Sabbath and a grateful heart

Today was a good day. It didn't feel like I had the weight of the world on my shoulders. I wept all through worship. "God is good, His goodness endures forever." A balm to my soul as I fretted that surely He was angry, irritated at me- I've realized how much money I've been spending and surely, He is displeased.

Is His heart really good toward me? I have children - I see how they are trying yet not living perfectly. Do I turn  away in disgust? No, my heart aches with such desire to help, to extend grace, to see life from their perspective.  My heart is good toward my children.  Why can't I believe His heart is good toward me?  I sang and I wept and I whispered, "Thank you."

Lunch was crammed into a fast food booth with three small people and their mom and dad. We took turns spooning sweet potatoes into the sweet baby mouth.  Cajoling the toddlers with one more bite and then the cookie. And talked about life, the sermon, "what did you think", "what do you mean", "what if life is supposed to be...".  It was ordinary and it was glorious. And it reminded me that I have a life,  friends, people to sharpen me and for me to sharpen, purpose and place.  It was a Sabbath rest for my weary brain full of to-do lists and my growing sense of panic.

 I returned home to finish sorting the last of the files and to toss piles of stuff.  The accumlation of a life that seems so frantic and full of stuff.  I want to toss more and more and pare down to the essentials. But what are the essentials? What or who am I finding at the very bottom of the pile?  Today I woke to spring snow and one last chance to wear cute boots and jeans - my inner teenager coming out. Plus I live in the basement right now and my "working" clothes are in my one suitcase or the laundry basket.

 In a brief effort to be a respectable adult for church, I ventured up two flights of stairs to my master bedroom closet for a pair of earrings.  It was almost a shock to open the door and find neat rows of button down blouses, cardigans in shades of neutral, slacks on hangers- grown up clothes.  I grabbed earrings and shut the door.  Who is that woman and where did she go after just two months of frantic tossing and  packing?  And who is the woman living in the basement- the one perfectly content  to wear the same black yoga pants and a T shirt day after day?  The same woman who wore jeans tucked into her boots to Sunday morning church.  Who am I?

I am the woman who at the end of any day would rather be curled up with a book than picking the perfect color to go with the shower curtain- another post!   And a wonderful friend who knows my heart gave me Ann Voskamp's One Thousand Gifts.  Read it.  And start a list.  Here's mine.

1. I love sunset light on birch bark.

I want to live in a grateful place.  Grateful for the abundance that gives me the choices to throw out and pare down. Grateful for sunlight on birch bark. Grateful for His goodness toward me.

Following Jesus and Idolatry

Argh... such frustration. I hit some key and dumped the first three paragraphs. Time is running out and I have a million things to do. Trust me- the first three paragraphs were awesome and were the perfect introduciton to this random sounding introductory paragraph.  So, dear reader, fill in the blanks ....

So when does hearing the Voice of the Father and following Him into a new season become "I'm doing something so unique and special that somehow I deserve more grace, more breaks, less stress, less doubt."?  Has my grand adventure become my idol?  The goal of my life cannot be to unique and or at least not ordinary. My goal must be to continue  to quiet my heart and hear the Voice of the One who is calling me- whether that leads to travel and sharing or living in a quiet community and baking cookies or thriving in a business.

All of mychoices will lead to doubt and panic and stress whenI'm doing any of this in my own understanding and my own wisdom. When my confidence becomes the engine that drives this train, I am guilty of idolatry. Placing my confidence and trust, my very life outside the Source of life itself is a dangerous thing. Jesus won't let me live comfortably in my own strength and confidence.

 It's the very doubts that drive me to my knees, to cry in the night and to sing, like a child, "When I am afraid, I will trust in Thee, I will trust in Thee, I will trust in Thee. When I am afraid, I will trust in Thee, the God who's Word I praise."  I remember being great with child, Drew, and  rocking the toddler, Scott, as Bill flew night carrier landings in the Mediterranean Sea.  A season of learning to trust in God and His grace for our young family.

Now a new season begins. The birthpangs of this season are every bit as intense and uncomfortable as when I delivered Drew and Bill was still on his way home.  But the baby came, all was fine, Bill wasn't killed at sea, we had more children, life was good. Life is good. But now my trust is even more tested.

Clearly bad things do happen to faithful people.  Bill lived through the Marine Corps but he still died. My babies were beautiful but their lives aren't easy and worry free.  I'm selling the family home and our gathering place in Northern Virginia. My kids will no longer have a reason to return to our family friends, at least not an easy reason.  The animals have to find new homes and that doesn't seem fair.

Was that life a bit of idolatry? Of trusting in good fortune and military security? Of advanced degrees for Bill and dilegent homeschooling for me?  It's easy to set up a good life and ask God to bless it. It's harder to dismantle that life and trust God to guide you into the unknown.  All lives have transistions and changes.  Living a life of faith for me means giving up the idol of "I'm in control and I know what I'm doing." for "When I am afraid, I will trust...."