suffering

This week, a tornado ripped through Oklahoma, splintering hearts and homes. I've never experienced a large-scale tragedy in my life. The closest I've come is losing my dad, but that was a personal  tragedy, not a major catastrophe.

I doubt I'll ever know the unimaginable pain, both physical and emotional, that the victims are experiencing. All I know is what I've seen on television and the Internet. There is no way for me to fully understand how it felt to be in the midst of that storm...to hear the rumble...to take shelter against the sheer force of the wind...to worry about missing loved ones.

I can't know.

Or understand.

Or help.

All I can do is pray.

Heartfelt prayer in tragedy

When I hear news of a tragedy, my first reaction is to pray. I usually offer up a quick request for comfort or protection. God hears and answers my simple pleas.

But those quick prayers don't take much thought or emotion on my part. They may be all I can manage at times, but I don't want to be content with staying unconnected to the sufferings of others. I want my heart to be heavy with the needs of people who are hurt, and sad, and hopeless.

I can't know what it's like to go through something so grim and heartbreaking, but I can try to relate. I can step out of my generic one-line prayers and into the shoes of the hurting. I can let my imagination inform my heart.

When I consider troubling events, such as the recent tornado, and how to pray for them, I like to put myself in the place of different characters in the narrative. I paint a picture in my mind of what it must be like, the inevitable trials and struggles that are being faced.

I pray for the mommy who doesn't know where she'll find a bottle for her baby....or how she'll ever get her toddler to sleep without his favorite blankie....or if her preschooler will stop whining for a snack that she can't give...or if her elementary child is ever going to let her leave the room without going into a panic.

I pray for the rescue workers who are stretched to the limits of exhaustion....and are searching for hope among the rubble....and are finding nothing but destruction....and have seen horrors they'll never be able to forget.

I pray for the wife who has to tell her little ones that Daddy is gone....and wonders how she'll care for them all by herself....and doesn't know who she's supposed to call for help....and just wants to go home to a safe place that no longer exists.

I pray for the parents who are sitting beside hospital beds....and those who are preparing for funerals....and the ones who don't know how they will rebuild when the only thing that matters is gone. Forever.

God doesn't need me to remind Him of the specific needs.

He already knows each and every emptiness and loss, but God uses my imagination to drive me to my knees. He uses these thoughts to break my heart for the hurting, to help me sympathize with the suffering, to bring me to tears over pain that is not my own.  

He knows.

He understands.

He helps.

Let's pray....

What hurts or needs can you imagine? Please share so we can join together in lifting them up before the throne of grace.

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It's odd how lonely motherhood can be.

You know, since we are never, never, ever alone.

Never.

Never ever.

Amen?

But it isn't being  alone that makes us lonely; it's feeling  alone that does it. It's the thought that all we do is wash the same laundry, and discipline the same disobedience, and wipe up the same spills. Over and over again, all by ourselves.

And it's hard. Today is not forever, but today is still hard.

Our husband goes to his job...then his second job...sometimes even a third, and we are the ones left to deal with every tantrum and trauma.

Maybe Daddy goes out of town for a business trip, or is deployed, or has never been around, or is asleep while we get up for the eighteenth time in the middle of the night. And we are the ones who are there to do it all, all the time.

We feel so very alone because, in many ways, we are.

My husband has always managed restaurants, so he works a whole lot of odd hours. He doesn't have the same days off as other husbands do, and he is rarely home for dinner.

His schedule was even worse when our kids were little. He would leave for work a few minutes after lunch each day and come home in the wee hours of the morning. I did nearly every dinner, bath, and bedtime all by myself.

I know. The loneliness of motherhood can be overwhelming.

I know that sometimes it's just too much.

The feelings of exhaustion mix with the realities of life with needy children, and we can easily slip into despair. Even though my kids are older, I'm still the one who deals with most of the drama, and driving, and discipline myself. Just like the long days of toddlerhood can seem never ending, so can the long days of teenagehood (new word?).

And I regularly lock myself in my room to cry. In case you were wondering.

Turn your eyes upon Jesus.

But after I'm done with my pity party, I usually do what I should have done all along: I turn to the Great Comforter, the one who knew the worst kind of loneliness.

God is the only One who promises to never leave us or forsake us (Joshua 1:5). In the dark of night and through the long, weary days, God is there (Psalm 139:1-12). His steadfast love never ceases; His mercies never come to an end (Lamentations 3:22-25).

Something happens in our hearts when we can cry out like the writer of Psalm 73:25-26 that "there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you" and that "God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever."

Rejoice always.

Then, once the truth of God's Word begins to soften my jaded heart, I can see clearly enough to change my tears into joy. I can begin to praise God for the very trials that nearly broke me.

I thank God for the food we put on that pile of dirty dishes.

I thank Him that I get to teach my little one I love her, even when she is grumpy and disagreeable.

I praise the Lord for the opportunity to love my husband by washing his dirty laundry.

You get the picture.

It's hard to complain about something that I just thanked God for.

Take practical steps.

The lonely heart needs corrected and comforted by truth that can only come through prayer and the Word of God, but there are practical things we can do, especially when the kiddos are young, to keep some of the loneliness at bay.

~Have a basic routine- Even if you aren't a "schedule person," having a basic routine will keep the days moving. It can be as simple as always reading stories after breakfast and giving naps right after lunch. It's encouraging to know that nap time and bedtime will eventually roll around.

~Put the kids to bed early- My kids always went to bed very, very early. As a matter of fact, they still joke about going to bed while it was bright light outside. Sorry, children, you'll understand when you have kids of your own.

~Get out of the house- Take a walk. Go to the grocery store. Play in the backyard. Breathe air outside of your own four walls. It helps.

~Visit with a friend- It's always encouraging to fellowship with others. It helps to know that your friend's son still wets the bed, her little girl whines just like yours does, and her laundry hasn't been folded in a week either. Guard yourselves against complaining, but take joy that you're not the only one walking this road.

~Clean or organize something- Do something, anything, every day. If it's hard to find the energy to lift a finger around the house, try setting a timer for just fifteen minutes. Usually, doing just a little bit gives the momentum necessary to keep plugging along. You may even want to take my hour a day challenge. Being productive really does lift the spirit.

~Find a project or hobby- Paint the bathroom. Sew some curtains. Make jewelry. Do whatever floats your boat. It's nice to have a hobby to occupy your mind and give a creative outlet.

~Create things to look forward to- If hubby doesn't get home from work until late, then plan to watch a chick-flick in the evening. Start a novel that you pull out during the baby's afternoon nap. Plan on enjoying your favorite blogs, connecting with friends on Facebook, or getting in some exercise during your alone time. Having something enjoyable to look forward to makes the time when your husband is away from home much more bearable.

~Plan special surprises for your husband- Looking beyond ourselves is a great way to battle self-pity and resentment. Plan a fancy snack for when your husband rolls in late. Rent that action move he's wanted to see, take out the trash so he doesn't have to, help the children make construction paper cards. Making your husband feel loved usually circles right back around to fill up your own heart.

Do you battle the loneliness of motherhood? Have any tips or encouragement to share?

Shared with Mercy Ink, Titus 2sdays, Titus 2 Tuesdays, Teach Me Tuesdays, Rachel Wojo, Raising Homemakers, Works for Me Wednesday, Wise Woman Link-Up.

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This chair is my new favorite place. Love. it. We picked it up this week, and it sits in the corner of my bedroom. You know, the room with a door that can be closed if I'm craving quiet. Yes, that one. I've mostly been using it with the door wide open, but I know that the door is there, just in case I need it. It's the perfect little spot for me to enjoy the relaxing pace of our spring break.

This morning, I had my quiet time in my new chair.  Although I've pretty much dropped the Bible-reading-ball so far this week, I decided to open up to the story of Jesus' crucifixion. Actually, to the pre-story. I turned to Matthew 26 and began reading right through the scene in the garden of Gethsemane (Matthew 26:36-56).

The loneliness of it broke my heart.

Jesus went walking with the disciples, his closest companions. They weren't his employees; they were his friends. And while they were walking together, he became visibly troubled and sorrowful.

He took his three best friends from the group and went off with just them. These were the ones who should have known him best. Who should have been able to read him better than the others. They should have felt his pain and sympathized with his sorrow, even if they didn't fully understand it. He took them aside with him for a reason.

But instead of comforting him, they fell asleep. Three times he returned to them and found them sleeping. He was alone in that garden. Even with his dearest friends nearby, he was utterly alone.

Then, as if it wasn't bad enough that his best friends couldn't fight off sleep to be there for him, one of his other companions - someone whom he had loved - brought an army to arrest him. Jesus knew it was going to happen; it wasn't a surprise to him. Still, watching Judas proudly leading that group of soldiers must have been sickening. In that moment, after being emotionally abandoned by his true friends, this false friend's betrayal was another slap in the face. 

That must have hurt. All of it must have hurt.

Jesus had feelings. I forget that. I forget that he laughed and loved. And cried. Even though he knew beforehand, before the foundation of the world, how the beautiful and awful picture of forgiveness and grace was going to be painted with his shed blood, that doesn't mean he didn't feel every heart-wrenching bit of it.

He felt the pain of it. He felt the physical pain for sure, but he felt the emotional pain, too. Before the accusations and beatings, he suffered. He suffered alone. He suffered so that he can sympathize with my  suffering.

He was surely tempted by the same thoughts that I usually give in to during my lonely times. But he didn't give in. He didn't sin or fall into self-pity. He suffered the pain and temptation without the relief of giving up.

And when I'm trying to manage my home and discipline my kids and I'm all alone and I'm failing....He's felt the pain of the loneliness and the pain of my sin. He has suffered and died and bled for it. All of it. He knows my pain and my deepest sorrows because he experienced it. For me.

To think that "we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin." (Hebrews 4:15)

His perfection for my imperfection. His loneliness for my self-pity. His sinlessness for my sinfulness.

It's too much. It isn't fair.

It's grace.

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Mar
19

Sick Days


It isn't easy being sick when you're the mom. We don't get sick days or special sick pay.

We just get sick.

You may have known from my Facebook page or from this post that I spent the first couple days of last week feeling pretty icky. Then, I spent the last couple days of the week feeling the same way.

Good times.

My family knew I was under the weather because when I'm sick, I tend to end everything I say with phrases like, "because I don't feel good." Please tell me I'm not the only one who spreads the "joy" this way....

"Can't you guys carry your own laundry upstairs? I'm really too sick to have to do it myself."

"I don't know what we're having for dinner because I just don't feel very good."

"Can you kids PLEASE stop arguing?!? I'm sick, you know."

"I'm not trying to complain, but I feel so miserable."

That last one cracks me up every time! Me? Not trying to complain? I'm not sure who I thought I was fooling; I totally wanted to complain. I wanted to be sure everyone knew how uncomfortable I was, as though my mopey eyes and drooping shoulders couldn't tell the story.

But my illness should do more than provide me the opportunity to lay down on the job or draw some sympathy. It should serve as a reminder of what it means to be human. It should help me realize how very weak I am, and how dependent I am upon God's grace for my every breath.

Often when I'm sick, after I've gotten over my own self-pity, I am struck by the reality that Jesus stepped down from His rightful throne in heaven to wear a weak, humble human body.

Think about that for a minute.

He took on this body that gets tired and weary. That has so many limitations. He became a little baby who was totally dependent on caregivers to provide for his every physical need. He felt pain....He got tired...He knew hunger.

And then, He experienced every possible physical agony when He suffered a very human death. For me.

"And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross." Philippians 2:8

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Nov
02

Thankfulness

Last night, as I was getting into bed, I noticed how chilly it was. Once I got into the sheets, I noticed how very chilly it was. Cold sheets and bare feet are not my favorite combo. While I was feeling all cold and trying to warm my up my toes on my hubby's legs (poor guy), I realized that I had completely forgotten....

to be THANKFUL.

It's starting to get cold here. It is just as cold, maybe worse, in New York and New Jersey. In the evenings, a chill settles into my home, even when the heat is turned on. Without electricity and gas to run the furnace, the freezing cold would settle in.

Yesterday, I washed laundry, made meals, and cleaned up dishes. I picked up (what seemed like) ninety-four candy wrappers off the floor. I checked my email and read a book.  I took a hot shower, drank good coffee, and watched television.  I have so many undeserved blessings.

And I forgot to be thankful for any of it. For each and every bit of it. 

There are people suffering today. They don't know what they are going to feed their little ones or where they are going to stay warm tonight. They need clean water, not the kind that still fills their basements and cars. They wish they had bedtime toys, and diapers, and sippy cups.

There are so many hurting people who don't know what they are going to do....how they are going to survive. They don't know how they will ever replace all they have lost. They suspect they never will. Not completely.

The devastation of both hearts and possessions cannot me measured. The lives lost cannot be replaced. And right now they cannot even be properly mourned. I can't imagine. I try to pray for them, but I can't fully understand the depth of their pain.

But, still, I will pray. I must call upon my Savior who understands suffering in a way I hope I never will. Sometimes it feels like that's all I can do.  And sometimes I dismiss how powerful that is.  How powerful God is.  So I will pray to the Creator of the universe, the Savior of mankind, the Author of salvation.

And I will be thankful.

"Let them thank the Lord for his steadfast love, for his wondrous works to the children of man!  For he satisfies the longing soul, and the hungry soul he fills with good things." (Psalm 107:8-9)

What are you thankful for today?  Feel free to share...

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I passed a couple of milestones in my life over this past week. I've passed many milestones over the past year. I don't think I like milestones. Some of them hurt. Some hurt a lot.

When my Dad passed away a year ago, everything became a time marker. Each week, each month, Christmas, Easter, birthdays, baseball season. Every occasion took on new meaning and a hint of sadness.

God is good. He really is.

I took my mom and my kids to the gravesite yesterday for the first time. It was one year and one week since Dad joined his Savior. It was hard. His name was so real, engraved in the white marble. It wasn't a dream. I still wish it was.

God is good. He really is.

God's hand is loving, even when it's painful. I can see how every detail was ordained by Him. The timing. The location. The people. Each event surrounding my parents' lives at that moment was part of the puzzle. Only God saw how everything would fit together.

God is good. He really is.

This year has held many tears. It has involved many temptations. Every time something goes wrong or I have a bad day, I remember that my life is also missing someone very special to me. Self-pity rears its ugly head. It isn't pretty.

God is good. He really is.

And, do you know what? Life goes on. And as it goes on, it gets easier. A year ago, I couldn't make it through an hour without breaking down in a puddle of tears. Time helps. God heals.

God is good. He really is.

I'm sure I'll have a few more milestones this year. I know that seeing Dad's name in marble will never be easy. Watching my mom grieve will still break my heart. But joy comes. I know that now.

God is good. He really is.

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