U is for Under the Covers

I love my blankets.  I love crawling into bed at night with three or four heavy wool blankets and my comforter surrounding me.  I like the feel of their weight.  They make me feel warm, relaxed, and ready to surrender to the night.  I like to snuggle and burrow myself deep down into the bed so I am practically invisible.  If I am cold at all during the night – I cannot sleep.  I will toss and turn but I will not sleep if there is the slightest hint of cold touching my body.  My husband – who will generally kick off even a sheet, does not share my passion for being covered in layers and layers of blankets.  He finds them constricting and he can’t move.  They tangle his feet and he wakes up unable to sleep under their suffocating weight.

That is the problem with blankets.  They can suffocate, and when we live our lives buried underneath them, covering up who we really are, we become entangled in a mess.  If you have read any of my earlier blog posts, you know that through college I did not always live up to the expectations of one who claims to be following Christ.  And while I was learning, there were lots of steps forward, but there were some huge steps backwards as well.  I remember one occasion sharing with a Christian woman some of my struggles – even naming some of the sins I had committed, and while she herself was very kind, she warned me that I should never talk about these things because people would judge me and gossip about me.  I respected this woman a great deal, so I took her words to heart.

Unfortunately, trying to live your life with a big chunk of it covered up, is not easy to do.  I wasn’t sure how to deal with the dirty laundry that I had accumulated – and, was continuing to accumulate.  And since I wasn’t supposed to share with anyone, I covered it up. I hid it under a blanket where no one could see.  I continued to live my life, attempting as best I could to live like Christ wanted me to, but on those occasions when I didn’t, I just shoved those things to the pile under the cover of my blanket.

On the outside, I looked good.  I looked righteous, I looked like the pristine example of a Christian, but on the inside, where I kept my dirty laundry hidden under layers of blankets – it was beginning to stink.  And the pile seemed to keep growing.  So, unable to take the suffocating weight of it all, I did what I had been advised not to do, I began to let people see the dirty laundry that I was hiding under the blankets.

And, in doing so, I was able to get the laundry clean.  Each person that I shared with helped me carry some of the dirty clothes to the foot of the cross where Christ cleaned them – and made me clean.  The confessions would cause me to feel better, stronger, and then, I would take my laundry, clean now, fold it all up in nice neat piles and put them right back under the blanket where they stayed hidden.  Never realizing that even though my laundry was now clean, and it was no longer a burden in my life, I was still covering up, still sharing only a slice of who I am – and in doing so, I was concealing the healing power of Christ in my life.  It is one thing to say, “I am a sinner, healed by Christ” and quite another to say, “Here is my journey, here is where Christ has cleansed me and this is how He continues to bring healing in my life.”

I am not there yet.  I have kicked off some of the covers and let a selected, hand-picked few in – but it’s scary.  “What if people gossip about me?  What if people say terrible things about me? What if I lose their respect?  What if they hate me and no longer want to associate with me?”  However, slowly, with the help of good friends and God’s prompting, I am learning to live without the blankets that cover up Christ’s amazing redemptive work in my life.  I am learning to walk in obedience and share what He has done.  I am learning to live without the blankets in my life – but not at night, I’m not giving up the blankets on my bed anytime soon!

S is for Spiral

When I was a little girl, I loved going to the park.  I loved the swings, and the teeter totters, and the monkey bars.  I loved flipping and pulling and twisting and spinning on the pull up bars too.  But my most favoritest, funnest and bestest thing to do at a park, was to go down the slide.  And not just any slide, but the spiral slide.  I loved the thrill of climbing to the tippie top, standing on the edge, holding the bar and hurling myself down into the unknown.  Would I get stuck?  Would I crash into some clueless child playing at the bottom?  Would I go flying off when I reached the bottom?  And just where was the bottom?  That was the best part of all.  In a spiral slide - you didn't quite know when the end was there.  It could be after the first turn or the second - or maybe not even until after the fourth twist!  Oh how I loved playing at the park!

There is another spiral that has always intrigued me.  A spiral staircase.  A spiral staircase holds so much mystery.  It is always a feature in the best detective stories, especially when the setting is the 1940s.  They are grand, elegant, sophisticated.  One can always 'make an entrance' on a spiral staircase.  Can't you just see Lauren Bacall or Ingrid Bergman, standing at the top, looking down at the reporters, the suitors, the adoring fans below.  Can't you picture her as she lingers at the top, one hand softly trailing on the banister as she gracefully descends to the doting crowds below.  Her dress, flowing ever so delicately behind her as she steps, pauses, steps, pauses, never breaking her rhythm as she circles down, down, down to the bottom.

As an adult, the word spiral does not have the same fun and sophisticated connotations for me as it once did.  Generally now, when I speak of spiraling, I am usually referring to the sense of losing control - as in, my life is spiraling out of control. If we are, metaphorically speaking, standing at the top of a spiral slide, it is because we are about be thrown into a project, or a problem, or a situation where we do not know how many twists and turns there are going to be, or how fast we will go through the curves, or where the bottom lies. And often, it feels like we are being shoved down the slide.  Perhaps there is an illness, a job loss, or a unwanted relocation - most of these circumstances I would not walk into by choice.  But, just as a child can throw herself down a spiral slide because she knows her daddy is there, ready to catch her or help her through the twists and curves, we too can enter the spiral slides of our life with the same confidence because our Father is there also.

But some spirals in our life aren't slides where the ride is short and fast and unexpected.  Some spirals in our life cause us to feel as if we are on the top of a staircase, about to descend into a long, dark path that may take years to travel.  We could be facing the death of a child, or a divorce or a life altering illness.  These kinds of spirals of can be devastating and destructive.  Standing at the top, wondering if you can make it without falling head first and crashing at the bottom of the stairs has to be foremost in any one's mind who waits at the top of these kind of spiraling stairs.  But just like Lauren and Ingrid, we can descend the stairs with confidence- slowly, carefully, pausing with each small step to pray, to and make sure our footing is secure, keeping one hand on the scriptures for support just like we would cling to the banister, knowing that our friends are there, waiting and watching and encouraging us every step of the way.

So when I feel like my life is spiraling out of control - perhaps these images will serve as reminders that no matter the circumstances, no matter the path, I can make it.  With prayer, scripture and friends, spiraling never has to be done out of His control.

O is for Obstacles

When I was studying to be an elementary teacher, I had to take a class to learn how to teach PE effectively. One of the favorite lessons that we did with the students was when we set up an obstacle course. It was never excessively challenging – but it always had areas to jump, objects to climb, and places to overcome. The students would take turns going through and the object was to not just get the fastest time, but also to improve their time. Students were rewarded for getting better just as much as they were for being the best.

The obstacle courses always started out benign and would increase in difficulty as we encountered older students. A few students would rather sit down and not participate – but nonparticipation was never an option. Some students hesitated and wavered before starting, but gained confidence when they saw others make it through unscathed. Others performed their best when their friends cheered them on. But once finished, they were always able to go through a second or even a third time more quickly and with more confidence.

As much fun as it was for the students to go through a made up set of challenges and obstacles, when we must contend with them in our own life, it isn’t so pleasant. From time to time it can appear as if our lives are one big obstacle course. There is a continuous stream of something we must jump through, like an interview for a job or a promotion. There is constantly a wall we must climb, like getting fired, or the death or illness of someone we love. And it seems like there is always something we must overcome, like fear, or depression, or an illness of our own.

And just like the elementary students we hesitate and waver when those obstacles appear before us. We don’t want to go through the obstacles in our path. Sometimes we would rather sit down and stay right where we are – but nonparticipation is not an option. When we encounter others who have gone before us and see that they made it through, when we have our friends and family cheering us on, then we can make it. We might stumble, we might drop things, we may need help scaling the wall, but if we approach it in community with God’s help, we will finish. And when the obstacle race is over, we will be stronger, more confident and ready to face the next challenge.

For me, one of the biggest obstacles in my life has been fear. Whether real or imagined, fear has kept me from doing many things. But now that I believe that nonparticipation is not an option, I have begun to step out. The fears have not gone away - but I am no longer living as if they have power. It is scary out here - but I am still pushing forward. And in doing so, I have grown closer to my children, and my husband. I have discovered that I am stronger than I thought I was and I have friends who love me deeply and are cheering me on. Facing my obstacles and moving forward has improved my life. I still have fear - but it no longer has me.

When troubles come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy. For you know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow. So let it grow, for when your endurance is fully developed, you will be perfect and complete, needing nothing. ~James 1:3, 4

G

She was exhausted. Her feet ached from all of the walking, the running. Blisters formed on her heels, her toes, and her arms from the heat and the dust. Her shoes ripped to shreds, held together only by the duct tape she found on the side of the road, hung helplessly off her feet. The sun was relentless. All she wanted - all she needed was some shade. Just a small piece of shade - and water. Oh, how her body yearned for a drop. Just one little drop of water and she thought she might be able to go on.

But, go on where? For miles and miles all she could see in any direction was dirt. Dust clogged her nose, covered the insides of her parched mouth and the fireball in the sky terrorized her back with heat so intense she thought she might be on fire. Her stomach was so empty it no longer even recognized the pains of hunger. When did she eat last? Five days ago? Six days ago? Or was it six years? She no longer could count the passing time. All she knew, all she remembered was this desert. She shielded her eyes from the sand the wind was throwing in her face and she scanned the horizon for some place to go. Any place. Anything. Anything that would bring relief. Anything but that.

Not far from where she stood was a rock. It was a large boulder really. When she first started to run she had stopped there. Her friends had warned her about the rock. “Don’t go there,” they advised. “It will change you - destroy you,” others said. A few told her she would find shelter and safety there. Weary, she once approached the rock, but when she got there, she was afraid. It didn't feel safe. It didn't look like any place she had seen before. It was foreign to her and she did not trust it. A small, gentle voice whispered and called to her to stay, to stop, to rest, but a louder voice beckoned her away. "You can do this - you do not need this rock." And so away she went.

But now, she was more drained than she thought she could ever be. More dirty than she imagined possible and the feelings of being exhausted, lost, and polluted by the dirt- were more than she could endure any longer. “I should just end it all,” she said to no one. “It would take away my pain.” Her voice cracked under the weight of her confession. She lowered her head. And then, raising her eyes, she looked at the rock. One last time. Her eyes lingered on the rock. Rest, safety, shelter, that is what she hungered for most. That is what her body ached for. She sighed, took a step and stumbled. Crashing to the hard ground her knees took the impact. She rolled over to her back and lifted her knees. Bloody, cut, bruised and covered in sand and dirt. She wanted to cry - but there were no more tears. She lifted her head and turned toward the rock. Unable to stand, she determined to struggle on her wounded knees over to the rock.

She clambered into a crevice and let go of all of her weight. The small crack in the rock cradled her and seemed to fit her wearied body perfectly. She laid her head back and rested - for the first time in her life she let her body rest completely. And as she lay there, hidden from the sun, the fire that had raged before began to wane. Slowly she became aware that tears were forming in her eyes and cascading down her checks – and they were bringing sweet relief as she gave way to the rock.

The sky darkened and drops of water fell from the sky. Rain - she laughed with joy. Rain! Soft, gentle, precious rain. With her mouth open to the sky she drank as much of the sweet nectar as she dared. Then, strengthened, she stood on the rock, ripped off her filthy torn and stained clothing, and let the rain wash over her - over all of her. She left nothing untouched by the deluge. Slowly, life began to return. Her skin was becoming clean - the dirt was disappearing. Her sore, cut, and torn feet hurt as the rain pelted down - but it was a good hurt, she was becoming clean and she celebrated the process. Small rocks fell from her hair and she began to 'wash' it in the torrent of rain that was now covering her as she stood on the rock.

The rain tapered off and she gazed at her cool, clean, soft skin as if she had never seen it before. Her throat, no longer parched, her back no longer on fire, her feet, though still sore were clean - and ready to heal. “The rock,” she yelled to no one – “I am standing on the rock, and I am being healed!"

"Hallelujah,

Grace like rain falls down on me

Hallelujah, all my stains are washed

away, washed away"

Todd Agnew

"The LORD is my rock, my fortress, and my savior; my God is my rock, in whom I find protection. He is my shield, the power that saves me, and my place of safety" Psalm 18:2 NLT

C is for Cage

Since my other post is a little "out there" I thought I might try another, not so seedy one. So here is "C is for Cage."

I like things in order. I like things neat. I like everything put away in it's perfect little place where it is safe and free of harm. I like control - or rather I should say I like to be in control.

When I became a mom - and when I say that, I mean when I became pregnant, I lost all control. (I know now that honestly, I probably never had any control in the first place, but the illusion was there) I came to realize that I could do everything right - take my vitamins, exercise, eat only healthy foods, read all the 'right' books, give birth in the 'right' hospital and yet - I could not control the baby. She was going to be born when she wanted to be born, and her health, while encouraged by my habits, was not in my control. Doing everything right did not guarantee that she was going to be born perfect.

As she grew, I baby proofed the house, brought only the right books into our home, went only to the most sanitized places, washed and rewashed all her clothes and yet, she still got earaches. She still stubbed her toes. She still skinned her knees. As much as I would try to keep her safe from all harm - I couldn't do it. I could not control it all.

And then came the day that she went completely beyond my reach. The day she started driving. Oh the sleepless nights - the wasted time stressing until she got home - as if that could add one more ounce of protection over her.

The truth is - I wanted to put her in a cage. A nice safe place where no harm could befall her. A place where I could keep her safe and free from all dangers. No skinned knees, no stubbed toes or broken hearts or 1:30 AM phone calls about a flat tire in a bad part of town. I wanted so badly to put her in a cage where I could control everything.

But a cage, even built with the best of intentions would not keep her from harm. A cage would become a trap. She would suffocate, she would not grow to lean and trust in God. She would not experientially know His love and grace if she never skinned her knee or stubbed her toe, or - dare I say it, had her heart broken. It is in the dark places - the scary places where we learn His power and His care for us.

Yes, I want my daughter safe and protected, and I do not send her out into the world foolishly, but I am sending her out under God's protection and His control - after all, that's all there really is anyway!