Stuck in the Muck

I haven't written in two months. I know. Not good. Because I really love it. It's therapeutic. But I've had no desire or urge lately.

I'm stuck in the muck. 

Not stuck in a rut. That's too easy to get out of. You just lift your foot up and step out. It may take a little desire and gumption, but it's not impossible. But stuck in the muck, now that's a different story. When you think about muck, what comes to mind? I think of dark, gooey, sloppy mud. It's smelly. It's thick. Your feet literally sink into it - perhaps all the way to your ankles. You are actually stuck. Every attempt at lifting your feet out sucks you deeper and tighter. On your own, there is no way out. Pretty dismal. 

And that's where I am.

Jackson and I returned from JH Ranch different people: Conquering fears. A heart of gratitude. A soul of obedience. A mind of dependency. Godly parenting. Honoring our parents. Deepening our relationship with each other. We still talk about our experience daily and what it meant to us.

As I've mentioned before, I subscribe to Proverbs 31 daily devotions. You'd think that because they are readily available in my inbox every morning, I'd be so faithful. But to be perfectly honest, sometimes I look at them and think, "I'll read it later." Then I put it in an email folder where I save those I really find inspiring or timely. Anyway, that's where I found their "Stuck in the Muck" devotion.  You can read it here.

Boy, did that speak to me. You see, I am sooooooo stuck in the muck. And (as I journaled about this yesterday) it shows in almost every aspect of my life:

1. My weight is creeping back on. I lost 35 pounds (goal was 45) and have gained 7 back. No will-power. And that is so depressing. 

2. I am being sucked in by the unhappiness of someone close to me.

3. Teaching is stressful! And therefore, I come home emotionally exhausted every day. 

4. My solo time with God has gone down the tube - as well as Jackson's. We were so on track and held each other accountable for the two weeks following JH Ranch.   

It's funny how as I wrote this, I felt such comfort. It was a confession to God that I am stuck and can not get out alone. To quote the author of the devotion, "Does He, in His love, let us fall into a muddy puddle so we can feel the discomfort of life without Him? Isn’t it true that when we find ourselves stuck in the muck of life, we long more deeply for God’s loving arms to come and take our hands and lead us out? We cry out, "Daddy, I need You. Please pull me out of this mess!'"

So I prayed.

Lord, I need you.
Oh I need you.
Every hour I need you.
My one defense, my righteousness.
Oh God, how I need you.
I am not unhappy. Yet I am not fully joyful as I was a few short weeks ago. I know is is my own doing and my disobedience. You desire a full relationship with me, and I know that to be fully blessed, I need to be completely engaged in your word. I need your help. I thank you for the wise counsel of Godly friends. Thank you for a loving husband and sons. I also pray for them that they will continue to grow in their desire for you.

Amen

Good Kids

Yesterday was the Aiken Steeplechase. We decked ourselves in our brightest togs and hats and celebrated a beautiful day of horse racing. Under our tent, we sat sipping cocktails and eating delicious food. We bet on the horses and had a marvelous time. 

My husband and I 

Our teenage children checked in every once in a while and then went off to visit friends and "see and be seen". Sumter spent most of the day at the Young Life spot, so I was only able to catch Jackson for a picture.

We are lucky. Our kids don't drink.

I say this because social events such as Steeplechase are havens for pretty girls in Lilly dresses and boys in seersucker pants and Vineyard Vines ties to get completely fall down drunk. Most of these are college students, but you may see a high schooler as well. And it's never really bothered me as much as it did this year. I guess it's because we - and all our friends - have teenagers.

But by the end of the afternoon, we saw a precious girl trip and fall down on the ground.  She just lay there for a few seconds until one of the boys she was with pulled her up.  We saw a young man with an almost empty handle of Jack Daniels just standing there, staring off in space. Later, another girl saw her date storm off and immediately burst into tears. She stumbled around with her girlfriends as if lost.

And this year also provided us with an event we have never experienced before. Towards the end of the day, our pastor and his family stopped by to visit us. It was not ten minutes later, and not fifty feet away, that we saw around ten uniformed police and sheriff deputies bust up a party and arrest seven people. It was quite a spectacle. Some of them were underage, some legal - but all were incredibly drunk and physically confrontational.

We all stood, watching and commenting among ourselves at the stupidity and blatantly belligerent behavior. And then, our pastor said something that - at the time - I thought was almost a little too saccarine and optimistic.  He said, "How sad. They're good kids." I looked at him next to me and smiled at his kind remark. But what I was really thinking was, "Really??? No, they're not. Our kids are good kids. Those guys are punks with no respect for themselves or anyone else."

It was not until today at church that I got a deeper understanding of what he meant. I don't know whether it was the songs we sang, his message, or God's voice. But I was drawn back to what our pastor had said the day before: "They're good kids." Maybe not to me. But they are to God. Because He created them. He brought them into life. He loves them. And we know that God loves what is good.

So it was then and there that I prayed for those who were loaded into those paddy wagons the day before. I prayed for His precious children who I don't even know. I prayed that if they didn't know God, that they would open their hearts to Him. I prayed that if they did know God, they would come to Him and listen to Him lovingly tell them to turn away from behavior that could destroy them.

Because just like you and me, they're good kids. They're God's kids.

Failure to Submit

Just this afternoon, I was reading Finding Hope in the Mess, a blog by Brooke McGlothlin. She began: "Do you struggle to control your emotions? Ever feel like they're doing a better job of controlling you?" As a mom of boys, she spoke of how she just loses it sometimes when the circumstances (in other words: her sons) overwhelm her (in other words: make her mad as hell). She also wisely pointed out that like her, "there are millions of moms who need help submitting their emotions to God.  They're in an unforgiving cycle, and need to get out."

I was actually reading this while waiting for my Starbucks Skinny Grande Whatever-it's-called. I had just finished my hour long expedition through the grocery store and needed a little treat. How insightful this Brooke was. How wise. And how true. We've all been there. Once... or more.

And then I arrived home. Drained. With about fifteen bags of groceries. To a son who had been playing basketball and/or his xbox for most of the day. And "did not hear" me when I called out for his help to unload the SUV. But proceeded to complain and argue why he had to carry most of the bags. Because he was too tired. And he had to make three trips. And these bags are horrible. And there are too many bags. And why wasn't I helping him?

And right then and there, I FAILED to submit my emotions to God. Instead, I owned them and exploited them. I yelled. I screamed. I said quite a few choice words. I got in my thirteen-year-old's face. And then made him go somewhere else in the house because I couldn't even be in the same room with him.

I thought I would have felt so empowered. So much better. So vindicated.

But I didn't. 

For although my anger was justified, I was disheartened by how I reacted. I had been consumed with unrighteous anger, not righteous. I was not using my anger to teach, train and reprimand my son. I was using it in a scathing, vindictive and sarcastic manner. 

My son came in about twenty minutes later. He apologized for what he said and did and talked about how he knows how much I do for the family. It was from the heart and of course I accepted it.

I wish I could say I also apologized. But I didn't. (I still had just enough pride and stubbornness to tell me that I had every right to have been angry.) I will - both to my son and God.  Because I have been given the gift and privilege of being a mother.  And moreover, I am called to be a Godly mother. One who submits those hurtful and caustic emotions to One who is bigger... so much bigger. And both my sons deserve that.

"God, help me when I am so frustrated and overwhelmed with my emotions. Convict me to release and submit my UNRIGHTEOUS anger. Instead, fill me with Your Holy Spirit and place on my heart a calmness and gentleness that is only from You. Amen"

He's Bigger than a Christmas Present

The stockings are hung, the tree is decorated (and quite stunning, if I do say so myself), and the nativity scene sits prominently on the wine chest. All the presents are wrapped. Well, almost all of them. Only one left to wrap. Only one. My son's BIG Christmas gift. And it is nowhere to be found.

Oh, I ordered it. Two months ago. And it arrived. One month ago. I took it off the front porch. I marveled at how heavy it was for such a small package. I noticed how much packing tape was wrapped around the box. I carried it into the study. I put it in the closet with the other gifts. At least I THINK I did.

And now it is gone. I have looked in every drawer. In every closet. On every shelf. But it's gone. Yesterday, I felt physically ill. I broke into a sweat. I even asked both boys if they had seen the package. My husband suggested I sleep on it and wake up fresh. And guess what? I dreamed about it.

This morning, I started over. Still missing. So I continued to look - and pray. Consumed with anxiety and worry, I even posted a plea on Facebook:

"Friends ~ I can't find on the of the boys' MAJOR Christmas present. I remember bringing in the package from the front porch and can tell you what it looked like (smaller than a shoebox) and the weight (like a brick). But now I am beside myself with worry... Any prayers are greatly appreciated."

And it was shortly after that it hit me. I can not handle this. For some unknown reason, it's just too big for me and I feel overpowered. I have to release it. I HAVE to release it. I just have to release it - and let God handle it. Because it's too big for me. But not too big for Him. He created the whole universe. He saved my husband's life when he was on the brink. He protects my children every day from the evils around us. He saved our lives from the darkness of sin. He is so much bigger than a lost Christmas present.

And so I am ok. I still don't know where Sumter's double bass drum pedal is. (Don't worry. He never reads my blog.) But I am ok, because I know that it is being handled. Because God is just that big. And I am trusting in His taking care of the situation.

Maybe not with the outcome I desire - but maybe!

Visions of Snow

                   

Today the unthinkable happened: it snowed.  No, it didn't stick.  No snowmen were made.  No snowballs were thrown.  But it did snow.  And what a way to wake up this morning:  beautiful big flakes quietly and deliberately falling from a gray sky. Facebook was abuzzing.  Pictures were shared, with some areas to the northeast of us having a bit of accumulation. Folks were amazed and bemused that we would see the white stuff in South Carolina on the first day of November. 

Fast forward to this afternoon. We received some bad news. A major setback. Mike was beside himself with anxiety and frustration. He was in a bad place. And there was nothing I could do. I felt helpless - just as he was. And then I happened to see my Proverbs 31 devotion from yesterday. It said to pray like everything depends on God. Of course I know that. But do I do it?  Was I doing it right now? Obviously, the answer was a humble and uncomfortable No.

So I stopped what I was doing, right then and there. "Heavenly Father," I closed my eyes and prayed. "We need you right now. Things are not good at all right now.  I pray that you will take away the despair and anxiety from my husband. I ask that, in its place, you pour down your hope and promise that you will take care of him. We need you right now." As I was praying this over and over, I kept having visions of the gently falling snow from earlier today. But why? Why did that vision continue throughout my prayer? It was calming - and claiming me. I felt a peace wash over my troubled spirit.  

And then it hit me. It was not snow that was gently falling. It was manna. Manna! God's promise to the Israelites was that He would provide for their every need. It was manna. God's promise to us that He would provide for our every need. Wow. 

Like the Israelites, what we are going through right now will not be over quickly. It will take some time.  And at times, we will struggle. But I will remember the manna, and I know that He will provide. And we will be alright.

Thankful for Today

Yes, it's still brain cancer. Yes, we are all still tired. Yes, my sweet father-in-law is still in a lot of pain. And yes, there is a long road ahead.

But we know God is so good. Mike's father is recovering amazingly well. He was released from ICU in less than 24 hours. The expressive aphasia that was so prevalent prior to surgery seemed almost nonexistent. He was able to (with assistance from the nurses and PT) stand, sit in a chair, and go to the bathroom. This was yesterday! The day after a four hour brain surgery!

Now we know he will have much to overcome. And so much work ahead. Speech therapy. Physical therapy. Chemotherapy. Radiation. He will have some successes and some set backs.

But I know that this would not have been possible without the prayers of hundreds of people all over the country. A friend on FB posted on my wall: "What a great cloud of witnesses you have around you...." I know that the only reason my FIL is doing so well is because of the immense amount of prayer that has been lifted up for him - and by so many of YOU. I am a true believer! I don't mess around! :)

I probably won't post much more. But I couldn't let today pass without a bit of happy news in this story. You needed to know... because you were part of the story. And I am thankful for today...

Martha has broken...

It was what we expected, but wouldn't admit. It was what we knew secretly in our hearts, but wouldn't listen to. Brain cancer.

(And please pardon the poor writing style. I'm still exhausted and in the "just the facts, ma'am" mode.)

Yesterday was probably the most emotionally draining day I have ever had. Mike and I didn't get home until after 11:00. We had been at the hospital for twelve hours. His father went in for surgery at 3:30 and came out about four hours later. The waiting was exhausting. My sweet mother-in-law couldn't eat. She had her hand on her cell phone waiting for the updates that would come every hour.

His wonderful neurosurgeon finally came out with the news that we cognitively were expecting. But you are never prepared. They took out 2/3 of a malignant tumor. They couldn't take out any more as it was too close to the "motor strip" of the brain. The cancer has spread down the temporal lobe. The good news is that it is primary to the brain and will not metastasize to other parts of the body. They are very optimistic that that can treat it with chemotherapy and radiation. We will know more in the next 48 hours and then more in a few weeks. He is now in ICU and will be for the next 24-48 hours.

Last night while we were waiting in the IVU waiting room, I finally cried. I finally broke. I hadn't since we found out about the tumor on Wednesday. I don't cry. Especially during crisis. That's because I am a "Martha". No, not Martha Stewart. Martha from the Bible. If you remember when Jesus visited the home of sisters, Mary and Martha, it was Martha who was constantly doing. She was the one taking care and making sure things were done - all the time. That was me this week: asking the doctor questions, writing down and clarifying everything he said, emailing reports to family and friends, Facebooking to request prayers - and organizing where S And J would be during all of this. And finally, being there for Mike. But that's how I cope - and that was the role I was needed to play.

We have received Facebook posts, emails and phone calls telling us how prayers have been lifted on our behalf and asking how/if we need anything. We have been overwhelmed with this outpouring. Of course we still do not understand why this is happening.

My 12 year old's observation makes me realize that, even in these times, we must keep a childlike faith: when I tried to explain the seriousness of the situation to him the night before last, he responded, "Yes, it is bad. There are always going to be horrible things that happen in our lives. BUT GOD ALWAYS MAKES SOMETHING GOOD HAPPEN FROM IT, AND HE WILL THIS TIME TOO."

Please, I Need You, Sweet Friends...

This is not the post I was planning on writing. Thursday was the boy's last day of school; mine was Friday. I had found all these cute photos from pinterest and tumbler. I was going to write about the excitement of SUMMERTIME. However, this is how we are feeling right now.We are reaching and pleading for your prayers.

Yesterday, a mass was found on my father-in-law's brain. It's on the left frontal lobe. For the past few weeks, he has had a continuous headache, some days pretty unbearable. However, he never complained. We didn't know. We all - even the boys - began noticing that he was not himself: very quiet, a bit depressed, slow to tasks, etc. But again, we had no idea of the pain. On Tuesday, my mother-in-law took him to the doctor where the ugly truth began to reveal itself. And as the location of the tumor affects the personality and all the other symptoms we noticed, it all started to make sense.

He was admitted to the hospital on Thursday. The surgery is on Monday. Only then will we know if the tumor is benign or cancerous.

Please pray... We know God is completely in control, but we still covet your prayers. My sweet friend, Aundrea, sent me this:
Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.
Romans 12:12
Thank you, sweet friends...

An Email Worth Forwarding... and Reading

OK... so I am not a big fan of email forwards:  sappy, smarmy, or political.  Normally I delete without even looking at them.  But for some reason I didn't today.  It was from my dear friend from college, Elizabeth.  I read it.  I thought of my children (and husband)... and I wept.  Even though it's a bit long, I wanted to share it with you...

She jumped up as soon as she saw the surgeon come out of the operating room. She said: "How is my little boy? Is he going to be all right? When can I see him?'"

The surgeon said, "I'm sorry. We did all we could, but your boy didn't make it."

Sally said, "Why do little children get cancer? Doesn't God care any more? Where were you, God, when my son needed you?"

The surgeon asked, "Would you like some time alone with your son? One of the nurses will be out in a few minutes, before he's transported to the university."
 

Sally asked the nurse to stay with her while she said good bye to son.. She ran her fingers lovingly through his thick red curly hair.... "Would you like a lock of his hair?" the nurse asked.. Sally nodded yes. The nurse cut a lock of the boy's hair, put it in a plastic bag and handed it to Sally..

The mother said, "It was Jimmy's idea to donate his body to the University for study. He said it might help somebody else. I said no at first, but Jimmy said, 'Mom, I won't be using it after I die. Maybe it will help some other little boy spend one more day with his Mom.' " She went on, "My Jimmy had a heart of gold. Always thinking of someone else. Always wanting to help others if he could." 

Sally walked out of Children's Mercy Hospital for the last time, after spending most of the last six months there. She put the bag with Jimmy's belongings on the seat beside her in the car.

The drive home was difficult. It was even harder to enter the empty house. She carried Jimmy's belongings, and the plastic bag with the lock of his hair to her son's room.

She started placing the model cars and other personal things back in his room exactly where he had always kept them.. She lay down across his bed and, hugging his pillow, cried herself to sleep.

It was around midnight when Sally awoke… Lying beside her on the bed was a folded letter. The letter said:

Dear Mom,
I know you're going to miss me; but don't think that I will ever forget you, or stop loving you, just 'cause I'm not around to say 'I Love You'. I will always love you, Mom, even more with each day. Someday we will see each other again. Until then, if you want to adopt a little boy so you won't be so lonely, that's okay with me. He can have my room and old stuff to play with. But, if you decide to get a girl instead, she probably wouldn't like the same things us boys do. You'll have to buy her dolls and stuff girls like, you know.

Don't be sad thinking about me. This really is a neat place. Grandma and Grandpa met me as soon as I got here and showed me around some, but it will take a long time to see everything. The angels are so cool.. I love to watch them fly. And, you know what? Jesus doesn't look like any of his pictures.. Yet, when I saw Him, I knew it was Him... Jesus himself took me to see GOD! And guess what, Mom? I got to sit on God's knee and talk to Him, like I was somebody important.. That's when I told Him that I wanted to write you a letter, to tell you good bye and everything.. But I already knew that wasn't allowed. Well, you know what Mom? God handed me some paper and His own personal pen to write you this letter I think Gabriel is the name of the angel who is going to drop this letter off to you. God said for r me to give you the answer to one of the questions you asked Him: "Where was He when I needed him?"  God said He was in the same place with me, as when His son Jesus was on the cross. He was right there, as He always is with all His children...

Oh, by the way, Mom, no one else can see what I've written except you. To everyone else this is just a blank piece of paper. Isn't that cool? I have to give God His pen back now He needs it to write some more names in the Book of Life. Tonight I get to sit at the table with Jesus for supper. I'm sure the food will be great.

Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. I don't hurt anymore the cancer is all gone... I'm glad because I couldn't stand that pain anymore, and God couldn't stand to see me hurt so much, either. That's when He sent The Angel of Mercy to come get me. The Angel said I was a Special Delivery! How about that?

Signed with Love from God, Jesus & Me.

Golden Day Blessings...

Winter Wonderland

So it did happen.  And it was beautiful.  

Snow begins falling around 3:00...

 

Our house...

  

1 1/2 inches at 5:00...

No leaves in the winter, but the snow looks so magical...

And it continues through the night...

Which gave us almost 5 inches...

Our hammock is blanketed...

A new roof for the birdfeeder...

Beautiful South Boundary in Aiken, but the snow was

beginning to melt by this time...

Many of you might be wondering where Sumter and Jackson are in all of these pictures.  Sadly, they are not at home this weekend.  Mike and I are so bummed out as we wish we could witness all the fun they are having in the snow!  They are with their Mimi and G-dad in the beautiful snowy mountains of North Carolina.  We agreed to let them go as the trip had been planned, and my father has a 4-Wheel Drive SUV.  However, we got a call last evening (THEY ARE ALRIGHT!) from my mother telling me that they skidded off a mountain road into a shallow ditch and almost tipped over.  The angels were with them as my father was able to get the SUV under control and back on the road and safely arrive at Kanuga (in Hendersonville, NC).  The boys were terrified, and my mother could hear both of them praying in the back seat.  They are fine now - snowball fights and building snowmen with friends solves everything!

My prayer request for you, sweet friends, is for a SAFE AND UNEVENTFUL TRIP BACK HOME tomorrow (Sunday).  The roads will be even icier, and I will be a nervous wreck until I can see and hug them!

How Many Times Have You Said This?

"I'll keep you in my prayers." or 
"I'll be praying for you."

How many times have you said this to someone and then failed to follow through?  I admit that I am guilty.  I know I have said it and genuinely meant to do so.  I really did!   Most of the time I do pray, right then, right there (albeit silently).  But, again, I am guilty...

Prayer changes lives.  It alleviates the hurting through tough times.  It provides hope for restoration.  And prayer battles the enemy.  That's why prayer is not a casual promise.

Just today, I found out a sweet girl I team taught with last year is experiencing complications with her pregnancy (due April 1).  Jessica has been told not to go back to work until she meets with a "high risk pregnancy" doctor on Thursday.  I told a few other teachers about this and how worried I am for her.  IMMEDIATELY, one of them said we should stop right then, hold hands and pray for her.  And so we did - right there in my classroom during our planning period.  What a beautiful prayer it was!  An African-American woman, her deep, rich voice resonating with the strong faith she had, prayed for the healing and safety of Jessica and that precious baby.  What a testimony:  She didn't just agree that we should pray for Jessica.  She did it, right then and there!

Am I saying that every case warrants this beautiful story?  No... I just need to remember that the gift of prayer is powerful.   Not a casual gift... a meaningful gift... a powerful gift.

My Prayer for Myself this Season

I'm getting anxious.  The season is slowly arriving.  The season of decorating, of planning, of decorating, of cooking, of buying gifts, of decorating.  Don't get me wrong... I love, I mean ABSOLUTELY LOVE, this season.  I wish they were already playing Christmas music on the radio!

The Sunday after Thanksgiving is when the "festivities" begin.  And I can't wait.  Especially this year as my house is on the Christmas Home Tour.  (My husband is not very excited as all he sees are $$$ flowing out of our house to get it "ready".  But how could I say no!?!?)  Really, all I need to buy is my yearly Nutcracker to add to our collection.  OK, who am I fooling?

But back to my "anxiousness".  The reason I am anxious is that I am afraid.  Afraid that I will get so caught up in the decorating, hostessing, cooking, and planning that I will not be still and ready.  Not still and ready for the party guests, or the ladies who will want to examine every detail and decoration, or even Christmas Day itself.

I want to be still and ready for HIS arrival.

I want to be still and ready for our truly BLESSED GUEST.

I want to be still and ready for for birth of our SAVIOR.

That is my prayer for myself, and my prayer for all of us.