In Him there is no darkness at all

I am supposed to be paying bills right now, but the website isn't cooperating with me, so I will spend a little time here. It is very nice to see the sun shining this afternoon. As I left for church in the pouring rain, I prayed that the sun would find it's way out. And, here it is.

I have been doing a lot of thinking about darkness and light lately. How quickly they both can come upon us. In the blink of an eye, the sun can begin to shine, and the gloom of darkness is cast aside in favor of warmth and light. Similarly, it takes one cloud to overtake the sun, and we are subjected to the darkening sky. Of course I realize that we need the sun to set, and for our bodies to respect the coming of night for rest and restoration. Sometimes, the cloudy, dark days allow us to slow down and rest. You know, those days you want your cozy blanket, some tea, and a good book? The darkness serves a purpose and gives us permission to stop. Our bodies actually yearn to slow down on those dark days, making it difficult to get out of bed.

Unfortunately, the darkness of a day doesn't always end with the coming of sunlight. The darkness that many wander in, myself included, isn't directed by the clock and the rising and setting of the sun. This darkness can loom over your life for what seems like and indeterminate amount of time. In fact, while it is dark, you can't remember what the light felt like. It is also possible to not see a glimpse, a sliver of light to lean towards in an effort to creep out of the darkness.

From a very early age, darkness is something to be feared. It is in the darkness that the ghosts, demons, and spooks exist. Darkness is foreboding and fierce. Though some painters depict darkness in their artwork, it is usually the stars or moon that receive attention. Van Gogh's "Starry, Starry, Night" doesn't focus on the darkness, but on the light the stars offer. So too do we find calm and comfort in our dark moments. It is usually because there arrives a glimmer, a snapshot, a flicker of light to focus on. Only then do we value the intensity and the pervasive nature of darkness. None of us, or at least, not many of us, would choose to exist in darkness. We don't sit in our darkened closets, or our curtain drawn living rooms. Sometimes we tolerate these environments as a means to an end. The darkness encourages our rest, so we pull the shade down. But, even when natural light is blocked, we choose to have a light on. We avoid and avert darkness at painstaking costs sometimes.

What if darkness is where Christ makes himself most known? Only in the solemnity of the absence of light do we feel our weakest and most vulnerable. Whether figuratively or literally, when in darkness, we don't know where to go or how to get there. Often times, in that moment, instead of sitting still and waiting, I begin scrambling and searching for the switch to turn the light back on. You know that literal switch that is right inside the entrance to the room? And too, I search for the literal switch in my heart and mind that will turn the light back on. I have gotten it down to a science. In the dark, I shuffle my feet. I won't lift them off the ground, because I can't see what might be a stumbling block in front of me. I close my eyes so I don't have to admit that I am in a darkness that is out of my control. My hands are outstretched and constantly moving to avoid impact with a foreign object. I know my hands will touch it first, therefore reducing the likelihood of my whole body being subjected to pain. With my heart and mind focusing on escape, I don't have to wait or ponder what the mystery in the darkness holds.

The darkness will always be a mystery to me. I will question its use and validity. On occasion I will allow myself to rest in its presence, but I will not linger long. I will look for a crevice that will allow the light to shine through. I will squint my eyes and search my surroundings for the one escape that will bring light back into the darkness. As the darkness wanders in and out of my life, I hope I begin to find comfort and solace in it. That is asking a lot. It isn't in the darkness that I always "feel" His presence, but when the darkness subsides and the light begins emerging on the horizon that I know God was with me. He sustains me and He protects me.

He protects me from those who don't understand or accept me. He protects me from those whose darkness I don't understand and can't be a light amidst. He protects me mostly from myself. In the darkness, where I am writhing in pain, suffering, and self-pity, God stands guard and lays his hand gently upon my heart. He says not a word, and He doesn't move to dry my tears. He sits. He waits. He cries beside me the most silent sobs. He refuses to diminish the necessity of enduring the darkness. As I continue searching for glimmers of light, He patiently stands guard over my life. He wants me to see His light. Slowly, I realize that there is no light to be found.

His light found me long ago, and it has never left me. Not for one moment has the light been diminished. It is shining within me and through me. As I continue to look towards other people and things for light, I miss out on the light of Christ within me. How can I be His light? I am not worthy or beautiful. I don't want to look at myself and believe that within me lies a light that is strong enough, bright enough, deep enough to sustain my darkest moments. It is in this realization that I see His light. I am certainly not worthy, beautiful or gifted in my own right. It is through Him, with Him, and in Him that light exists and sparkles. I am inspired and delighted in the light of those around me. God does speak through His children. I also know that I must sit quietly in the dark to remember that it is His light within me that strengthens and endures the pain and suffering that is a part of this world.

I pray for those struggling in the darkness this day. I pray for those who need a gentle reminder of the light that they are because they are a child of God. I pray for those who are shutting their eyes and avoiding the darkness in hopes that a spark will eliminate the black void that threatens to overtake their heart and mind. I pray for strength for each of us who knows that darkness is inevitable, unavoidable, and overwhelming. May you feel His hand on your heart. May you sit silently in the darkness and trust that the light you so desperately want and need is within you when you know Him as your Father. May your heart break over and over again for the darkness that surrounds you and those you love. But, may you also feel the light of his love which passes all understanding and sustains your energy and strength.

Good News
As spring arrives, so does good news and tidings of great joy. I am proud to say that I am an aunt to my 5th niece, Aluxandria Kay, 5 lbs. 13 oz. My brother Mike is now raising 3 daughters, and 2 sons. That is crazy. I am proud of those nieces, and my 11 nephews. I have such great memories of growing up with my own cousins. So wish my kids lived closer to theirs. Notice how I say, I wish the kids lived closer, not that we all lived closer. I want my kids to have the kinds of memories that I had growing up, but that isn't where God has led us. We continue to make memories with cousins when we are able. We are also blessed to have many friends who are as close as family to share memories and life's adventures.

These past few days have been great as we shared adventures with our friends. Indoor swimming, putt-putt, golfing, playing, eating and enjoying the comfort and peace that come with moments of acceptance and fun with those you love. It was good news that all the plans fell into place, and that there were no traumas or dramas to deter us from enjoying each other's company. Such a gift.

I also celebrate the good news of a friend who is seeing the sadness of the past turn into joy and blessings. Heart break, shame, and rejection could have swallowed this heart; but, as God does through loving relationships, some healing has come and life is looking brighter. I am particularly excited about this because I was witness to the pain, and now too, the joy. I want to be witness to God's glory and goodness. Sometimes, this isn't God's plan for me. Occasionally, I am meant to see the pain and sorrow, and love in the midst of the sadness. Too often, I feel slighted or pushed aside when the blessings after the suffering are revealed. I know this is sometimes my own fault. Not regulating my behavior or my feelings have caused others to turn away and reject an ongoing friendship out of fear or inability to maintain the energy that was the basis for the relationship. I struggle with this fact, and know that God is growing me to accept His timing, His energy level, and His intentions. But, I am VERY grateful to see that a steadfast, strong, and patient heart which suffered unendurable pain did endure and now is being loved in a relationship that is a gift of God.

Some exceptionally good news also lies in the arrival home of dear friends who will have their 3 adopted children with them TODAY. Yes, today. They have been in Ghana with their children for 31 days, and today they will land in Bloomington, Illinois and begin their family life at home. Wow, how amazing to see God work in these lives. They have been faithful, patient, trusting, humble, and subservient to God's timing and direction. Now, they are parents to 3 children who God knew would be just right for them. God gave these two people wisdom, understanding, and love for these 3 children. I am awe struck by this couple. I am in love with their children. Their little lives were born into a culture and family that is so different from where they will lay their heads tonight. But, God knew they would be together, and He has brought them together to glorify Him. How tired and exhausted they must be. Yet, what exhilaration, abundance, and joy they must be experiencing as the moment draws ever closer that they will be in the home that Christ has prepared for them, together.

Spring is here. The gloom of yesterday is no more, and the hope for tomorrow shimmers in the setting of this day's sun. Today, I rest in the moment of knowing the pain in my heart for the losses of yesterday are dimmed in the hope of what is to come. I am thankful and appreciative for this moment. I can breathe in the joy that this moment brings. I may hurt again in the blink of an eye. I know the pain and sorrow of accepting life's circumstances will be evidenced in the moments that follow this. But, right now, I settle into the feeling that brings me closer to God as I give thanks for the peace that I receive in witnessing His good news.

Anniversary

Mixed emotions as Easter approaches. Though the temps have been warmer, today's gloom feels like it casts a shadow on Spring's arrival. I have seen the flowers start to bloom, and I have been impressed with the lightening of moods in the kids I work with as they get to blow off some steam outdoors. So, it might just be the imminent arrival of anniversaries of all sorts of events, both happy and sad that constrain my heart.

I won't go into the details of the loss of friendships over the past year. But they do still weigh on my heart. I kind of thought that a year would make it all a reality and I wouldn't still feel that heaviness or sadness. But that isn't the case. In fact, the pressure of thinking I shouldn't feel anything anymore tightens my chest and makes me wonder what is wrong with me that I can't move in and out of circumstances and relationships the way that is dictated by culture and social norms. Why does it still hurt?

Then there is the loss of lives that have been a part of the past year. From the oldest, to the youngest, they have each captured a place in my heart. For the most part, I can think of each of them and know that God worked through them and in them to bring about His glory and love here on earth. The fact they are now with God means they have achieved their reward and are with all the saints in heaven reconciling His love with their lives. So there is a peace and comfort I experience when I think of them in heaven. Though I do avoid thinking of their absence in the lives of those they loved here on earth. I can only imagine the pain is too intense to even begin to fathom.

Anniversaries are celebrations and times to remember, but they also generate feelings of grief and regret. For all the times and moments that have been missed or lost, an anniversary can be a painful reminder. For the inability to forget what was said and done, an anniversary deepens the wound left unhealed by the passing of time. I can't count the tears shed in the past year by those who have seen the harsh realities of hell on earth. So for all of those friends near and far, and those who are no longer friends but distant acquaintances, I will mark the year by adding more tears. I will spend countless moments and immeasurable energy subduing the longing that beckons me to reach out and beg for forgiveness and ask for acceptance. And mostly, I will pray that the pain that rips at each of our hearts will be reconciled with the peace and love of Christ. I will pray that His joy will replace the sorrow, and His goodness will multiply as each moment passes. My sadness is not without hope for myself or those that I love and miss. I do hope for abundant blessings and strength in the face of suffering. I do rejoice in the memories of those who have impacted my life and through whom I know myself more completely. I just miss them and love them.

I am in a reminiscent mood this evening. Missing home, wherever that may be. I am not sure if it is where my parents are, where my children are, where my husband is, where I grew up, or where I am supposed to be? I am in my room right now, and it is my home. But, there is a part of me that misses the places and the people that bring me the comforts of home. Sometimes I feel like home is right here, where my kids and husband are safely snuggled inside our 4 walls. But, tonight, Julia is sleeping over at a friend's house, Colin has a friend sleeping over at our house, and Chris is sleeping at a hotel with his parents. My folks are in Florida and my siblings are in Indianapolis.

If I had to describe the feeling of home that I have with my family, inside our home, when we are all here and not trying to kill one another; I would have to say it is safe. I am allowed to be who I am and hopefully, they are allowed to be themselves. I know that even at my ugliest, they will allow me to be. And, even when I find their behavior reprehensible, I love them and allow them to be. Sometimes I don't allow them to stay in the same room with me, but I allow them to be themselves in their rooms. Safety is a good feeling. It means that I can feel stable enough to move outside of the structure of our home to love and serve others. When my home has been disrupted, I have withdrawn and pulled away from the life that stirs in our broader "home", our community.

The home I lived in with my family in Indianapolis was another place of safety and security. Our security wasn't always literal, but emotionally speaking, we were safe and secure. Mostly, this is because my mom modeled this for us. She made our home a safe place to be. There was never a sense that we would be punished for who we were or how we acted. We would be disciplined for sure. My dad made sure of that. He had the fear factor down to a science. A slight lifting of his eyebrow and we knew, done! We were done with whatever was happening. We dared not move forward in that action or behavior. And of course, there were times when he wasn't around to deter us with his eyebrow lifting, so the consequence was more dire. There was a paddle. I know of the paddle, I have seen the paddle. I have heard the paddle in action. But, the paddle and I have only met once. I am no dummy. I don't know what my brothers didn't get in their first introduction with the paddle that made them keep wanting to spend time with it. But, clearly the paddle was not a threat to them. They, especially my youngest brother, was well acquainted with the paddle and evidently they really got along. He kept visiting with it.

Even in the midst of that interaction, we knew that we could come walking through the door, with our bad attitudes and our hateful tones. We knew because we saw my mom love my dad through these very same moments. I saw my mom and dad struggle to provide opportunities and necessities for us, regardless of how horrible we were to them. I saw them fight for each of us, and for each other. I still can't completely fathom how they managed with all of us. But, I know what they gave us was the safety to move beyond our family to create our own lives. None of us have done it perfectly, or correctly. We have each struggled and will continue to struggle. Luckily, we know that there is safety with the family we were given.

I am reminded of that safety as I reconnect with friends from Indianapolis who I went to church with and who allowed me to be a part of their family. It is crazy for me to look back and see families whose children I watched and cared for as infants and toddlers. They are now in college. I would be hanging out with them in my home if they lived here. They would be coming to my house for dinner, and I would have changed their diapers. CRAZY!!! Now that I have my own kids, I know the amount of trust and confidence it took to let me care for their kids. They let me into their homes and let me play and pray with their kids. Such a gift to me at a time when I wasn't totally certain of who I was or how I was meant to serve in this world.

In this gift, my church gave me safety and security. Not just when I cared for the children in individual families, but when I was allowed to care for the kids in the church as a whole. I got to teach, play, pray and sing at my church without fear of inadequacy or judgment. Only now do I realize how very special my home church was and is. To say they loved my family would be an understatement. They literally cared for us for years while life was uncertain and scary. Never was the status of my home life used against me or used as a label. I never was afraid to show my face or to walk down the center aisle with the choir. I knew when I was standing beside these women and men of faith in the choir loft that they knew my darkest moments and still loved me and my family. I miss them. I miss that feeling. I know it is selfish of me to want more right now than what I have. But, I do. I want to feel that feeling. Lately, I have felt afraid to walk through the church doors. Fear makes my heart race, and sadness fills my heart because I don't know if I belong. Maybe I felt that safety because I was young and didn't have as much understanding of life. Now it all feels overwhelming sometimes. And the very place that should be safe and open no longer feels that way.

I am thankful that my church family, and the church families of my friends loved me and my family, "no matter what" and "even if". I was raised by my parents. And, luckily, I had a group of friends who were all active in churches around the East side of Indianapolis. From the Presbyterian church, to the Disciples of Christ, to the Nazarene, they all loved me and made me feel safe to explore God's love. In knowing that love, I have been allowed to carry safety and security to the many places that I have called home. Realizing that things will soon change in my family, I am forced to see what I came from and how that has made me who I am. It isn't all pretty, and my families know how ugly it was at times. So it isn't through rose colored glasses that I observe and ponder my past. It is, however, through a thankful and blessed heart that I recognize the gifts of community that I was allowed to grow in.

It is some of my own doing that prevents me from feeling safe and secure at church. I wish I could go back and do some things differently. Unfortunately, I don't get to push rewind and alter the past. Even if I could, I don't know which things I would change to make it feel better right now. So, with a sad heart on this night, I pray with thanksgiving for where I am and where I have been. I pray for forgiveness for those I have hurt. I pray for the hearts who haven't known safety. I pray for the hearts who wander in darkness and sadness and don't know how to walk through the fear into the light. As a body of Christ, and brothers and sisters in faith, I hope that we can open the doors of churches for those who tremble in fear as they walk in. It is so easy to stand in judgment of what we don't understand. Once that happens the door doesn't just close, it slams shut in front of someone who could really use love and acceptance.

I know you know who I am

There are only a few people that I can say that about. I know you know who I am. In order to really trust that someone knows me, they have to have seen me at my best (playing with kids), and at my worst (crying about anything). There is just nothing quite as ugly as seeing me cry. The swollen eyes, the awful, gut wrenching sobbing, that is about as ugly a place to be as it is for you to see. My sister and I were chatting recently about how some people can cry and look pristine and unaltered. We, however, get the bright red nose, the swollen eye lids that make us look like we have mere slits for eye openings, and snot that comes out of our nose at an unfathomable rate.

I try not to let this side get seen too often. But, there are times when I literally can't hold it back. I feel bad for the pastors at church, or my therapist who might be the frequent observers of this pathetic state of being. Of course, Chris too, he has seen it more than anyone else. He should get an award or something. Like a bronzed tissue box for all the times he has sat and allowed me to cry, sob, yell, scream, beg, and plead for life to be different, less painful. I think I would say he knows who I am. There have only been a few times that I have questioned that. Sometimes, I question if I know who I am.

I feel pretty confident that I know myself. But, there are certainly periods of time that I haven't. There have been times when everything I thought I knew about myself has been turned upside down and turned this way and that. But, even in those times, I am hopeful that there are people who saw me and knew me for who I was and am, even if I wasn't feeling myself. Like my mom and dad, for instance. They have known and loved me through my best and worst times. Even when they didn't know the details, they knew when my heart was broken. They also knew when I was overjoyed over some success or blessing, even if they didn't know why. My siblings are other people who know me for who I am. I know they know me. They haven't always liked me, but they have always known me. That could be why they didn't like me. They knew my stubbornness and my single mindedness. They know my brokenness and my failures.

Then there are those close friends who have stood by me and loved me for who I am, even when I haven't loved myself. Maybe they were only there for a brief time, but they saw me and loved me for who I was. They saw my tears and my struggles, and they saw my laughter and my joy. There have been those few friends with whom I have been completely free to be me. Some of them are still by my side. They are precious friends indeed. For they are the ones who know that my heart loves and breaks in full opposition to one another. My dear friends have touched my heart and cared for my soul when I wasn't able to. They have seen my sorrow and my pain, and they reassured me that it would be ok. That in the darkness of the night, there is a God who loves me and will wait patiently for me to be refreshed and renewed. Some of them I have known for many, many years. And some I have known a much shorter amount of time. But, I know with certainty that they know who I am.

And others, well they have moved forward, or away, or stayed right where they are while I have moved in another direction. It's hard for me to say if they really knew me. Because, maybe they came at times when I didn't know myself so well. These are the friendships that grieve my heart. For I really thought I knew their heart and it was so worthy of love, and I felt blessed to be called a friend. It is hard for me to reconcile whether I was wrong in my assumption of knowing, or if they never really knew me. I think it also true that, maybe they really did know me, but in the end, they didn't like or love me for who I was and am. That is a tough pill to swallow. What's even harder for me is believing that I didn't know their heart. What was presented and offered as friendship may have been something other than sincere and genuine. Maybe it was unintentional, and unconscious, but it wasn't a friendship based on a reality of who we actually were. I could name a handful of people that this is the case. None of them are people that I wanted to see drift away. What's worse is I don't know what the truth is or was.

I have come to grips with some. I don't know if I will ever understand or have the option to reconcile with some others. I am still struggling to accept the path that I am walking without them. I am sometimes mad at myself that I wasn't the kind of friend that I needed to be. Sometimes it is bitterness I feel. Bitterness because I have been judged and ridiculed without opportunity to defend myself or apologize for the perceived wrong doing. Sometimes it is anger. Anger that this world places such high demands on relationships that can never be met and can lead to disappointment and frustration. And mostly, I feel sad. Sad that I don't have some people in my life that I valued and loved and considered the kind of friends who know who I am. Sometimes writing about this helps because it helps me see the reality on both sides of the friendship. I can own that I didn't know, and I can accept that what is known isn't sufficient at this time in life. But acceptance is not always a comfort. But, I will continue to value and appreciate those friends who have been so good to me. I know they know who I am, and they love me anyway. I continue to look forward to more friendships in my life that will be mutually beneficial. I am blessed to love and know those people in my life who allow me to be their friend. And, I am thankful.

hmmm...

Things that make you go: hmmm...

1. Burning eyes after having slept more than a sufficient number of hours.

2. Finger nail polish that chips within minutes of leaving a manicure.

3. Needing to cry even when everything is going ok.

4. Unforgiving and/or judgmental people.

5. Grace and thanks through suffering.

6. People who can look fantastic wearing a plain white t-shirt, torn jeans, and tennis shoes.

7. High metabolisms.

8. Headaches that won't go away.

9. Perfection of a new born baby.

10. Jesus loving me.

Hope

Hope is what arrives when tomorrow comes. Since tomorrow can't arrive, I am certainly thankful that hope does. I pray for more hope today so tomorrow will be worth waiting for. Then when it comes, I am hopeful for the next tomorrow.

That all sounds complicated and confusing. But, sometimes that is all that we have. We don't have security. We don't have protection from life's struggles. Even trust and respect are unattainable some days. There is always hope. I don't think it always feels the way we want it to though. Hope seems like such a positive and uplifting force. We generally don't hope for negative experiences, situations, or circumstances for ourselves or others. At least I know that I don't hope for that. I hope that there will be more peace tomorrow than today. More acceptance, more joy, more comfort, more patience, more life experiences hoped for tomorrow.

But, when tomorrow comes, and the reality of today sets in, many of those things hoped for don't come to fruition. I guess then there is the disappointment that has to be accepted before a new hope for tomorrow can begin. Some days the disappointment lasts a brief moment, and other times it is a feeling that lingers and threatens to distract me from hoping in a better tomorrow. But, luckily, today is not that day.

Though there were definitely disappointments, (yucky weather, runny eggs, cold, bad hair, and failure to live up to the person I long to be), I saw such great glimpses of a reality that was better than yesterday. I was able to breathe through disappointments and recognize the gift that God was trying to give me. My attention was quickly able to turn to the here and now, and the hope for tomorrow instead of looking at the past. I had an awesome conversation with a friend who I have really wanted to connect with. There was time, energy, and wit in the moment. I was thankful and appreciative for this gift.

Then, I went to one of my favorite places, The Fresh Market. I love walking into the floral department which is just inside the door. The beautiful roses, the hydrangea, and the tulips whispered reassurance that spring is going to arrive, though it doesn't seem like it in the gloom of this dreary day. They epitomized hope. I enjoyed sharing my flowers with a friend who isn't around much anymore. As I visited with her, hope was confirmed and strengthened. I knew that the disappointment of today would be a distant memory in the days to come. There is great comfort in knowing that one day, I will not feel the disappointment or fear of this world, but will be free and able to love and care without judgment or condemnation.

Those flowers were added to others that have lived and maintained their beauty and aroma for over 3 weeks. I have added water each day and watched as despite the passing of time, there was life and vibrancy. Though I am not at all crafty, I do enjoy arranging flowers, and so I spent a good bit of time doing just that. It was peaceful and joy filled, this effort to combine colors and shapes within the vase. I guess the word that best describes that moment was, contentment. There was contentment in working with these perfect representations of hope. I could touch them, smell them, feel them and work with their elements to increase my awareness of the goodness of a great God.

Sometimes I don't see the hope for tomorrow until I see the disappointments of today. I can't hope for a great cup of coffee tomorrow unless I taste a less than great cup of coffee today. Otherwise, I would have no need to hope for more. I would have found the great cup of coffee and look no further. Singing a song today, and realizing that my high b-flat is not quite what I want it to be, allows me to practice and hope for a better result tomorrow. That disappointment is not a judgment on my ability or lack thereof. But, it is a reality that keeps me hoping and striving for better. So too, does disappointment in relationships lead to hope for better in the future. Regardless of the relationship between friend, spouse, parent, sibling, or child, disappointment is inevitable. But it is through those disappointments that I am able to hope for better tomorrow. Maybe it will come through reconciliation. Maybe it will come through change of behavior. Or, maybe, it will be realized through acceptance of circumstances beyond my control. I will keep hoping for a tomorrow that is more peaceful and joyful than today. Knowing that God wants all good things for me reassures me that He does want me to hope for more tomorrow.

I am thankful for the disappointments of today and the hope for tomorrow.

What always comes, but never arrives?

What always comes, but never arrives?

Have you figured it out? If you were at our church's children's program this evening you would know. I was stumped. Luckily, there are far greater minds around the table, and "tomorrow" was the answer quickly agreed upon.

Tomorrow always comes, but, it never does arrive. That is a pretty intense thought. So many times I find myself dwelling on what will be tomorrow. I can think the scenarios out, and pretty well decide on what I think tomorrow will look like. In fact, it is one of my favorite activities. The thoughts go something like this:
What will tomorrow look like if I eat this delicious Girl Scout Lemonade cookie? I think it will be a great tomorrow. I am only eating one, even though the package is open, and I could very well eat every single one of them. So, wise decision, tomorrow will look better if I just have one. If I were to eat the entire package, which is fully within my capacity, I will not have as good a tomorrow. I may be disgusted with myself. Primarily because, all the cookies would be gone. I know, you were thinking I would say; I feel so bad for ingesting so many calories. I never should have eaten all of them. But, no, really I just want more for tomorrow. Because, if I am lucky enough to have it come, I want to have a lemonade cookie somewhere in my day.

Or there's the thought that goes something like:
What will tomorrow look like if I don't pay this bill? I think tomorrow might not be such a good day. Not paying this bill will likely mean that I have additional money to spend on several boxes of Girl Scout Lemonade cookies. Though I love them, and want them to be available every tomorrow that comes my way, I don't really think I should skip paying my mortgage to make that a reality. I know, you probably thought I was going to say something like; Of course tomorrow wouldn't look good because banks don't really like to not get their money. In fact, even though they pretend like they don't know me, I will have about 20 new best friends who want to track me down and find me in an effort to converse about how important my money is to their life. Yeah, they may become stalkers, and that is a good reason to pay them on time. Stalkers can be a hassle. But, really, I am again concerned about my lemonade cookies. Though I want them for tomorrow, I don't want to forsake my tomorrow by investing heavily in my desire.

Now we are getting into the heavy thinking that goes on about my tomorrows:
What will tomorrow look like if I don't stop and listen? I think tomorrow will come and I will have missed out on enjoying the pleasure of eating my Girl Scout lemonade cookie. I know you can't really listen to a cookie. But, if I don't stop, I can't fully indulge in the joy of savoring the taste of my favorite cookie. I will have to go a little deeper here. In the moment that I am eating my cookie, I do listen. Sometimes I hear the swishing and crunching in my mouth. That echoey sound that happens when you chew and swallow food. I listen to that. Sometimes it's all I hear. In that moment, I savor the sweet, quiet treasure that is a Girl Scout Lemonade cookie.

Sometimes when I stop and listen, I am not enjoying a cookie. In those moments, other than wishing I had a cookie, I think about things like:
What will tomorrow look like if I disregard what I hear? What will tomorrow be like if when I see the smile on the chubby faces of the Butterfly class or the Ladybug class I turn away and talk to the teachers instead of looking into the heart of those precious children? Can I take the moment back? Will they know that I hear them and see them if I turn away? Surely there are times when turning away has to be done. Like, when a child is throwing a "fit", a "temper tantrum". Though I know those are the very moments that they most desire to be seen and heard (at least I know those are the moments that I most wish to be seen and heard), if we indulge them, they may believe that is how to get our attention. Then instead of smiles, I would be welcomed with cries and grumpiness.

I do love those moments too. When a child is so upset that they are out of control or awareness of their own space and time, those are the moments that I long for. Not out of some masochistic desire to have pain inflicted on myself or others. But, because those moments will come along until the moment we are no longer walking through this space and time. Wouldn't you agree? We spend our today's fretting, stressing, and maneuvering through what our tomorrows will be. How we can manage our past so that we can pursue our future. That is how we spend our todays. Managing the past so we can have our tomorrow. Then, when the expectation falls short, is unrealized or destroyed, we are left with a temper tantrum moment. That moment when we can't understand how we arrived at our today when we planned so concertedly for our tomorrow.

Sometimes we play that temper tantrum in our own heads and bodies. Sometimes we perpetrate the tantrum against those closest to us. Then there are the innocent bystanders who are trying to sell us Girl Scout thin mints who don't have any of our Lemonade cookies because they don't sell as well, so they didn't bring them to the booth set out in front of the Lowe's exit. Thank God they were at the exit and not the entrance, because then there would have been customer service representatives at the paint department who would have been additional innocent bystanders to the tantrum. Why do I like those moments with kids?

I love taking that little person in my arms and saying, "I know, it's not fair. It's just not fair. You shouldn't have to hurt like this. I know you are frustrated and you want it your way. I know that feeling and it is hard. It's ok to be angry and frustrated." They don't know how to say they're frustrated or angry. But, maybe one day when they are 37, and they don't get the cookies they want at the Girl Scout booth, they will know it is ok. They will have walked through many moments of disappointment and frustration. And, maybe, if taught early, they will allow themselves to be disappointed and to hurt without shutting themselves off and turning into a volcano. Wouldn't it be easier for all of us if we recognized, "It's ok. It's ok to be sad and frustrated. I am hurting and I don't like the way my tomorrow hasn't arrived. My tomorrow has come, and I am now in today, but it isn't what I planned or what I thought it would be." I know I need to realize that.

God doesn't want me to manage my past and maneuver into my tomorrow. He wants me to have a full life in the today. I too often find myself holding back who I am so that maybe tomorrow I can be who I want to be. But, tomorrow comes, and yet it doesn't arrive. I am left waiting and hoping for the tomorrow that will never be. This isn't to suggest living a life in the moment without consideration of the past or the future. Lord knows I spend a great deal of time on both of those topics. But, knowing that I have today, and tomorrow will never be today, I want to be who I am. I want to love and care. I want to feel and share. I want to risk loving in a way that sets me up to be hurt. There are times when I know I have to respect and honor the "todays" of those around me, and how I may or may not fit into that picture. But, if I don't risk stopping, hearing, and responding to the "todays", what will my tomorrow look like? Will it feel safe and complete? Will it feel broken and painful?

I guess I will wait and see what comes tomorrow.

Grateful

Challenges continue to be a regular part of each day. Sometimes it is a simple challenge, like; what will I make for dinner (Or rather, how can I get out of making dinner). Then, there are the medium sized challenges, like; how should I respond to the question from my daughter, "Why are those two people living together, but they aren't married?" Then there are the bigger challenges that require no visible action or response, but chew away at my day, occupy my thoughts, and tug on my heart.

It's not just the challenge of why bad things happen to good people. I get that. I know that God gave us free will, and so some people will choose to do things outside the scope of what God can protect us from. Then there are the freak accidents that are not a result of any misdeeds or lack of faith or obedience. I also know that He will make good things come for all those that believe in Him. Even the worst nightmares in life, God can work in to make some good. That isn't much comfort in the midst of confronting the pain, grief, and loss that we face here on earth. But, it is truth and I can at least recognize it as such. It's more the challenge about how to live moment to moment, hour to hour, day to day in the midst of dealing with the grief and loss, the pain and the torture, and the confusion and frustration of a reality that is often times not of our choosing and most definitely not in our control.

Often times we are forced into pain because others fail us, or we have unintentionally failed them. This is a difficult place to be. Fear, anger, frustration, and confusion lead us into questioning ourselves, those we love, and even God. In the questioning, we wonder who is responsible, who caused the brokenness, how will it feel better, was it all a lie, or when did the lie start? How much of what we thought "was" reality, was really a fantasy we developed in our own mind, or was a lie from the start. Sometimes, there are fruits of the labor that prove it wasn't all a lie. For instance, children are a beautiful reality of a marriage or a relationship. Regardless of divorce, death, or separation; a child represents a reality of a connection that can not be denied. Sometimes, the reality is represented in an object, or in a picture. Sometimes, the reality is just a memory of what we thought was. Clinging to this reality, we question how it could be that what was so real, is no longer.

Sometimes, there are moments of truth, but the relationship as a whole was a lie. Perhaps, the truth was there all along, and due to no fault of either party; it is ignored or denied. Trying so hard to live a reality of truth that is not at all what is intended eventually catches up, and the pain of the fractured reality finally causes irreparable damage. Of course, there are those times when truth was beautiful and real, loving and supportive; but due to painful outside stresses, the relationship deteriorates or changes. I imagine this is the more typical issue.

People change, develop, grow, or regress as time goes on. It feels like we should be able control who we become or who those around us become. And certainly, we should do things to move in a direction that is consistent with our hearts, as God envisions and desires. I am not always sure that we as communities do much to support this effort. In a world of technology, advanced communication, higher expectations with lower levels of communal support, and beliefs that success and social stature mean more than consistent love and acceptance; couples are not given a whole lot of support in the effort of living and growing as a couple or even as their own individual. Ugh. It is a challenge. Just an immense challenge to negotiate relationships of any kind in this world. It is a "one breath at a time" kind of challenge.

I am appreciating more and more those friendships that are flexible and loving, regardless of the circumstances. They know me. They know my heart. They accept me, defend me, support me, and challenge me to be the best person I can be. Sometimes that is telling me things that I don't want to hear, and even more difficult, telling me things that I don't want to accept. But, they do it because they love me. They want me to be free to love in the ways that I can. Sometimes, I have to hold back what I want to do for what I need to do. Luckily, I have great friends that know this about me, and can help me recognize when I am falling into a habit that might deter me or put my heart at risk.

Grateful doesn't even begin to describe my thanks for these friends. We are given a few of these friends at any given time. To really be able to invest in friendships to this level, you can't have too many. I have 2-3 who are a part of my heart to this extent. Sometimes, those friends change, depending on the life stage, or season that we are experiencing. It is a part of life. God provides what and whom we need when we need them. It is hard to realize and accept that the stage of a friendship that was once so deep and reliable, is in a new place. I struggle with whether there was validity, truth, or substance in some friendships once they have past. I don't think it will ever be easy to accept the loss of relationships in my life.


But, I am so grateful for the dear friendships who continue to stand the test of time. They grow and change and accept. I pray that God will continue to use me to love my friends in a way that makes Him proud to be my Dad.