unless

as I was checking out at the grocery store today, the clerk casually asked me if I was ready for Christmas to be over.  I told her i didn't really know if i was ready for it to be over, but that I was for sure ready for it to get here.  we talked about how quickly Christmas comes and goes, and how it's always over a little too fast.  at that point in the conversation, the young man who was bagging the groceries spoke up and said, "yeah, Christmas just doesn't make any sense."  his words and the sad tone in which they were spoken kind of killed the conversation.  I don't think either of us really knew how to respond.  and as I walked to the car, I somehow knew in a way, he was right.  it makes no sense.

all the anticipation.  all the work.  all the hustle and bustle, the decoration and preparation, the cooking, the cleaning, the traveling, the shopping, the wrapping.  and then before you know it, Christmas day arrives, and all too quickly, it's over.  presents unwrapped, suspense spoiled.  families scatter, lights come down, trash is taken out, and people go back to "normal" life.  and then disappointment settles in. 

I mean, I feel very blessed to have so many amazing memories of Christmases growing up.  so many presents, so many fun times with family and friends.  and they're even better now that I get to watch my own kids and their joy in the celebrations.  but they always come to an end, and in the end, there is always a sense of disappointment.  like, "is that all?"  no matter how many gifts I got as a kid, I was always hoping there was one more under the tree.  no matter how much fun I had, I was never ready for it to be over.  as great as it was, it was never quite what I had hoped for.  so if Christmas is nothing more than a moment, it truly doesn't make any sense.  if Christmas is nothing more than toys that tarnish, food that spoils, feelings that fade, and experiences that end, it truly does not make any sense.  if it only leaves us empty, then what's it all for?

it makes me wonder how Mary must have felt after the star faded, the shepherds returned home, and the frankincense and myrhh lost their scent. she must have wondered where all the glory went during those weary midnight feedings.  all of creation had waited for thousands of years for Word to become flesh.  and then the moment came.  Jesus made his entrance into this world through the womb of a teenage girl.  there was a star for decoration, a glorious announcement from some angels, the hustle and bustle of some shepherds, a few gifts from some traveling wise men,  it was indeed a glorious moment, and then it was over.  and then life went back to business as usual.

and i wonder how the disciples felt years later when their conqueror was crucified.  they must have wondered, "is that all?"  i mean i'm sure his death wasn't quite what they had hoped for.  if Jesus was simply born as a baby to die as a man, it leaves us wondering, "is that all?"

so Christmas doesn't make any sense.  unless it comes again.

and it will indeed come again.  He will indeed come again.  there will be another glorious moment.  except this moment will last for eternity. the waiting will be over, and fulfillment will come, and His name is Jesus.  this is the promise.  this is our hope.  this is the advent of our King. 

communion

Earlier today I did something I've never done before. During communion, I spilled the juice. I made a mess and I was embarrassed, but the lady behind me was very thoughtful and offered me another cup when the plate was passed down her row.

And then I heard the gentle whisper of the Lord. He speaks to me in these little things often, and today, the symbolism was not lost on my heart. "Erin, it's ok, because I spilled it first."

And maybe we ought not try so hard to consume His love so neatly. Because the cross was messy.

And maybe it's ok to be a little more reckless with His Love, because when we spill, it at least leaves evidence that others can see.

And maybe we ought not act like the grace will run out if we spill it, or share it. Because there is enough. The blood of Christ was and is enough. For me. For all of us.

Making me New

Recently, someone jokingly said to me, “it seems like every time I see you, you have a different kid on your hip.” And I laughed. 

I laughed because it’s true.  And I laughed because it’s amazing that its true.  I laughed in a way that Sarah must have laughed when Isaac was born.  When God took an impossible situation and brought life from it anyways.  When God worked a miracle.  When God fulfilled a promise.

 Because you see, not that long ago, I was not laughing.  I was a stay-at-home mom caring for 3 small children, on the verge of a nervous breakdown.  So much so, in fact, that one evening when my husband got home from work, I told him I was done.  I told him I couldn’t do this anymore.  He asked me, “what do you mean by ‘this’? Are you talking about the kids, the marriage, being a stay-at-home mom, or just fixing dinner?”  I said, “ALL of this.  I can’t do ANY of it.”  I told him I needed a break and that I was going for a drive – by myself.  At that point I didn’t really care how he was going to manage 3 kids all evening, or what they would eat for dinner, or whether or not they would get a bath. As a matter of fact, at that moment, I didn’t really care what would happen to them for the rest of their lives.  I was ready to drive away.  And probably not come back. 

 BUT, God’s grace in that moment kept me in my driveway.  He kept me out of the driver’s seat and in the back of our suburban, where I wept.  I sobbed for what felt like hours, broken and exhausted.  I told God I couldn’t do this anymore.   I also told God he was crazy.  Because he had placed a burden on the heart of our family to foster children.  To provide a loving home for those in need.   And in the back of that suburban, only weeks away from receiving our fostering license, I told God he was crazy.  “We can’t even handle the kids we’ve got, much less adding more to the mix!  Lord, you know fragile I am.  I get so easily overwhelmed and I’m already on medication for depression.  I am not worthy, or capable.  There is NO WAY!!!  I CAN’T DO THIS!!!!!”

 BUT, that’s when I felt HIM.  That’s when I heard his gentle whisper.  “Erin, this is not about you.  This is about what I am going to do through you.  I got this.”  And slowly but surely a peace came over me that I cannot explain, except that it was Jesus.  That peace in that moment gave me just enough strength to walk back in that house.  And that same peace has welled up within me every day since, providing just enough for each new day.  And it seems as though more and more often these days, that peace is providing more than enough for the task, and just enough to smile.  More than enough for the work and a little extra to laugh.  More than I expect, and there I’m finding joy. 

Where there used to be frustration and anger, God is helping me laugh.  Where there was brokenness and depression, He has brought healing.  Where I am overwhelmed and distracted, He helps me celebrate the little things, and focus on the important things.  Where I am not, He shows up as “I AM.”

So here I am today.  Still a stay-at-home mom.  Our children (6, 8, and 10) are all in school, and I’m still staying at home.  I babysit a 1 year old full-time during the day, as well as any other kiddos whose mommas happen to need an extra hand for a few hours, or a few days.  We also just started providing respite care for foster children.  That means, most days I am taking walks with a wagon half-full, and working or writing while my little friend naps.  And then other days, I’ll be pulling a full wagon behind, and possibly pushing a stroller in front.  And if I can manage to get everyone to nap at the same time, you’ll find me in the suburban trying to figure out the best configuration for car seats that allows school children to still wiggle into the car at 3:15. 

This is all very funny to me.  I am not really even a kid person.  Yet God keeps placing these kids in my life to love on.  I’ve even had to turn down people needing me to watch their kids because I simply only have so much room in my car.  My plan was to go back to work when our youngest started kindergarten.  Well, he’s in first grade now, and I’m still at home.  And I still want to go back to work.   I feel like I served my time and I’m ready to do something new and exciting, something different. 

BUT…….  The words of Amy Carmichael that someone shared with me years ago have become almost an anthem for my life.  She said, “Could it be right, to turn from so much that might be of profit and become just nursemaids?  The answer [is] yes.  It is not the business of the servant to decide which work is great, which is small, which important or unimportant – he is not greater than his master…….  If by doing some work which the undiscerning consider ‘not spiritual work’ I can best help others, and I inwardly rebel, thinking it is the spiritual for which I crave, when in truth it in the interesting and exciting, then I know nothing of Calvary Love.” 

God’s ways are not our ways, and I still fight His ways.  But every time I give in to His ways, I find more joy there.  More of Jesus and His Calvary Love there. 

 I don’t know how long this season of my life will last, but I want to soak up every minute of it.  Because I am loving the ways He is molding me and making me a truly NEW CREATION.  There are days when I still wonder, “Lord, what were you thinking?”  But then I laugh.  There are still times where I am overwhelmed with crumbs and clutter, dirty diapers and daily homework.  Overwhelmed with the individual spiritual and emotional needs of a number of children.  And then God brings to mind what a very wise mother of 9 told me shortly after the birth of my 3^rd.  I asked her, “How do you do it all?  How do you meet all their needs?”  She said, “I don’t.”  “I just ask God who needs me the most in that moment, and then work on that.  I don’t always get it right, but I do get to know God better in the meantime.” 

 That’s what I truly want.  What I truly need.  To know God better.  To lean on him more.  To find Him around every corner.  And for now, He is revealing Himself to me through these little ones. 

Our stories and struggles are different.  But the solution for our salvation is the same.  Jesus - making us new once and for all, and every day. 

Spiritual excema?

Last night was the third night during this summer travel season that I have slept in close proximity to our 6 year old son.  Its also the third time this summer that I have woken up saying it will be the last time.  That child doesn’t sleep.  All night long he is scratching, sniffing, snotting, sneezing, tossing, turning, and snoring.  It really is no wonder he is such a booger during the day.  I had been wondering for the last few months what had gotten into him.  Our generally happy third born otter has lately turned into a whiny, rude, mean, tantrum-throwing lion that is no fun to be around after about 3:00 pm.  Well, now I know why.  Or at least I suspect why.  His ugly behavior during the day probably has something to do with his lack of sleep at night.  So while I am exhausted this morning, I am thankful for the insight with which I can now approach and respond to my little friend. 

 

BUT…… none of this insight will excuse his behavior.  It will certainly help me understand it, but it will not excuse him from it.  Screaming at the top of his lungs in the general direction of the woman who gave him birth, “I wish you weren’t my mommy!!!!!”  Um.  I’m sorry.  But that is SIN.  Pushing his older brother or tearing up his sister’s things, or disobeying his dad when he is asked to go brush his teeth is sin.  It is sin whether he slept well or not.  His lack of sleep does not excuse his meanness any more than female hormones excuse his sister’s moody rudeness.  And my while my understanding of his behavior can certainly help me in the area of patience and compassion, it doesn’t change the fact that I still have to discipline him when he makes poor choices.  If he throws his toys, they will be removed from the room.  If he hits his siblings, he will be removed from the room.   If he can’t get control of his little Tasmanian devil self, he will receive a spankin’, or a nap, or quite possibly both. 

 

Such is the human condition.  We all have tendencies towards certain sins for certain reasons.  For our youngest, his tendency is toward crankiness right now.  The reasons include excema, general allergies, testosterone, and not getting the right color popsicle.  For me, the tendency is usually towards anger.  The reasons include the general anxiety, and a need for control.  For some, the tendency may be towards violent behavior, or abuse of those around them, and/or crime.  The reasons may include being abused as a child, post tramautic stress from war, or maybe altered brain chemistry from drugs in utero or in adulthood. 

 

But here’s the thing.  We cannot excuse poor behavior with pathologies.  Sin is sin whether we have a good reason for it or not.  If a friend of mine comes into our home for a visit and my son kicks her shin on the way to his room in the midst of a tantrum, I would not say to my friend, “Well, he suffers from excema so you’ll just have to excuse him.” No! No! No!  I would discipline my son, including having him make an apology to my friend, and then probably make him take a nap.  I will discipline him because I love him.  And also because I love him, the first chance I get, I will be making a doctor’s appointment to find out what he’s allergic to and get him a more effective excema cream in hopes that we can get him a better night’s sleep.    

 

Unfortunately, in our society, I think we are looking for excuses more than we are seeking out healing.  We want to know the reasons why we do what we do.  But then for some reason, once we get a diagnosis, we are satisfied to just live miserably in it.  Once we find out that our insecurities are partly due to the ugly words we heard that one day in middle school, we are ready to dismiss 30 years’ worth of poor choices.  But Jesus came to bring us more than just understanding.  He came to bring healing and rest.  We cannot receive this rest until we are willing to admit that the problem of sin is deeper than our itchy skin.

 

why i love the church

don't get me wrong, for reasons i choose not to focus on here, i have spent my share of time being fed up with the "church."

but recently i have seen something new.  i've had a change of heart. and i hope this may encourage you too. 

and when i talk about the church i am not speaking of a building or a place.  or even the sunday morning gathering at that building.  nor am i referring to the large number of people who claim to be Christians with their words and their attendance, but are blind to the truth and the person of Jesus. 

when i talk about the church i am talking about the body of Christ.  true followers of Jesus who love Him, His Word, and His people.  and it just so happens that a good number of these people do meet at a particular building at a particular time.  and i want to be there with them.  and here's why:

i need them.  i need them because i am a sinner.  i need them because i have hard days with difficult circumstances.  i have bad moods and attitudes, ups and downs.  i have a marriage that needs support and accountability.  i have 3 kids that most days i don't know how to raise.  i have issues.  i have friends and family that have issues.  sometimes i feel like i'm drowning.  sometimes i feel like celebrating.  and i need people.  i need the church to pull me out from under the waves of life and enjoy the ride with me when times are good.

and they have.  when i struggled with depression, it was the church who mentored and encouraged me through the battle.  when we got married, it was the church who anointed our union.  when we had babies, it was the church who showered us with gifts.  when my husband had back surgery, it was the church who mowed our lawn and brought us meals.  when i dealt with post partum depression, it was the church who came to the rescue.  when we moved to a new town, it was the church who put boxes on the truck and sent us out, and the church who received us and put our boxes in our new home.  when i need someone to listen, it is the church on the other end of the phone.  when we celebrate, it is the church who parties with us.  when i am prideful and trying to do it on my own, it is the church who points me back to His face and His power.  and when i am lonely and unlovely, it is the church who reminds me of His presence and His unconditional LOVE.  and when i come to church on sunday weary or broken, it is the church who walks across the auditorium with a smile and a hug just for me. 

so for those reasons, i love the church.  i need the church. 
and just as equally, i need to be the church. 

Hebrews 10:24-25
"And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, ²⁵ not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching."

learning to listen

ok. so i'm not good at listening.  i'm pretty good at talking, not so good at listening.  especially when it comes to God.  i mean, i pray.  i talk to God.  but it's mostly me talking.  mostly a one-way conversation. 

because listening is hard.  it takes patience and focus.  and keeping your mouth closed.  and i'm good at none of those.  i'm working on it, but progress is unfortunately slow.

but i love how God keeps whispering to me anyways.  he just keeps lovingly speaking in the little things, knowing that when i am able to slow down enough to see and to hear, i will be blessed. 

and boy was i blessed today. 

i was running my normal after school taxi route, picking up kids from here and there.  and it was raining.  as i pulled up to the school , the 9 year old neighbor girl ran around the car one way to get in, and my 9 year old son went around the other way with his umbrella, leaving her to fend for herself. 

and as i watched this play out, i debated about whether or not to give him a hard time about it when they got in.  i thought of several different ways i could jokingly jab at his lack of chivalry.  and i almost did.  and i have before.  but this time, a small voice from somewhere told me, "not today, momma."  so i let it go, making a mental note to do a seminar on the art of being a gentleman at some point in the near future. 

but then, as we pulled up to the little girl's house, my son got out first.  i was thinking maybe he just didn't want her to crawl over him and that he would be getting right back in.  but as i looked out my window, the next thing i saw was this amazing young man walking this young lady to her door, covering her with his umbrella.  oand my heart was blessed.  like, as in, one of the proudest moment of my life, cup running over, want to shout for joy but can't for being speechless, downright blessed.

and then it hit me....... what if i had said something?  what if i had given him a hard time 5 minutes earlier?  what if i hadn't listened to that small voice?  what if i hadn't heard the whispering in the rain? i would have robbed him of the opportunity to serve on his own.  and i would have missed out on the blessing. 

so maybe listening is hard.  but maybe its also so worth it. 

Proverbs 8:34 - "Blessed is the one who listens to me, watching daily at my gates....."