.

I wish I could describe this better for you, but you won’t know it by my words. You’ll only know it by His. Practice it in the simple things - give thanks when it’s easy, find virtue and honorable things out of habit. And when harder things come, employ the same routine. You will learn of His peace, and you will never want it to leave.

…to be continued…