Eden

 "Pain is a holy angel who shows us treasures that would otherwise remain forever hidden; through him men and women have become greater than through all the joys of this world. The pain of suffering and of longing, which can often be felt even physically, must be there, and we cannot and need not talk it away. But it needs to be overcome every time, and thus there is an even holier angel than the one of pain; that is, the one of joy in God."
-Dietrich Bonhoeffer 

This past week I returned to our church for the second time since our already-cracked world started crumbling two months ago. I've struggled in returning, as these days my emotions are fragile and not easily hidden. Sandwiched between identical towers of teenage, smelly boys (that happen to belong to me), I felt better shielded against anyone noticing my busted, broken heart. 
The pastor worked his way through the weekly formal greetings and we were listening to upcoming events and announcements when my daughter and son-in-law arrived and plopped their sweet cherub on my lap. Her chubby, grabby hands reaching out for anything they could find; her eyes lighting up with eager anticipation of life all around her...Oh, how I adore that sweet baby girl. She is an absolute delight. And as we stand to worship and she nestles her head into mine, a fleeting thought crosses my mind: this is what Eden was like. Pure. Simple. Unblemished. Untainted. Perfection. 
All of life started that way. 
All of life starts that way.
But then we take our first breath, and we grow to get lost in the forbidden fruit of self-prioritization and we find ourselves disoriented, confused and awakened to a sense that we're desperately missing something. 

And we've been trying to find our way back ever since. 

I remember how subtle it was for my own children; this passing from Eden into the awakening to the knowledge of good and evil. Since the day we were expelled from that garden, something deep within us mourns the harsh truth: this was not the way it was intended. 
And it's not. 
All this struggle, all this pain and heartache, brokenness and selfishness - it wasn't part of the original design. It was well within our choosing. We are kin with Eve and with Adam, and like them when we get distracted and lost in our own longing, we choose wrong - and generations after us will continue to choose wrong. Because we forget and we stumble and falter. 

All born under the sun carry the same. mournful fate: "Evicted from Eden". 

But all re-born by way of the Son possess the same, hopeful destiny: "Partakers of Paradise".

We, children of God, grieve after what we don't have, and forget what is already ours. Again and again. And like the children of Israel, impatiently waiting for our promised land, we accept deceptive imitations of Eden - snippets of self-gratification and self-fulfillment that temporarily coddle our superficial longings; all the while disregarding a much deeper need - The One that will soul-satisfy us much more abundantly...
I know. 
I am Eve. 
Desperately desiring the present longings to be fulfilled; foolishly thinking just one little bite of what I think I need most will do.
If I just feel worthy enough. 
If I just feel loved enough. 
And through all the human emotions that are so urgent and pressing and weighty, I forge ahead. Pushing, clawing, demanding and willing my way forward through the obstacles in life that are preventing me from finding that sacred Eden. And while it seems that every obstacle distances me further and further away from that blissful paradise, when I pause from the depths of exhaustion to regain perspective, it occurs to me: Perhaps the way forward actually is downward. Deeper and deeper into more busted and broken. Could it be? Might I be precisely on the right (albeit difficult) path, just simply navigating it with the wrong perspective? 

Maybe Eden was blissful not solely due to comforts of life, nor just the immense beauty that God dressed the garden in for Adam and Eve. Perhaps it wasn't just because the two lived in perfect union with one another and with creation. Maybe Eden was paradise simply because the presence of God was there. They lived in perfect union with the One who made the moon and the stars, who set their perfect planet in orbit. He walked with them in the cool of the day. He talked with them...and when, like a child, they hid from his presence after their disobedience, He chased after them. (Are these not the very things that the heart of every created being longs for? To be seen; to be known; to be loved?)
But then the fruit was tasted and the hammer fell and their eyes were opened. The price for our desire for more than what was given was and still is being paid for. (Is this not our greatest plight - desiring more than what we are given?) The first man and his wife were evicted; a flaming sword served as a painful reminder of their terrible regret...and the door to paradise, as well as God's immediate presence, was closed. Life was, and has never been, the same. 
We clumsily struggle our way, searching for a superficial paradise; running towards being made whole in all the wrong ways and all the wrong places and yet He still chases after us again and again and again. We create our own faulty, make-shift paradise out of relationships, out of positions of power or importance...out of all the ways that are imperfect and still leave us feeling "never enough". And while there's temporary reprieve from our longing in all these idols, our longings are never fully satisfied. God gives us so, so much good, despite the struggle, and yet, to our discontented hearts, it is never enough. He is never enough, because we never allow Him to be enough. Thinking it's the way back to paradise, we wrestle our way forward through self-reliance in attempts at feeling worthy and loved. 
Funny thing is - we already are. 

"I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with unfailing kindness."
-Jeremiah 31:3

Perhaps acknowledging and embracing that truth is the very first step towards Eden. 
Though we are forever forbidden from the garden of Eden in this earthly life, just maybe we are missing out on the possibility that we can have a sacred glimpse of Eden - here and  now. 
If I know - if I can truly trust - that God has already seen me as worthy; enough to die for - then I can rest alone in His acceptance and love, and in turn seek only this: to be nearer, nearer to the very heart of God. Because if I know, if I truly know, that I am loved beyond measure by my Maker, then I can trust that He is presently making a way to Him that requires I must go deeper, deeper - deeper down into my busted and broken....and accept that the busted and broken path is the one that I must journey to catch a glimpse of Eden - to catch a glimpse of just how much He loves me. To catch a glimpse of HIM: My Eden. My Paradise. My All. 

Deeper, deeper is the way to the heart of God. 

Deeper, deeper into the heart of God is where my Eden is found.

"My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart; He is mine forever."
-Psalm 73:26

And while consequences dictate that our privilege to enter Eden has been revoked, His love for mankind never has. His promises, His path and His purposes can be trusted. 

"You will show me the the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy:
at your right hand are pleasures forevermore."
-Psalm 16:11

I've just forgotten the road that leads me there isn't the most comfortable one. And my flesh is often overwhelmed by the difficulty and pain that the journey requires. 
Maybe all this time, all this wandering in the wilderness, we've been searching for the wrong promised land. Maybe fighting against the struggle and grieving the descent down into suffering is, in fact, refusing treasures that await. 

Hands wide open, Lord Jesus. Your will be done. 
I (timidly, hesitantly) surrender all. 
(Be still my trembling heart.)

Seasons

 

What captivated my attention on the long drive home was the leaves. The colors that were left on the trees were rusted oranges, washed-out yellows and hints of faded reds. What was left on the trees, anyhow - many were already on the ground. The changing seasons and its vast display of colors is always consistent in coming, yet seemingly never consistent in its display. Always predictable in their changing, yet never quite the same in the outcome. Just one month prior there was barely a hint that one season was about to abruptly turn into another. Hardly an indication of what was about to unfold.

That was all before the surgeon left his knife's crooked line on my husband's stomach. Before our lives consisted of medical supplies and hourly measurements and tearful, restless nights.
Before that first drive away from home; leaving behind the "normal" that we knew, before the leaves even began turning colors - the Lord whispered deep and strong within my soul, "This will be bigger than expected. But you will be held."                                              

What is Given

This past week I was half-heartedly watching a movie with the boys. 
While I puttered about - picking up dinner, washing the dishes and tidying the home - I kept one ear on the story line of The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. I do love the whole Narnia series; I just can't seem to keep my attention on an entire length of any movie these days. In the midst of my bustling, a particular scene caught my eye. It's the scene when Prince Caspian and his crew finally reach the end of the world. The waters they've just traversed magically dissipate and Prince Caspian is standing on dry ground, facing Aslan's Country - the blissful paradise (heaven, we presume). His heart is torn between reuniting with his father there, or staying to complete the mission his father set out to do. In that space of time he pondered his life: the tragic murder of his parents, rejection by an uncle, the fight for his rightful place on the throne...one wouldn't have condemned him for choosing paradise over more strife.  Yet after a few moments of quiet contemplation, he decides to stay - and the next few words he spoke cut deep...

                        "I've spent too long wanting what was taken from me and not what was given." 

                                                                               -Prince Caspian

How utterly profound. How positively convicting. 

The past few years of my life have felt like a complete upheaval. 
I've fought hard for joy while everything around me has shifted in waves of unpredictability. 
My husband has struggled much of his life with his physical health, but we've always adjusted. And what was once a seemingly "slight inconvenience" has rapidly taken front and center stage of our lives over the past few years. It has dictated our days and every decision we make. 
If you ask either of us, it most definitely feels as though we've both been robbed. 
It feels as though there has been much taken from us. Our marriage, family life and personal lives have been greatly altered. When a loved one in ones immediate family suffers with chronic illness, "normal" ceases to exist. Everything changes. And there are days that I find myself longing for what was, or even what could be...instead of being content with what is. 

I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. I know how to live on almost nothing or with everything. I have learned both to be full and to be hungry, both to abound and to suffer need.
Philippians 4:11,12

I believe Paul wrote those words regarding his physical needs, but I also believe the mental and emotional implications are applicable. Because life happens to all of us. All of us, at one point or another, find ourselves in seasons of overcoming or being overcome. Struggle is not a discerner of persons - no one is exempt. I love how Paul specifically uses the words, "I have learned". His contented state of being, his lack of fear for the future, it didn't just mysteriously come upon him. He had to learn it. It's a process. A forward and backwards dance of sorts. Undoubtedly full of moments of progress as well as moments of falling short. It's how we all learn.

I'm in the midst of that learning process. Because to be honest - this season of life looks absolutely nothing like I'd pictured. There are many things that I've had to mourn the loss of. Hopes, dreams and visions of a future that I'm learning to hold loosely. 
And I'm learning that it's okay. While there's times that I don't feel okay - I am okay. 
Because I know that God's in the story. Although there's many moments where my heart is heavy, I trust the Author is lovingly and intentionally penning each chapter. For His glory and my good.
And while our particular struggle is unique to us, I know it is not unique within this world. I wholeheartedly believe it serves purpose. Buried deep within every struggle, even if it's difficult to see on some days...there is always hope. Not just hope for rescue. Not just hope for a remedy. But hope for a future far beyond what we are able to see. Hope - and a trust that what is given...is enough. 

In the world you will have tribulation, but take courage; I have overcome the world.

John 16:33

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers,
they will not overcome you.
Isaiah 43:3

Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in ALL circumstances;
for this is God's will for you in Jesus Christ.
I Thessalonians 5:16-18

For I know the plans I have for you. Plans to prosper you and not to

harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future.
Jeremiah 29:11

Is this not, in fact, the heart of the gospel message? 
That beyond any present struggle there is a future hope and a promise. That there are far, far greater things ahead than anything we will leave behind. This life here is but a vapor. A blip in time. It vanishes in the blink of an eye. 
But eternity is forever. 
And what was given - this promise of hope - it is enough.  

Adventurously Expectant

 This resurrection life you received from God is not a timid,
grave-tending life. It's adventurously expectant, greeting God
with a child-like "What's next, Papa?" 
Romans 8:15, The Message

My "Go-Getters", ready to take on the world...

In the raising of children, I've noticed that there's two types of people: The Go-Getters and the Content-To-Stayers.
Some of our kids would wake up for the day, fully content being oblivious as to what the day holds...while others wake up ready to take on the world, having to account for every moment of the day! I love both perspectives. Both contain their own strengths as well as their own weaknesses. My Go-Getters are full of passion and adventure. They seek justice and are fiercely determined. While my Content-To-Stayers are contemplative and find contentedness in the simple things. They seek peace and resolution. 
The world and every community in general is a better place for having this type of diversity. We need the peacemakers just as much as we do the movers-and-shakers. Both personalities display unique attributes of who Christ is. (It's as though God knew what He was doing in creating us!)
 Our twin boys, the last of the brood, are notoriously known for asking, "What do you want to do with me today, Mom?" The question has always made me chuckle. It's as though life revolves around them and their adventurous activities! Which is only partially true, being the "babies" of the family and all....
But in all truth - they're always eager for adventure. Each day holds a certain opportunity in their perspective. (And they're not entirely wrong.) And while their dad and I are growing older and slightly exhausted from a life of "adventures", I do so appreciate their optimistic enthusiasm for life. It often is convicting. There's something about their youthful perspective that I know tends to be missing within my own life.  In a spiritual context, I love how Paul, throughout his letters in the New Testament, continually encourages the church to posture their lives in this enthusiastic way. All too often I'm content being timid. Tired. Weary.  I find complacency sneaking in as I grow older and I can easily retire my "life-giving" work in exchange for "grave-tending". In my conversations with my now adult children, I can feel their frustrations with my generation being stuck in this season of life-fatigue. I get it. They're at the starting gate of running their race. And from their view - looking at us, panting with our heads hanging low as we near the finish line, this isn't a very encouraging sight. (We have much work still to do still, aged believers. I still have much work to do.) Grave-tending doesn't exactly spark motivational inspiration. 
But. 
When I dig into the Word - when I strive to overcome my complacency and really seek for truth - I find the answer. I love how Paul describes the solution in Romans 8:15: living adventurously expectant...waking up to a new day, asking God, "What's next, Papa?" With this mindset, Monday is no longer just another Monday. The day instead opens to an entire twenty-four hours of adventurous possibilities! The mundane becomes full of hopeful expectation. And not selfish expectation, so as to be left with nothing but disappointment at the day's end. Selfless expectation...knowing and trusting that the very God who runs this world in fluid motion and perfect, flawless order - is also running and ordering my days in absolute perfection, according to His will and plans for my life. Including the chaos and obstacles that each day contains. Within this perspective I'm able to embrace life as we were intended - without fear. Without timidity. With a confidence an hopeful expectation for whatever lies ahead. 
Oh, to wake up with the enthusiasm like that of my adventurous sons and ask of the Lord, "What do you want to do with me...in me...and through me today, Papa?"! 

The Spiral Into the Unknown

Last month we surprised these ever-growing boys of ours on a road trip to stay overnight at an indoor water park. Being together with them and our oldest daughter before she embarks on shifting her residence to an entire other country - it just seemed monumental to have one last grand adventure together. (She contains the wild, adventurous genes of the family - the boys adore that about her most.) We were blown away with the enormity of this production. One corridor just kept opening into another large room of children running everywhere. With water exhibits everywhere the eyes could see, it was almost overwhelming to know even where to begin our day of fun. Since the lines for the waterslides didn't look too long, and it was closest to us, it seemed like the best place to start. Climbing the incredibly long set of stairs, one landing just kept turning into another set of stairs. Anticipation grew as we realized how high we were treading, knowing that the way down had the potential to be fast and furious. Thankfully we finally (exhaustingly) reached the top and were elated to discover we could all descend in one giant, inflatable tube - we could share the adventure together! Our turn to climb in arrived, and I intentionally chose the side of the tube directly facing the mouth of our decent down. I was not going to go into this not seeing what twists and turns were coming! The rest of the family settled in the attendant gave our tube a not-so-gentle push towards our demise. Now, what happened next was both unfortunate as well as confusing. To my dismay, the tube somehow spun around before plummeting into the great abyss of the slide. (Did the attendant do that on purpose?!) Before I knew it, I was the one sailing down backwards - my view of what was to come completely gone. And what was worse? Everything suddenly turned dark. Complete darkness. I swear we were going 320mph (okay, I may be exaggerating here) without visual guidance, the slide violently twisting and turning left and right with an occasional glimpse of light to reveal nothing for me but the expressions on my kids' and husband's face. They were in utter delight. Me - not so much. I did what any (ir)rational woman would do in this scenario - I screamed. "I don't like this!", along with other feral sounds were the only thing that would come out. Our son, Chase, was rather perturbed by my apparent lack of sanity and hollered back, "Mom! Stop screaming!" Clearly I was interrupting the joy he was having on this adventure. His screaming at my screaming instantly made me laugh hysterically. (Nervous laughter? Embarrassed laughter? I'm uncertain.) That foolish inner tube - not once did it turn around properly for me to take in the view of our wild trip down that slide. We ended at the bottom with a loud whoosh and all I could say was, "I hated that...let's do it again!!" I was completely beside myself...with myself. What kind of insanity was that?! The rest of the day consisted of lots of laughter, facing some fears, and making lots of memories. I hadn't done any introspection on that whole encounter. Until today.
I've done a lot of soul searching lately.
The past few years have been a paramount of emotions.
Life has been like the waterslide with my back to the view of where it leads. And I can't seem to get the attendant's attention to tell him that I want to get off. Life's changing and moving too fast. I've had a long season where I've struggled to fully embrace the entirety of this ride. There's been moments of absolute highs - those exhilarating moments when I'm at the top of the slide, eager for the adventure and feeling confident that I'm able to take on whatever twists and turns may come. Because I possess the knowledge that the journey is going to end and all will be well. But then circumstances plummet downward in a terrifying spiral into the great unknown. My vision becomes impaired in the darkness of the unknown; unable to see whatever lies ahead - fear, doubt and uncertainty threaten to overtake. In the chaos and confusion, I find my heart silently screaming, "I don't like this!" But then I catch a glimpse into the lives of my children, walking heavily through their own struggles, and my spirit is quietly, inwardly corrected, "Mom - stop screaming." There's a certain call to action that they give me without ever even speaking a word; an unspoken way they have of correcting my own perspective. (The ways God uses them to speak volumes to my heart never ceases to amaze me.)
I've come to realize that in our human flesh, we have many, many expectations. And they're not necessarily even intentional. Our thought processes are so incredibly subliminal, but when I take time to think through what the source of my struggle is...it's always the same thought: This isn't turning out the way I thought it would.  I'm not leaning into and accepting "what is". And I know I'm not alone - I hear it echoed in the lives of those around me. 
I've had to face that truth on more than one sleepless night. This season of life has spiraled down a tunnel of emotions and circumstances that I really didn't anticipate. There's been more internal struggle with acceptance than I'd care to admit. My heart has cried out to God again and again, "I don't like this!" And it's not the honesty of the statement that is problematic - it's the choosing to dwell there. I think denying our hard truth doesn't benefit us...but most definitely, choosing to change our perspective does. I am at work regularly sweeping up the dusty, toxic areas of my mind. I don't have to love certain circumstances, but I can choose to accept that they're changing me to better reflect the image of Christ. I can mourn the loss of hopes and dreams while embracing the reality of what is. 
It all circles back to trust. When I'm unable to see my way through the unpredictable tunnel that's spiraling into the great unknown - is God still good? If it all doesn't end the way I'd hoped - am I loved any less? I know the answers, yet sometimes I don't always feel the weight of their truths. God is good, and I am loved. 
And my journey - albeit unpredictable and sometimes painfully difficult...is unique. My journey to the heart of Christ is uniquely mine. 
He chose this specific path for both His glory and my good. 

Charlotte

Charlotte. Oh, sweet girl. Today is your birth day.

The moment you entered into this world, we were all captivated. Awestruck. When you emerged from the depths of your Mama's womb and placed on her chest - it was then that I knew beyond a shadow of doubt that I loved you. While you calmly and quietly snuggled into your surroundings, the room erupted in profound and immense joy. Tears were abundant - and thanksgiving for your safe arrival, all the more. 

You, my dear grand-girl - are a blessing. 
You were prayed for.
And prayed over. 

You are monumental. You are the beginning of a new generation. The next in line to carry on a lifetime of traditions, memories and legacies. You are the first - the first "grand" and the first "grand-grand" for several. Our hopes, heritage and dreams are in your keeping. 

Grand you are.
And even grander you will be. 
For you have a Mama and a Daddy who love deep and love well. 
And you have a Father who loves best, and who has intentionally and meticulously crafted you. All five pounds and nine ounces of you. From your striking black hair, your button nose and your tiny, long toes...you are a marvel. An absolute wonder. 
You are loved; you are beautiful. You have purpose and belonging. (Never, ever forget.) 

May you do big, big things, Little Charlotte.  
May God do big, big things in you. 💗

 

For My Girls

This season of life has been a particularly peculiar one. One in which I'm learning to settle into. (Change doesn't always come easily or naturally.)

The sweet little girls that I dedicated so much time journaling about for the past sixteen years have since grown and (for the most part) flown from the nest. It all happened so fast - it may take me a few years still to process it all. (And perhaps in some ways my heart is temporarily refusing to process certain aspect of it.) While my days are still quite busy keeping our twin boy-joys alive, I find myself most recently mourning the loss of days gone by for my "season of girls".  I find myself pondering how fast c time could have possibly flown and what I would have done differently, as well as wondering if I showed and taught them everything I wanted to....
It's an overthinking mom problem. 
But in case I left anything out...here's a few more ponderings from this mama's heart to her grown-women-but-always-my-babies girls...
(And I'm sure this list will be added to regularly. Because...overthinking, you know...)

*Don't get caught up in the business of impressing people that you entertain in your home. Get caught up learning them. Knowing them. No one cares if your house was clean or the meal perfect - they just want to be known and loved. 

*When fixing yourself up in front of the mirror for the day - be aware of your thoughts. Be thankful for each and every feature on your body; shrug off negativity. God gave us a body as a place in which our soul lives. When we become critical of it or long for something different than the house our soul lives in, we're cheapening his creation. Your temple is perfectly suited for the soul He gave you. 

*Practice gratitude in the little things - thankfulness has a supernatural way of posturing the heart towards our Creator.  

*Don't allow other's careless or hurtful words to penetrate your heart. What others speak is more of a reflection of them and their struggles than it is of you. 

*Give people the benefit of the doubt. Don't assign motives to their actions. There's an entire lifetime of stories that causes us all to act/react in particular ways.

*Guard your mouth. Words are powerful and, once spoken, they can be forgiven - but their impact can be felt for a lifetime. 

*Never hesitate to speak words of life. Tell people you love them. Tell them why you love them. 

*Be vulnerable. If you are a child of the King, you are promised eternity - anything you have to lose here on earth was only temporal anyhow...

*Assess and reassess your heart regularly. Be honest with its contents. Learn to recognize when the idols of self-interest are present. 

*Hold everything loosely. Dream and hope always - but know that gripping too tightly to people, things and ideas has the potential to keep us from receiving good gifts from the Father. 

*Protect your heart against comparison. It destroys contentment. Strive to be who God intended YOU to be, and be grateful for the path and journey He has YOU on. Our stories are intended to be unique and different - and you only see a portion of someone else's...

*Remain in community. Work through relational problems in the family of God. Strive for unity. Seek peace and restoration. Allow for mistakes and growth. Seek out wisdom, seek to offer wisdom. Invite admonishment and accountability.  

*Search your own heart as to its motives. Be alert of manipulative behaviors. Own your actions, words and thoughts. 

*Be teachable. Know that even your best insights are still limited. Be humble to admit when you're wrong; be humble even when you're right.