Day 66: Grace

As I consider the work that God is doing in our family, I am struck by God's amazing grace, especially when juxtaposed with the work that I had been trying to do in our family, which was a shabby imitation of grace that I have come to recognize as the codependent counterfeit known as enabling.

Grace and enabling can look quite similar on the outside -- appearing to demonstrate love to the unlovable and bless those who deserve it least -- but enabling is foolish, indulgent, and conditional, and in the end, it always leads to bitterness and destruction.

Grace, on the other hand, is as wise as it is extravagant.  It comes with no strings attached. It is never accompanied by resentment, and it always gives life.  It simply says, "Here is the gift.  Do with it what you will." and keeps on loving.

Romans 5:8 reminds us that:

"...while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us."

That is grace -- wise, loving, life-giving grace.  No strings...no conditions....no resentment...no enabling.

The gift has been given.  Will we accept?  Will we walk worthy of the gift? And perhaps most importantly, will we extend it to others?

Day 64: A longing fulfilled...

And now, the post you've all been waiting for!  Okay, maybe that's overstating it a bit...  I'm sure you all have lives, but I suspect that some of you may want know how my husband's 24-hour pass went, so read on...

On November 26th my husband officially completed his second month in recovery and was granted a 24-hour pass to leave campus.  The kids and I picked him up almost promptly at 11:00 on Saturday morning, and thus ensued our 24 hour journey from awkward to awesome!

Before I can explain the awesome, I must first address the awkward.  Our last visit just over two weeks ago was no es bueno (not good).  I didn't write about it then because I needed time and space to process it all, but long story short, it is difficult to cultivate a new relationship in a petri dish.  We are not single-celled organisms.  We are a living breathing family of many organisms and trying to connect in a house full of strangers is extremely challenging and stressful, and there is no normal to be found.

I came away from that visit feeling lonely, dejected, and confused, and the next day when my husband called me, I spent most of the conversation crying. He tried to encourage my by reminding me that he was almost due for his 24-hour pass, but to no avail.  I spent the next several days feeling sullen and angry while dreaming wistfully of returning to "Egypt".

As the weekend of the 24-hour pass approach, I learned that the "conjugal" nature of our visit was on more minds than just mine and my husband's, which was, uhm...awkward.  Several people asked if our kids would be with us on the visit and what we were going to do with them so that we could you know... As it turned out, my sister and her husband were going to be out of town, so they gave us a key to their place (leaving their room to us, the guest room to our girls, and the living room to our boys), and told us to have fun playing house...and we did.  Nuff said!  ;-)

In spite of the weekend's occasional first-date-like awkwardness (like not knowing what to talk about at lunch and my husband waking up before 7 am ready to start the day, and me saying uhm no, I'll be staying in bed until 9 am, but you are more than welcome to stay with me...), it was full of so much awesomeness that I came home fairly bursting with joy!  Highlights included, but were not limited to: walking in the rain with my husband...putting dishes away with my husband...cuddling on the couch with my husband (while watching a ridiculous movie with our children)...laughing, talking, and crying into the wee hours of the morning with my husband...conjugal-ness (not a word, I know) with my husband...breakfast at Starbucks with my husband...grocery shopping with my husband.  (You could substitute almost any activity, and if it included with my husband, my heart would sing!)

But the icing on the cake was on Sunday morning...  We had just finished discussing the "proper" time to get out of bed, and I seemed to have won (apparently I hold more allure than coffee or a shower because my husband elected to stay), but like a ninny, I ruined the victory by beginning to fret about a situation involving our oldest son.  My husband rolled over, took my hand in his, and said, "Let's just pray about it.  God will take care of him." "Uhm," ...stunned silence... "okay," was my reply, as I curled into his chest and closed my eyes...

He had me at, "Let's just pray..."

“...a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.”  (Proverbs 13:12)

Day 55: Bittersweet...

Today my 13-year-old observed our neighbors hanging their Christmas lights outside, and before I knew it, he was up on our roof attempting to hang ours. This was something that my husband always did, as he fancies himself a bit of a "Clark Griswold", but he will not be here this year to deck our halls. Bitter. My 13-year-old is definitely his father's son, as evidence by his stout-hearted attempt to fill his father's shoes.  Sweet!

Tonight I attended my cousin's wedding -- a wedding that I had originally been asked to sing in, but declined because it fell on one of my husband's visitation days.  My cousin's new husband is in the military, and his orders were recently changed, so the wedding was rescheduled and held a month early, freeing me to attend.  I am so thankful that I stuck with my original decision not to sing because I was far more emotional during the ceremony than I had anticipated. Bitter.  The wedding was beautiful, and my cousin is now married to a kind, caring young man. Sweet!

Day 52: Longing for "Egypt"

During the 40 years in which the Children of Israel wandered in the wilderness, there were times when they longed to return to Egypt.  In Exodus 14:12 with their backs against the Red Sea they said:

"...It would have been better for us to serve the Egyptians than to die in the desert!"

In Exodus 16:3 when they had no food to eat they said:

"...If only we had died by the LORD’s hand in Egypt! There we sat around pots of meat and ate all the food we wanted...."

And in Numbers 20:5 when they had no water to drink they said:

"Why did you bring us up out of Egypt to this terrible place? It has no grain or figs, grapevines or pomegranates. And there is no water to drink!"

In each instance, the children of Israel had grown weary and frightened.  They had no idea where they were going, they had forgotten what they had been delivered from, and all they wanted to do was go home.  The Promise Land seemed vague and mysterious, and crazy as it may seem, they longed for the false-security of their bondage in Egypt.

Confession: As much as I hate to admit it, in the past few days I have found myself longing to return to "Egypt".  I am weary and frightened.  I have no idea where we are going, I can't remember the former chaos that led to this separation, and I just want my old life back.  I don't want to keep trudging through the wilderness and making trips over the mountains every two weeks. The turmoil of our former lives has faded into the background, and I find myself longing for the "good ol' days".  Except that they weren't good, but like the Israelites, I am prone to wander and apt to forget.

And where was God in the midst of the Israelites' short-sighted wandering?  In spite of their fear, their complaints, and their doubt, God parted the Red Sea, rained down manna and quail from heaven, and brought forth water from a rock (on more than one occasion!).  He led them, fed them, protected them, and even blessed them!  Nehemiah recounts it well:

"You divided the sea before them, so that they passed through it on dry ground....  In their hunger you gave them bread from heaven and in their thirst you brought them water from the rock....  Because of your great compassion you did not abandon them in the wilderness. By day the pillar of cloud did not fail to guide them on their path, nor the pillar of fire by night to shine on the way they were to take.  For forty years you sustained them in the wilderness; they lacked nothing, their clothes did not wear out nor did their feet become swollen.  You gave them kingdoms and nations.... You made their children as numerous as the stars in the sky.... They ate to the full and were well-nourished; they reveled in your great goodness."  (Nehemiah 9:11, 15, 19, 21-23, 25 NIV)

And so, in spite of my current struggles, I will stay the course and in time, I believe my longing for "Egypt" will cease.  Until then, I will trust in the God of the Israelites to guide us to our promise land and pray fervently that we don't manage to find a way to turn 1 year into 40!

Day 45: This is not a sprint...

While gearing up for my third trip over the mountains to see my husband this coming weekend, it dawned on me that this is not a sprint; this is a marathon, and I am ill prepared.  I have not trained properly for this race.  I am running at a sprinter's pace, and I am growing weary.

I am a sprinter by nature, both physically and mentally.  Physically, I have bulky, fast-twitch muscle fiber.  I was a jumper and sprinter in high school, and I have never understood the distance mentally.  Jogging irritates me, and as far as I'm concerned, any distance over 200 meters requires a motorized vehicle of some sort or at the very least, a bicycle!

Mentally, I must have fast-twitch grey matter.  Those who know me well will confirm that there is nothing slow about me (except for the way I wake up in the morning...).  I talk fast, I move fast, and I think fast. Several years ago my brother-in-law marveled that in order to talk as fast as I do, my brain had to be working even faster!

Yet in spite of my natural bent toward speed, Ecclesiates 9:11 reminds me that:

"...The race is not to the swift or the battle to the strong..."

When life gets overwhelming and challenges arise, God does not call us to be bigger, faster, or stronger.  In fact, in Matthew 11:28-30, God invites us to rest:

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."

Not only does God invite us to rest, but he invites us to learn -- to train, if you will.  And train, I must, for only He can prepare me to run the race that has been set before me, and this race is definitely not a sprint!

Are you going to be here now?

My father once had an uncle who was developmentally disabled.  He spent most of his life in a group home, and we would visit him from time to time during my youth.  Because of his disability, the things that this uncle said rarely made sense, but he would frequently ask, "Are you going to be here now?"  Such a probing question from one who may never have really understood its depth.

Today I came across the video below.  It was created by a man named Blaine Hogan, and it is simply brilliant.  I encourage you to watch the video and then ask yourself, "Am I going to be here now?"  I pray that the answer is yes.

Day 40: Hope deferred...

We were supposed to go see my husband this weekend, but the visitation schedule has been changed.  And as much as I appreciate an unexpected weekend at home (I am not a go-er by nature.),  I can't help but wonder if this week's outburst might have something to do with knowing that I would not be able see my husband as anticipated.

Proverbs 13:12 says:

"Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life."

Perhaps my heart has been a little sick and sad due to the schedule change. By the time I see my husband again, three weeks will have passed -- our longest separation since we married.  And yet, there are military wives and mothers all over the world who are not able to see (or even speak!) to the men they love for weeks, months, or even years...and some are never seen again.

I am humbled and amazed by these women whose longings may never be fulfilled in this life. And I find that reminding myself of their sacrifices brings my sadness in to proper perspective.

Am I still sad?  A little.  But I have every reason to believe that my longings, both in the near and distant futures will be fulfilled...in HIS time.

Day 38: There are worse families than ours?

On the heels of my mega-meltdown last night involving my 13-year-old, my 17-year-old tried to console me with the following words of encouragement:

"Mom, there are worse families than ours."  

"Really?"

"Yeah, Mom, WAY worse!"

I feel SO much better...I think.

Day 37: The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Night...

Tonight I was planning to write about what a great week I had last week, but then things went horribly wrong.  My 13-year-old made me extremely angry, and I completely lost the victory.  COMPLETELY.  I said and did things that I am not proud of. (No need to call CPS.  The child is unharmed; however, we now have two fewer ceramic cereal bowls...)  And after my epic tantrum, I ran away...literally.  (I actually ran two blocks to my friend's house!  Very mature.)

My friend was able to talk me off the ledge (She has become quite skilled at it, having done it many times before.), and after about half an hour or so, I was ready to go home.  But as I was walking home, I saw one of my older boys pull up in the drive, so I did what any mature adult would do -- I ducked into the post office and hid.  Why?  I'm not sure.  Perhaps to give my other older son (who had witnessed the meltdown) time to download the evening's events without fear of reprisal.

It only took a couple of minutes to realize just how ridiculous it was for me to be hiding in the post office and just how awkward it would be to be discovered by an unsuspecting, late-night postal patron all tear-stained and miserable, so I did what an actually mature adult would do and left the toasty warmth of the post office lobby, braved the chill of the autumn night air, and trudged home to face the music.

When I arrived at home, I threw open the door and without saying a word, I marched right past my 17-year-old and my 19-year-old (who were still discussing what to do with a "mother gone mad") and took myself directly to my room.  As I marched to my room, I happened to notice that my four youngest appeared to be asleep (or cowering)  in their rooms.  I threw myself on my bed in a heap of despair and waited.

After an indeterminate amount of time (Time loses it's meaning when you're a horrible parent.), there was a faint knock on my door.  I bid the brave knocker enter. It was one of my 19-year-olds.  (We have two -- one by birth, one by choice.  One is still home.  One is away at college.)  Apparently it was his lot to try to appease me, since my 17-year-old had cleaned up the remains of the cereal bowls.  19-year-old asked if I was okay.  I said no.  He was very patient and kind as he tried to reason with me, but then his iPhone rang, and well, you now what that means -- later mom!

Still feeling desolate, I went downstairs to talk to my 17-year-old.  Before I got too close, I assured him that I was not crazy.  He looked at me warily and invited me to continue.  I made my case; he made his, and then 19-year-old came down.  The three of us talked for some time.  Both boys made some very astute observations.

19-year-old had asked me earlier in the day why I had been in such a funk the past few days.  I told him that I hadn't been in a funk and that I had, in fact, had a wonderful week last week, but he obviously saw something that I didn't, as evidenced by my anger which came out of nowhere and completely blindsided me.  He told me that there was more going on than just overreacting to my 13-year-old's childish disobedience.

17-year-old went on to say, "It's too soon, Mom."  "Too soon for what?" I asked. "Too soon to freak out."  "Oh."  I said.  "When will it be time?"  "Six months," he said and then, "A year is a long time..."

And in less time than it took for me to "freak out", my big boys had gotten to the heart of the matter.  Yes, my 13-year-old was out of line, but there is more going on here, and a year is a long time.  Before I left to go back upstairs, my 17-year-old told me that he didn't want me to cry myself to sleep. I told him I wouldn't, but I probably will...

(PS:  After talking with my older boys, I woke my 13-year-old up and told him that I loved him and that I was very, very sorry for the way that I had behaved.  He seemed to accept my apology and told me that he loved me, too. We'll see how he feels about me in the morning.)