Be Still And Know

I hit the floor running this morning... and wondered whether or not there was actually enough coffee in the world to fuel the pace. I thought about asking God to let me borrow a couple hours this week and add it to today... And then I wondered which day I would rob... they're all filled up... overflowing... maxed out.

The one thing I didn't think of, (other than my rather frantic thoughts as to how to get there on time, and what in the world I was going to wear)... was the day itself. This day. Set aside to worship the One who owns all of our days... who made time... who holds our lives in His hands. The One who whispered in my ear this morning... "Be still, and know that I am God..."

Lord, turn my eyes to you, and not to the bedlam around me. Fill me up today, not with the things of this world... but with the One who formed it. I need more of you, Lord. Not more time... Or even coffee.. (well, one more cup, maybe.. :-) )

I'm still running, Lord... Perpetual motion.

But inside I will be still... (for just a moment...)

And know.]

Christian Soldier

I learned a lot sitting at my Dad's bedside yesterday.

After several hours, I simply gave up.  I stopped telling him to be quiet, close his eyes, try to sleep.   I stopped fussing over him, pleading with him to rest.  I finally stopped talking, and just listened. And then I started to realize that the medicine going into his veins was not nearly as healing to him as the endless stream of people who called and visited, and held his trembling hands, and prayed with him. Who smiled as he spoke to each one of them as if they were the most important person in the world.  I began to see that he needed to talk far more than he needed to "be quiet".  And I needed to listen.  Just listen.

It's been days since his surgery--considered minor, and judged to be successful.  But he's very sick, inexplicably so---and he's tired of fighting. This one battle seems to be a much bigger enemy than the Colonel has faced in a long time.  He's tired, he says, but wants nothing more than to get out of that room.  "I've got too many things to do", he repeats over and over.  I wondered what he could be so worried about doing.  If there are things that need to be done, I thought---we will get them done.  Hire it done, if necessary.  Stop worrying, I thought... be still, and rest. Just rest.

I watched his weak eyes light up as nurses---strangers-- entered the room, and he would ask them about their lives, their families. Witness.  I saw them smile, touched, surprised. I stopped reminding him that they were busy, to let them go, and do their jobs.  And I started to realize that maybe they really weren't so very busy.  That God had something they needed, today, in the form of a very wise and wonderful man, room 589, 81 year old male.  They entered the room with medicines and orders, and left with something they would never chart.  But would be written, forever, I am sure, in their hearts.

His face lit up as church members entered,  many of them involved in ministries with him,  and I watched him hang onto their every word, asking, offering advice, encouraging.  I heard him tell one man that he had had to stop his weekly goal of "winning at least one soul to Christ"...He said that he hasn't been able to accomplish that lately. I understood what these things were that he was so desperate to get up and out to do.

And all I could think was that I don't know if I win one soul to Christ in a year.

He was sleeping when I finally left last night.  I watched him for a very long time before I rose to go, and wondered if he was dreaming about all those "many things" he wanted--needed to do.  All those people he wanted so desperately to bring to Christ, even now, weak, and old, and sick.  Wanting to get out of that bed and do what he had been doing all of his life, if only this old body would let him go.  A soldier for Christ--who will fight until his last breath for just one more..one more to know his Lord who he loves so very, very much.

Sleep, Dad.  The angels are watching.

And we're all listening.

The Calling Of Mothers

J.P., our oldest child, has not lived at home since he was a freshman in college, and there has been a void in our home every day since then.  I used to cry a lot--especially at first---and then I learned ways to lure him back home, usually with food.  Works well, I must say, for many reasons, not the least of which is that mealtimes are great times to hear about his life, his plans, his good and bad days.  It used to surprise me, some of the things he would tell us.  And sometimes it would be very hard for me just to listen...not speak, or help, or editorialize.  Just listen.  Goes against everything I know.  (One day when I get to heaven I am going to ask God why He gave mothers this vast--sometimes gut-wrenching love for our children...this instinct to protect at all costs--even to death, if need be; this intuition about our children, even "sixth sense", if you will--where we just know..we just know.  This miracle called maternal instinct.  Strongest and most powerful force on the planet....And then, He asks us to give them back to Him, to let them go...to trust Him completely with their lives.  Just let go.)  Maybe it's Eve's fault...I don't know.  But I am definitely going to ask.

Anyway, as we sat together last night, my son and I, and he talked and talked about his life, and his plans--(great things!)--and even gave me a tiny peek into his vulnerable side--his doubts, even..I found myself torn between wanting to throw the doors open on the world and push him out there---free to grab it all--be it all--do it all.  Content to sit at the kitchen table and wait for his return--some new word on what he has done or accomplished.  (Content to cook food as incentive for his visits...)  Just as excited as he was about it all.  And then there was the other part of me who wanted a list of all the people in the world that he will ever come in contact with or work for who might have the slightest effect on his life---all of them--and write them all a letter and tell them that this was my son, my precious, wonderful amazing son, and you had better never, ever hurt him, or disappoint him, or let him down.  Don't mess with Mama Bear.  I will eat you for lunch.

But of course, I just listened.  And prayed.  Dear God, please forgive me for what we didn't teach him, for the mistakes we made.  Please help him to use and remember what good we did do. To use it for good.  Just make Him the man you would have Him to be.  Help us to let go and let him be that.

And so I was thinking about Mary this morning.  And I have questions that literally burn inside of me.. Did she have talks with Jesus like this?  Did he come home, and eat dinner, and kick back and talk to her about his life?  What could He have said?  Did He tell her about His ministry?  Did He let her see inside of Him--(is that possible?)--enough to know that although fully God, He was fully man--and He was tired, and hurt?   That His heart was broken so often He couldn't count?  That people just took, and took, and took from Him, and no one ever, ever gave back?  Did he tell her how they disappointed Him over, and over, and over?

And what would she have said?  Could she even bear to listen to it?  And then, did she ever dare talk about His future?  It had to be there, in front of them, all the time.  Did they ever really discuss His ministry--hard, and painful...often going without food..persecuted..sought after...even used.  But no diploma waiting at the end of it all.  No high-paying job offer or position.  The world would not understand Him.  He would be despised...Did she fight with all that was in her to tell him to stay away from these people...to run away?  Did she struggle, at times, even knowing what He came to do---who He really was--to just take him away, and hide?  Did she wake up screaming at night...knowing the ending to the story?..

Did they talk about that?  (I can't even write about it).  Because I am writing from a mother's point of view.  Knowing your child---your young man---was God. Born to die, to save us all.  Destined to do the one thing--the only thing--that will truly save the world.

Knowing, inside of her, from the moment that He was born...that He did not belong to her any more or any less than to any one else.   The Savior of the world. The Most High God.   He is that--whether she let Him go to be that, or not.  He is God.  The letting go was inside of her own heart.  So Mary could only watch.  And hide her tears. Because a mother never wants her child to know that she is afraid. Even, I suppose, if you are the earthly mother of One...who knows your every hurt, your every thought, even before you do..

And so, I think that if Mary can let go, I know, in my heart, that God is not asking anything of me.  Rather, He's given me, and all mothers, a gift from that same well of strength.  Some of us, like the ones who have to send their children off to war, or who have to watch as their child struggles with an illness or an infirmity--He gives a gracious plenty from this well.  Enough.  His grace is sufficient, I know this.

Motherhood will break your heart.  It will make you tired, and anxious, and leave you drained. It will make you feel guilty. It will cause you to do and say things that you never thought you had the strength for--(and you probably didn't)--but you do them anyway.  It will put your life in a perspective that is different from women who aren't mothers.  It's a thankless, endless, exhausting exercise in self-denial.  A daily dying to self.

And it is, without question, the greatest joy, the most priceless gift, the highest calling--that any woman can have.  It is truly a miracle.

I am amazed, and forever grateful to you, God, for entrusting me with these precious boys.  Help me to remember to seek your will, and your strength--(yes, Lord, LOTS of strength) each and every day, so that they will truly be the young men that you intended for them to be.  That one day, when we stand before you in heaven, that you will say to us all, "Well done..good and faithful servants..."

And forgive me. God, as a mother...

 I have lots of questions for you when I get there...

Thoughts On Veterans' Day

Growing up with a dad in the military, and moving so many times I don't really have an accurate count--I wonder sometimes if I would have become a different person if I had grown up in the same house, in the same neighborhood.  Actually had a hometown.  (If you aren't a military kid you must understand that sometimes people will ask us where we are "from"--where we call "home"--and if we were honest we would tell them that we don't know.  I think most of us just pick the place we have lived in the longest.  But we pride ourselves in calling "Home" wherever we are all together.  For a soldier's family, being together is a gift.

Anyway, it wasn't always easy, all those moves.  I think the worst one for me was when I was ten, and we had to leave Carlisle, Pennsylvania--(Dad was at the War College there)--and move to Virginia.  It wasn't Virginia I dreaded--we had lived there for 4 or so years a couple moves back, and we loved it. Although Dad was in Vietnam during one of those years, I remember happy times there, anyway; friends by the score, greek dodgeball in the street...beautiful seasons in Virginia.  I loved the snow and the leaves in Autumn.

Anyway, the sadness I felt at our move from Pennsylvania was having to leave all of my friends.  It was literally ten year old girl heaven.  We lived in a complex of apartments---Young Hall, I believe it was---and throughout the complex lived four of the best friends I had ever had.  Maybe have ever had to this day, in some ways.  We just shared so much, like all ten year old girls.  But I think mostly we understood each other--we knew this military kid secret that only a military kid could know. It was only by the luck of the draw that we were placed here together.    Nothing lasts forever. Make every single moment count..every single one.  There's no time to be shy, or to hold back.  I think that even then, when others our age couldn't imagine anything ending--we knew, instinctively, that we had to be very careful.    Things change fast.  And Time, not our friend, never gives back, even when we aren't given as much of it as we should have been.  So we shared what we had, and we took what our days together granted us, and we never wasted a single second of it.  Friends for life, forever, absolutely.  For life.

I think I will observe this Veteran's Day by looking back on the little piece of it that I lived..and the people that came into my life because I was the daughter of an Army Colonel.  I will honor my mother, also--something I never did during all of those moves, and the year Dad was away from us on the other side of the world. I see it clearly now, Mom--how you wouldn't let us be afraid for Dad, even though I know that there were times you yourself were terrified. And there was no one above 4 feet tall to comfort you. I will never forget my sisters and I sitting around the kitchen table with a tape recorder, talking to Dad so far away...and the cookies and goodies we would pack for him and send...  I remember you putting our little letters and artwork in the box.  And I was so very proud that you would think they were important enough to send. I remember the Christmas Eve when Dad called you, somehow--on a radio from some horrible and frightening place--and your trying to hold it out so that we could hear him tell us that he loved us all so very, very, much...And you just crying, and crying, and telling him loudly how very, very much we loved him back...

To our soldiers and their families--I think I understand a little bit.  If you are away from those you love---I do pray for your strength, and that God will comfort those you love until you are home, at last.

To our veterans of war--and their families, who are also veterans in their own right...God bless you.

And hang in there...Time is weak.  It passes quickly.

I learned that when I was ten..

Can We Talk, God?

My friend Brenda has cancer.  Again.

I remember when she was diagnosed the first time--years ago, but like it was yesterday--when my husband walked into the bedroom and told me.  I remember standing there and hearing it, the words sort of booming and bouncing off the walls, and yet it was all sort of quiet and surreal at the same time.  Like those times in our lives when something happens that our minds can't quite grasp at the time and so God in his mercy sort of slows it all down---slow...time to think, deal with it...cushion the blow.  Accept.

She came through it--the painful and debilitating surgery.  The weight loss.  The hair loss.

Everyone watched her fight this battle as if she were not a petite little woman with a beautiful smile (and even more beautiful spirit)--but a soldier, or a gladiator, or something far, far bigger than her little body.  Like this Power was inside of her, wanting to get out and show itself all along---to stand in front of this ugly ugly Cancer, sword raised, declaring it's presence.  It would not win.  With God's help, it would not win.  Courage.  I have never really seen such courage.

I told her I was angry that it was back.  Nobody is supposed to do this twice.  There has to be a law somewhere about that.    Excuse me, God, but I think you must have forgotten something here--she's already done this once--you're not supposed to let her do this again..Not people like Brenda, God.  Not the good ones.  Remember, God?  she's already done it.  You can't ask her to do this again....You can't ask her family to do this again.

I'm angry, God, and I don't understand it.  I don't know why you so often choose the best among us to fight the worst of battles.

Please forgive me for that God.  For questioning.  For refusing, at least for now, to accept that your hand is in it all.  That you have a plan.  That it's not really about cancer at all.

Thank you for Brenda, and her life, and the blessing she is to so many.  Lift her up today, Lord, as only you can.  Bless her in all she does, and continue to give her the strength to fight.  Use this to your glory, as Brenda so desperately wants to glorify you through this.  Thank you that you have promised never to leave us or forsake us.  And thank you that when you do bring her through this once again, that so many others will see, and know, and believe, who didn't see or know or believe before.

Thank you God, for your love.

Your grace is sufficient.

Phillipians 4:13