In my mom's bathroom, she has the following excerpt from Nelson Mandela's inaugrual speech hanging beside her toliet (they were originally written by Marianne Williamson....I have no idea who she is just thought I would give her props too.) I was in there yesterday (yes, I go potty) and I read this again for the first time in awhile. I have nothing to add here; it was just a great reminder to me of how to live out the Gospel. Let the words sink in as truth and be encouraged!
“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be?
You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn’t serve the world. There’s nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We are born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us, it’s in everyone.
And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Monday, January 24, 2011
"Death and All His Friends"
I went to a funeral last week. I hate going to funerals. There are the obvious reasons why funerals are hard, but they always end up stirring up in me a handful of "extra" emotions.
I've never really made peace with death. I'm not sure if I ever will this side of heaven, it's just so unnatural, but I know people who say "I'm ready to go whenever the Lord takes me." That's not me. Well, I should say, I'm not scared of the actual death part, it's the days, months, years before that I dread. Really, I fear the fear. Does that make sense? I'm afraid of the sadness and the tears and the "lasts". Once I make it to heaven I'm all good. I'm hoping to look like Gisele and dance like Beyonce, but I can't stand to think about the goodbyes before hand.
Coldplay has a song called "Death and All His Friends," and it seemed like an appropriate title for this post. There's the death death that's and obvious death, but what about all of his friends? The little deaths we face while everyday while we're still here. The death of a friendship, a marriage, a dream, an expectation for a child. You name it, we face "mini" deaths all the time.
So, what do we do with these kind of deaths? How do we respond? It's not unlike the choices a person with cancer has to wrestle with. And as far as I can think, there are three of them out there. We can kick and scream and fight and live in anger and bitterness towards God. We can live as a victim and give up. Or, we can somehow, through God's grace and mercy, make peace with where we are and suffer well. Suffer rightly...with a purpose of bringing glory to God. I tell myself all the time "Either God is sovereign or He isn't. There's no in between."
Last week, the January 22nd reading out of "Jesus Calling" said this....pretty much what I was wrestling with after the funeral. (These readings are written as if Jesus were speaking to us."
"Strive to trust Me in more and more areas of your life. Anything that tends to make you anxious is a growth opportunity. Instead of running away from these challenges, embrace them, eager to gain all the blessings I have hidden in the difficulties. If you believe that I am sovereign over every aspect of your life, it is possible to trust Me in all situations. Don't waste your energy regretting the way things are or thinking about what might have been. Start at the present moment- accepting things as they exactly are- and search for My way in the midst of those circumstances."
Okay, God. I get it. Again...
I've never really made peace with death. I'm not sure if I ever will this side of heaven, it's just so unnatural, but I know people who say "I'm ready to go whenever the Lord takes me." That's not me. Well, I should say, I'm not scared of the actual death part, it's the days, months, years before that I dread. Really, I fear the fear. Does that make sense? I'm afraid of the sadness and the tears and the "lasts". Once I make it to heaven I'm all good. I'm hoping to look like Gisele and dance like Beyonce, but I can't stand to think about the goodbyes before hand.
Coldplay has a song called "Death and All His Friends," and it seemed like an appropriate title for this post. There's the death death that's and obvious death, but what about all of his friends? The little deaths we face while everyday while we're still here. The death of a friendship, a marriage, a dream, an expectation for a child. You name it, we face "mini" deaths all the time.
So, what do we do with these kind of deaths? How do we respond? It's not unlike the choices a person with cancer has to wrestle with. And as far as I can think, there are three of them out there. We can kick and scream and fight and live in anger and bitterness towards God. We can live as a victim and give up. Or, we can somehow, through God's grace and mercy, make peace with where we are and suffer well. Suffer rightly...with a purpose of bringing glory to God. I tell myself all the time "Either God is sovereign or He isn't. There's no in between."
Last week, the January 22nd reading out of "Jesus Calling" said this....pretty much what I was wrestling with after the funeral. (These readings are written as if Jesus were speaking to us."
"Strive to trust Me in more and more areas of your life. Anything that tends to make you anxious is a growth opportunity. Instead of running away from these challenges, embrace them, eager to gain all the blessings I have hidden in the difficulties. If you believe that I am sovereign over every aspect of your life, it is possible to trust Me in all situations. Don't waste your energy regretting the way things are or thinking about what might have been. Start at the present moment- accepting things as they exactly are- and search for My way in the midst of those circumstances."
Okay, God. I get it. Again...
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Oh, shut up! You're so annoying.
We don't say shut up at our house, but that's my favorite line from the first Madagascar movie. It makes me laugh out loud every time I hear it. King Julian is totally undone by Mort's constant badgering and that's his last ditch effort to get some peace and quiet.
For the past three weeks, I've felt like King Julian with 4 little Morts living in my house. I can't count how many times I've quoted King Julian in my head. The constant needing, constant touching, constant fighting over everything from who gets Wii remote number one to who's the smartest finally got the best of me. Christmas break was exhausting and some days down right Jack and Diet Coke worthy. But this morning, I kissed two of the four Morts goodbye at 7:33 and suddenly the world seems a little brighter.
I really do love my kids. There are moments where I'm so proud of them and catch glimpses of the hard work of parenting paying off. Moments when my kids stick up for a brother or sister to a bullying friend, or they play with the boy who is the class outcast. And I probably laugh harder with my kids than with anyone else. But, honestly, there are days where I just don't know if I can take hearing one more "Mom! Where's my.....Mom! can you get me.....Mom! Why does my butt have a crack?" Ugh, it just never stops.
Last week, I had just sent Jerod an email telling him that I didn't think I was cut out to be a mom of four. I was overwhelmed by all the demands, the talking, the laundry, the meals, the fannies to wipe. I hit send and stared at the computer with tears rolling down my face and I said a quick prayer that God would give me the grace to get through yet another day.
What I had missed while I was typing was that Jeb and Collins had begun to fight over a little Bakugan toy. Jeb had it first and Collins wanted it in a bad way....and with Collins, what baby wants baby gets. It was just a little "mine, no mine" tussle when I first looked over but it got ugly quickly. As I stared at the drama and tried to figure out what to do, two things went through my head...one, I just don't have the energy to handle this again...I'm just going to let them give each other their own consequences and two, letting this one go should at least be really entertaining.
Sure enough, Jeb and Collins end up wrestling on the floor over the Bakugan and at one point I'm 99% sure Jeb had Collins in a choke hold. And when the WWE wrestling is over, Jeb comes away with the Bakugan and starts to walk over to me to tell me all about the terrible brawl that just took place on the kitchen floor. Tears are streaming down his face and I can tell he's totally traumatized. Collins had disappeared, but I figured she just fled the scene. I was wrong. In pure Collins form, the next thing I know, she's rounding the corner, eyes wide and wild and her arm cocked back with a tennis racket in her hand. She's headed straight for Jeb, and poor buddy has no idea what's coming. She starts whacking him in the back and in her rage she hits herself in the forehead. Now they're both whaling and what's even worse is I couldn't do anything to help because their terrible mother is laughing so hard she can't even through her tears to comfort them. They just stared at me like I was crazy and eventually walked away to go play.
Jerod called right as all this all was ending. He had gotten my email and was calling to check up on me. I answered, but still couldn't really talk because I was laughing so hard. He asked how I was doing. I told him that after this good laugh I thought I was going to make it. He told me I was emotionally unstable. I laughed even more at that. Maybe I am, but I hung up and thanked God for giving me grace for the day even if it had to come through a good slug fest between two determined toddlers.
For the past three weeks, I've felt like King Julian with 4 little Morts living in my house. I can't count how many times I've quoted King Julian in my head. The constant needing, constant touching, constant fighting over everything from who gets Wii remote number one to who's the smartest finally got the best of me. Christmas break was exhausting and some days down right Jack and Diet Coke worthy. But this morning, I kissed two of the four Morts goodbye at 7:33 and suddenly the world seems a little brighter.
I really do love my kids. There are moments where I'm so proud of them and catch glimpses of the hard work of parenting paying off. Moments when my kids stick up for a brother or sister to a bullying friend, or they play with the boy who is the class outcast. And I probably laugh harder with my kids than with anyone else. But, honestly, there are days where I just don't know if I can take hearing one more "Mom! Where's my.....Mom! can you get me.....Mom! Why does my butt have a crack?" Ugh, it just never stops.
Last week, I had just sent Jerod an email telling him that I didn't think I was cut out to be a mom of four. I was overwhelmed by all the demands, the talking, the laundry, the meals, the fannies to wipe. I hit send and stared at the computer with tears rolling down my face and I said a quick prayer that God would give me the grace to get through yet another day.
What I had missed while I was typing was that Jeb and Collins had begun to fight over a little Bakugan toy. Jeb had it first and Collins wanted it in a bad way....and with Collins, what baby wants baby gets. It was just a little "mine, no mine" tussle when I first looked over but it got ugly quickly. As I stared at the drama and tried to figure out what to do, two things went through my head...one, I just don't have the energy to handle this again...I'm just going to let them give each other their own consequences and two, letting this one go should at least be really entertaining.
Sure enough, Jeb and Collins end up wrestling on the floor over the Bakugan and at one point I'm 99% sure Jeb had Collins in a choke hold. And when the WWE wrestling is over, Jeb comes away with the Bakugan and starts to walk over to me to tell me all about the terrible brawl that just took place on the kitchen floor. Tears are streaming down his face and I can tell he's totally traumatized. Collins had disappeared, but I figured she just fled the scene. I was wrong. In pure Collins form, the next thing I know, she's rounding the corner, eyes wide and wild and her arm cocked back with a tennis racket in her hand. She's headed straight for Jeb, and poor buddy has no idea what's coming. She starts whacking him in the back and in her rage she hits herself in the forehead. Now they're both whaling and what's even worse is I couldn't do anything to help because their terrible mother is laughing so hard she can't even through her tears to comfort them. They just stared at me like I was crazy and eventually walked away to go play.
Jerod called right as all this all was ending. He had gotten my email and was calling to check up on me. I answered, but still couldn't really talk because I was laughing so hard. He asked how I was doing. I told him that after this good laugh I thought I was going to make it. He told me I was emotionally unstable. I laughed even more at that. Maybe I am, but I hung up and thanked God for giving me grace for the day even if it had to come through a good slug fest between two determined toddlers.
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