Tag: peace

How to hope when your child’s life is out of your control

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I’ve been quiet on here lately.  The reasons may be obvious, that life is real and messy and spilling over at the brim.  But these real messy days that have a way of shutting everything else down for a bit?  These are the spaces where I’m learning what it means to have faith, what it means to claim joy, what it means to lay my life down in love, and what it means to hold onto hope. These things get real when you need them most.  I don’t want to miss the opportunity to walk with you right here in the messy middle.

In this new year, I’m reflecting again on the big and beautiful invitations of motherhood.  There are these exquisite invitations to walk in joy when it makes no sense, to claim peace when anxiety is far more logical, to be carried by trust, when our hands want to hold on with the tightest grip.  

In the early days, I was the mom with Excel spreadsheets to keep track of nap and feeding schedules.  I was convinced that if I did it right, motherhood didn’t have to be so overwhelming, or quite so life-altering, and that dedicated effort could make it work better than the stories I heard.  We would make a home of peace and calm.  Sure, there are lots of things parents can do to cultivate that kind of home, but control it we cannot.  And convincing ourselves that we can control it can lead us right into a sticky, muddy pit of frustration.

I think it’s normal, even wise and industrious, to enter this parenting thing with a shelf full of books, a mind full of strategies, and a heart full of hope.

But before long, the reality crushed me, and I started scrambling for a sturdier foundation.  Maybe you, too.

The reality of children who make their own choices and have their own bad days and go against the grain. The reality of waking up to a brand new child who no longer sleeps or eats or obeys. We had just figured out a discipline strategy that worked, and then it didn’t.  We thought we found the sport that we would play as a family, and then she decided she hated it. We bought new clothes with approval, but putting them on was a constant battle. I had a fun day planned, but he decided to be oppositional.  Someone got stung by a bee.  Someone had an accident.  Someone spiked a fever.  Unexpected trip to the ER.  Up all night for some unknown reason.  Sudden and unexplainable temper tantrums.

The life of a mama is not her own, and the lives of our children aren’t ours either. We can drive ourselves crazy wondering when the joy and peace are going to just start flowing.

The only thing that’s predictable is that every day holds unpredictability.

Little by little, in those early years of motherhood, I was glimpsing the reality of my children’s independent identities and dispositions that I didn’t understand and that my parenting books failed to mention. I was facing the strength and character that manifests in unfiltered form as defiance or disrespect.  And I was navigating the frustrating mystery of trying to meet needs that cannot be communicated by tiny preverbal people.

I was seeing the unpredictability of it all, and the reality of my own limitations, the consequences of prolonged sleep deprivation, the impossibility of being everywhere for everyone at once.

I was finding out about the limits of my patience, that seemed to be fixed to hit empty at about 5pm every day.

And I was facing the reality of a distance between my child’s heart and my own, and the disconnect between what their daddy and I are saying and what our little loves are hearing.

And more than anything, I was facing the reality of my intense attachment to thinking I could control the outcomes.

I try to be intentional about connecting with their hearts. . . but they sometimes do not feel loved.

I try to be attentive to their safety. . .but we’ve had numerous trips to the ER.

I try to listen well. . .but they sometimes do not feel heard.

I believe in and teach them about the power of their friendships with one another, but they hit each other and hurt each other’s hearts.

At some point, I had that gut-wrenching realization that makes the older mamas grab their chests and say “I know.”

I can’t protect them.

I can’t defend them.

I can’t make them believe. 

I can’t meet all of their needs.

I am going to hurt their hearts, and the world will too.

The world isn’t going to go easy on them just because I want it so badly.

They will face danger, get scars, maybe even know the names and faces of the staff at the closest ER. (This may already be the case for a few of them!)

I can’t make them receive my love the way I meant to send it.

I can’t do this perfectly. . .or sometimes even well.

But you and I?  We have to keep getting up and being Mom, and God’s word says there is joy and abundance for us to claim, so I figure there has got to be more to the story than all of those can’ts. 

The more tightly I grip to what I had wanted it to look like, the more it all seems to slip away.  The more I hover to try to keep my children safe, the more anxious and susceptible to injury everyone is.  The more I try to control, the more they are inclined to rebel.  The more I push the sport or the interest I want them to have, the more they resist.  And it’s like that moment when you squeeze silky soft white sand in the palm of your hand and suddenly realize your hand is empty.  You didn’t realize you were holding it too tightly, but it just suddenly slipped away.

Around the time when my insides twisted in knots over what I didn’t realize I had signed up for in motherhood — that it is an endless road of being split wide open, and an endless road of surrender and lack of control, and an endless road of desperate prayers — I heard the Lord whisper a question to my heart:  Do you trust me?

I wrestled over and over it but when I finally nodded a feeble “yes,” I began to hear the sweetest invitation from the Lord.  I began to hear him inviting me to be held with all my vulnerabilities.  I heard him inviting me to cry out all my fears and just let Him be my everything. I didn’t need to shake off the fear of something happening to my children, I could climb into His lap and tell Him about it like a bad dream, let Him hold me and tell me He’s never going to leave or change or stop loving us.  I don’t have to beg Him. I can let Him hold me and tell me how much he delights in these children of mine, and in my mama bear heart.

I can choose to look into the eyes of Eternal Understanding with a feeble childlike yes. 

Of course we hope and pray that everything will be ok for our kids. . . it would be weird if we didn’t.  But our hope can’t live there.  We can’t be sure of the choices our children will make in their lives, but we can be sure that there will always be a gentle whisper of God pursuing their hearts.  We can’t be sure that their life will be free of pain, but we can be sure that God always sees, always knows, and is always working for their good.  We can’t be sure of the circumstances they will face or avoid, but we can be sure that our Father God is the same yesterday, today, and forever.

These days, I’m grateful that I’m not in control of my children. This wild ride of life is far better engineered by the One who engineered our wild hearts. Being a mama set free is all about serving as a big ole’ road sign pointing straight at the heart of God.  If we show our children how to fix their eyes there, than we have nothing to fear.

 

John 14: 26-27 But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you all things and will remind you of everything I have said to you. Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.

2 Corinthians 12: 9-10 But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

Psalm 139: 7-12 Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.

Romans 8: 28 And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.

Hebrews 13: 8 Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.

When you need to walk on water in the middle of crashing waves

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Matthew 14:22-33 NIV
Immediately Jesus made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead of him to the other side, while he dismissed the crowd. After he had dismissed them, he went up on a mountainside by himself to pray. Later that night, he was there alone, and the boat was already a considerable distance from land, buffeted by the waves because the wind was against it.  Shortly before dawn Jesus went out to them, walking on the lake. When the disciples saw him walking on the lake, they were terrified. “It’s a ghost,” they said, and cried out in fear. 
But Jesus immediately said to them: “Take courage! It is I. Don’t be afraid.”
“Lord, if it’s you,” Peter replied, “tell me to come to you on the water.”
“Come,” he said.
Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus.  But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, “Lord, save me!”  Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. “You of little faith,” he said, “why did you doubt?” 
And when they climbed into the boat, the wind died down. Then those who were in the boat worshiped him, saying, “Truly you are the Son of God.”

 

I have mixed feelings about this story.

If I had designed these events as a reflection of my own heart, things would have gone a little differently…

The beautiful and captivating story of Peter walking on water, the redemptive story of my own life, the exquisite story of all of creation…  If these were written as a reflection of my own anxious heart, they would be written through the lens of pain avoidance rather than redemption, self-sufficiency rather than dependence, comfort and ease rather than faith, perfection rather than sanctification, quick answers rather than perseverance that builds character and character that builds hope. 

The Jesus made in my own image would have calmed the storm before he invited Peter to Come.  He wouldn’t have let it hurt.  He would have kept it neat and tidy.  Jesus would have made His command to “Take courage” nice and easy, because He would have silenced the waves and thunder, preemptively.

But God, in His great mercy, made me in His image instead – not the other way around.  God in His infinite wisdom, orchestrated the events of this passage of scripture, in this particular way.  And you and I both know that a story in which the miracle happens while the wind is still blowing and the waves are still crashing, is a whole lot more relevant to our real lives.

I want to walk on water to Jesus, don’t you?  I want to be brave.  I long to have adventures with the Lord, to co-labor with Him, and be called into supernatural places.  But before I step out of the boat, I’d prefer sunny skies and calm waters and life vests, and a well-established Plan B.  

It’s easy to be courageous in calm waters.  It’s easy to trust Jesus when things are easy and predictable.  But we learn what our faith is made of when the skies grow dark and the waters get a little rocky.  We learn to trust Jesus when we answer His invitation to lock eyes and Come, right in the middle of the storm.   

I’m beginning to see that we can’t wait until life pauses to figure out how to walk with the Lord.  Marriage and motherhood have made life more raw, more vulnerable, and the pauses more rare.  Nothing feels easy and predictable when these precious pieces of my heart are running around this scary world of ours.

This parenting journey has stripped off all of the nice churchy things I used to wear, and held a mirror to my heart.  It has revealed the places of my heart that have been fortified in truth, and the places where my heart is still a little squishy and lukewarm.  Motherhood has revealed the ways I’m walking in the truth of my new, empowered, victorious identity in Christ and the ways I’m still walking with a limp. (2 Corinthians 5: 17)

The things that spill out of me when I’m sleep deprived or disrespected are the very places in my heart where I need a holy healing touch from our Living God.  I’m beginning to see that we cannot build a life of faith when we only walk with Jesus in calm waters.  If we are going to walk in God’s promises, we need more than Sunday mornings and quiet times.  We need a real God with reckless love who speaks into the middle of our messy lives, in real time.  And that is the God we have.  Hallelujah!

When my home feels loud and busy and chaotic, I can’t always get away to be alone with the Lord.

You too, mama?

I’m beginning to look for the eyes of Jesus right in the middle of the noise, and ask Him if I can Come.  He steadies me and lets me walk right on top of the raging waves.

Hear me…I believe in drawing away to be alone with the Lord, and I seek to do it every. single. day.  But I am learning to lock eyes with Jesus and walk to Him, on the days when I didn’t get to have an idyllic quiet time with morning dew and chirping birds.  God meant for his promises to stand when we were still waiting for a chance to go to the mountaintop.

I’m learning to lock eyes with Jesus and walk to Him, while five little people need five different things… when I don’t know if it’s going to be ok… when I’m confused and uncertain… and when this mama actually has no earthly idea what is best.   I am learning to lock eyes with Jesus and walk to him on the days when I did everything wrong.  I am learning to cry out to him to save me, right after my faith has been weak.

Maybe you have made the same observation about parenting that I have.  It never stops.  It just keeps coming, and each new day has new challenges, new uncertainties, new things you’ve never done before, conversations you’ve never had before.  If we wait until it all calms down to learn to walk with Jesus, we might miss our opportunity to rest in him when we really need him.  And we might miss our chance to raise children who walk on water.  

Needing Jesus this way…this is holy ground, sweet friends.

Jesus did not say “Take courage.  There is no storm.”

He did not say “Take courage.  It will be over soon.”

He said “Take courage.  It is I.”

The reason for our courage cannot be the absence of difficulty, but the presence of Christ.  

Like Peter, when we look at the wind and the waves, we become afraid.  If I look upon one of my children and imagine all of the ways things could go wrong, I start to sink beneath the water, right then and there.  My fear writes the story, and I can’t think of anything to say in their broken moment except the things my sweet ones are doing wrong.  But when I look at the eyes of Jesus, I can see with new eyes.  The waves are in my peripheral vision – their power insignificant in light of the power of Christ.

When I lock eyes with Jesus, I see my loved ones through God’s eyes.  I see with hope for breakthrough and healing and miracles.  I see with endless possibility.  Shortcomings fall into the shadow of the glorious love of God through the blood of Christ.

When the things we see with our eyes make us feel like treading water is the very best we could hope for, with an ominous sense that we will only last a few moments more, we can lock eyes with Jesus.  He invites us to walk right on top of the disappointments, the fears, the unfulfilled dreams, the uncertain futures.  He invites us to dance in worship to the drumming beat of thunder, with the sway of the mighty wind, and the beat of the pounding waves of the most chaotic and difficult days.

We lock eyes with the God of the Most High and we become like David, who looks on his companions, trembling in fear of the giant before them and says “…Who is this uncircumcised Philistine that he should defy the armies of the living God?” (1 Samuel 17:26)

When we know who is for us, we fear not that which is against us. 

Sister, whatever waves you are facing today in your home, lift your eyes from the challenges, the inadequacies, the uncertainties, to meet the tender-loving eyes of Christ.  Hold within your gaze the truth of God’s power and might, the truth of His fatherly love and his endless mercy, the truth of His sovereignty and everlasting kindness.

Although the frothy ripples of your unique sea of circumstances may still clap against your feet, you will be empowered by the presence of Christ to walk above the fray.  

Embracing the gift of waiting, in a world that forgot how

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Sweet eyes of wonder, watching the snow come down…

Wait for the LORD; be strong and courageous. Wait for the LORD.

Psalm 27:14

Christmas season as a mama of young children sometimes feels like a deep isometric stretch – a steady work of holding joy and calm, while the muscles of the heart burns with laying our lives down, carrying the load of work for the sake of our family’s jubilation.

Together, we hold the immense privilege and the immense responsibility of being mama.

I feel on my shoulders the honor and the duty to steer through the busyness with grace, while working to create a home of peace, and a steadfast notice of Emmanuel.

This season, I revel in the abundance of joy, the abundance of events, the abundance of distractions, the abundance of blessing, the sheer abundance of the day.  And I’m holding a posture of praise with quivering muscles, while the rush of more, faster, better badgers me.

You too, Mama?

The eyes of our children are full of hopeful expectancy and carefree delight.  The days are sprinkled with countdowns and Advent calendars full of chocolate and burgeoning excitement that sometimes feels more like a tornado in our homes.  But their waiting is what makes Christmas morning so sweet.  Their waiting draws them in, and prepares their hearts for explosive joy on Christmas morning.

The mystery breeds the magic.

And for all of us, Advent is about waiting and preparing, yes for presents, but ultimately for the most extraordinary gift of Christ.  But I can’t help but notice that we aren’t very good at waiting these days.  In the days of high-speed internet, digital pictures (remember when we had to take them to get developed?), Amazon Prime with free one day delivery, and GoogleMaps that can tell us how to avoid the traffic…waiting can feel unfamiliar, and awkward.

I think God’s Word whispers that waiting and faith go hand-in-hand, and I sense a sweetness in resting in the arms of God in the in-between place.

 Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.  This is what the ancients were commended for.

Hebrews 11: 1-2 NIV

And it shall be said in that day, Lo, this is our God; we have waited for him, and he will save us: this is the Lord; we have waited for him, we will be glad and rejoice in his salvation.

Isaiah 25: 9 KJV

I wonder if Advent is meant to invite us in to the mystery that requires us to trust.  I wonder if preparing to receive Christ looks a bit like working the muscle of delighting in God amidst waiting.  The heroes of our faith drew close to the heart of God while waiting for answers to prayers, waiting for promises to be fulfilled, waiting for dreams to come true.  I’m falling in love with a season placed in our calendars that was meant to invite us to wait and prepare to freshly receive the fulfillment of the greatest promise – the promise of a Rescuer, a Savior, a King.

In 2017, busy is a bit more comfortable than slow.  A season to get things done is more familiar than a season meant to be an interlude.  Most of us feel more closely acquainted with work than with rest.

But I sense a beautiful invitation in Advent, to find God in the pause, to let our hearts rest in the wait, to let our wonder and our longing grow, and to let a joyful anticipation for Christ well up in our souls.

I taste the wonder of Christmas when I sing Silent Night, or when I sit by our Christmas tree and watch the flames wink and dance in my fireplace.  I feel that flutter of excitement in my chest, and for a moment, I grasp the magnitude of God With Us, as I simply let my heart pause and accept the discomfort of still.   

In waiting, God invites us to come a little bit closer to his heart, and to be held, not by certainty and predictability, but by his arms of goodness and grace.  

Whatever you might be waiting for this Christmas…a prayer to be answered, a longing to be fulfilled, or simply to be finished with all the To Do’s of the season, may your aching be met by the eyes of God inviting you to be held.

And may your Christmas morning be a sweet fulfillment of your deepest longing…may you feel met by Lover of our Souls, who came to dwell among us, to reconcile us to himself, and to invite us into the intimate nearness with him that we were made to enjoy.

 

When you need to break free from worry

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You will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast,

because they trust in you.  

Trust in the Lord forever, for the Lord,

the Lord himself, is the Rock eternal.  

Isaiah 26: 3-4

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Perfect peace.

The sun glitters in the slanted blinds, and a word glints in the depths of me – this maddeningly elusive and perfectly impossible word…

Peace.

In a world of rush hour traffic, ever-increasing internet speed, and stress as a badge of honor, peace feels impractical, even self-indulgent.

The more I allow my thoughts to swirl over my children –  about the risk of injury, the fragility of life, the pressures to keep up in school, the endless online world, the hazards of just walking this earth brushing up against other humans who hurt each other… the more I think, the heavier my burden, the tighter my grip around the children I’m desperate to protect.

Dangers are real, and we suffer in this life.  We know and hate to believe that our children will, too.

As much as I love to hear a comforting “They’ll be fine,” from a mama who has gone before me, I can’t help but scream inside “How do you know?!” and let my mind jump to friends whose children were not fine, or times that my worry seemed to be the reason I made the right decision about going to the ER.

Truly, the answer to endless worry over our children is never in logically determining that it will all be ok.

I envy the beautifully shameless relaxation of the perfect little face of my sleeping babe, and I wonder at what it must be like.  To fret not.  To rest when sleep calls.  To never fear for the events of the day.  To explore the world with eager expectation and hope.

But we’re told in God’s word that this kind of peace is available to us in Christ – not a life without responsibility or hardship, but a Life. Without. Worry.

Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.  And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Philippians 4: 6-7

As we make choices of trust, of gratitude, of prayer, of supplication, God’s peace enters in and stands guard over our hearts and minds.

Our hope must rest on something more secure than our circumstances.  The irritatingly simple truth is that one thing keeps us in perfect peace…  One thing allows us to walk through this life free from a mind full of worry…  One thing allows us to remain steady, unflappable… Trust in the Lord, the Rock eternal.  

We all know this is easier said than done, but I am seeing my own mind of worry transformed in a million tiny choices to trust that God is who He says He is.  

Rather than feeling victim to life’s circumstances, weak and powerless, we can instead – by the power of Christ – walk in peace, strong and empowered to make choices for our families, free from worry and fear.  We can strongly choose to take reasonable precautions with our children – not out of fear, but LOVE.  We can powerfully choose to set boundaries on what they are allowed to do, where they are allowed to go, or when they need to see a doctor – not out of fear but LOVE.  We can strongly choose how to guide and shepherd them, using the powerful minds God gave us, but reject the worry that so easily partners with us.

We can choose to believe that the Lord is always good (Psalm 145: 9).  We can choose to believe that his grace is sufficient (2 Corinthians 12: 9).  We can choose to believe that he will never leave us or forsake us (Deuteronomy 31: 6).  We can choose to believe that God hems us in, behind and before (Psalm 139).  We can choose to believe his promises for our children, and for their mamas.

As you care for your littles ones today, sweet mama, may you go out in sparkling joy and be led forth in perfect peace.

 

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