I’ve been convicted of laziness. Yes laziness. I already have a problem with diligence. But I was lazy about my last post. Haha. The silliness of it all. So I’ll finish my post here and write out those “stories” in this post without going back to the last one…
First. In all confidence, I am “walking away” in obedience. Not because I have lost faith in anyone or lack of care of my heart, or loss of compassion, in faithlessness, or because love has gone cold. (Christ like Love. God kind of love, people…) No one sees what goes on with me. What happens to me. It wipes me out. And I’m sure God wouldn’t want me to continue living in such a manner, not being able to function in all the rest of the things I have a responsibility in. A huge responsibility. Where I am in need of dire help myself. All the help in being a better wife, a better mother… One who needs to be present. God didn’t give me them so I could just carelessly go about the task right in front of me. If I have so much care for practically strangers, how much more do you think I love the ones right next to me. My husband, my babies!
Amazing grace! (how sweet the sound)
That sav’d a wretch like me!
I once was lost, but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.
‘Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,
And grace my fears reliev’d;
How precious did that grace appear
The hour I first believ’d!
Thro’ many dangers, toils, and snares,
I have already come;
‘Tis grace hath brought me safe thus far,
And grace will lead me home.
The Lord has promis’d good to me,
His word my hope secures;
He will my shield and portion be
As long as life endures.
Yes, when this flesh and heart shall fail,
And mortal life shall cease;
I shall possess, within the veil,
A life of joy and peace.
The earth shall soon dissolve like snow,
The sun forbear to shine;
But God, who call’d me here below,
Will be forever mine.
Do you ever wonder how some things have just become a spectacle. A form of entertainment for some…
The problem with social media, photos, blogs, this whole web stuff is people forget to see what’s real. They don’t see the full picture. And the worst things is, they focus on curated images and words. Who has seen me in my life, who has heard me? Oh, I am not a pretty sight nor sound. I mean, I can be. But have you heard me argue with my husband, or try to gain any sense of control over my kids at the end of a day. (For anyone who must see something “ugly” about my life.) Have you seen that picture??! No. So I can listen to songs on repeat as I have been lately, like Is He Worthy, and by no means would it be me! Unworthy. (Btw, if you’ve never argued with your spouse, your probably have no care, or don’t love them, or perhaps you’re just too perfect. And I don’t believe in perfect.) My brother has sent me photos and videos of this police dog from work. It’s sleek and black, and my brother just sits there flicking it’s ears, petting his head. But have you ever seen a police dog at command. My goodness, it’s fierce and terrifying. I can be like that. (What a horrid picture right?) Again- melodramatic meh heh. Another note, I’ve now admitted to my husband, I want a dog. A german shepherd, a black, police kind of dog. Those who know me and know I’ve never actually wanted one, now know, people do change…
Second. Stories. One is not so pretty. Sorry.
Fall 2018. What started out with something soo tiny had become, over a few years, a strange growth in my flesh. Instead of coming right out as it normally should, it went deep into my leg and became unsightly in color and form. No not cancer. Anyway, all of a sudden that September, there became this urgency and fear that I needed to take care of it and the only solution was to have surgery. In research, I realized what was nothing at first had become something huge and if it burst somehow under pressure or whatnot, all that infectious nastiness could potentially seep into the bloodstream, in some cases poison the body. There’s medical terms for it, I’m not gonna go into it. (I leave that to my family who would know better…) So I made an appointment. Sitting in a medical office sends your mind to all sorts of places. The anticipation is the worst! Say the word needle and my palms start sweating, heart racing. It’s not like I’ve not had my blood drawn, it’s not like I’ve not had babies and that is an ordeal like no other, and yet, needle is all it takes… so my mind races about infections and what could go wrong. I sit and think, It would be nice if it was a _____ doctor, and the door opens and in comes an _____ doctor. All my anxiety goes away. The surgeon with the most sweetest, polite manner, explaining to me how she will make the incision with the fold of the skin and how others don’t care and just cut any which way… You can tell, this is her craft. She cares about what she’s doing. She tells she will take out a diamond shape chunk of flesh so it will be deep and large to make sure to get it all out. She made sure over and over that I want to go through with it. So the day of that little procedure, I ask for a dark towel to cover my eyes from the bright lights above, tell them to please not tell me anything they’re doing, and put music in my ears to block any sounds out. My version of anesthesia. (She told me the worst for people is having to be awake and that they even pass out…) Poke after poke in the circumference of the area and a plunge in the leg to make sure I don’t feel a thing. That was the worst part of it all. Anticipation and poking. To think you can be wide awake and have someone just cut you up, sew you all back up again, and walk out the door right after. She told me she gave me invisible stitches for the ones on the surface. Sewed up from underneath rather than from the top where’d you normally see them. And when I came back to get those stitches out, the nurse said she hadn’t seen them before and had to call a doctor to take them out. Invisible stitches. How nice.
Sometimes, there’s no way to conceal, to cover up, to smooth over, to hide what is practically morbid. I could have concealed that darkness with concealer as in makeup where we know how to neutralize different colors of the underlying tones below the skin or spots and blemishes right on the skin. But the large bump would have still been there. I could have bandaged it to hide it, and I could have covered it up with clothes. But I’d still know it was there, and it would bug and eat away at me. And eventually it would scare me. It had to be surgically removed. What’s left is a long scar that eventually will fade like other scars. A memory of it all. Sometimes numbness. But the threat isn’t there anymore, and I could only thank the surgeon for caring and doing her best. I have an amazing God who like a surgeon, comes into my heart, every heart, and cuts out what is black and dark. What is morbid. (What is ugly in my heart is perhaps drastically different than what’s in your heart, but it’s still ugly.) And the best thing about God is, he’s not human. He operates and he heals. No human can do that.
(And if anyone thinks that is some sort of confession of my sin, by no means no!)
First year of marriage Peter and I went to the beautiful Chateau Ste. Michelle winery, here in Washington, for a Chris Botti concert. There were people everywhere. With seating style for a typical concert and then people spread across the grass every which way. Well, why it was a memorable concert is not that the location was stunning, or that it was somehow a special show of sorts. Some people don’t even know who Chris Botti is right? Why it is so memorable is that towards the end of the show, Chris Botti gets off the stage and walks through all that seating area, past all those people, and comes up and asks me if I’m his special guest. I answered sheepishly, “I don’t know what that means, but sure.” So he plays us a song right there. Had he stayed there and kept playing songs, I’m sure people would dump their wine on me. Or the folks up at the front would have yelled how much they had payed for their front row seats. Had he kept on playing right where he stood by us, it would have been the greatest of disservice to the mass. Wouldn’t you say? It would have been unfair to the rest of those people that came to listen to him play.
I often think, that’s how it is in life. We’ll hear something about someone and then when we sit in a mom’s group, or in a class, or anywhere else, and suddenly subtlety we start talking at that person… It hinders so much. And although most will still hear what they need to hear, that one person starts to pull away. I know the “I” in man will always somehow creep into everything we say or do. It just can’t be helped. But deliberately, it’s unhealthy. Special circumstances, yes. Special moments, OK. But not always.
Preach Jesus Christ and all will hear. Preach at just one man, and you might just drive him away.
I know I am saved. Not by what I do. Not by works. I never even thought it. Jesus died on the cross for me not just for all my past sins but for the sins of today and tomorrow… I am a work of progress until the day I meet Jesus. (So much more work.) I don’t need to prove my faith. Not in this way. I don’t need any more “tests…”
I am not Jesus. I don’t like pain of any sort for anyone, but I can’t take that away. I can’t even take my own pains away. I just hope that it’s not been pointless, and that there will be peace.
Otherwise. I have a thousand things to say and always will. Words always run through my head.
Currently listening to Andrew Peterson’s version of Rise Up, on repeat. The sound. The words. Music to my soul.
1 Corinthians Chapter 13 is so beautiful. On love.
“And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.”
Thankful for kind souls and kind words.
I’ll keep on studying, learning, seeking, praying.
And perhaps one day, I’ll wake up and think I must have imagined it all.
Romans 11:36 always – for wherever my life leads.
Draw a big thick line right here. This is not a story. Not part of the past story not a new story! This is nothing to do with obedience, disobedience. This is a human being trying to communicate. This is about livelihood, souls!
I am not God, Jesus, missionary, or any label that someone has created and put on my back without my knowledge. (You can put human, sinner, saved.) I clearly do not know sooo much. BUT I am not a fool! This is to say that someone, somehow, somewhere made a huge mistake and someone needs to step up and in a Godly, biblical way, solve it. Fix it. Or explain it. This is not a game, it’s not funny or entertaining, and I’m not part of this, whatever it is. This is a serious matter!
Who is “Jonathan Edwards?”
If I go off assumption (a horrible, dangerous thing to do) “Jonathan Edwards” is absolutely (insert every single possible synonym here) innocent to the core in matters concerning “national” events. The specific isolated situation of it.
Not blindsided in that sense.
Biblically- “Every charge must be established by the evidence of two or three witnesses.” (Out of context)
If “J.E.” is any other than disregard ^
Farewell folks. And live for God…