Word for the Weary Soldier

Every day feels like a battle - a battle against the flesh.  His Word sinks deep into my soul, cuts deep through my hard heart and reveals the sin inside.  And I battle.  Guilt and shame thrust me into the battlefield and I swing a sword and throw up a shield only to be hit again and fall into a muddy pit of pride, anger, and self.

Why do I lose every battle?

How do I win over sin?

Grace.

The word falls over me as I lay wounded and muddy.

Grace.

I don't have to win the battle over my sin.  It isn't my job - not mine alone, anyway.

He comes to my rescue, lifts me out of my dirty sins, cleans me off and reminds me that if I would just rest in the knowledge that He's there beside me. . .  Well, He fights the battle for me when I put down my sword and let Him shield me. . . 

For the soldier of God, fighting in the battle against sin, perhaps victory comes not to the one who fights sin the hardest. . .  Maybe it comes to the one who falls the hardest into the arms of the Savior.

Praying for the grace to just invest more in my relationship with God - the every-moment-of-the-day time spent praying, reading, meditating, seeking, praising, and seeing Him - my only hope in the battle.

The Post-In-Law Slump

They came.

And you just never know what to expect when they come.

I always expect the worst and occasionally enjoy the surprise of a fun visit with no confrontational letters later.

But I knew this time; I could tell.  Just two days in and she was frazzled, and he was rescuing her as well he should.  The next day political spats began and came to a teary climax the next morning.  And that afternoon the daggers shot from eyes and words began to me murmered under breath and "going home early" was overheard.

I stayed buried the whole time in the protection of a good book.  But I knew. . .  They were leaving and the letter would come - the letter that would trip me up and land me on my backside, hard on the ground, sore and shaken.

They left early on Sunday morning.  We spent the day relaxing, recovering. 

And then it came that night, after promises of no hate or anger or drama - the note.  She must have written it as soon as she got home and then pushed the "send" button before we could even get in bed for the night and sleep peaceful.

A tyrade of anger and rage, it questioned my parenting, my faith, my homemaking, my integrity.  Everything from false accusations pointed at my children to criticism of my reading all week. . .  I knew in my heart that it was all wrong - all an attempt to make me cry, make me grovel, make me apologize for nothing I did wrong. 

But my head kept telling me there was something to it.  And, as always, I gave into the guilt.  My stomach knotted and my eyes burned in secret moments over laundry, in the shower, in the dark in my bed.  I didn't want anyone to know; didn't want to make the situation any more horrible.

How do you recover from that?  How do you pull yourself out of the pit made for you by someone close?

You look to God for the lesson in it all:  Be content with what you have, where you are, who you spend the moments with.  Because lack of contentment and joy-in-the-moment lead only to bitterness and a biting tongue.

And then you sit back contented in the place He's placed you.  You look around and find the joy-moments, the love notes from God worth oh so much more than the hate mail in your in-box.  You let Him hold you with each moment and rest in His grace which is greater than every real and imagined short-coming.

* 3yo in a cowboy vest hand-stitched by my Mother-in-Law.
* Seed shopping with my kids at a local farm store.
* Bees on smiling sunflowers.  Resident monarch on the zinnias.
* Laughing with my chidren.  Laughing with my husband.
* 3yo gripping a lollipop in a tight fist - eating slowly, one lick at a time.
* Slurping noodles - big smiles and laughs.
* Bright striped pants and polka-dotted shirt with blue Mary Janes - a look only a kid could pull off.
* Blanket forts in a tree.
* Small, sweet tomatoes from the garden.
* Easing a younger mom's mind.
* 3yo:  "I want you. . . mom. . ."  and  "Is that the cross God died on?"
* The serene scent of a book.
* Sweaty bare toes in sand.
* That I always have a choice in how I react.
* A purple pepper found in the garden.
* Cherry tomatoes:  "These tomatoes are making me happy, mom!"
* A second small crop of tomatoes.
* Falling asleep to cricket-chirp and waking to bird-song.
* The sound of the wind.
* Watching 7yo create, thought to paper.  And coming to understand her a little better.
* Warm, moist kiss on my forehead.

Saving Me from Myself ~ A Personalized Telling of Psalm 91

When I step outside my hectic day to spend a quiet moment with Him,
I find the way to stay with Him. . . all day.
Then I can say, with laughter on lips, "He's here!
A refuge for me. . . all day!"

He saves me from myself: the sins that trip me up and throw me down,
The sins that make me sick in mind and body and soul.
When I'm most deeply submerged in those sins, He spreads His wings and beckons.
I can hide there, in Him.
I can find protection in Him, in the truth of His Word.
I can find relief from my sins, the anxiety that makes me watch the night clock,
The worries that go right to my heart when I rise,
The panic that makes me weak and stomach sick,
And the fear that wrecks my day. . . if I will just take that moment with Him.

All around me, they fall in their sins. . .
Family and friends, even, collapse in a pile of sorrow and self-inflicted grief;
But I can be saved from this - I need not be swallowed whole.
I look around
And I see what comes of sin - of giving oneself over to the pull of it all.

I must make the Lord, alone, my refuge;
I must dwell in Him, dwell on Him.
For with my mind set on God and my soul finding rest in Him
I am saved from myself - that sickness, that sin, no longer has a hold on me or my home.
Angels around me, surround me
To keep watch over me, to help me.
Just as I fall, I call out and they catch me,
Providing a buffer - saving me from myself.
I can face these anxieties!
From the greatest fear to the smallest worry, I can face it all. . . if I'll just take that moment with Him.

May the Lord say of me, "She's oh so human and falls again and again;
But she loves Me.  I will help her; I will love her.
She calls on My name each time she falls; I will lift her up out of this. . . again.
I will be with her through every temptation;
I will deliver her.
I will show her the satisfaction of a life lived in Me.
I will save her from herself."

Shelter from the Storm

There's a storm inside me. . . often. . .

It develops when a full agenda colides with child rowdiness and fluctuating hormones. . .

And then it thunders inside my chest and rain beats against my brain. . .

Like the weather, I have little control over the development of these storms. . .  But, just like with the weather, when I know a storm's a-brewin', I can take steps to deal with the rain and wind.  I can find shelter - for me and my family.  Shelter from the storm inside me.

I can take a break from the full agenda - even just a few minutes outside in fresh air.  I can love my kids and shower them with hugs and laughter.  I can drink a glass of ice cold water and dip my feet in the stream and breathe. . . and thank Him for every blessing, big and small.

Like. . .

* Solitary trips to the library - quick, quiet and productive - a time to hunt for treasure while helpful librarians get me books from archives.

* Free showers for my kids as they play in the rain.  And that same cold rain cools me off after a hot, exhausting day.

* Protection and shelter through scary storms and tornado warnings late into the night.

* Dry-milk-in-the-mix pancake mix when I realize we're out of milk!

* Waking, checking the time, and falling back to sleep for another couple hours.

* The promise of cooler temps and more fun outdoors.

* The calm after the storm.

* Imagination.  I'll focus on the blessings of this trait. . .

* Easy-peasy menus.

* My four loud, boistrous, energetic, creatively messy kids ~ I do love them.

* Do-overs! Grace! Second chances!

* A pile of dirty clothes = fellowship.

*A soothing, trickling stream in the backyard.  Oh, how peace and water seem so closely connected.

* Found tomato plants sprouting up all over my garden.

* Gray and gloomy mornings that  make you want to snuggle.

* Fuzzy socks and sweaters on cool summer mornings.

* The sound of geese flying.

The Things that Bring Peace

Just the right word of encouragement.

The sight and sound of water running through the back yard.

A cool breeze on a summer day ~ a breath of sweet-scented fresh air.

A gift from my mom.

An easy, mind-working book with that relaxing bit of British wit.

A moment with my journal.

Time digging bare-handed in dirt, growing something.

A Different Spin on Consistency

My goal for this week was to figure out some easy ways to be more consistent in our home education.

So, of course, this is the week my husband comes down with viral meningitis. 

"Consistency-in-home-education week" has started out looking like my kids locked in the family room with the TV on almost all day. . . and all night as they are all sleeping down there - all this in an effort to keep the master bedroom as noise-free as possible.

My house-keeping isn't going much better, but that's another post. . .

I've been tempted several times in the last few days to get discouraged. . .  Okay, not discouraged; more like a mix of angry and depressed. . .  But, I'm choosing to take a different approach than I have been most of this horrible flu season we've gone through.

First, I'm seizing just a few of the opportunities available for small lessons throughout the day.  For instance, I've used some of the fights springing up amongst my tired, stir-crazy, irritable kids this Valentine's Day as opportunities to teach the Biblical principle of loving others.  I've also told the kids that, each day, when they go out to play or just take the dog out or run to the store for more meds for their daddy, to look for signs of spring - green leaves, flowers, robins. . .

Second, however, I'm refusing to seize every single opportunity to teach my kids something.  I've been tempted, don't get me wrong.  It would sound so good to say I've "seized every opportunity"; but the reality is that I'm slap exhausted from running up and down stairs and answering the cries of five instead of just four all day long.  If I seized every free moment I found, I'd collapse.  So, much of the time, I'm sitting down in five minute incriments to take a breather, close my eyes, pray, cry a bit. . . 

And, third, I'm constantly reminding myself not to feel guilty.  I'm making myself focus on the hour or two I locked my kids out back in the unusually nice weather this afternoon; the quick trip to the library with my two youngest that, granted, was filled with tired-4yo-tantrums, but was, nonetheless, "educational" to a degree; the flower seeds I gave the kids for Valentine's Day and all the garden planning we can do throughout the week. . .  I'm shifting my focus from what I'm not getting done, from the schedule I'm not keeping and the lists I'm not checking my way through; and I'm setting it on what I am getting done, however little that may be.

So, while I had plans to become more consistent in our schooling this week, maybe God just had other plans.  Or, maybe I am becoming more consistent - in His eyes:  consistently finding ways to teach small lessons, consistently taking a little extra care with myself, and consistently looking at the small successes instead of the small failures.

Restoration

How do things get so off-track so quickly?  And why does it seem, after being completely de-railed, so impossible to get back on-track?

Over the past few days I've fought with my husband, saying some of the worst things. . .  I've lost countless hours of restorative sleep. . .  Pockets-full of opportunites to teach my children lost to cleaning, cooking, sleeping. . .  Every goal all but forgotten. . .

"I will restore to you the years the locusts have eaten."  ~Joel 2:25

How 'bout the mere days?  Can I repent and have them restored?  Can I get that time - those opportunites back?  Will God pick me up and put me back on track - push me along - get me going again?  I need a jump start.

I want a Dr. Pepper, a good book, some time alone. . .

All I need is Him - His grace, forgiveness, voice, arms. . .

"Lord, forgive me - forgive me my careless, heartless words; my innaction and wrong priorities; my failure to let You lead; my obstinacy. . .

"Lord, help me - help me to shut my mouth and open my heart and ears, my schedule and agenda, my life. . .

"Lord, guide me - guide me through life, marriage and parenting, and the nitty-gritty details of keeping house and teaching children that so often trip me up. . .

"Lord, restore - restore not just time and opportunity, but love and kindness - virtue. . ."

All is not lost.  Every goal need not be swept away to begin again.  God can put me back on track right where I came off.  I can start fresh, with Him, right now.  I can keep on, allowing Him to change me, to use me in spite of my weaknesses.  He can and will restore - right now.