So today, I was going through some of my packed-up belongings in storage, trying to purge some stuff (a great feeling!), and I found something interesting. I'm not sure exactly what year this belongs to, but I know it was some time in middle school. So without further ado, here is my "Agenda" for a typical day in middle school: (even if you think this is gonna be boring, keep reading and you WILL laugh)
6:30 Get up, Total Workout
7:15 Shower & dress, Eat Breakfast.
7:40 Be in car, totally prepared
8:05-3:05 Behave in school
3:30-5:00 STudy time & homework
5:30 Eat Dinner
6:00 Relax
6:30 Kickball
7:30 Ninja Practice
8:00 be inside & do total workout
9:00 be in bed & be asleep by 9:30
Wait! Back up....NINJA PRACTICE?
Ugh, I was a DORK! Well, probably still am. But one thing's for sure, I never became a Ninja.
I also disposed of what I call "My Life in T-Shirts." I had a T-shirt from every place i'd ever been to - every town, restaurant, event, etc. So I am donating a lot of those to charity. I no longer feel the need to cling to the past in the same way I used to. I also got rid of a lot of stuff I kept just because it was dad's. He doesn't belong to his things; they are just clutter. So I kept some important stuff and ditched the rest.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
8002
Well, it’s been kind of a backwards year for me…get it? 8002? A backwards year? Anyway, I’ve been taking stock of all that’s gone on this year, and I thought I would share my experiences with you. Maybe it will help you reflect upon something in your own life; maybe not. But I couldn’t let this year pass without mentioning all of the incredible things that have happened in my life.
On the surface, the year looks really crappy. 3 CT scans, 3 ultrasounds, 1 x-ray, 2 MRIs, 2 surgeries, a bad gallbladder, poisonous spider bite, torn tendon, e. coli, surgical complications, ulcer from an antibiotic, severe concussion, torn rotator cuff, and that’s just the medical side! On the non-medical side, I barely graduated college because of a professor who wanted something more of a relationship with me and tried to really screw me over, there was an earthquake, I lost my dad’s belongings in the flood, and I missed about 4 months of church.
And yet, I will consider 2008 among my greatest years!
Why?
Well, despite the obstacles, I DID graduate with a college degree. I don’t care who you are or what fight you had to put up to get it, that is an accomplishment in and of itself.
And despite initial sadness at losing all of dad’s stuff, I find myself now free-er to live in the way I want to live, instead of letting the memory of him hang over me like a thick cloud. Instead of hanging on to him for dear life, I am now in a position to put him in whatever place I’d like him in my life, instead of feeling some dutiful obligation to let him stay where he always wanted to be.
In addition, I have done quite a bit of thinking and reflecting on myself and my own situation in life.
First, I saw some old pictures of myself with the buzzed haircut. What the heck was I thinking? Why did I do that to myself? I looked awful! But it was only a reflection of what I was feeling on the inside, and I am at a place now where I can recognize that. What’s more, I am enjoying the more girlish style I have taken on (and would like to follow the haircut with a better wardrobe when/if I can afford it). I have accepted my femininity and am now working to cultivate it. One day, I hope to take on the traits of the 1 Timothy woman: “For women who claim to be devoted to God should make themselves attractive by the good things they do…But women will be saved…by continuing to live in faith, love, holiness, and modesty.” (2:10,15b)
Second, I find that after looking hard at myself, I have been a terrible sister – not just to my biological brothers, but to my spiritual brothers and sisters as well. I have selfishly taken much more than I have given, and it has not bothered me until recently. Somewhere deep inside of myself, I felt like the world owed me something and I believed that people would love me no matter what. Some have, and for them, I am grateful, but I owe them so much more than I have given. Selfishness is not a good trait in anyone, and I aim to work on that in the future, though my struggle right now is that I feel I have very little to offer anyone else. That will change as I come to know myself more. For now, it is a simple matter of low self-esteem and high selfishness. So to those of you I have offended by not entering your stories as you have entered mine, I apologize, and I promise to work harder in the future.
Kind of along the same lines, I am working on forgiveness. I have discovered that I have very little forgiveness for anyone in my life, let alone myself. I have been a perfectionist, and I’ve expected everyone else to be perfect, too. I’ve not tolerated accidents. I expect that someone should pay for everything that’s happened. But no more – I am finding forgiveness in my heart and working every day to extend that to myself and others.
And then the coolest thing happened…
I have spent my life being afraid. Of everything. I’ve been sleeping with a nightlight since I was itty-bitty. I watch the shadows move across the kitchen floor at night (from the back porch light), just to make sure nobody is coming to kill me. I hide things so people can’t steal them (and sometimes, I can’t even find them), and I keep a bag packed with my valuables in case I ever need to get out in a hurry. It is, for all intents and purposes, the most severe of paranoia. But the other night, just a few days ago, I woke up in the dark with a storm brewing outside. In that moment, just before the panic set in, all fear left me. I mean ALL FEAR. I’m not afraid any more. Of anything. I have peace in my spirit, and it’s just the coolest thing. I don’t lay awake at night wondering if the doors are locked. I don’t watch the shadows in the kitchen. I went to the bathroom, and when I turned off the light, my eyes actually adjusted to the dark for the first time in my life. Darkness no longer blinded me; I could see, and I was unafraid. Still am. It’s REALLY cool.
And finally, I am getting tired of the excuses. MY excuses. It seems I’ve always had an excuse for everything. But no matter how justified I think I am, that doesn’t excuse ungodly living. And I think people have come to expect from me that I won’t do what I’m supposed to do because I will always come up with a reason not to. That’s just not cool. It doesn’t gel with my spirit. So I am working on that, as well.
So on top of all that, I am finding physical healing. My body is able to fight off most infections by itself now. Aside from a small bout of surgical complications, I haven’t been to the ER in over a year. I have gone from having 43 medications to now keeping NONE on my desk. As a matter of fact, the only things I’m taking right now are my birth control and an occasional anti-nausea pill, but God is even breaking my dependence on that.
Also in 2008, I finished reading the Bible cover-to-cover. There’s some pretty good stuff in there. My favorite books are James and Joel.
2009 is going to be MY year. I don’t know what’s going to happen, since I try to not put God in my box any more. But I have a few inklings, and they are all good. I sense a job just around the corner. There’s a young man I’ve been talking to who seems very interested in me, so we’ll just have to see where that goes. I anticipate further physical healing. I anticipate peace, the absence of fear, and contentment. It’s just going to be a good year.
That said, it’s not getting off to a terrific start. As it turns out, I have torn my rotator cuff in my left shoulder. I will find out tomorrow what kind of repair that will require, and then my challenge is to figure out how to get that care for myself with no insurance. And yet, as stressed as I am, I am also not worried. Because I know that God is going to handle this, too, and it will all be ok. And so, I trust Him.
And isn’t that what life’s all about?
So farewell to 8002, a sort of backwards year, and here’s to a brilliant 2009!
On the surface, the year looks really crappy. 3 CT scans, 3 ultrasounds, 1 x-ray, 2 MRIs, 2 surgeries, a bad gallbladder, poisonous spider bite, torn tendon, e. coli, surgical complications, ulcer from an antibiotic, severe concussion, torn rotator cuff, and that’s just the medical side! On the non-medical side, I barely graduated college because of a professor who wanted something more of a relationship with me and tried to really screw me over, there was an earthquake, I lost my dad’s belongings in the flood, and I missed about 4 months of church.
And yet, I will consider 2008 among my greatest years!
Why?
Well, despite the obstacles, I DID graduate with a college degree. I don’t care who you are or what fight you had to put up to get it, that is an accomplishment in and of itself.
And despite initial sadness at losing all of dad’s stuff, I find myself now free-er to live in the way I want to live, instead of letting the memory of him hang over me like a thick cloud. Instead of hanging on to him for dear life, I am now in a position to put him in whatever place I’d like him in my life, instead of feeling some dutiful obligation to let him stay where he always wanted to be.
In addition, I have done quite a bit of thinking and reflecting on myself and my own situation in life.
First, I saw some old pictures of myself with the buzzed haircut. What the heck was I thinking? Why did I do that to myself? I looked awful! But it was only a reflection of what I was feeling on the inside, and I am at a place now where I can recognize that. What’s more, I am enjoying the more girlish style I have taken on (and would like to follow the haircut with a better wardrobe when/if I can afford it). I have accepted my femininity and am now working to cultivate it. One day, I hope to take on the traits of the 1 Timothy woman: “For women who claim to be devoted to God should make themselves attractive by the good things they do…But women will be saved…by continuing to live in faith, love, holiness, and modesty.” (2:10,15b)
Second, I find that after looking hard at myself, I have been a terrible sister – not just to my biological brothers, but to my spiritual brothers and sisters as well. I have selfishly taken much more than I have given, and it has not bothered me until recently. Somewhere deep inside of myself, I felt like the world owed me something and I believed that people would love me no matter what. Some have, and for them, I am grateful, but I owe them so much more than I have given. Selfishness is not a good trait in anyone, and I aim to work on that in the future, though my struggle right now is that I feel I have very little to offer anyone else. That will change as I come to know myself more. For now, it is a simple matter of low self-esteem and high selfishness. So to those of you I have offended by not entering your stories as you have entered mine, I apologize, and I promise to work harder in the future.
Kind of along the same lines, I am working on forgiveness. I have discovered that I have very little forgiveness for anyone in my life, let alone myself. I have been a perfectionist, and I’ve expected everyone else to be perfect, too. I’ve not tolerated accidents. I expect that someone should pay for everything that’s happened. But no more – I am finding forgiveness in my heart and working every day to extend that to myself and others.
And then the coolest thing happened…
I have spent my life being afraid. Of everything. I’ve been sleeping with a nightlight since I was itty-bitty. I watch the shadows move across the kitchen floor at night (from the back porch light), just to make sure nobody is coming to kill me. I hide things so people can’t steal them (and sometimes, I can’t even find them), and I keep a bag packed with my valuables in case I ever need to get out in a hurry. It is, for all intents and purposes, the most severe of paranoia. But the other night, just a few days ago, I woke up in the dark with a storm brewing outside. In that moment, just before the panic set in, all fear left me. I mean ALL FEAR. I’m not afraid any more. Of anything. I have peace in my spirit, and it’s just the coolest thing. I don’t lay awake at night wondering if the doors are locked. I don’t watch the shadows in the kitchen. I went to the bathroom, and when I turned off the light, my eyes actually adjusted to the dark for the first time in my life. Darkness no longer blinded me; I could see, and I was unafraid. Still am. It’s REALLY cool.
And finally, I am getting tired of the excuses. MY excuses. It seems I’ve always had an excuse for everything. But no matter how justified I think I am, that doesn’t excuse ungodly living. And I think people have come to expect from me that I won’t do what I’m supposed to do because I will always come up with a reason not to. That’s just not cool. It doesn’t gel with my spirit. So I am working on that, as well.
So on top of all that, I am finding physical healing. My body is able to fight off most infections by itself now. Aside from a small bout of surgical complications, I haven’t been to the ER in over a year. I have gone from having 43 medications to now keeping NONE on my desk. As a matter of fact, the only things I’m taking right now are my birth control and an occasional anti-nausea pill, but God is even breaking my dependence on that.
Also in 2008, I finished reading the Bible cover-to-cover. There’s some pretty good stuff in there. My favorite books are James and Joel.
2009 is going to be MY year. I don’t know what’s going to happen, since I try to not put God in my box any more. But I have a few inklings, and they are all good. I sense a job just around the corner. There’s a young man I’ve been talking to who seems very interested in me, so we’ll just have to see where that goes. I anticipate further physical healing. I anticipate peace, the absence of fear, and contentment. It’s just going to be a good year.
That said, it’s not getting off to a terrific start. As it turns out, I have torn my rotator cuff in my left shoulder. I will find out tomorrow what kind of repair that will require, and then my challenge is to figure out how to get that care for myself with no insurance. And yet, as stressed as I am, I am also not worried. Because I know that God is going to handle this, too, and it will all be ok. And so, I trust Him.
And isn’t that what life’s all about?
So farewell to 8002, a sort of backwards year, and here’s to a brilliant 2009!
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Father? Abba.
I have trouble conceptualizing of God as “Father.”
At best, it’s sterile. Be honest. Does not the word “father” conjure up images of the von Trapp children? Very formal, very respectful, and while I do not doubt the love of their father toward his children (or the love of the children toward their father), it is far from what I would describe as a “loving relationship.” These children go to bed each night with a wave; no hug, no kiss, no bedtime story. A surrogate must provide all of these things for them.
At worst, “father” is distant and angry. I know this has been true in my own life, as a young child, and I am sure I am not alone. You know what I mean, when after a particularly harsh punishment or stern “no,” you wake up the next morning to find your male parental figure standing in the kitchen, smiling a good morning to you. You look up slightly, not wanting to be disrespectful, and, nodding, say, “Father,” then proceed as if he doesn’t even exist. You want him to know you still know he’s there, but you also create as much distance as possible between the two of you and the message is clear: you are angry.
Neither of these fits my image of God, but those are all I can latch onto when I think of “Father.” I think Jesus had it right, though. I don’t claim to be a scholar in Aramaic, but from what I have studied, Jesus’s word “Abba” more closely translates to our word, “Daddy.”
And isn’t that what we all want? A daddy. It’s so beautiful. He is the strong man who becomes your rock. You sit on his lap and absorb his warmth. You listen to his stories because you honor his wisdom. You seek his advice because you respect his judgment. When life deals you a tough blow, he scoops you up and restores your sense of safety. He gives you a name and a place in life. He is everything you need, and most of all, he is loving. He is an active part of your life. You share a two-way relationship.
Maybe it’s just me, but God as “Father” puts an unnecessary barrier between us. I can’t talk to a father. But I will run to a daddy. He’ll see me coming a mile away, but the force of my impact will still knock him down. We’ll laugh; we’ll cry; we’ll talk. Mostly, we’ll love.
So if God the Father works for you, then by all means, work hard to develop that relationship. But if you, like me, can think of nothing but childish protest or the von Trapp children, then maybe re-think your name for Him. I don’t think God minds one bit when I pray, “Hey Daddy…”
He just smiles and says, “Yeah, kiddo?”
At best, it’s sterile. Be honest. Does not the word “father” conjure up images of the von Trapp children? Very formal, very respectful, and while I do not doubt the love of their father toward his children (or the love of the children toward their father), it is far from what I would describe as a “loving relationship.” These children go to bed each night with a wave; no hug, no kiss, no bedtime story. A surrogate must provide all of these things for them.
At worst, “father” is distant and angry. I know this has been true in my own life, as a young child, and I am sure I am not alone. You know what I mean, when after a particularly harsh punishment or stern “no,” you wake up the next morning to find your male parental figure standing in the kitchen, smiling a good morning to you. You look up slightly, not wanting to be disrespectful, and, nodding, say, “Father,” then proceed as if he doesn’t even exist. You want him to know you still know he’s there, but you also create as much distance as possible between the two of you and the message is clear: you are angry.
Neither of these fits my image of God, but those are all I can latch onto when I think of “Father.” I think Jesus had it right, though. I don’t claim to be a scholar in Aramaic, but from what I have studied, Jesus’s word “Abba” more closely translates to our word, “Daddy.”
And isn’t that what we all want? A daddy. It’s so beautiful. He is the strong man who becomes your rock. You sit on his lap and absorb his warmth. You listen to his stories because you honor his wisdom. You seek his advice because you respect his judgment. When life deals you a tough blow, he scoops you up and restores your sense of safety. He gives you a name and a place in life. He is everything you need, and most of all, he is loving. He is an active part of your life. You share a two-way relationship.
Maybe it’s just me, but God as “Father” puts an unnecessary barrier between us. I can’t talk to a father. But I will run to a daddy. He’ll see me coming a mile away, but the force of my impact will still knock him down. We’ll laugh; we’ll cry; we’ll talk. Mostly, we’ll love.
So if God the Father works for you, then by all means, work hard to develop that relationship. But if you, like me, can think of nothing but childish protest or the von Trapp children, then maybe re-think your name for Him. I don’t think God minds one bit when I pray, “Hey Daddy…”
He just smiles and says, “Yeah, kiddo?”
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Yoked
Now is the winter of my discontent. It's amazing how one tiny change in my life has made me consider the bigger things. Since I cut my hair almost two weeks ago, my mind has not stopped churning. And it's given me quite a bit of clarity about a lot of things.
First, a note about the hair. I've cut my hair before. Those who know me know I used to keep it rather short. But this cut is different. It isn't a defense mechanism. It isn't an outward expression of the harsh internal workings of my being. (C'mon - like you didn't all know that was the reason for the short, spiky do.) It isn't the longer, unkept manifestation I've had for months while growing it out, saying "I'm working on it, but I'm not there yet." The hair that fell to the floor took a lot of weight off my shoulders with it. I looked in the mirror and I saw something new - a beautiful young woman, emerging firmly into womanhood with a mix of confidence and timidity. Could it be? Could I be a...woman? And enjoying it?
And it really changed my whole perspective on things. I felt this tug on my heart like God was just working on me, telling me that now we are putting the outside together, so let us clean up the inside, too. I began to see clearly.
Oh, how I have labored to drag the past with me! I have been yoked to the memories, to the pain and trauma of the past. Sometimes, memories sneak up on me. There's nothing I can do about that, I don't think. In a moment like that, I can't stop the memory from flooding over me. But must they have defined me for so long?
It's a victory for the abuser over the abused. For years, I have been dragging everything with me, pulling it along because I believed the lie. Even if I was not consciously aware of what was going on, I was subconsciously believing that THIS is what defined me, that this was my truth. If it didn't hold some fundamental key to my being, it wouldn't have been so important to bring with me into the future. The heavy burden has been choking me, pulling on the reins and holding me from destiny, pulling me back.
You'd think that when I found God 8 years ago, something would have changed for me then. You'd think I would have found myself less yoked or at least, less burdened. But when I looked for God in my life this past week, you know where I found Him? Sitting on the pile of memories, adding to my burden. I let Him into my life, but only as something else to be dragged around. Just something else in my bag of tricks, something I can use to answer when others say "tell me about yourself." But I don't think that's really where God needs to be in my life. No, He should have a more prominent place.
In all my flesh-based glory, I invited Him out of the pile. I invited Him to help me pull. To share my yoke, as Jesus so often talked about. And true to God's nature, He came. Because God will only do in our lives what we ask of Him.
And so, having repositioned the Divine in my life, I looked to my right and together, we took a step forward, God and I, yoked together and dragging the memories behind it. But not a nanosecond had passed before He stopped and looked at me, with that tenderhearted look in His eye and said, "This is stupid."
It was a look that said more. It said "I'll help you pull if that's where you want me in your life. But this is really stupid. You don't need all this junk."
And you know what? He's right. I don't need it any more. I am a strong young woman, on a solid path, and it is time for me to define myself. Forget the lies. Forget the bullcrap. It's time for this little girl to speak for herself.
But what to do with the pile of lies? I tried leaving it, just letting go and taking off down the path with God. But that just doesn't feel right. I feel like everything has its place, somewhere in my life's history where it belongs, but I don't know where that is or how to get it all there, or even if it all goes to the same place. Maybe it's like putting laundry away - a sock here, some shirts there, a memory here, a pain there. I just don't know. But leaving it all in the middle of the roadway (or even in the ditch) just doesn't seem like the right thing to do. I just don't know what the right thing is.
And so I want to go forward, but I also feel like God may draw me back, may bring me to do the right thing by the past, get some closure, then press forward (though I honestly have no understanding of this).
But there are some things I am taking back for myself. For instance, I will not be spending the holidays with my dad's side of the family. When I am with them, my father is back in my life (not to mention, they only use me as a surrogate for him; there is no real love there, I don't believe). Having lost so many of his belongings in the flood, I have realized that I now have the freedom to decide what role he plays in my life, if any. So I am going to take some time and digest that and make my own decision about where he (and his family) fit in to the future.
That is just one example.
These past 5 days, I have been alone. My mom took off to my grandma's two states away to help her recover from surgery, so it has been my and my God. And I have struggled a little bit with what I have found. I have found strong discontent and a desire for more. And I have found just how much I have been limiting myself (and God) by requiring this stuff to stay in my life. I don't know what I will do now. Maybe God will have the answers. For now, I'm just done with the yoke.
"Then I will sprinkle clean water on you, and you will be clean. Your filth will be washed away, and you will no longer worship idols. And I will give you a new heart with new and right desires, and I will put a new spirit in you. I will take out your stony heart of sin and give you a new heart of flesh." (Ezekiel 36:25-26)
First, a note about the hair. I've cut my hair before. Those who know me know I used to keep it rather short. But this cut is different. It isn't a defense mechanism. It isn't an outward expression of the harsh internal workings of my being. (C'mon - like you didn't all know that was the reason for the short, spiky do.) It isn't the longer, unkept manifestation I've had for months while growing it out, saying "I'm working on it, but I'm not there yet." The hair that fell to the floor took a lot of weight off my shoulders with it. I looked in the mirror and I saw something new - a beautiful young woman, emerging firmly into womanhood with a mix of confidence and timidity. Could it be? Could I be a...woman? And enjoying it?
And it really changed my whole perspective on things. I felt this tug on my heart like God was just working on me, telling me that now we are putting the outside together, so let us clean up the inside, too. I began to see clearly.
Oh, how I have labored to drag the past with me! I have been yoked to the memories, to the pain and trauma of the past. Sometimes, memories sneak up on me. There's nothing I can do about that, I don't think. In a moment like that, I can't stop the memory from flooding over me. But must they have defined me for so long?
It's a victory for the abuser over the abused. For years, I have been dragging everything with me, pulling it along because I believed the lie. Even if I was not consciously aware of what was going on, I was subconsciously believing that THIS is what defined me, that this was my truth. If it didn't hold some fundamental key to my being, it wouldn't have been so important to bring with me into the future. The heavy burden has been choking me, pulling on the reins and holding me from destiny, pulling me back.
You'd think that when I found God 8 years ago, something would have changed for me then. You'd think I would have found myself less yoked or at least, less burdened. But when I looked for God in my life this past week, you know where I found Him? Sitting on the pile of memories, adding to my burden. I let Him into my life, but only as something else to be dragged around. Just something else in my bag of tricks, something I can use to answer when others say "tell me about yourself." But I don't think that's really where God needs to be in my life. No, He should have a more prominent place.
In all my flesh-based glory, I invited Him out of the pile. I invited Him to help me pull. To share my yoke, as Jesus so often talked about. And true to God's nature, He came. Because God will only do in our lives what we ask of Him.
And so, having repositioned the Divine in my life, I looked to my right and together, we took a step forward, God and I, yoked together and dragging the memories behind it. But not a nanosecond had passed before He stopped and looked at me, with that tenderhearted look in His eye and said, "This is stupid."
It was a look that said more. It said "I'll help you pull if that's where you want me in your life. But this is really stupid. You don't need all this junk."
And you know what? He's right. I don't need it any more. I am a strong young woman, on a solid path, and it is time for me to define myself. Forget the lies. Forget the bullcrap. It's time for this little girl to speak for herself.
But what to do with the pile of lies? I tried leaving it, just letting go and taking off down the path with God. But that just doesn't feel right. I feel like everything has its place, somewhere in my life's history where it belongs, but I don't know where that is or how to get it all there, or even if it all goes to the same place. Maybe it's like putting laundry away - a sock here, some shirts there, a memory here, a pain there. I just don't know. But leaving it all in the middle of the roadway (or even in the ditch) just doesn't seem like the right thing to do. I just don't know what the right thing is.
And so I want to go forward, but I also feel like God may draw me back, may bring me to do the right thing by the past, get some closure, then press forward (though I honestly have no understanding of this).
But there are some things I am taking back for myself. For instance, I will not be spending the holidays with my dad's side of the family. When I am with them, my father is back in my life (not to mention, they only use me as a surrogate for him; there is no real love there, I don't believe). Having lost so many of his belongings in the flood, I have realized that I now have the freedom to decide what role he plays in my life, if any. So I am going to take some time and digest that and make my own decision about where he (and his family) fit in to the future.
That is just one example.
These past 5 days, I have been alone. My mom took off to my grandma's two states away to help her recover from surgery, so it has been my and my God. And I have struggled a little bit with what I have found. I have found strong discontent and a desire for more. And I have found just how much I have been limiting myself (and God) by requiring this stuff to stay in my life. I don't know what I will do now. Maybe God will have the answers. For now, I'm just done with the yoke.
"Then I will sprinkle clean water on you, and you will be clean. Your filth will be washed away, and you will no longer worship idols. And I will give you a new heart with new and right desires, and I will put a new spirit in you. I will take out your stony heart of sin and give you a new heart of flesh." (Ezekiel 36:25-26)
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Prayers for Babylon
And work for the peace and prosperity of Babylon. Pray to the Lord for that city where you are held captive, for if Babylon has peace, so will you. -- Jeremiah 29:7
As I was reading a few days ago, this verse hit me with thoughts of my mother racing through my head. She and I have not had what you might call the best relationship, and I have spent much of the past 23 years being angry with her. How could she treat me the way she did? How could she stand by and watch now, as I have struggled with my health for 5 years? How could she deny everything I've been through?
Her course manner and complete lack of compassion have always haunted me. She is the kind of person to which everything is overcome-able if you just try hard enough and want it badly enough. And if there is something wrong with you, it is obviously your shortcoming and not her problem, so why should she care? She has always liked to bully and guilt me into doing things, and she never lacks a suggestion why I should be something different than I am currently engaged in and exactly what it is I should be doing.
I have always felt like she's had me in a corner my whole life, trapped into doing whatever her desire might be. I've been living in captivity. And it has produced ill fruits - hatred.
But lately, things have been different. My mom hasn't changed; I just feel like perhaps I am coming to understand her better, to know where she's coming from. Is she right all the time? No. Absolutely not. Is she wrong all of the time? No. Not that either. But I can look at her now and see deeper than the surface I've always seen. I see turmoil. She is unhappy. She is unsettled. It is a place I know well from my own experience, and I can feel that resonating within me when I think of her now.
And so, I find myself praying for her peace. I wish for her the desires of her heart, those that would build her up and not tear her down. And I wish for her strength and endurance to fight the battles with darkness that she is currently engaged in. I see in her fear, the panic that is telling her to run away (which she talks about often), and I pray for calm, for her to find settlement and peace.
In praying for the captor, I have found freedom for the captive. Does this mean I've forgotten everything she's done (and that's quite a bit) and everything she is still doing? Nope. I recognize the capabilities that live within her (though I pray them gone, I doubt I will ever accept her restoration for my bitterness). But it does mean I have found what it is to live and walk in forgiveness.
Strangely enough, I even find that I am coming to have a soft spot in my heart for her. Indeed, I am beginning to love her. I even told her last night that I love her more and more each day.
So pray for Babylon. There, in your captivity, you may just find peace.
As I was reading a few days ago, this verse hit me with thoughts of my mother racing through my head. She and I have not had what you might call the best relationship, and I have spent much of the past 23 years being angry with her. How could she treat me the way she did? How could she stand by and watch now, as I have struggled with my health for 5 years? How could she deny everything I've been through?
Her course manner and complete lack of compassion have always haunted me. She is the kind of person to which everything is overcome-able if you just try hard enough and want it badly enough. And if there is something wrong with you, it is obviously your shortcoming and not her problem, so why should she care? She has always liked to bully and guilt me into doing things, and she never lacks a suggestion why I should be something different than I am currently engaged in and exactly what it is I should be doing.
I have always felt like she's had me in a corner my whole life, trapped into doing whatever her desire might be. I've been living in captivity. And it has produced ill fruits - hatred.
But lately, things have been different. My mom hasn't changed; I just feel like perhaps I am coming to understand her better, to know where she's coming from. Is she right all the time? No. Absolutely not. Is she wrong all of the time? No. Not that either. But I can look at her now and see deeper than the surface I've always seen. I see turmoil. She is unhappy. She is unsettled. It is a place I know well from my own experience, and I can feel that resonating within me when I think of her now.
And so, I find myself praying for her peace. I wish for her the desires of her heart, those that would build her up and not tear her down. And I wish for her strength and endurance to fight the battles with darkness that she is currently engaged in. I see in her fear, the panic that is telling her to run away (which she talks about often), and I pray for calm, for her to find settlement and peace.
In praying for the captor, I have found freedom for the captive. Does this mean I've forgotten everything she's done (and that's quite a bit) and everything she is still doing? Nope. I recognize the capabilities that live within her (though I pray them gone, I doubt I will ever accept her restoration for my bitterness). But it does mean I have found what it is to live and walk in forgiveness.
Strangely enough, I even find that I am coming to have a soft spot in my heart for her. Indeed, I am beginning to love her. I even told her last night that I love her more and more each day.
So pray for Babylon. There, in your captivity, you may just find peace.
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