Queen Bee

I am learning something about slowing down and listening to my heavenly father these days. Sometimes that means ignoring the way others are treating me or reacting to my decisions and getting still in my spirit. I had a dream on what would have been my grandfather's 95th birthday. I don't feel led to share it yet as I feel it was given to me by the Lord and I don't fully understand the meaning of it. I am still praying over it. My grandfather was a godly man. Period. His entire existence, especially for the last forty years of his life, when he was walking in a deeper understanding of the Holy Spirit, was centered on God. What an example. I am just backing up and trying to soak everything I am feeling in prayer. I'm also going to hold it up against the passages of scripture I am reading and make sure my thoughts and feelings are measuring up to the truth of the Bible. Sometimes when we are hurt, especially when it is other Christians who are hurting us, we make emotional choices, not sound, godly ones. I am the queen of that. The absolute queen bee. I would like to step down from that role and become the queen bee of humility (is that an oxymoron?), steadfastness, quietness, peace, and gentleness. (I WANT EVERYONE IN MY FAMILY TO STOP LAUGHING RIGHT NOW. I know the "quietness" and "gentleness" really got you there.)

As the Praise Goes Up

Just after my miscarriage, a Facebook friend in-boxed me the entire lyrics to a song. Today, as I surfed for praise music on YouTube, I happened upon the song and clicked "play." In a second I was thrown back in time to January of this year and the horrific pain that was, just as other people who have endured tragedy have said, so bad it could be felt physically. Wow. Closed that video pretty quickly. But not before understanding and absorbing one thing: Jesus suffered and he understands what I went through. Hit two television programs back-to-back in which the speaker was mentioning the fact that Jesus prayed all night long. I asked God what he was saying to me. I think the key to reconnecting with God, as I am so desperate to do, is prayer. Lots and lots and lots of it. And (as one of the T.V. pastors pointed out this morning) EMPHATHIZING with Jesus, both his victory and his suffering. Look, he was the God of the universe and he was IGNORED and persecuted by the religious leaders of his day. Maybe the fact that certain people don't speak to me at church, even as they pursue religious activities, should not gall me as much as it everlastingly does. If Jesus loved them all, I, under His power, can too. Another key: forgiveness. This one is really, really hard for me. Well, not so much if the person is seeking my forgiveness. What if they not only are not seeking my forgiveness, but are totally indifferent about it? What if they are continuing to offend and the target is one of my children? What then? What makes me different from the rest of the world? The answer lies therein. I know, however, that I cannot achieve this difference on my own. So out comes my Bible, to renew and transform my mind. Next, I WILL spend time in prayer, drawing close to the sweet, sweet presence of Jesus Christ, clinging to his garments, fellowshipping with the precious Holy Spirit. Last, but certainly not least, I will seek out praise and worship music to regularly feed my soul with the words that lift up my Lord, feeling Him enter my home as the praise goes up.

A Certain Healing

I believe in prayer for physical healing. You tell me you have cancer, I pray for complete healing. Jesus never turned anyone away. All who came to him for physical healing were restored completely. It is biblical to pray for healing. I understand that sometimes the physical healing does not come, but I still feel it is appropriate to petition the Father for it. I also believe that things happen when you pray that won't happen if you don't. Miracles of all kinds.

While, for reasons only understood by God (who I wisely give wide latitude to be God), some physical ailments are not healed, and some people are called home to heaven at a time that seems early to those with an earthly perspective, there is a certain kind of healing that is guaranteed to every believer.

I firmly believe that it is the absolute birthright (or re-birthright, as it were) of every believer in Jesus Christ to enjoy full, absolute emotional, spiritual and mental healing. A right mind is the product of the healing touch of Christ upon our flawed flesh in a fallen world. The peace that passes understanding comes from Him, and can radiate into all of our circumstances, transforming our daily lives and bathing us in a beautiful, whole and healthy pure light that all can see. When those of us who are prone to depression and anxiety return again and again to the well of comfort and wisdom in the Bible and the steadfast anchor of the presence of the Holy Spirit, we react with hope and faith to circumstances that used to make us crumble. We CAN enjoy our lives, despite what the enemy of our souls would have us to believe. Sometimes I fall back into the arms of God when something comes up to make me anxious, remembering that He is my heavenly Father, and I can trust Him to work out every detail. He is a protective, loving, caring, grace-filled (gives us what we haven't earned) parent whose love for us far surpasses anything our minds can understand. We can trust Him. "The Lord directs our steps, so why try to understand everything along the way?" (Proverbs 20:24, NLT)

Crazy Weird

Sometimes life feels like a crazy, weird journey. Just yesterday I was forcing two-year-old Matthew away from me, removing him like a clinging, caterwauling kitten as I dropped him off in the church nursery. Today he arranged, mafia style, by use of the phone I AM PAYING FOR to get everyone a ride to and from football practice in a way that would cut me and my scratched-up Impala completely out of the picture. I guess I embarrass him. Pardon me as I completely resist the urge to morph myself into a cool mom. I'm just gonna go ahead and be the same old latch-hooking me. Every single day it becomes abundantly ever more crystalline that I must move ahead into the second half of my life. I would like to embrace it, as it were. All of that wonderful freedom (read lonliness). All of that glorious silence while the kids are at their activities (read barren stillness). Oh, heavens, it's coming anyway, whether I want it to or not. I suppose it is time for me to take another look at me. What do I want from the next four decades? What would I like to contribute? Who would I like to get to know? What old friendships would I like to strengthen? What is my identity now that my children are batting their little wings around, trying to hop up off of the familial perch? When they were small I used to (don't laugh now) imagine that I would raise dachshunds once they were no longer careening back and forth between clinging to me for dear life and toddling off to fall down the stairs lest I hold their hands at all times. I actually believed that I would have a thriving kennel with every dachshund color in the dachshund rainbow. I saw myself handing care packages to satisfied new owners, their puppies sporting tiny bows. I guess I figured the purchase of a low-slung 70s era rancher with three acres and an air-conditioned kennel out back that would house the generations of champions I would produce from my award-winning stock was somewhere in my unsuspecting husband's future. I am in a cul-de-sac in a tidy neighborhood in Franklin, TN. I have one-third of an acre. I have only one dachshund. Not very close to that goal. I also imagined that book after majestic, best-selling book would issue forth from my computer. I would be so busy, what with the book-signings and new litters of glistening puppies, I would be fine, just fine, thank you, if my children had a mind to neglect me. To be continued.