Resting in Him

Monsters.  Inward struggles.  Sin.  Began crying at Bible Study last night when the lesson lingered on the story about the killing of the male babies by King Herod.  Not sure why that got to me, but briefly the image of my own babies flashed through my mind.  Regret.

From that moment until this morning while I had quiet time, I was plagued by the demon called Not Good Enough.  And as I was wallowing in shame, a single quote in a book I'm reviewing jumped out at me.  "Surrender to what is.  Let go of what was.  Have faith in what will be. ~Sonia Ricotti*

Wow.

I have issues with each of those three sentences.  Surrender?  Gosh.  Letting go?  Hard.  Faith?  A bit better because it's not tarnished yet, but still, a stretch.

So, just previous to reading that quote, I cried out to God.  Again. Said I thought I'd done all the right things with our children.  Stories, hugs, prayer, dinner together at the table at night, church, a safe environment, baking together, laughter, tucking in at night, sharing what a personal relationship with Jesus was all about, and still it wasn't enough to attract our sons who've left the flock.  What more could I have done?  I relive these thoughts all. the. time.

God said, "Adam and Eve."

Oh.

Paradise wasn't enough for them.  Still not satisfied.  

It's just so darned hard.  I want us together as a family (same with God) in the deepest sense.  Will be content as I can be with my tribe here at home, and that'll have to be enough.  God is faithful.  There is a plan, not sure what, but there is one.  Glad I'm not in charge of this circus.

*quote taken from Rachel Macy Stafford's new book Hands Free Life

Paying mind...

My husband continues to surprise me.  Being that he was raised in a more fundamental and conservative home (reformed Presbyterian/Southern Baptist) than I was (my folks were Methodist, though my mom sprinkled our household with some Pentecostal beliefs), he tends to not be too awfully vocal about his faith.  He'll witness freely to folks who come into his shop when the opportunity is appropriate, but to speak of angels or spiritual attack is a new thing with him.  These past few months very common talk in our house.  We know what we're talking about.

Today we were visited by thieves in our front yard while we were at church.  Now, I admit we have lots of stuff in our yard, but it's not that much, well, not much anymore.  Plants, a few ornamental things, decorative.  But you'd think they were all far enough from the curb that folks would keep their mitts off.  Well, no.

Some of you've heard this earlier today since I griped on FB.  Sympathy feels good.

Anyway, after dinner Gary said we needed to keep on our toes.  We've become lax in our prayers for protection, and even if you think lightly about our experience today, it's one in a series of contacts today.  A man-off-the-street got belligerent with him before services at church.  He was determined to talk to our priest, but Gary prevented him from disrupting things.  (And as I've mentioned before, yes, my husband and a couple of other members do come armed to church services.  Just because of this sort of occurrence.) Another person confronted him on our porch this afternoon, fabricating a wild story, wanting a handout.  Strange situations.  Out of the blue.  In our faces.  

"Seeking whom he may devour."

Stay prayed up.  The signs of intrusion are there, and we've prayed.  Been here before when the dark side has sidled up beside us.  

Stay on your spiritual toes.  As we become lax, the enemy becomes aware.  As our military son says, "Boots on the ground."

Healing

My girls are finally having to deal with the nonsense their brothers have put them through these past few months.  They'd not reached that place yet.  Our youngest, who's newly thirteen, is one who will always say she's fine, even when she's not.  She stuffs things down.  Our middle girl, who's sixteen, doesn't hide it so well.  For example, when oldest son came by on Father's Day, she'd just woken up from a nap, walked right past him where he was in the living room, and didn't even acknowledge his presence.  I call that audacious, and I didn't say a word.  I won't stand in the way of how these girls relate to their brothers.  I won't scold or say a word.  They have to get to a place where they can deal, and seems today was that day.  Know this, though.  None of the girls are aware of what his girlfriend does for a living.  They don't need that in their heads, and the youngest ones wouldn't understand anyway.  The girls are just hacked that he's living in sin.  Yeah, that's enough for their sweet minds to get around.

Middle daughter said she felt let down by those she felt she could count on and trust (meaning the boys).  Abandoned.  She and I just cried, her openly, me trying to hide it from her.  I cry all the time, which they're used to, but don't want to appear fragile when I need to be the strong one.  She'd written a very sweet letter to the least one telling her they were best friends and how she wanted to 'be there' for her.  It was awesome in its tenderness.

Felt good to hear them being open.  I told her it's been healing for me to get mad on paper, and middle daughter said she'd done that, but hadn't felt a release from it.  Dang those boys.  They've said what they're doing isn't hurting anyone.  They don't have a clue.

Was reading Matthew 13:24-30, the Parable of the Weeds, and it's our family.  Not a pleasant ending, but it's so apropos.

* * *

Jesus told them another parable:  "The kingdom of heaven is like a man who sowed good seed in his field.  But while everyone was sleeping, his enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat, and went away.  When the wheat sprouted and formed heads, then the weeds also appeared.  The owner's servants came to him and said, 'Sir, didn't you sow good seed in your field?  Where then did the weeds come from?'

'An enemy did this,' he replied.  

The servants asked him, 'Do you want us to go and pull them up?'

'No,' he answered, 'because while you are pulling the weeds, you may uproot the wheat with them.  Let both grow together until the harvest.  At that time I will tell the harvesters:  First collect the weeds and tie them into bundles to be burned; then gather the wheat and bring it into my barn.'"

* * *

As my husband says repeatedly, we have to keep our tent clean.  And even tonight after dinner he said he so much enjoys our home now.  No animosity or struggles.  The Spirit is clearly present and we try to stay on top of it.  Can't let our guard down, but try to stay on top of what's in our children's heads.  You have to.

And I'm reading a review book by Nancy Ortberg called Seeing in the Dark, and it's exactly what I need today and everyday lately.  In dark days God is so present, even more so than in the joys---that's the message.  It's a book of hope.  And in contrast, I reviewed a book by her husband awhile back.  Not keen on him, but she is a comfort. You just never know. :)

Tuesday afternoon

Cleaning more in the house, this time the shelves that hold the cookbooks and overflow of small appliances.  Tossing mismatched saucers and plastic cups with missing parts.  Also a small coffee maker missing the pot.  And a Pyrex dish that won't come clean even by using the ever-faithful ammonia trick.  Out it goes.  I have trouble with this, but hold the things in my hands asking the question as to whether they're necessary to my joy.  Well, no.

Purging is good for the soul, either physical or spiritual.

Lots on my mind---friends are sharing problems.  Cancer, abuse, marital discord.  I've heard the evil one is stepping up his techniques realizing his days are numbered.  I like that.  The numbered days bit.  Seems praying for things requires much more spiritual footwork.  Things I used to pray about and expect and see quick answers are now having to be buried in prayer.  Buried.

While I don't believe the numbers of angels and demons changes, their work is more intense.  And I even suggested to Gary that he pray a continual hedge around his shop.  The dark powers won't like us getting involved in a church family's new situation.  One of their sons (a five year old) has been abused by a friend's son.  I won't go into detail, but the father of the abuser is a cop.  The ramifications could be interesting, to say the least.  Oldest daughter will be helping the mom (who is a good friend of hers) to care for the kids this week.

Staying prayed up.  Do NOT let your guard down.

Can't see ahead of me.  Need work in the shop.  Bills overdue.  God be praised in all things.

Listening to David Dunn's new CD on Spotify called Crystal Clear.  Sweet Christian young man, who oldest daughter has a crush on. :)  I get that.

Friday

Okay, if you don't want to read about my bad mental health day, then fair enough.  You've been warned.

Today is oldest son's thirtieth birthday.  As most moms, my thoughts have been on the day he was born, and how we went with Gary's dad to dinner in Oriental, NC on the night before Jonathan was born.  We lived in New Bern back then, just for a year, and with him overdue, it was my FIL's plan to distract us (my MIL had been out of town).  Just reliving it.

And with us cleaning out closets, dressers, and what-have-you, I've run into lots of photos of the kids.  Last night I found two in particular of Jonathan, sweet little darling.  In one shot, that just pierced my heart, he's got his back to the camera and he's about five or six.  It's that little neck.  The most vulnerable part of any child.  His hands are behind his back, looking out the window, and he's wearing a red sweater and little blue (long-sleeved as he used to say) pants.  Young and vulnerable.  Before all this nonsense.

Got into bed last night---late----read and turned out the light, then couldn't get to sleep.  I was beside myself.  Went out back between one-thirty and two and just pleaded with the Lord to take away the pain.  I just couldn't bear it anymore.  Some days are better than others.  Anticipating his birthday was more than enough.

Anyway, no great revelations, but the sweet oblivion of sleep.  Escape.

I've never dreaded any of our kids' birthdays.  It's always been something to anticipate.  We've been together in some sense, even if not physically.  Last year I made him a cake, which our son who lived with him took to their apartment.  I realize he's grown, and that's not the issue, as you well know.  The separation between us and him is huge, and it's all of a spiritual nature.  We still keep in touch, though it's pretty surface.  But to know I've given birth to a child who's become so decadent is awful.  Sometimes, like last night, it's just unbearable.  There's no escape, but the desperate need for Grace.  For me and him.

I stay in God's face.  No embarrassment or hesitation in speaking up for Him.  At the end of the day, He's all there is.  But I'm so tired of crying.

A mother's re-focus

The verse for now is, "My Grace is sufficient for you."  

I know too much.  More than my husband about our sons.  Moms tend to, you know.  Stuff is worse than I could ever imagine (speaking of son and his girlfriend's business), and quite honestly, my imagination isn't very active.  I can go a certain distance and then say to myself, "Oh surely not. Please no, he can't be doing that."  I'm pretty much, a what-you-see-is-what-you-get person.  And I take folks at face value.  I end up being gullible when I should be shrewd.  But, here's the thing---the Lord has given me two spiritual gifts, ones I was made aware of ages ago.  One is the gift of healing, which I used to take to mean the laying on of hands.  In reality, it's the herbs, and I do have a God-given knack with them.  Makes me laugh.  The other gift is discernment, but only with those outside the family.  I can see through a fake instantly, almost like mind reading, as long as they're not blood.  My kids can fool me all day long.  So, when they tell me something, whether it's believable or not, I accept it.  A stranger or a friend, not for a second.

The Lord says to walk away from our boys, as I mentioned in my last post.  Pray, and don't engage on purpose.  Let them make the moves toward me, but don't initiate.  That's hard.  I tend to want to at least text when I've not heard in a few days.  The thing is---I want them more than they need me.  Yeah, I get it.  I don't yearn for too much involvement with my own mother either.

He asks me to trust Him.  Don't help except to pray.  No letters, no nothing.  I hate to see my boys entrenched in lifestyles that are so full of darkness.  But they're okay with that.  And when oldest son was here the other day---he'd not been by since he began his new job and had out-of-town training---he had a different look on his face.  He looked happy, which is no big deal, really.  He always looks happy, but there was a frenzied look about him.  Glittery.  My neighbor had the same look on her face last week when I visited her.  She's sort of too into mystical things, and had a story about this New Age/witchcraft-like herb store she went to, but it was hard to believe, at least to me.  Another story for another day.

Demons.

I just shake my head.

Now, to not give too much air-time to the prince of the air, our son who's in California is doing very, very well.  That Christian retreat where he's working is concerned for the spiritual and physical welfare of their employees as much as wanting them to be good workers.  They were taken as a group to a large non-denominational church over the state line in Oregon yesterday.  After five years in the restaurant business, and the worldly atmosphere there, he's being refreshed with other believers.  He's exactly where the Lord would have him be, and that gives me great peace.  Even though I miss him crazy-like.  Definitely a Praise the Lord situation. :)

I'll stop now.  Have more to say, but need to quit.  Y'all take care.

A quiet Saturday

Mornings are my favorite times of day, only seconded by evenings in bed after my bath.  Quiet, window open, all is well.  I adore the hour in bed with my tea.  Usually I read the Psalter reading for the day in my Book of Common Prayer and the Office in The Divine Hours*.  Then I feel ready to get into my study of Stephanie Bennett Vogt's book Your Spacious Self.  Healing, that's what her book is to me.  I've gradually been cleaning out things, weighty sometimes.  Finding old photos of my children, hurting over the journeys some of them are taking, but remembering the Covenant we made with the Lord.  Reformed Presbyterians (my old church/my husband's heart is still there) have a beautiful service for infant baptism.  Always loved that.

The carpet is down in the dining room.  Gary opened the old trunk we have in there, usually burdened closed with two Lawyer's Bookshelves that sit on top of it.  Pictures and more.  My grandparents' old pictures, aunts and uncles long gone, and a couple of my old high school annuals.  The girls have laughed today over those.  

Every so often, I leave my bed (my safe, healing place lately) and tidy up some. Get overtired, lie down and then get up and do some more.  It's not that I'm ill, but am giving myself room to get stronger.  I do feel so weak after little effort.  

The Lord spoke clearly to me this morning, telling me to let my boys alone this weekend---pray always for them, but leave their lives for Him to work on.  Tend to myself.  Enjoy the day.  Rest and recover.  Allow myself to be still. 

I'm even just going to gather flowers and greenery here for the church altar vases tomorrow.   No expense.  The paraments (altar cloths) are green for the summer, and I was thinking some orange day lilies and greens behind them would look pretty.  Easy and sweet.  Plus, there's plenty by the garage. :)

Must go tidy some more.  Remember to rest.

*Phyllis Tickle's books---btw, she's very ill now with cancer---found out through church friends who used to attend the same church as Phyllis---she lives just outside of Memphis, so is nearby.

My hope...

Joel 2:21-32King James Version (KJV)

21 Fear not, O land; be glad and rejoice: for the Lord will do great things.

22 Be not afraid, ye beasts of the field: for the pastures of the wilderness do spring, for the tree beareth her fruit, the fig tree and the vine do yield their strength.

23 Be glad then, ye children of Zion, and rejoice in the Lord your God: for he hath given you the former rain moderately, and he will cause to come down for you the rain, the former rain, and the latter rain in the first month.

24 And the floors shall be full of wheat, and the vats shall overflow with wine and oil.

25 And I will restore to you the years that the locust hath eaten, the cankerworm, and the caterpiller, and the palmerworm, my great army which I sent among you.

26 And ye shall eat in plenty, and be satisfied, and praise the name of the Lordyour God, that hath dealt wondrously with you: and my people shall never be ashamed.

27 And ye shall know that I am in the midst of Israel, and that I am the Lordyour God, and none else: and my people shall never be ashamed.

28 And it shall come to pass afterward, that I will pour out my spirit upon all flesh; and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, your young men shall see visions:

29 And also upon the servants and upon the handmaids in those days will I pour out my spirit.

30 And I will shew wonders in the heavens and in the earth, blood, and fire, and pillars of smoke.

31 The sun shall be turned into darkness, and the moon into blood, before the great and terrible day of the Lord come.

32 And it shall come to pass, that whosoever shall call on the name of the Lord shall be delivered: for in mount Zion and in Jerusalem shall be deliverance, as the Lord hath said, and in the remnant whom the Lord shall call.

Exactly...

"The mild red road goes on beneath the slanting and peaceful afternoon, mounting a hill. 'Well, I can bear a hill,' he thinks.  'I can bear a hill, a man can.'  It is peaceful and still, familiar with seven years. 'It seems like a man can just about bear anything.  He can even bear what he never done.  He can even bear the thinking how some things is just more than he can bear.  He can even bear it that if he could just give down and cry, he wouldn't do it.  He can even bear it to not look back, even when he knows that looking back or not looking back wont do him any good."

~ ~ ~ 

"It was all coming down on her too fast.  There was too much reality that her hands and eyes could not deny, and too much that must be taken for granted that her hands and eyes could not prove; too much of the inexplicable that hands and eyes were asked too suddenly to accept and believe without proof.  After thirty years it must have been like a person in solitary blundering suddenly into a room full of strange people all talking at once, and she casting desperately about for anything that would hold sanity together by choosing some logical course of action which would be within her limitations, which she could have some assurance of being able to perform."~both quotes from Light in August by Wm Faulkner

* * * 

Lately I've thought that if a person who sat in front of me asked me how I was doing I'd collapse in front of them, tears flowing.  Likely I would.  We're so stoic.  Life sort of shatters without our permission, children wander off down the wide road, and we wring our hands.  Crushed.  Some days I feel as if I'm holding my breath.

Last night I asked Gary if when a person is involved in a decadent lifestyle they get full up with the weight of it.  He asked what I was driving at, and I said I was reaching for straws, wanting our boys to stop filling that God-shaped void with bad living.  My husband had his own issues as a young man, before I met him, so I knew he understood where I was going with it.  He said his own experience was that he knew when he'd reached a place where he had to make a change or suffer permanent consequences.  He added that he hoped our boys would feel the Spirit's absence before it was too late.

Amen.

Sunday

I really am stressed out.  It's a bit thick now.  So, to re-focus, I'm going to post at my other site of gratefulness, as a change of pace for awhile, and to give everyone a break from my personal tragic mindset.  At A Quartet of Things I focus on small things, and maybe that'll resettle my heart a bit.

Read this last night in Colleen Carroll Campbell's book My Sisters the Saints (excellent, by the way).  She's referring to infertility and waiting.  I deal with wayward boys and the waiting for their hearts to change.  Here's what she wrote:

"The waiting is the cross." (her mother told Colleen)

Maybe that was the truth I had overlooked all these years:  that the waiting, the not knowing, even the interior desolation and doubts---that was the suffering that Jesus wanted me to offer up to him.  Maybe the prayer Jesus wants in dark times is not one of petition or inquisition but one of simple surrender to the Father's will, the same prayer that Jesus himself offered from the cross.

I wanted to analyze and dissect my cross, to know how long I would have to carry it and how my carrying it would glorify God.  

Jesus, I realized, wanted none of this.  He did not need my supervision, and he was not asking me to understand my cross.  He was asking me to carry it.  He wanted me to wake up each morning, bend a knee on the cold wooden floor beside my bed, and offer that day's sufferings and joys for whatever purpose he wished to use them.  He wanted me to joyfully embrace my daily duties and leave the big picture to him---to do, in other words, what Mother Teresa (my note:  this chapter talks about her quite a bit) had done when facing much harsher trials than mine.

Like Colleen, I want answers.  I want the suffering to stop.  I want closure, but these situations with our boys might last many years.  Gulp.

I was burdened last night and into this morning with our oldest son.  Prayed last night, and felt worse.   Something wasn't right in his world.  I could feel it.  We've always been close this way, though he's unaware of it.  I got in touch with him today, he said he's fine.  As I told a friend, his idea of fine and mine are two totally different things.  Polar opposites.  We both said we loved one another (all my kids will do this, thankfully), and that was that, at least in his mind.  I told him I'd keep praying.  He knows.

Going out to pray again tonight.  Purge my soul.  Stay out there until I feel the burden lift.

Saturday night

~bedside shelf relieved of piles of stuff

Funny thing.  Ever since our boys came out with the revelations of their living situations, I've drawn away from the ever-present cozy books I've always been attracted to.  Now it's more edgy stuff I tend to read.  Not always, but I seem to trust it more.  Christian books always intrigue me, but not so much nice fiction, but non-fiction.  More real situations.  The ones where folks share the hard realities.  I'm there.

I'm done (for now) cozy and safe, since life isn't that way anymore.  For me, at least.  I just feel smacked around too much.  

More Anne Lamott.  Less Emilie Barnes, not that I've read her in years, but you get my drift.  I think subconsciously I want to see evidence of folks who are knee-deep in sin who come around to the Lord.  I got one book at the library bookshop today written by a self-described atheist lesbian who one day goes to church, receives communion and is changed forever.  Snap of the fingers changed.  Damascus road experience.  I love that, and find hope in it.

And I'm reading Colleen Carroll Campbell's book called My Sisters the Saints and she says, "God does not abandon us in our suffering but uses suffering to draw us closer to him."  And she further quotes from the Book of Wisdom in the Apocrypha saying the "souls of the righteous" who "will shine forth" like "sparks through the rubble" because "God tested them and found them worthy of himself; like gold in the furnace he tried them, and like a sacrificial burnt offering he accepted them."

My tears shed over my children can be for good?  

When I was out with the girls this afternoon, we passed a corner gas station and saw a young pregnant black girl twirling a hula hoop around her round belly.  Dressed in short shorts, and appeared to be either drunk or high.  Not what I was expecting to see.  We pulled in the opposite side of the street to another gas station, where we were headed anyway.  As oldest daughter got her gas, I was able to see an older black woman stop, put on her flashers and go to the girl.  They talked.  Won't ever know what they discussed, but I had the passing thought that this woman might be on a mission.  Maybe she's had a daughter in a similar situation, and while she can't save her own flesh and blood, perhaps she can make a difference to a stranger.  

I pray for those individuals who will be able to reach my boys.  Oldest son will begin his new position at a different store than he's been the past few years.  Advancement placed him in a new location.  I shared with a close cousin who lives near where he'll be, and she shops there all the time, so she told me today.  A touch from a believer.  One who loves him.  A word of affection that doesn't want anything in return.  Being present for Christ.  We're His hands and feet and deliver Grace.

Might sound mystical, but I have a great belief in the physical touch of Him in a life---a silent prayer along with fingers on an arm.  The transference of the Spirit.  That's why I mark our doors, and am drawn toward things that might smack to some folks of oddness.  But you never know.

Sometimes I don't think we engage in the enormity of the task asked of us as believers.  We just don't know what difference we'll make in a life.  Even a silent prayer over one who resists.  Quiet words over a soul.  Could any work be more important?

Grace

With any strong emotion or experience, I think there are stages most folks go through.  Well, that's my experience.  When my dad died (21 years ago), I remember asking my mom weeks afterward if she was angry, and she looked at me so surprised.  My dad had smoked for always, and lung cancer is what caused his death.  Still, she said that she'd not been angry.  Maybe since then she has, but then, no.

With the knowledge of our kids' lifestyle choices I've been angry. Initially shocked, followed closely by 'how could you?'  Have tried to think of how to handle it, fix it, make it right.  I've battered our sons with words, both in my head (mostly in my head) and in a few emails.  Tried to use persuasion to get through, because surely I can get into their spirits.  Anger, surely, but until I re-read what I'd sent, hadn't realized how powerful my words had been.  Sometimes too much honesty isn't wise.

Grace.  That's what our oldest showed to me in return when I wrote to him tonight asking for his forgiveness.  

Humility is a good thing, but painful to experience.

I'll love them through their sin as they do me.  I sure don't have all the answers.

Funny thing.  The Lord may or may not be changing our sons.  He is changing me.  Who knew?  The rough edges need softening up.  And yes, it hurts.  But a good hurt.

Thursday evening

Got out for a bit last night.  Gary and I went to Bible study (the book of Jonah last night...our youngest son's name as well), and the two youngest girls went too.  Had Evening Prayer, soup supper (for Lent), and then the study.  Amazing what you can get out of four short chapters.  And honestly, with us going over Hosea the other week, and now this---well, it's got the Prodigal Son written all over it for me.  I have our boys in my heart ALL THE TIME, and when certain verses jump out at me, I'm encouraged.  Like how God allowed Jonah to be swallowed up, actually commanding the fish to take him, and then also ordering the fish to spit him out.

The word is Sovereign.  Such a powerful and comforting word.  To know, really know that God is in charge of everything.  Doesn't matter what it is.  I can get tripped up on free will, but lean toward His Sovereignty being over all of it.  If He's marked you as His, you don't stand a chance.  That irresistible Grace is awesome (and yes, I'm a Calvinist, though Anglican).  I'm counting on that covenant we made with God when our babies were committed to him at their baptisms.  I have to.

Preachin's over.  Hang in there.  God wins.

And make a note of this---The Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir and Worthy is the Lamb.  Try to listen to that and keep your hands in your lap.  Bet you can't. :)

Ready to rumble...

Tired of feeling victimized by our children.  Waking up dizzy and exhausted and this after a full night's sleep.  Really, the springboard for my feelings just now is concern for my health.  I'm so incredibly addled.  I truly can't think straight.  I know it's the stress of the messes our boys have put us through, here lately, but now I've had enough.  I'm just plain angry.

I wrote them tonight and sent the emails, praying all the while, saying what was on my heart.  Needed to take some sort of authority, because their actions have ruled my life for the past few weeks.  Enough.

Misery isn't where I want to spend my life.  I have MY life to live, and if they're determined to live in the darkness, I can't stop them, but I can stop it ruining my days.  Hard for a mom, but with God's help, should be attainable.

Haven't felt crisp in my head in about a month.  I've done some reading, and anxiety and stress are big contributors to dizziness.  Who knew?   

One day.  Just one day.  With God's help, I can manage that, I do believe.  Got to keep kicking those evil spirits out the door, though.  I'm riling the little creeps by speaking out. Obviously, tomorrow will be an incense/mark the doors with hyssop sort of day.  Yeah, ready to rumble...

Greater is He that is in me, than he that is in the world.

Pressing on...

"If the attacks are intensifying, then we are making the enemy nervous.  We need to take heart from that thought."

"While we must be aware of the enemy's schemes, do not let your full concentration be on him.  Do not give him more power than he has."~unknown

These quotes are perfect for me at this very moment.  The thing is, I can't remember where I found them---I'd jotted them on a pad of paper, but neglected to write down the author.  Christa Parrish's Still Life, maybe? I'm wondering since hers is an e-book, and I couldn't figure out how to underline in it on my phone Kindle app.  Maybe I wrote them down, intending on putting them in my journal?  I have no clue.

With this receding migraine, not so much pain, but the muzzy-headedness, and a faint bruise in my head, I can't seem to remember stuff.  I was trying to listen to my mom's bank balance on the phone today, and for the life of me, couldn't figure out what had been paid out and what her remaining amount was.  Just didn't make a lick of sense to me.

I put it to stress.  

You all sustain me.  And for that, I'm eternally grateful.  No condemnation for the pickle our child has gotten himself into (to put it mildly), but love.  I stand in awe of your friendship.  Women standing in the gap.  

For now, I'm making vegetable soup for dinner and middle daughter is mixing up cornbread.  Oldest daughter found a recipe for a Lemon Poppyseed cake in the Moosewood Cookbook for afters.  Tea and cake.  A comfort.

Week's end

I read something recently, but can't remember where, about someone feeling as if they were walking in the shadow of God.  Picture that.  God's shadow.  As close as His breath.

That's the image that came into my head the other day.  I've prayed so continually and hard lately about our kids, and even yesterday the most curious thing happened.  I'd been looking for some records of the younger kids'---school papers, and couldn't put my finger on them. I needed them right then for something important.  I was frustrated.  Anyway, we looked everywhere, and I just knew where I'd left them, but they weren't there.  So, foolishly the last thing I thought of was to pray about it.  I stopped, I prayed, and instantly was told to look in this certain pocket in my notebook.  There they were.  In minutes I just went ahead and asked Him where the other set of papers were, being that I'd put them elsewhere.  Immediately, I knew where to look.  That small, still voice.  

I can be so slow.

That's how it's been this week.  

My heart is broken.  Who knew children could do that to you?  I thought that was the territory of our husbands, or as the case may be, wives.  But no, the children do hold our hearts in their hands.  

Sleep is a welcome escape.  

God has this one.  My shoulders aren't broad enough.  But His are.  Thanks, Diane, for reminding me of that the other day when I'd mentioned a problem.  Can't remember what it was, but your words 'God has this one' or something similar rang true to me.  It was a comfort to hear.

What's so awesome is that He's been preparing me for this, having me keep my face in His Word.  Disciplining me so that this isn't as hard to bear like it would be if I was having to move near Him, rather than already being at His Side.  (Ridiculously long sentence, but I think it just might make sense.)

Now then.  It's a holiday weekend (well, if you call football a holiday---one son is off work and will cook for us, but as to whether we watch the game---unlikely).  I'm going to apply myself to enjoying it.  Put up Valentine's Day decorations tomorrow, and make good food to enjoy.  Capisce?

War

Mothering.  Not for cowards.  Gary says he's only having daughters from now on.  Well, I'm fifty-five, so I think that decision is already decided for us, yes?  I spoke on the phone to one wayward son today, also his girlfriend, who I've never met in person.  They called.  Shoot me now.  They are deceived from the pit of hell.  Am I allowed to say that here?  I think so.

I'll say this to anyone out there reading this and hurting for your children that I feel for you.  If your children are denying their Christian upbringing and choosing, I say choosing to walk on the side of immorality and sin and all of its luscious attractions, then the war is definitely, as the Good Book says, one against the spiritual world.  Forget the material.  It's with the prince of darkness.

I keep hearing in my head to put on the whole armor of God, so I refreshed my memory.

Finally, be strong in the LORD and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of GOD, so that you can take your stand against the devil's schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Therefore put on the full armor of GOD, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of GOD. And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep praying for all the LORD'S people.~Ephesians 6:10-18 (emphasis mine)

I'm exhausted.  Thankful for the Lord giving me the courage of my convictions, but tired beyond what's imaginable.   I will fight for our children.  We'll keep our tent (camp) clean here, and will continue to fight the fight.

The camp must be holy, for the LORD your GOD moves around in your camp to protect you and to defeat your enemies. He must not see any shameful thing among you, or he will turn away from you.~Deuteronomy 23:14

That's why I mark the doors, and burn incense.  A reminder to me and the unseen world that we've drawn boundaries.  May the Lord continue to protect us.

Wednesday night

Well, seems after talking to the bank, they're not affording us a grace period.  The website was wrong, but we can work with that.  Gary's shop has been blessed this week, so we're not complaining.  All is well as Sister Julian says.

~ ~ ~

I've got to report to Jury Duty downtown tomorrow.  I told Gary I was nervous about the first day---when you get the low-down and select the week you can serve.  He gave his standard 'it'll be okay' response, but I stressed that I was REALLY nervous.  He looked at me straight on, saw I was dead serious and was more generous with his sympathy.  I'm home so much that to go out of my comfort zone is very, very taxing.  I did have Jury Duty ten years ago, and it wasn't a big deal, even an adventure, but it was long ago.  I have this path I follow on a daily/weekly basis, and if it veers too far off course, I'm not a happy camper.

It'll be fine.  He's right.  Besides, he's driving me down there, and will just drop me off.  I know.  I'm a big girl.  

~ ~ ~

~darrian flying by on his longboard

Dealing with two boys especially saddened (the rest of us as well) with the news yesterday of a friend of theirs who died of a drug overdose or a possible reaction to meds taken for withdrawal (so much is unknown) on Tuesday morning.  The Lord woke me up abruptly at 5am yesterday to pray.  Bolt upright.  I got to it praying for our boys who live away from home, not knowing if something was prompting me to cover them.  This boy died at somewhere before six.  Wish I'd been aware of his struggle then.  So very sad.  Our sons met him through work at the restaurant, where he used to be a waiter.  Gorgeous young man.  He was over here a few times, I'd driven him around with the boys, and he's the one who taught our third son to use a longboard.  Our second son was frustrated after hearing yesterday because he'd shared the Gospel with him.  Not interested, had all the time in the world.  You always hope, though, that there's a reaching out, even at the last second.  

He was only 26.

~ ~ ~

Thankful for the gift of another day.   Warm, yet getting cooler weather.  Each one really is a gift.

Late Sunday afternoon

"You will find that it is necessary to let things go; simply because they are HEAVY."~unknown

I read the above quote on Pinterest the other day, and it fit perfectly with what's been going on in my head, namely too much noise.  For that reason, I've shut down my Facebook account for a bit (pretty cool they offer the ability to switch it off for a certain period of time and will turn it back on automatically).  Not that I'm addicted like some, but they do provide more information than I need now.  I've stayed on Facebook to keep an eye on my kids, but even then I sometimes read things I'd rather not know.  Our kids are not mini-me's.  Well, maybe the girls, to some extent.

And the Internet is way too noisy.  I have a talent (not always a good thing) for being able to find out lots of stuff.  They call me the research babe around here.  Want to know something?  Just ask me.  I'll find it.  And sadly, I've recently found out things about the folks our kids are with.  I can't bear the burden of those facts anymore.  It's devastating to me.

Since we all (bar my husband) caught the cold virus that's been spinning in our house, he laid down the law on Friday and said we'd not be going to church today.  As a result, I had to ask our priest's wife to do the flowers and another friend to set up the altar elements since it was my week.  Tell the children's SS teacher I'd not be there, and one daughter had to ask someone to acolyte for her, and one son told our priest he couldn't be an usher.  See, we're busy---good busy.  But it was time to stop.

And today we slept the clock around.  I got up finally at 1pm.  When did that last happen?  Can't remember.  I tend to not get enough sleep, so this was a huge blessing.  Life doesn't feel so tragic when you're rested.  But when we were sitting outside with the chickens and pugs this afternoon, all quiet and peaceable, I decided to "live my great big beautiful life."  To take care of me.  With God's help.  Turning a page.

Whatever our kids get into---well, I can pray about it, but I can't manage or control it.  I'm not meant to take on that job.  But I sure can pray, and nobody can stop me from that. There's lots of power with prayer, my goodness.  The angels fly.

And I can't let the nonsense our kids get into ruin my own life.  I'm their mother, but my mothering involvement does alter once they move away.  I'll always be here for them, but they tend to need me less, and that's the idea of letting them go, right? 

When they make poor or dangerous choices, I'll pray.  When they disappoint me, as I will them, I'll turn it over.  Allow them to fail, as the Lord allows the same for me.  Do we pray for our kids more when they stray?  I think that's so.  Maybe not fair to those to toe the line, but probably likely.

Thank God for second (and third, fourth....) chances.

Sunday night

Out to get coffee (chestnut praline latte) with Gary (mocha) the other day I said it'd be silly to think that the world is getting better.  That while things can be changed by God, the world out there is getting more toxic.  Not to be negative, but it pays to be on top of it.

Our kids are so vulnerable to all the junk.  And while I thought we'd grounded them sufficiently, seems I was mistaken.  The boys especially.  My goodness.  The titillating qualities of what they're up against amaze me.  Guess I'm more naive than I first imagined.  And you know what?  I really don't want to know the stuff I do know.  I like innocence.  It's got a charm like nothing else, but when it's gone, buh-bye.

I keep praying for the Lord to surround us.  To walk before, beside and behind us.  I want a hedge around my children.  The boys are so curious, and maybe that's the way with males.  If I made a comment like that to Gary, he'd just cut his eyes at me.  Like, Woman?  He's been there.  He gets it.  Do all guys get it?  Am I living under a rock?

I'm reminded daily how important it is to stay in God's face.  Daily.  Can't let your guard down for anything.  The monsters are always out there ready to devour us.  Our children especially.  Even in a safe and healthy marriage you have to be aware.  Stay prayed up, love on your people, and bind the evil one.  Bind that hater.

Used to we only had to worry about our boys getting hold of unsavory magazines.  Now the world is always at their beck and call, waiting to tempt them.  Now, I'm not really speaking of any particular situation, but a mindset that this generation is stuck in more than any before them.  Temptation.  Now that's a deep trap.  So easy to come by and fall into, you don't even have to look for it.

The challenge this new year is to pray like never before.  I have been under a rock, taking for granted our children would follow in the footsteps that we've laid out in front of them.  Well, some are.  Some are gladly going in the other direction.  We pray, we wait on the Lord's timing, and never let go.  Never give up.