Who But God . . .

When God wants us to do something, there is no denying Him.  For the past several years, he has been showing me something; stirring me to action, relentless in His pursuit.  I can only compare it to being romanced, swept off my feet.  During this time, he has wooed me with the beauty of His creation, whispering in my ear as I gazed at a glorious sunset, “This is for you.”  He has touched me through His majesty of a sunrise mountain scene or the elegance of a single flower.  He has read His poetry to me, telling me of His love for me and for His desire to be my bridegroom.  He has held me close when I ached to be touched.  His passion has moved me to tears; He has demonstrated His love for me through my husband, his adoration through my children, His unconditional acceptance through my family and His companionship through my friends.  When my desire for Him began to run cold He flamed the fires of my passions.  He sent people to me that rekindled my longing and taught me to desire Him again.

I haven’t always recognized Him though; often times I thought the earthly things He used were enough for me.  But no matter how beautiful, how touching or how dear, they will never fully satisfy.  Just recently, as I’ve begun to ponder His thoughts toward me, do I get a glimpse of His intimate desire for me personally.  As if I’m the only woman for Him.  As if I alone can satisfy His longing.  Only God can make me feel that way – what man on earth stands a chance to capture a woman’s heart like Him?  What earthly man could stir a woman’s desire and satisfy her longings so completely.

Who but God created beauty?

Who but God knows how to love?

Who but God refused to live without me?

Who but God longs for me day and night?

Who but God can touch my soul, fill my lungs with breath and cause my heart to beat?

Who but God can fulfill my every longing, satisfy my every desire and understand my passion?

No one but Him

What is it my God wants me to do?  I don’t know exactly . . . yet.  I do know that falling in love with Him these past few years was essential to whatever that calling will be.  I know through experience that when I love someone there is nothing I wouldn’t do for them; no sacrifice I wouldn’t make, nothing I wouldn’t deny myself for their happiness.  I’m excited to be at this place with Him and so it is with great anticipation that I wait upon His next word; His next revelation . . . His next touch.

Several Hours at 11

This past Saturday, I spent most of the day “alone” with my 11-year old son; just the two of us at home.  After exhausting indoor activities, we decided to go outside.  We sat in the grass in our front yard and there found a colony of those tiny spiders that make little inverse volcano shaped holes in the ground.  We spent quite a while spilling small amounts of sand into one of the holes and then watching the little spider dig it out again.  We laughed in amazement each time we saw the dirt start to fly out of the hole.  My son said, “That spider sure has a good work ethic.  I wonder what he thinks is happening up here.”  Of course, we then found some tiny little ants to throw into the hole to see if we could get the spider to come out and take the bait.  Luckily for the ants, he didn’t.  He must’ve gotten wise to us because he even stopped clearing out the little bits of dirt we would throw in.

While we were sitting there playing with the spider, a duck flew over and landed in one of the trees in our yard.  He then flew to our neighbor’s pond only to be chased out by the geese that are nesting there.  We watched as he tried to land in several different spots only to be chased out again.  My son said, “I guess that pond isn’t big enough for the both of them.”  I laughed.  “I said, ya know there’s an old saying like that. “  He said, “I guess the old person who said it must’ve had geese in his pond too.” 

He asked me what I thought animals think about.  I said, “I suppose they think about food, shelter and taking care of their babies.”  He was quiet for a while, “they’re a lot like us aren’t they?  Except, we know God created us and they don’t.”  He was quiet again and then said, “Actually, I think they know Him too because they love their babies.”  I smiled and nodded as I looked into his very serious big brown eyes, “Yes, I think you must be right.”

We decided to get some exercise by walking around the yard.  The sun was setting and each time we walked in front of the house, he would walk to the edge of the fence, past the trees in our yard and see how low the sun was getting in the sky.  “Next time around it should be perfect!” he said.  It took three more laps before he decided it was perfect.  The sky was scattered with several billowing clouds through which the sun streaked brilliant pinks, lavenders, and golden rays.  We stood in silence watching the spectacular event.  After several minutes, I looked over at my beautiful son; the warm glow of the setting sun lit up his face like a candle.  I stroked his smooth, still rounded youthful cheek.  He looked at me and smiled.  I smiled back.  “You were right, this time is perfect.” 

What a gift he gave me that day; to be 11.  To be completely in the moment; to have deep thoughts about spiders, geese, ducks and sunsets.  Through him I got a glimpse of the Kingdom.

Matthew 18:3 – “And he said:  I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”

Date Knight

I met my husband when I was 19.  We’ve been together 30 years, married 25.  We were married 10 years before having our first son.  Our second son came along 4 years later.  So, when he suggested we go on a “date” last week, it should’ve been no big deal, right?  Wrong!  We haven’t been alone together on a date in 15 years (the age of our oldest son).  We both LOVE being parents and our identities are firmly grounded in these now familiar and very comfortable roles . . . and we wouldn’t have it any other way.  But . . . it sounded like a nice idea to both of us.  Not being sure what we should do at this age, (49 and 50) we decided dinner was a good start and then we would head over to a charity art auction.

All week I thought about our date; what I would wear, what we would talk about, what it would feel like to be without the boys.  And, I worried . . . was our will up to date?  Would our good friends the Gibsons still want to raise our sons if something happened to us, would my husband still find me interesting as “just” a woman (not Mom)?  Okay, I’m a worrier.  Friday night I was the most anxious – good and bad anxiety.  I did the only thing I know to do when I’m stressed, I prayed.  I gave my fears and worries to God.  I acknowledged my boys were His and that my marriage was His as well and asked him to guide our family’s night apart.

On Saturday night after we had dropped off the boys with our friends, we went home to get ready.  I dressed in another room so I could surprise Don with my outfit.  When we were ready to leave, I walked out of the bedroom and presented myself to him, “How do I look?” I asked.  His face lit up and a smile spread across his face, “Maybe we should just stay home!” he laughed.  “You look so beautiful – you still amaze me.”  He walked over and kissed me, “Wow!  I’m so lucky to have you as my wife.”  I should tell you how amazing Don looked too . . . he had bought a white sport coat and was wearing a black collared shirt under that.  His white goatee and hair perfectly contrasted against the black and were highlighted by the white; incredibly handsome and put together just for me.  It’s funny, but as I’ve gotten older, I find white hair on men to be incredibly sexy.

As we drove to dinner, we laughed a lot and listened to some of our favorite music (loud).  We sat in the lounge of the restaurant before dinner and to my amazement, I found that Don was nervous.  It was like our first date.  He was charming and composed, but blushed when I looked at him.  He was careful and slow to put his arm around the back of my chair.  I laughed lightly and leaned in close, “I’m already yours” I whispered.  He laughed too, “I don’t know why I’m so nervous – it’s pathetic.  But you’re so beautiful . . . sometimes it’s hard for me to believe you’re mine.”

At the charity event, our evening continued to be fun and I flirted with him.  I would wander away from him and then some handsome man would catch my eye from across the room . . . it was always him.  He would smile and I would give him the smile I reserve for only him. 

After we picked up our boys and they were asleep in their rooms, our night continued in the privacy and sanctity of our own room.  We celebrated our marriage and I was grateful to a God who created such a beautiful expression of love. 

I’ve been thinking about our date.  The smiles, the glances, the familiar mixed with the unfamiliar.  I’m no longer worried about finding our identity as a couple once the boys are no longer at home.  We will always find our way to one another; we are bound by and joined together by something so much more than physical; something greater than both of us . . . our God, and He promises to never let us go.

Take Heart

My youngest son is very sensitive.  He understands the “passing of time” and is very much in love with the life we live.  His depth often amazes me; he weeps when he takes communion at church and sometimes even during a sermon that touches his heart.  He is very affectionate with me and never misses an opportunity to tell me he loves me or that he thinks I’m pretty.  He laughs at all his Dad’s jokes and always tells him how funny he is.  And, he adores his older brother.  So much so, that recently he bought all the same color t-shirts so they can “match.” 

Yesterday, we had the opportunity to spend time with several “new” friends my oldest son has recently made.  They’re all in their teens and even though my youngest son is 4 years younger than most of them, they did their best to include him in their games.  However, there was a moment (I felt it too) when we realized that our older son was sort of “moving on” into an area of his life that we would be a smaller part of.  It was beautifully sad.  When all the kids except my youngest son had come downstairs for dessert, I went up to check on him.  He was sitting alone and I could tell he was upset.  As we talked, he said he didn’t know exactly what the problem was, but he felt sad like something was lost.  He cried and I hugged him and did my best to comfort him, but I felt like crying too.  I knew exactly what he meant and how he felt.

It’s the passing of a season; a time of growing and stretching for our family and although it’s all good and we’re happy to see our oldest make new friends and move into new circles, we are also painfully aware of the loss of what we have now.  We are aware that this time together is precious and rare.  

Maybe these glimpses of seeming perfection in our lives are glimpses of something eternal; the way life was meant to be experienced before the fall of mankind.  Maybe the awareness of the passing of them and the sadness it brings is our subconscious knowledge of how things should be.  It’s painful to live so fully; to be so thoroughly alive that it makes us raw and breaks our hearts.  But the alternative is unfathomable; to shut down and turn off our emotions; to numb ourselves so we can avoid the pain.  That is surely death.

So, this incident (from which my youngest son quickly recovered) has left me wrestling with a big question:

“What’s next”  . . .  for us as a family; for me as a Mom; for me as a woman?  I know God has the answers for me and as I struggle with my desires for how I’d like things to be, He is reminding me that my desire is good, but that I need to allow Him to satisfy it.

“You open your hand and satisfy the desires of every living thing” (Psalm 145:16)

“Praise the Lord, O my soul . . . who satisfies your desires with good things . . . “ (Psalm 103:5)

My Easter Dress

I was nine years old and very excited about the upcoming Easter holiday.  Easter was such a special time in our home.  My sisters and I always received the most beautiful baskets, with large chocolate eggs in them and then the whole family would get together at my Italian Grandparent’s home.  After church, Aunts, Uncles and cousins would come all dressed in their finest Easter clothes, and we would have lots of Italian food and special treats to eat.  I couldn’t wait!

That year my Mom worked at the Rexall Drug Store.  She would walk to work in the afternoon and come home late at night; sometimes after we were already in bed.  Most evenings though, she would be home in time for a late dinner and she always spent time talking to us and playing. 

In early spring, Mom had begun work on our Easter dresses.  This particular year, she had found the most beautiful material for mine; she said she got it on sale.  It was the freshest, silkiest white I had ever seen, with little pink and lavender flowers on it in neat little rows.  She also had some red silk ribbon for a sash.  I couldn’t wait to see what kind of dress she would make it into!

Each night after all of us kids were asleep (there were seven of us), Mom would stay up cutting and sewing late into the night.  Each morning when I woke up I would run to the living room to see the progress on my dress.  Mom would hang the dresses from an old bird cage hook in the living room.  Sometimes mine wouldn’t look any different, but my sisters’ would. 

That year, as I watched my beautiful Easter dress take form, I thought about Mom and how hard she worked at the store every day; how after walking home, she would prepare a meal for us and still seemed to be in a good mood; sitting with us to hear about our day and rubbing our backs as we sat on the couch.  And, then, when everyone else had enough day and we all fell into our beds exhausted, she would somehow find the energy to stay up and work on our dresses. 

A few days before Easter, I woke to find Mom had finished sewing my dress.  I stared at it in wonder and stroked the beautiful red satin ribbon that wound around the top of my dress.  I examined each little stitch and every little flower.  I had never seen a more beautiful or wonderfully made dress.  When Mom woke she came into the living room and saw me looking at my dress; in her warm smile, I found the explanation of how she was able to sew while everyone else slept. 

Finally Easter morning had arrived and we were all bustling around the house getting ready for church.  I woke extra early so I could wear my dress longer.  After my hair was brushed and pulled back, Mom carefully took the dress off the hook.  She slipped it over my head and zipped the back closed.  I looked up at her smiling face and was amazed at what I saw in her eyes; the joy she was feeling for having given me something so beautiful, so precious, and with such sacrifice. 

The dress felt as warm and comforting as one of her hugs.  It made me feel so clean and pure and fresh; like a newborn baby all wrapped in new blankets.  No one in the world had a dress like mine; sewn together with the perfect measure of sacrificial love, divine energy and pure joy.  That Easter, when I was nine years old, I understood the true meaning of Easter.  How Jesus sacrificed to make us new and pure, white as snow and I understood the love and joy He feels in having given us such a good and perfect gift.  

Spiritual Hunger

Embracing the Hunger

The hunger you’ve created in me goes unsatisfied . . .

I imagine what it would be like to give myself over to it;

A consuming fire

Lost in the expression until all else fades

No awareness of self

Just you

Until I’m spent

Poured out

Exhausted, Satisfied

Intense longing completely expressed

Not here, not now, not yet

My longing, my hunger, will only be satisfied

In the life of the world to come

Where spiritual overshadows physical

Where divine eclipses sensual

Glorious sunsets, fragrant blossoms, the touch of a loved one

All are beautiful glimpses, shadows and reflections of my eternal home.

I embrace this hunger

It is a promise of satisfaction

In the life of the world to come

God's Protection

The Lord promises to protect us in many verses throughout the Bible.  I didn’t understand that this could mean protection from myself, nor did I understand the great lengths to which He would go to fulfill His promises.  Not that I was actively testing this promise, it’s just something I realized while reflecting upon some recent events.  I now better understand the phrase, “fear of the Lord.”  When God sets about to do something, or to guard what is His, He will use any means necessary to accomplish His goal; and rightly so, because it all belongs to Him anyway;  everything and every person.  This is both a comforting thought and terrifying reality.  Not that I’m afraid of God; nothing could be further from the truth.  But I now realize how closely guarded I am and how He has been faithfully answering a prayer I uttered a couple of years ago asking for “protection.”  In fact, He had to recently remind me of that prayer and of the circumstances that caused me to ask Him for it.  I was in a good place and wanting to please Him in all things and so when I noticed a potential problem brewing, I had quickly gone to Him, asking Him to “keep me and protect me.”

Since praying that prayer, I tried several times to take it back.  I tried to reassure Him that I could handle things on my own and that I was over needing His protection in certain areas of my life, but that it would be alright if He wanted to keep protecting me in areas like preventing me from getting robbed, or my business from failing, or keeping the boys safe in their activities, but that there were other areas that I would just take back and keep under my control.  He sure doesn’t roll like that, does He?  Every plot, scheme or action I thought I would or could take, came to nothing.  Some of them so obviously foiled by Him that at times I would get mad at Him; other times I would be grateful.”  But honestly, mostly I’ve been frustrated.  Frustrated that things weren’t going the way I wanted; things I have no control over and never will.  But recently, I was broken . . . broken by self-perpetuated disappointment.  I surrendered.  Amazingly; even just writing that causes me pain, I get an uneasy feeling in my stomach and have to swallow hard not to tear up.  Surrender is difficult and sad; it feels like loss; but it is also immensely freeing.  I feel like a space has been opened up somewhere inside of me - space to make room for something else; something more lovely, more pure . . . something God can use.

And so, I realize how foolish I’ve been, but how He has protected me in my time of weakness.  How fortunate that I have a God that is faithful to His word and to His promises even when we are telling Him “no, not in this area” or “later, Lord, just not now.”  So, I’m not sure what this blog sounds like, but it is meant as praise . . . praise for His faithfulness; praise for His protection; praise that He will continue to guide me along this journey He has invited me on.  Praise for how hard it is along this road; praise that He is with me every step of the way; and praise that He is waiting for me at the end of it.

Sick and Psalms

I've been sick most of this week.  When I'm sick I read a lot (more) . . . today I found some of the Psalms I wrote and wanted to post this one because it still speaks to me. 

You have stirred my soul; my desire is to know you more

Lord, you see my struggles and my weaknesses, and you strengthen me

You remind me that I’m yours and not my own

You reach for me and pull me closer; my thoughts dwell on you

Lord, no one desires me like you do; you alone can satisfy my soul

You have given me all I need; I am satisfied and will not long for more

Nothing else I could desire compares with you

You have proven yourself faithful and have kept me from falling

You are my God, and I am yours

Pull me even closer Lord until every breath I breathe is filled with your Spirit

Resistance

Resistance:

I’ve been in this mode for a couple of years now; maybe longer . . . I’ve lost track.  I think the fact that I’ve lost track of how long I’ve been resisting is a good sign; maybe that means it’s getting easier.  I was thinking back and trying to remember when I realized I needed to resist some things and it occurred to me that although it has been a long time since I first began my resistance journey, it has been done one day at a time.  I sometimes allowed myself to think, “Maybe tomorrow or next time I will do that, say this, eat that, or laze around instead of being active, or work longer hours, or finish that before spending time with my boys.” 

I’ve discovered that I have matured to the point in my life that I know instinctively what I should resist.  However, I also realize I haven’t matured enough that I can easily let go of the desire or craving I’m experiencing.   I want desperately NOT to want the things that I know aren’t good for me and to desire those that are.  I’m reminded of Paul’s struggle in Romans 7:15 “. . . For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do.”  For me, while I’ve been able to resist the “big” things, I constantly pray that I will be released from even the desire for those things.  I ask God, “Wouldn’t it just be easier for everyone (especially me) if I just didn’t want those things?”  But then I refuse to let go.  I refuse to release the very thing that is causing this struggle in me.  Why? because the thought of having it brings me great pleasure.  My revised version of Paul’s lament then would be, “For what I want to desire I don’t, and what I do Not want to desire, I do.”

So far, I have learned that the problem is within me.  It isn’t the thing I want, it isn’t the other person, it isn’t the lack of time, and it isn’t even the devil.  I’ve also learned that resisting takes an inordinate amount of energy, time and thought.  It requires tons of prayer.  I’ve never prayed more; sought to know and understand God’s word more; and sought to be with God’s people more than since I started my resistance struggle. 

Today, I don’t have any regrets for “missing out” on the things I resisted; in fact I’m thankful for not having given into them.  Even though I derived temporary pleasure from eating that donut, sitting on the couch instead of exercising or working too many hours, I always regretted doing those things later.  Let me say it again, I don’t regret having resisted any of those “temptations.” 

As far as I’ve come, however, I realize that I have a longer road to travel.  I don’t know why God is requiring me to go through these daily struggles.  But I know from my history with Him that He has a purpose and I’ll be stronger on the other end.  Not so long ago, I would’ve given in to many of these same temptations and even regularly did (thus the need to lose 25 pounds).  But today, I’m 25 pounds lighter; my body is stronger than it has been in years; I've spent wonderful hours/days with my boys; I’ve discovered and read some amazing books by great theologians;  I’ve gained a deeper understand of scripture; I’ve met and have drawn closer to many Godly friends; and best of all, I’ve drawn closer to God.  Actually, He has drawn me closer to Himself.  He has carried me through each day.  He has whispered, “You can resist this today” when I was at my weakest.  While He hasn’t completely removed the “thorn in my flesh”, He has given me my daily dose of strength to resist it and I have come to expect that He will give me His strength tomorrow. 

Passion

Passion is powerful.

I realize this and so am always working to focus my own passion into productive, positive avenues (including people) because I’ve learned how destructive and consuming these passions can be left to their own devices.  My passion seems to have a mind of it’s own often wanting to take the paths that seem to offer the most excitement.  I’ve discovered the trick to controlling it is to remember I “own” the passion; it has to submit to my authority over it; it has to go where I direct it . . . much like the account in the Bible where Jesus directed the demons into the pigs.   Passions can be those demons and if left to work things out on their own, they may seek out those filthy pigs of deeds and activities and then run me off a cliff.  How’s that for a weird analogy? 

I recently had the opportunity to observe a young passionate woman at a very conservative gathering.  I watched in fascination at the scene.  She was expressing her deepest feelings and thoughts and she was bubbling over with excitement and enthusiasm about an interesting idea someone had put forth.  In my mind’s eye I could see the passion as if it were a dye spilling and splashing onto everyone as it gushed out of a spinning washing machine whose lid had been left open.  I looked around the room and made note of the responses; one man (the most gracious among us – and also a passionate person) was smiling and laughing out loud, which served to fuel her expression.  Another woman was also smiling broadly; I could see the affection on her face and an understanding – she too was “a passionate.”  But there were other responses; several people looked annoyed; many squirmed and looked uncomfortable.  Some listened for a while but soon tuned out – staring off into space or down at their shoes – probably distracted by their thoughts of work, children, parents or other worries. Out of about 20 of us, three or four “received” and appreciated her passion.

I love passionate people – I am one.  I love talking with them, spending time with them, doing most anything with them.  Passion is enticing, intoxicating, pleasurable, joyful, fun and breathtaking, but I’ve learned that it scares some people; makes others uncomfortable and still others endure it but hope it doesn’t spill onto them.  Passion is precious and should be given to those you love, to whom God directs you and into those activities that enrich your life and the lives of others.  Like light, when passion is focused and directed it has incredible power, but when it is untamed, it can leave us, and everyone near us, feeling overexposed.  It has led some people to achieve remarkable athletic feats, acquire vast amounts of knowledge and education and others to live selfless, charitable lives.  But, it has also led many down roads of reckless self-indulgence, selfishness and destruction.

As I finish writing my thoughts on passion, I find myself alone with my God.  I can begin to understand my own passion through His expression of passion toward me.  His singularly focused passion caused Him to step out of eternity and into time; to clothe Himself in humanity; to endure suffering and carry my sins to the cross.  An eternal God with such a passion for me that He tasted death so I wouldn’t have to; so that I could be with Him in eternity.  That’s what a focused, loving passion can do . . . it can save the world.  It saved me.