Not What I Was Expecting...

“I ended my first book with the words no answer.  I know now, Lord, why you utter no answer.  You are yourself the answer.  Before your face questions die away.  What other answer would suffice?  Only words, words; to be led out to battle against other words." -C.S. Lewis, Till We Have Faces

“But now, O LORD, you are our Father; we are the clay, and you are our potter; we are all the work of your hand.”  -Isaiah 64:8 

I told my girl this morning how beautiful she was.  Curlers wrapped in brown locks fastened to her head for the first time.  She wore a pretty dress and tights with laced up ribbon boots.  A mint green button down sweater completed this little woman in the making.   

She is a fair princess.  And I tell her that all the time.  But I also tell her that her beauty was given to her by God for God.   I fear her value being wrapped up in something our society exalts and exploits.  I tell her what He’s really after is her heart.  

When we were in the thick of the investigation and were wiped out financially and Rick’s reputation was tainted…all seemed lost.  People were taking advantage of Rick’s plight by having him work for them, because they knew he was good at what he did and he was trying to make things right, and then when he’d bring in business they would make excuses as to why they couldn’t pay him or “get involved”.  And then one company who seemed to embrace and support him, after Rick had disclosed everything, brought him on for 2 years and right when his business started thriving  let him go because supposedly one of the owners “didn’t know” his circumstances.  It felt like one injustice after another.  He was trying to pick up the pieces and rebuild and he was getting beaten down and taken advantage of over and over again.  

I kept asking God, what is your purpose in all of this?  What are we to do with this?  I was praying all would not be in vain…that good would come from it.  

In the deepest parts of our hearts we long for redemption of our pain, our mistakes, our brokenness. 

One day I was reading a devotional called “Streams in the Desert” that a dear friend had given me.  And this is what it said:

 "It is good for me that I have been afflicted" (Ps. 119:71).

It is a remarkable circumstance that the most brilliant colors of plants are to be seen on the highest mountains, in spots that are most exposed to the wildest weather. The brightest lichens and mosses, the loveliest gems of wild flowers, abound far up on the bleak, storm-scalped peak.

One of the richest displays of organic coloring I ever beheld was near the summit of Mount Chenebettaz, a hill about 10,000 feet high, immediately above the great St. Bernard Hospice. The whole face of an extensive rock was covered with a most vivid yellow lichen which shone in the sunshine like the golden battlement of an enchanted castle.

There, in that lofty region, amid the most frowning desolation, exposed to the fiercest tempest of the sky, this lichen exhibited a glory of color such as it never showed in the sheltered valley. I have two specimens of the same lichen before me while I write these lines, one from the great St. Bernard, and the other from the wall of a Scottish castle, deeply embossed among sycamore trees; and the difference in point of form and coloring between them is most striking.

The specimen nurtured amid the wild storms of the mountain peak is of a lovely primrose hue, and is smooth in texture and complete in outline, while the specimen nurtured amid the soft airs and the delicate showers of the lowland valley is of a dim rusty hue, and is scurfy in texture, and broken in outline.

And is it not so with the Christian who is afflicted, tempest-tossed, and not comforted? Till the storms and vicissitudes of God's providence beat upon him again and again, his character appears marred and clouded; but trials clear away the obscurity, perfect the outlines of his disposition, and give brightness and blessing to his life.

Clarity.  The most brilliant flowers flourish on the highest peaks.  Amidst extreme weather and thin air.    Where most people will never see them.  Some of the most beautiful places in the world hidden to the human eye.   What’s the purpose?…the Lord answered my question…but it was not what I was expecting.

The joy in making those flowers come into their beauty and when they do is all for the glory of their Creator.  That is the purpose.  For His glory.  

And so I thought of my heart.  In the deepest part of my being.  Where only He can see.  And my story and our circumstances.  Storms raging wild and arid desert lands all beating down.  Walls of pride and arrogance and ingratitude and self-sufficiency crumbling.  Driving me inward.  To Him.  The question is...”how am I going to respond to Him?”  “Shall we accept good from God, and not trouble?"Job 2:10  And that is the purpose.  He is after at my heart.  

The week after we visited Rick and I had come home heavy hearted…I went into a quiet dark space in my house where tears could spill over at the foot of the cross.  And it’s here where He gently reminded me of this truth.  “This journey you are on…it’s not about what you perceive…it’s about Me and you.  It’s about you trusting Me and letting Me shape you and coming to Me with your pain and letting Me work thru you and depending on Me for everything.  It’s about a relationship.  With Me.  All these circumstances are here to bring you closer to Me.  Because in the end…when you’ve let Me in…when you’ve laid down your will and trusted in My Love for you and that I will never forsake you and I am here to free you and help you and do a good work in you…everything will change.  Your life, your relationships, your heart.  All for the better.  For your good and my Glory.  No matter what the circumstances are.   Quit trying to be strong and comparing yourself to other people who you “perceive” doing it better.  Because it’s not about what you do.  It’s about who you are in me.   So come to me.  Everyday, every hour, every moment.  I will carry you thru.”  

And so when those why questions haunt and churn up angst… I picture the flowers.  And their affliction.  Blooming glory for their Maker.  

Prayers:   Please pray for Rick’s health and that God would provide whatever medication he needs for His heart condition.  He is still only getting one and his doctor here had prescribed him about 6.  Pray that his itching would be resolved or alleviated.  

Anyone with Southwest Airline passes or who knows someone who has any extra and would like to donate them to our family would be greatly appreciated!  

Please pray for God’s financial provision for our family and for me to trust Him in this.  And that He will provide for us to get to go see Rick because this is a significant expense.

For my kids and their hearts and for health in our home.  We have 10 people living here and 6 are kids and all 3 of my children sleep in my room.  Can you say petri dish???  :)

And for my grandmother’s health.  Please pray for her and our family’s peace as she is facing many unknowns. 

I Almost Didn't Go...

“If you look for truth, you may find comfort in the end; if you look for comfort you will not get either comfort or truth only soft soap and wishful thinking to begin, and in the end, despair.” –C.S. Lewis

"Comfort and prosperity have never enriched the world as much as adversity has." -Billy Graham   

"It is quite useless knocking at the door of heaven for earthly comfort. It's not the sort of comfort they supply there." -C.S. Lewis

 I almost didn’t go.  7 o’clock is a late hour when you start your day at 4:15am.  It’s the time of day where kids are bathing and winding down and mom is counting down the clock to 8pm bedtime.  I had even lain down with my daughter at her naptime so I would be rested and ready, because I knew that I would take any excuse as why it would be better for me to stay home and go to bed and not keep my kids out so late.  And then of course I woke up with a nap hangover, even sleepier than before.  

Pride.  I don’t want to appear weak or incapable or in need…I want to be a supermom and wife and be strong with unwavering perseverance as we walk through this difficult season…on my own... I am a glory thief. 

I have a lot of fear of exposing deep ugly parts of a messy heart.  That I’ll be judged.  But more than any of that…I want to walk in freedom.  And joy.  And I need real strength.  And the peace that passes all understanding.   I know there is only One who can abundantly give these things and satisfy an aching weary soul.   And when I’m searching for comforts and control in creation rather than from the Creator, shame and defeat shackle my heart.  White flag raised...I can’t do it.  I knew I had to go…and He was calling me.  “Come…let Me bless you…hear My story of redemption and hope shared through the lives of the broken.  Come lay down your burdened heart…and I will give you rest.”   

And so I loaded up the kids, heart fearful yet hopeful.  And we went.  To a place where the broken meet.  

This journey has been a lot harder than I thought it would be.  I am learning that if I rely on my own strength to make it thru each day I become a crumbling mess.  I was telling my son, Saxon, that I had been praying for God’s comfort and that He would help me not run to candies of “instant gratification” or “escapism” like food or wine or television or the computer.  That He would comfort me.  And my son, so wise beyond his years, asks “why don’t you let your friends comfort you?”  It was as if the Lord just spoke Truth right thru this little 8 year olds breath.  Because community…the body of Christ…is a beautiful place where the Lord comforts.  And I think sometimes I shy away from community because I don’t want to be “needy” and “burdensome” and I know other people have their problems and mine really aren’t going away and I don’t want to be the person that keeps on needing.  Keeps on hurting.  Keeps on struggling.  

But that is EXACTLY where the Lord has me.  And you know what He says about it?  

“Blessed are the poor in spirit,
    for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
⁴ Blessed are those who mourn,
    for they will be comforted.
⁵ Blessed are the meek,
    for they will inherit the earth.
⁶ Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,
    for they will be filled.
⁷ Blessed are the merciful,
    for they will be shown mercy.
⁸ Blessed are the pure in heart,
    for they will see God.
⁹ Blessed are the peacemakers,
    for they will be called children of God.
¹⁰ Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness,
    for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”

Matthew 5:3-10

He says that when we surrender our pride and confess our need and mourn our sin and seek Him, we are BLESSED!!!  And I have to say that I have been blessed beyond anything I ever imagined in these last 5 months.  By so many people who have sent us gift after gift and paid our bills and sent encouraging letters and emails and prayers and taking care of our kids and moving into our house and contributing to our travel arrangements to see Rick and loving us well.  A testament of His Truth.  Of His goodness.  Of His love.  

So we arrived at our church that has a program called “Steps”.   And I am so glad they came.  Other broken spirited souls who have sought out community and rallied around each other and shared their stories of hurt and infidelity and addiction and incredible loss and sickness and anger bondage and ravaging pride and painful abuse and broken families and so much more…and how the Lord redeems and heals and sets free and gives grace and joy to these “needy” people… and it was all I needed to hear to know that I was right where I was suppose to be.  To hear the Gospel through their stories was sweet medicine.  And I saw strength and joy and freedom that these cross clingers wore like a glorious medal bestowed from the bloody battlefields of life.  And they were blessed.   And they were a blessing.  To me.  To all the other weary hearts who were there for Truth.  Comfort.  To be blessed.  His grace covers all.  ALL.  There is no sin too big or darkness too black that His grace cannot redeem.

I’m glad I have a place to go every week.  Especially after our visits with Rick.

One of the hardest parts of visiting Rick with the kids is that it amplifies that he’s not here.  I get used to him not being here after time passes.  But when we visit him and we are all there together as a family and the dynamic is whole…his absence is amplified in the leaving.  

I’ve heard the word “amputation” used when describing a divorce.  When I was 9 my parents ended their marriage.  I remember it being painful.  I remember crying and being sad that they wouldn’t be together anymore and my dad would be living somewhere else...alone.  But what I remember most is how hard it was to go and see my dad and then how hard it was to leave again.  Until finally after a couple of years of doing this over and over again, every other weekend, and one month in the summer…I stopped.  It was simply too painful.  And I didn’t really know how to sort out those feelings or articulate what it was at the time that made me not want to go and see him, but now I understand.  It just ripped the heart right open and I wanted the bleeding to stop.  This sort of feels like that.  Each visit reopens the wound. 

Last weekend we headed for Big Spring.  My mom and stepdad went too.  I was glad to have them there.  Especially for moral support.  We left on Friday after school and drove the long stretch of flat dusty highways and rugged landscapes littered with rocks and cotton and bushes.  And then about an hour outside of Big Spring, there were miles and miles of tall white spinning blades.  Converting wind to electricity.  The kids played their electronics and watched movies and were excited to arrive at our weekend home.  And to be in the arms of their much loved daddy. 

I was hoping Big Spring would kinda start to grow on me.  Not so much.  I woke up the first night at 3am to a fire alarm malfunctioning at the hotel and the second night to the foul stench of natural gas that had settled like a fog over the town, seeping into our hotel rooms, a gift of the large oil refinery up the way.  And the food.  My kids don’t even like the food.  And its Wendy’s…   We did find one hidden gem the last night we were there.  An old 1931 hotel recently restored.  Beautiful.  Historic.  And an amazing restaurant.   And the whole town was there too.

Then all the labored travels with 3 kids leads up a road of crumbling building decay to a crowded room with rules placed on hugs and kisses and sitting positions.  Sitting for hours on end in hard plastic back chairs eating lunch out of a vending machine.  A delicacy to Rick.  The burgers that come out of that machine are gourmet compared to the food they serve the prisoners.   

It is always good to see him.  The kids seemed more at ease.  Arista must have felt more comfortable because she threw a couple of her crazy temper tantrums.  Thankfully they did not terminate our visit.  The kids played dominos and memory and Rick did card tricks for them which they marveled at.  We had a lot of good laughs and shared stories and made dreams of what we will do when he comes home.  His heart is so sweet and resolved to focus on the good.  

And in a place of hardened hearts, Rick is determined not to succumb to the prison plague.  But it is a daily struggle considering the circumstances.  Being away from his family and loved ones.  Itching like crazy due to the harsh detergents that they use and they haven't given him medicine for it.  Not getting life sustaining drugs.  Being yelled at by various correctional officers who find joy in exerting power and spewing hate.  Living in that dusty smelly town where pollens are abundant and an oil refinery pollutes the air.  There are no couches to sit on or places of respite.  The food they eat is labeled “institutional.  Not fit for human consumption.  Inmates only.”  Most of it is well beyond the expiration date, canned and of little nutritional value.  

It hurts to see someone you love being treated like this.  Not being taken care of properly.  Uncomfortable.  Frustrated.  Trapped.  It makes me so sad.  And sad that I never even considered a prisoner’s plight.  I think I probably even thought they deserved it.  But the Lord’s sweet grace has opened my eyes to His wayward people that He loves and treasures and I am so grateful.  He’s grown compassion right deep in the trenches of my heart.  So maybe I can be a part of His work in caring for the lost and broken.  To offer hope.  To share His love.  To be the blessing. 

³⁴ “Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. ³⁵ For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, ³⁶ I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’

³⁷ “Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? ³⁸ When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? ³⁹ When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’

⁴⁰ “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’  -Matthew 25:34-40