A few months ago I opened my home to a young woman in need of a place to live.  She has some special needs.  Not in the way you might think of at first.  But she has a way of relating that catches you off guard because of how she was raised.  Make that how she wasn’t raised.  By a mom.  Who loved her.  Who nurtured her. Who taught her the basics of relating. Who modeled goodness.  Who gave her basic life skills.  Not.

It is what she did not receive growing up that has kept her from doing life according to society’s “right.”  Kept her from wearing the appropriate masks we don in society so others will like us, so we will be acceptable.

Although many things about her life and mine are parallel, there are many differences.  Abuse comes in all shapes and sizes and religions.  I often think that people who come to Christ when they are older have the advantage of not struggling with the religious angst those of us do who experienced abuse in a “christian” home.

There are aspects of her faith that are so innocent, at times I have found myself embarrassed for her. But gradually God has used it to reveal the shallow existence of living I have defined faith by.

The reality is, she trusts God.

I don’t mean she trust God like I do.  Which is kind of like “I trust you God and am hoping you will come through” (because, let’s face it, I’m still in a journey of knowing God as himself and not as the face of my father or the variety of men who have so horribly abused and abandoned me).

She trusts God like he is really for her.

An unknown emerges?  “Well, I’ll just trust God and he’ll take care of it.”  Something she can’t control?  “Well, I’ll just trust God and he’ll take care of it.”  Uncertainties?  Questions?  Big things?  Little things?  Extremely small things that probably don’t matter much?  “Well, I’ll just trust God and he’ll take care of it.”

Matter-of-fact.  Done. Finito. It’s over.

Blind trust.

Childlike trust.

Innocent trust.

Trust that believes, really believes, in a God who is so involved in her life that if she doesn’t know something, she knows he is there.  So she just trusts Him.

I overheard her praying once.  Not trying to listen, and yet found myself mesmerized by the intimate way she talked to Him.  Like a little girl telling her safe Daddy the things she feels, expressing her worries, asking for help for herself and others.

As much as I like to think I’m trusting God, experiencing how she involves him in simple ways throughout the day has shown me the gaps in my faith.  And I am humbled before God’s loving Daddy expressions of gentleness and kindness. Realizing he has been waiting for me to reach out to him in deeper levels of trust – childlike trust – has opened a new door of relating to my Abba, my Father, my Daddy.

What is it like to have a real Daddy?  I honestly don’t know.  And that has gotten in the way of knowing God from a daughter’s perspective.

But I’m willing to let him show me.

What is a Daddy, God?

How do I be a daughter to you, God?

I don’t know where to start because of all that I never received growing up.

“Well, I’ll just trust God and he’ll take care of it.”

I have to remember this.  It’s hard tho.

Days and weeks go by and then -bam- I am hit with the reminder of a significant loss. The pain goes deep, the tears fall without effort, the thoughts of despair begin their descent into the deepest parts of my hurting heart.

At times it’s hard to know whether it’s the grief or warfare-related.  Perhaps a combination.  Certainly the enemy uses it to get me off track in my thinking and then the focus becomes dark and troubled.

The journey to reframe my thoughts is so important. Reminding myself of purpose (God’s) and belonging (I do) and family (His). 

I didn’t come this far to walk away without the victory.

“Now this I know:
    The Lord gives victory to his anointed.
He answers her from his heavenly sanctuary
    with the victorious power of his right hand.
Some trust in chariots and some in horses,
    but we trust in the name of the Lord our God.”  (Psalm 20:6-7)

It’s coming.  Keep going.

the devotional reading this morning was about being on the mountain top with Jesus… and then we come back down into the valley of community where we live our lives and go through our normal routines.

it caused me to consider whether the

Mountain Top

is really not what I have been thinking it was all along.

the tendency is to think of the “Valley” as the struggle, and the “Mountain Top” as the joy and exuberant experience of coming out of the darkness of trials.

today I started to consider – if the “Mountain Top” is where I get to commune with God in deeper ways, bask in the Light of His Presence, be more at one with Him than ever before… then isn’t that what happens in the midst of the struggle, when I feel the least amount of hope, where I am more aware of aloneness than ever before?

isn’t the darkness of challenges and trials where we meet God in life changing, transformational ways?

doesn’t His Light shine more brightly when I’m in the pit of despair?

what if the joy in the trials that James encourages us to embrace is only possible on the top of the mountain where we have a clearer view, because of what we are in the midst of.

Maybes this is when my ability to focus is at its blurriest and also at its clearest.  Blurry because I have a difficult time understanding when I’m in dark places and not being able to make sense of things. Clear because it allows me to focus solely on God and be more aware of His Presence and His Peace than ever before. 

This is when utter trust and dependence takes place.

Perhaps the Mountain Top experience I long for when I’m hurting is already here – I just need to be willing to stand up to see it from His viewpoint.

And then when I go down into the valley of life, where there are so many distractions and not enough time to spend with Him, I bring just a little bit more of the Mountain Top perspective with me.

I’m  not a morning person.

Most days I wish I could sleep in, and in fact, plan my days accordingly.  Any extra bit of morning snooze that is possible gets done.

But there’s something about a Saturday morning when the rest of the world is still sleeping and the little white dog begins his morning ritual of climbing all over the bed with his little tail wagging getting as close to my face as he dares and then softly gently whimpers. It’s the kind of wake up call that is sweet.  I roll over trying to fake sleep and the big golden jumps up and finds a spot to slip his wet cold  nose under my hand as if to say “come on mom let’s get up.”

Mornings like these are special.  It feels like the world is a whisper, the chaos is calm, the stress is silent, and life is lenient. I savor this time.

Bleary eyed, the dogs are fed, coffee is brewed, recliner beckons, my Jesus Calling book is opened to the day’s reading, and I feel blessed by the peace and quiet of this weekend morning.

All the turmoil of thoughts about responsibilities and obligations is nonexistent. There’s not room for any of that this morning.  It’s as if time has slowed to a crawl and for these few moments I can rest and all is good.

I set a boundary today.

I said “No.”

It wasn’t an easy “no.”  It took hours of thought and some prayer, along with processing the situation with a few close and wise friends.

Sometimes it’s hard to  not be able to be there for someone.  Especially when their situation is heartbreaking.  It’s hard to say “no” knowing it may mean they have to wait longer in their hurt.

This morning’s reading in Jesus Calling talked about taking baby steps and grown up steps of faith.  Saying “yes” to something hard or difficult not just saying “yes” to the easy stuff.  If I had read this last night I might have changed my mind and said “yes” to the request.  It would have felt like that was the grown up step of faith.  The one where I would have put myself in a place of chaos and challenge beyond my ability to deal with what could arise telling myself I was believing and trusting God to get me through it because it seemed like the “higher calling.”

What I realized this morning is that saying “no” was the harder choice, the grown up step, the one that took more faith; a deeper challenge of trusting God, because ultimately the individual’s request would need to be taken care of by Him and not me.

Sometimes saying “no” is the harder path of faith…and in that there is wisdom.

Reading “True North.”

I can’t believe how deep the nerves go that this book (and also “Inside Out” by Larry Crabb) is touching on inside my heart and mind.

Undesirable.

Dare I admit that is how I feel from time to time?

I often wonder whether God really wanted me to be married, and if I’m honest I do think I just took the first guy who wanted to marry me and went with it because up til then, as the girl in the book, I was not the kind of girl that guys showed an interest in (especially serious interest).

So I married him and he was overall a good guy, but if I’m honest I admit that I settled too.

Settled for being married, not settled for God’s best.

Looking back I think God’s best was for me to be single.

And here I am, single.

The past 15 years.

This year would have been my 29^th wedding anniversary.

Instead it’s the 15^th anniversary of my divorce.

And no one has showed interest in me as far as a relationship with a guy.

Most of the time I don’t feel undesirable – it’s not like something I think about or dwell on.  Most of the time I feel fulfilled and confident in being single.

But there are times when those thoughts do come to mind.

What’s wrong with me that I’m not good enough/pretty enough/whatever enough for a good Godly man to want to have a relationship?

That is when “undesirable” comes to mind.

It’s clearly an arrow from the enemy.

And I know that intellectually.  Even emotionally I am aware of it.

But one thing God keeps taking me back to is this.

HE desires me.

Perhaps I’m single because the God of Angel Armies wants me for HIS own.

And to be really honest about it, part of me can feel like “ok God that is great, but what about someone here with skin on to hold me when I’m hurting?  Or just do life with?”

Even there, writing it down in black and white, I acknowledge I have moments when He is not enough.  And it feels very sad to admit that.

Is it possible that my life (and actually all our lives) are really truly only about God and no one else, not even about me/us?

I do believe that is the case.

It’s not about me – it’s about whatever He wants – He created me – He has a purpose for me – He DESIRES me.

Being single truly does allow me to focus on Him in ways it was not (and would not) be possible to do in a relationship or marriage.  I know that.  (Altho perhaps it would be possible if the man was God-focused as well – have not experienced that to date.)

These are the thoughts rumbling around in my head and my heart tonight.

(written 9/14/13)

Going north or going south?

Tonight I feel like a hitchhiker on the highway of life who thought she was headed north (and feeling quite confident of that supposed reality as well), then one little teensy tiny facebook posting turned my head in the southerly direction, with hurricane force winds, and there went the northerly flow of my day.

Why is it so hard to maintain consistency?

I do everything to stay focused, and then when least expected, all it takes is one little facebook post.

At least I can say I’m growing.

For once, instead of reacting with venomous outrage and potentially inappropriate language, I kept it all in my head and typed out a carefully and calculatingly crafted response.  This then engaged additional conversation between myself and a few others in the group (including the author of the original post), but at least I kept my cool…..on the outside.  Definitely in this case the inside of my cup was full of muck and mire.

Why is it so hard to maintain calmness in the face of injustice?

Perhaps that is not only the question but also the answer. 

Injustice always infuriates me.  It makes me want to fight. It makes me want to do things that are not part of my redeemed nature.  I can’t say it isn’t some sort of righteous indignation, because definitely that is involved.  However the type of language circulating around this female brain would not be remotely classified as “righteous.”

When Gary wrote about anger, he included Psalm 4:4 as the voice of God, telling us “don’t sin by letting anger control you. Think about it overnight and remain silent.” 

Respond.

Don’t react.

Think silently.

Don’t lash out in venomous rage.

Be calm.

And your blood pressure won’t shoot through the roof, bringing down a few stars in its wake.

Now, an hour or more later, I’m calmer, the blood pressure is pretty much back to normal, and I can take a moment to process all that happened. 

Truth be told, the remark on facebook was a trigger – a huge ginormous trigger on the scale of prehistoric sea monsters.  It’s one of those things still hanging around below the water line.  And tonight it raised its head above the surface, gazed at the exposed iceberg of things I am aware of, and connected with my conscious thinking about stuff I don’t like to think about.

Therein is the dilemma.

Do I choose to go north, let God bring that ugly hurt and past pain to the surface so He can foster caring compassionate healing?  Or do I go south, stuffing it all back under the water never to be seen again…until something else triggers it.

I suppose the choice is clear.

Northern territories await.

Back on the highway, with my thumb out for a ride on God’s path for my life, looking forward to the healing ahead.