So Sad

This was taken from a discussion between conservative homeschool grads:

But think about it....if you want to be a homemaker/wife/mother as your full time life calling, then a husband is exstreemly important. He is THE key to fulfilling your life goal.

Whereas with guys, they have at least one other life calling--their job. Getting married is wonderful but it's not THE key to them being able to fulfill that life goal. So it stands to reason that they don't think about it as much as girls do.

This is so very, very sad to me! Is essense, what this girl is saying is that women need men in order to fulfill their lives, but men don't need women to fulfill theirs....we're just an added bonus, I guess. Please tell me where in all of scripture, this idea is presented? If anything, it's the other way around: God created women because MEN were incomplete in their "life-calling"! You know, "it is not good for a man to be alone". =)

I believe that this idea is why so many conservative girls are so lost and dissatisfied with their lives. They're waiting for a man to "complete them" so they can fulfill their "life calling". How detrimental to the very heart of a woman! And what does this do to our perception of Who God is? What kind of God tells a woman that she can't fulfill her God-ordained calling without a husband, then lets her stay single her whole life?? It's like some cruel joke. The Bible says that when God calls someone, He equips them with what they need to fulfill that calling. So if all women are "called" to be wives, mothers, and homemakers, God must've dropped the ball.

I love my man. He does complete my life. But it's a mutual completion. And I don't believe that my life-calling would be unfulfilled if he weren't in my life. My identity is from who I am in Christ, not what I do (life-calling) or who is in my life (husband). When Jesus said "Follow Me" he wasn't just speaking to men.

Awwwww.....

Is there anything in all the world more precious than a sleeping baby?

Bid Me To Come...

Father, always near, I wait for You here,
Resting in the Love that vanquishes fear...

The love that vanquishes fear. That's where I want to abide, to live, to wait. In that Perfect Love, fear cannot abide. This is where I am waiting...waiting for God...waiting for Him to speak, to act, to reveal His heart to me. Are You always near, even when I feel You far away? Abba, Father...I long for peace.

Waiting, not a care, silence everywhere,
Yet here, in my heart, a still, small voice...

I must calm the storms in my life, the storms in my heart, to hear the silence of God. Be still and know. Resting, waiting, in Perfect Love and communion with my Savior. Sometimes I wish He'd call me from the thunder for I am afraid of the still, small voice. It is so easily missed.

...bids me to come, and I will follow.

Suffer me to come, risen, wounded One;
I've found shelter in Your Fathering arms...

There is no shelter anywhere else. I am the little child whom the Savior beckons to Himself. Father, call me to Yourself. I feel so battered and torn; my heart a battlefield! I need You, need Your healing shelter.

Suffer me to hear Your voice in my ear,
Beckon me with words that draw me near...

I am desparate to hear Your voice, to draw close. But my doubts drown out the voice of Love. Oh, that I could rest, without a care, in Your arms! Speak to me, Abba...I long to hear Your voice!

...bid me to come and I will follow.

I will follow You....

Even though I'm afraid. Even though I can't see through the darkness. Even though I wonder if You care enough to speak to me, to hold me.

...where You want me to...

Even if You go where I don't want to follow. Through the wounds of my deepest heart. Through the ugliness of my pain and sin. Through the darkness of my fears, doubts, anger, to the Light. Even there, yes, Lord, I will follow You.

Bid me to come, and I will follow.

Hold My Heart

*I wrote this entry back in October after the kids and I moved back to WA from MT. My husband and I were facing an undetermined separation due to finances. He ended up coming home after 5 weeks, the hardest 5 weeks of my married life. I was 8 months pregnant and we were facing forclosure and nothing seemed to be working in our lives.

Well, here we are several months later and still nothing seems to be working for us. Sky is gone again, driving trucks in MT, we're trying to do a short sale on our home to keep from being forclosed on, and we don't know where we'll be next month or if we'll even be together. So the sentiments expressed in this post are still the cries of my heart. I still wonder sometimes if God is listening and if He even cares.....

Oct. 22, 2009

It's been a week since Sky had to go back to Bozeman without us. Thankfully, he's working, but we're still in a whole load of financial trouble and facing a winter apart. I just don't understand. It seems like no matter how hard we try, nothing works out. And it's not even our fault! We get cheated out of work and wages, the weather puts a halt on the job, vehicles break down, belongings go up in smoke, rent goes up, and promises are made that aren't followed through with. It wasn't supposed to be this way. Families were never meant to be separated. Daddies aren't supposed to have to choose between feeding their families and being with their families. We've done everything we thought we were supposed to do for this summer...laid all our plans at God's feet, and still we may lose our house and we're living apart. When is life supposed to work? When does the whole "all things work for good" promise actually come into play? For years now we've done what we thought God wanted us to do, followed Him with everything we have, and for what? To get patted on the back and told "well done"? Yeah, that'll put food on the table. I know that God still works miracles. Is it too much to ask that He could work one for us?

I've seen Him heal broken hearts, restore broken marriages, redeem lost lives, and come through in every way for the hearts of His children. I've seen spiritual heart-miracles that still make me stand in awe. I know, without a doubt, that God heals the broken and sets the captives free. But we are more than spirits...we have to eat and clothe ourselves and pay the mortgage. Why do these things seem not to matter to Him? Are we doing something wrong? Is there some magic formula that we're supposed to follow before God will provide our physical needs? I don't believe that they aren't important to Him. Because I know without a doubt that we are important to Him. Jesus was very clear on that. But I still don't understand. I'm tired of being told "Just trust God and everything will work out" as if you can put some sort of Band-Aid on a hurting, questioning heart. I DO trust God, always have, and things are not "working out". So what does that mean? I'm tired of being told "you should be grateful for the blessings you have" as if being grateful is the magic spell towards getting more blessings. I AM grateful...I thank God everyday for a husband who works his heart out for his family, for healthy children, for daily blessings. Does questioning why life isn't working make me somehow ungrateful for those blessings? Or does it just make me more honest than most?

And yet....

My heart still hopes. I still have faith. I'm still holding on to a fraying thread, stubbornly insisting that God is still in control and cares about my life. I don't understand why when the circumstances I see around me don't fit. But I refuse to let go of the belief that God will come through for us, that all things will work together for good, even if I can't see it now and won't like it later. What is it in me that hopes contrary to hope? What is it in God's saints throughout time that were beaten and bruised that still wouldn't let them let go of hope? Or perhaps it isn't we that are holding on so tightly. Perhaps it is God that is holding onto us. I have no other explanation. I know He's holding my heart...He must be holding the rest of me as well.

How long must I pray, must I pray to You?
How long must I wait, must I wait for You?
How long 'til I see Your face, see You shining through?
I'm on my knees, begging You to notice me.
I'm on my knees, Father will you turn to me?

One tear in the dropping rain,
One voice in the sea of pain
Could the maker of the stars
Hear the sound of my breakin' heart?
One light, that's all I am
Right now I can barely stand
If You're everything You say You are
Won't You come close and hold my heart

I've been so afraid, afraid to close my eyes
So much can slip away before I say goodbye.
But if there's no other way, I'm done asking why.
Cuz I'm on my knees, begging You to turn to me
I'm on my knees, Father will you run to me?

One tear in the dropping rain,
One voice in the sea of pain
Could the maker of the stars
Hear the sound of my breakin' heart?
One light, that's all I am
Right now I can barely stand
If You're everything You say You are
Won't You come close and hold my heart.

So many questions without answers, Your promises remain
I can't sleep but I'll take my chances to hear You call my name
To hear You call my name

One tear in the dropping rain,
One voice in the sea of pain
Could the maker of the stars
Hear the sound of my breakin' heart?
One light, that's all I am
Right now I can barely stand
If You're everything You say You are
Won't You come close and hold my heart.
Hold my heart, could you hold my heart?
Hold my heart.

~Hold My Heart, by Tenth Ave. North

An Angel Named Bruce

When I was a kid, my parents were always bringing the weirdest people home. Any person who wandered into our church looking down and out would usually end up being fed at our dinner table. I was just a kid so I didn't know about Bad People yet, so I wasn't really afraid. But I did know about weird ones and it seemed to me that my parents could've been a little more discerning about who they brought home. At the very least they should've had a smell standard.

My mom always said that the Bible teaches that we should be hospitable because you never know when someone might turn out to be an angel. I didn't think angels smelled bad, but what did I know? If the Bible said it, I believed it...maybe because I was just a kid.

I will never forget one man who entered our lives when I was about 11. He showed up at our church one Sunday night smelling terrible. He had long, grey, hippie hair with a bandana tied around it and a scraggly beard down to his chest. His eyes were such a clear blue, almost white, that you could see right through them. He walked, unashamed, to the very front pew (much to the discomfort of some of the members who didn't like his torn cloths) and stood there praising God at the top of his voice. He had a pretty good singing voice. Well, he was loud anyways. He also raised his hands and closed his eyes while he worshipped, which was against some unspoken church rule, but how was he supposed to know? I remember watching him, fascinated, during the entire service.

Of course, my parents decided to bring him home. His name was Bruce and he was living on the streets. He said he was bi-polar and some other things that I didn't understand. But I've known a few bi-polar people since then and he was nothing like them. When he looked at me I felt like he was looking into my soul.

At dinner, he smiled at us all, asked us our names, and then proceeded to tell us what they meant. I couldn't stop listening. His voice was like music and the things he spoke were so....weird. He went on to describe what each of us kids were going to be like when we grew up because of what our names meant. (Looking back, I wonder if he was psychic.) He talked about God like he saw Him every day. He pointed to a picture of a rainbow and proceeded to explain how every color was a picture of God's character. Random stuff like that.

I just knew that after a few dozen bums, my mom had finally brought home an angel.

He stayed with us for a few nights, then left as abruptly as he came. We never saw him again but he has never been far from our thoughts. To this day, my family still talks about Bruce. We talk about how strange he was and we shake our heads, wondering, always wondering. When I get to heaven, I won't be the least bit surprised if there, praising God in the Throne Room with hands raised, is a hippie angel named Bruce.

"Do not forget to entertain strangers, for by so doing some have entertained angels unawares." Heb. 13:2

What Can I Say? She's My Daughter....

*Disclaimer: I did not actually witness this. So I am not responsible for any action or inaction or any lack of responsible child-training. However, when this little episode was reported to me, I laughed my head off.

There are times when, as a mother, I have to decide when to be motherly and instructive, and when to just laugh. Thankfully, I did not actually witness the scene I am about to describe because I'm not sure if I would've recognized which side of "mother" would have been appropriate at the time.

Kailey spent the night with my sister, Lindsay, and her daughter, Melody. Kailey and Melody are the same age (3) and best friends. Lindsay decided to take the girls to McDonalds, a rare treat for my little country girl. (Actually, it was her first time.) Upon seeing all the fun tubes and balls and slides, she went berserk and wasted no time climbing up the platforms to the tubes. Melody, on the other hand, is a bit shorter and not so athletic so she kept being left behind. A little boy, about age 4, decided to be a gentleman and help Melody up the platforms. So he put his hands under her butt and gave her a boost. She promptly turned around, and, like the polite little lady she is, said "Thank you!". Well, the little boy was quite pleased and tured to give Kailey a boost too. As soon as he put his hands on her butt, she, like the little hooligan she is, promptly turned around and slapped him across his face. (!!!)

He was quite shocked and turned to his dad (who was laughing) and said "She-she HIT me!!!"

"Well,", his wise father replied, "I guess that's a lesson you learned early in life, son."

This same little boy then had a grudge against both Kailey and Melody. He went down a slide ahead of them and wouldn't get off but instead blocked it with his body so they couldn't get past. Melody went down the slide, ran into him, and started screaming because he wouldn't move. Then down came Kailey. She assessed the situation and knew exactly what to do. Grabbing the boy by his collar, she pinned him with her scrawny little arms up against the side of the slide so Melody could pass. (Did I mention he was three times her size??) She was very calm and had a look in her eyes that said "You are annoying me, but I know just how to handle this." He was so surprised he just sat there while Lindsay rushed to his rescue. Kailey dusted off her hands and went back to playing with her cousin. Melody wisely chose to stay close to Kailey for the rest of the day.

I told Lindsay that she didn't get that from me. Lindsay said she told Dad all about it, and Dad said "She got that from her mother". I will defer to my older, wiser, father in this matter. However, I do NOT think my husband's assessment of the episode was very fair at all. I believe his words were something to the effect of: "She's your daughter" Right. As if HE had nothing to do with it!!!!

I'm OK, Really....

I used to think I was pretty "all-together" when it came to homemaking and child-raising skills. Until I had kids. I feel so incredibly stretched thin right now and my house is always a mess and sometimes I don't get a shower or real clothes on until the girls go down for a nap at 2 pm. I'm trying not to get frustrated but not always succeeding. I've really got the whole frustrated-but-amused-and-insane laugh down.

Take today: I wanted to run to the grocery store so when Joel fell asleep I set the girls down in front of the TV and jumped in the shower. I was only in there for 5 minutes, I swear, but when I got out, Kailey had dumped an entire cup of juice over Faith's head (so much for "no-spill cups" ). I then had to clean the floor and stick Faith in the bath tub. Then Joel woke up and wanted to nurse. I started breakfast only to turn around and find Kailey standing on a chair and spitting on the floor. I almost burnt the french toast while disciplining and cleaning up after her. (I can't for the life of me figure out what possessed her to do that.) By the time we ate breakfast, it was after 10. I ate while nursing (again!). Then I laid Joel down, and started to get dressed (yes, everything previously written happened in the buff). I got my jeans on, only to stick my head out the door (the girls were waaaaaay too quiet) to find Kailey on the counter helping herself to the sugar bowl and sharing with Faith who was standing on the floor. After breaking up a few more fights ("it's MY toy!!") and nursing a fussy baby a few more times, I still was wearing only jeans and had half of my make-up on when my husband called me to say he was coming home and would go to the store with me. I about cried in relief. How in the world am I ever supposed to take 3 kids shopping when I can't even get out the door with them?!?!?!?

Well, just goes to show ya that 3 kids 3 and under can throw quite the clinker in one's Perfect Homemaker image. But that's OK. They're worth it. At least, that's what "they" tell me. Now excuse me while I go extract Mr. Potato Head from the VCR...