It's been how long?

It's been awhile, I guess. I don't have anything to post, really. I'm just shocked it's been this long. All's well on the home front. I'm teaching a class on Sunday Nights on Extreme Makeover:Heart Edition. It's fun. I may be thinking about considering teaching college and career for awhile. We have a need there. I am going to speak at a women's conference in the fall...that's all I got. I wish I had more opportunity to speak and teach, and I wish I could do it full time. This nursing thing is for the birds. I gotta write a book and somehow fund my true love-teaching and more writing. Derek said if I'd become a millionaire, he'd be my wife. I can't think of anything I need more.

All Better Now

Wow. I hate being mad. I don't like who I become. I don't know how I fly past righteous anger about something done wrong into self-righteous anger where I'm determined to stew in my own juices. Maybe just the idea of being right, I don't know. So how do I get thru a crisis without letting the redhead free? I wish I had that answer. I know the Bible says that a soft answer turns away wrath, but I WANTED wrath. I halfway wished that he would have thrown some verbal punches and we could just have it all out right there, and in the end he would change from a pitiful, neglectful absentee father into a responsible, respectable man willing to make up for the years of emotional abuse and neglect and bla, bla, bla.

Maybe that's my motivation. To fix something that is so far out of my control that it would be a miracle if I pulled it off. I. Me. So arrogant. When do I drop it and walk away, and let God heal my hurts and the hurts of my kids, and why does this sort of emotion show up when I think everything is fine? I have a wonderful marriage. My husband is loving, faithful, fun, and outdoorsy. He loves God and wants his family to do the same. We worship together. So why would a mistake of my youth come back in my adulthood to haunt me? Because, this is the natural effects of sin and poor choices and a desire to be the "commander of my own life."

God lovingly warns us of making bad decisions not based on His will for our lives. There are consequences. Not punishments, but natural cause and effect type stuff. So am I forgiven of my past? Of course. I've offered it up to God and come to terms with it, and have patiently trained my kids to look to Him for answers. But our world's present circumstances are the way they are because of the poor choices Father Abe made thousands of years ago. And further back to Adam. Our sin effects are far-reaching, and even when a loving God forgives, we have to deal with what we ourselves set into motion.

Do I feel guilt and shame for this? No, I finally dealt with that head on a couple years ago. That's why I'm able to freely talk about a crisis pregnancy and badly failed marriage of my youth. I hope someone is able to learn from my mistakes. But until I lay down my anger it will come back and bite me frequently. I've learned that our only motivation for holding onto anger is to use it against the offender as revenge. So my forgiveness in incomplete. Which makes it not forgiveness at all.

What's my next step? Put away my anger. Let it go. Truly forgive. In the meantime, protect my children's hearts and minds and teach them the right way, so that I'm not instilling in them a cycle of self-righteous anger. As long as teach them that it's ok to be mad, they'll carry that with them. Then it's my fault they don't heal, not his. No matter how badly he behaves.

So thank you for sticking with me this far. The redhead is under control. For now.

Rage, unfiltered

Last night, my children's dad, my ex-husband, called to wish our son a happy birthday.

IT'S NOWHERE CLOSE TO HIS BIRTHDAY.

You want to find out how strong a woman is, take a threatening step toward her child.

I can tell you that if I would have been in physical proximity to him last night, I could have done some damage. My rage was so intense that when I picked up the phone to call him, my own husband, whom I love, vacated the area. Unfortunately, he answered on the first ring, and what happened next is shameful. I used words like "hate", and I told him he was worthless. I may have asked if he was on satan's advisory panel. It got uglier, to the point that I was "shouting in whispers" so the kids wouldn't hear me. I dissolved into bitter, angry tears. What scares me most is my TOTAL LACK OF DESIRE TO LET GO OF THIS HATE. Why do I cling to this emotion? Is it an emotion, or a symptom of something deeper?

I'm sorry if you're reading this now. I'd like to be able to come up with a spiritual point, but the truth is, I need to sift thru my feelings right now, to get them out while they're fresh. I sort of thought the fire would die down when I woke today, when it was light. Maybe a Jekel and Hyde thing. If anything, I feel more determined to hang on to the adrenaline and intesity. I feel like I need a physical outlet. It used to be a batting cage. Now I almost feel like I could hit one out of Fenway park.

Hatred is ugly. I'm ashamed that I don't want to let it go. I would rather it smolder awhile. Almost like if I let it go I've been disloyal to my kids. I don't know. I'm going to go simmer. This time next week I hope to feel better.

Crossroads

What gives? Can I not learn humility some other way than thru my car?

I finally get a great little sports car. Not just once, but twice I get hit. One a hit and run in the night and one a woman in a mini van with no insurance. Then I finish it off myself, narrowly escaping death(let me be a little indulgent, ok?). Well, I bought my parent's crappy car. CRAPPY. Yes, I know. Jonah under the tree whining. Whatever. It's my blog, leave me alone. I'm aware I should be grateful. About a month after I buy it the exhaust system gets a...noise. Not just a little noise, but people on Harleys telling me to keep it down. Jetplane pilots giving me dirty looks. THEN I'm at a special event in my life with strangers and as I opened the car door to leave...the door handle flies off. That's not all. Then I'm getting in the back seat to open my front door, like a week later, and that handle falls off. And I can't seem to open the trunk now. COME ON!!!!

All I want is a pretty car. Why? Why not? They're pretty. At least if it's beat up I want one with character, like an old Jeep Wagoneer with wood panels, or a VW Van.

To tell you the truth at this point in my life I could very easily take all I have and give it to the poor.

And just maybe that's the point.

Never a lost cause

There are many days when I think, that's it. My shooting star has burned out, and my nursing career is over. Burn out is a big problem in the health industry with the nursing shortage. It gets exhausting taking care of all of those patients alone, wishing you had a way out, a break, a respite from it all. I labour in vain, I sometimes think. I see all of these people come in, but many never leave alive. I see them get worse instead of better despite our best efforts, and it gets frustrating. It just gets old. I know that this is what happens when you have a very sick person come in. They aren't all older people. They are sometimes young. My age.

Then I think of the crazy Scottish patient we had who came in kicking and screaming. She was anxious, combative, pulling out every line we put into her, over and over again. She was confused-a true psych patient-with whom I have no training. She wore me out. When we signed in each morning, we'd groan if we were assigned to her. She was a full days work all on her own. But today she left. She walked out on her own power (after the wheel chair ride) and went to a place where she'd continue more intensive rehab. And I was sad, as I rarely ever am with patients. Amazing, I thought, that a few weeks ago she was a total drain, and now had become a complete joy. She was getting better. She was alert, motivated, and full of hope for a new tomorrow. I had grown to love her. When I pulled her old restraints out of the dresser and ceremoniously threw them out, I asked her if she wanted to take them with, just in case. "You take 'em home," she said, "and see how much fun they are." Um...thanks...but...no.

And now her room is silent. Not silent with death. But a quiet hope that she'd be better and home again soon. Her call light isn't going to buzz any longer. What did I gain from her? A reminder not to give up on people, even if theirs seems a lost cause.

I must look like a lost cause. Jesus didn't think so, even though the world would give up on me. He believed that so much that He died for me. To date, He is the only One to ever do that. I don't expect any more takers before my death or rapture. Did Jesus ever want to give up? No. It says in the Bible that He got tired, and He went away to rest. But when He got to where He was going, the crowd intercepted Him, crying "Feed me! Minister to my needs!" And you know what? He did. He loved them, even though He was mourning the loss of John and was looking closely into the face of death Himself. How can I strive to be more like Him? How can I be faithful in my frustration and weariness?

I can't. But I can give it to Him. He is my refuge, my rest. My respite. My Redeemer.

Date of rememberance

I said I could pinpoint an exact date that God began dealing with me in regards to the television. I found the date(s). One day was on January 18 between 10:15 and 11:00am. So it only took me 4 months to obey. It took Abe way longer, so I don't feel as guilty as I once did. Although for those of you who care I know I'm not suppopsed to measure myself against Abe. Only Jesus. But last night came the first test. Night one without satellite or network television. I pouted. I told Derek I was like Jonah, crawling under the fig tree and pouting, and I just needed time to grieve. It's a process. Derek pointed out that Jonah didn't crawl under a fig tree, he built himself a shelter, and then God grew a vine to comfort him, and then sent a worm to eat it. Whatever. Let me grieve without the criticism.

Wow. What would it be like if I had to lay down something big? What if God called me to sacrifice my kid like He did Abraham? Would I go willingly, knowing that God doesn't require human sacrifice, and that He is faithful to protect and provide? I don't know. The t.v. seems so trivial. Yet here I am, two blogs in one week.

I wasn't doing anything else.

I cast down my Idols. It was harder than I thought...

God deals with us in different ways. Sometimes so audibly you would dare to believe He actually spoke. And didn't He? Such was the case several weeks ago (I can actually pinpoint this in notes, but my notes aren't on me...) I was doing a Bible study on Abraham and Isaac, and God began to impress on me that I had things in my life that I put before Him. How ironic that my particular idol was...Idol. American Idol to be precise. I'm ashamed that it took me so long to obey and turn off my tv, which I knew was exactly what I was supposed to do. It wasn't a question, it wasn't a guilt feeling or a thought that I needed to just "get away" from the tv awhile. I felt like that would be taking the golden calf in my life and throwing a prayer cloth over its head, or turning it towards the wall.

For all you Idol watchers, I don't think you need to turn off your tv. I don't think that anything is "bad" about American Idol. In fact, it's pretty wholesome, which is unusual on tv these days. But an idol doesn't have to be bad or evil in its nature to become a bad thing in our lives. When God impresses on our hearts to stop something, whether it's good or bad, we shouldn't question, but obey.

I'm a little slow, but several weeks later I did it. It was so difficult. First of all, just try to cut off your satellite or cable service. They have so many enticing deals that would make it easy to justify keeping "partial service", telling you how much cheaper it will be if you should decide to turn it back on. ETC. After all I have been a valuable customer for...much too long. Plus the emotional drain of turning it off...I will miss it, truly. I still have network television and that's ok, but I turned off the portion of it that was draining my time and taking my focus off of Christ.

I want Elliott Yamin to win American Idol. But he'll have to do it without me. (I wasn't actually voting...) Maybe someday I'll own his CDs. Even the whole boxed set. But until then, I know where I have to turn my eyes and my heart, and I know that God will bless even my smallest efforts.

God, I cast down my smallest idols. Amen.

So close!

It almost happened. I look back at the split second where a silly mistake could have turned into humiliation infamy, and I smile. It was a near miss.

I am a lip balm addict and usually carry it around in my pocket, frequently pulling it out and slicking it on, and going about my day. I was very tired (as usual) today at work, and for whatever reason I switched the lip gloss in my right pocket with the little tiny permanent marker in my left. You can see it coming...I reached into my pocket and pulled off the cap, and moments before adding a permanent lip line, I caught myself.

It wouldn't have made my entire lips purple. I would have figured it out after one short "line", but still, to have to walk around with a small dark purple lip line or swollen red lips from trying to scrub off the mark, I would have been embarrassed either way!

In our sin lives we sometimes bear the dark marks of sin. Maybe just a small mark, but a mark all the same. What we do with that mark is even more important. Do we try to cover it up ourselves, leaving behind further evidence of the spot we bore, or do we take it up with the Father who cleanses the darkest, ugliest marks, making them invisible? I know what my first instinct is...try and hide it myself! But I usually just make it worse.

Today, make an effort to carry your problems to Jesus. The dark marks, the hint of filth, the sadness, the hurt and the shame, and let Him take care of it. And if you have already tried to remove it yourself...He takes care of those spots, too!

CATapult

More proof...cats are dumb. Didn't take us long to convince Bo to let the kids splat him on the wall.

Poor guy. He chases mice, but now he doesn't catch them. But he stays off the furniture!

Turns out, I'm NOT crazy!

I work in an ICU that happens to be a floor above a psych hospital. A whole floor of crazy. So I hear everyone say "Better be careful, they may not let you out!" Of course, I have to go thru the first floor to get to the parking lot from the second floor, so it seemed plausible that some day, it just might happen.

Apparently, I am not mental health material. (I must not have any mental health...). Here's my story: I'm on #15 1/2 of a 16 hour shift. 12 ounces of caffeine would do me good right about now, I thought. Someone told me that the first floor vending machine is colder than the second floor vending machine, so I decided to check that out. And I decided to take a route I'd never taken before in my life. Cause I'm adventurous. And stupid. But apparently not crazy. I found the stairwell, and I went down the stairs knowing that once you're in you can't get back out, except on ground level. It's a chance I needed to take for a really cold can of DP.

As I exited the stairwell, I found myself in an alcove between said stairwell which is now locked, a glass door that leads outside, and a locked door that leads to the mental health unit. It was glass, and inside about 25 yards away sat psych nurses (a rare bunch) who thought I was a ghost. That's all I can come up with, because they just stopped and looked at me, all deer-in-the-headlights-like. I thought, maybe I'm not moving enough, so I started waving them toward me, and still they sat and stared. So I made bigger motions, and finally one of them headed my way. Verrryyy slllloooowwwly. When she got within hearing distance, I told her my name and where I was coming from. She tried, to her credit, (the only credit she gets) to let me in, but the door was locked. "Go outside to the north door, and I'll let you in there." Which seemed like a good idea at the time. After all, it had gotten up to 20 degrees! The wind was 10mph out of the north. I could handle the quick 30 yard jog. So outside I went, where I was struck by a biting wind, and hustled myself to the north door. There they all sat, at the nurse's station, heads down, not looking at me. Not coming to let me in. I waved. I jumped. After a minute I started pounding and kicking the doors. Nothing. They were ignoring me. And it was cold.

I took off to the front of the building, realizing my name tag was upstairs with my keys and any form of contact with the hospital. I tried to think of survival tactics. I looked for shelter. I was wearing scrubs. A very thin layer of cotton protected me from the elements. Could I fashion a lean-to out of...what? Rose bushes?? My mind began to numb. I knew my fingers were going to fall off soon. If I could only see my kids...one...more...time.....

Dramatic, I know. You will be relieved to know that I found security. It took some serious talking thru really blue lips, but I was able to convince him to let me in the hospital. The really cold cola no longer sounded like a good idea, and I opted for coffee instead.

Joshua 1:9 says "Have I not told you? Do not be anxious or afraid, for wherever you are, so will I be." Christ assures us that we go into no trial, no matter how serious or silly, alone. He protects us, guides and keeps us. Even when we do things that aren't smart, He doesn't shrug His Holy shoulders and cross His mighty arms and refuse to help. His grace and mercy wrap around us and comfort us, and lift us back up, healing, warming, and bringing peace and restoring joy.

So for those of you who ever wondered, I may be stupid, but even I can't get into a psych ward. Now that that's settled...I'm going HOME!!

I got nothing to say, but...

"Worship Style" is an oxymoron

I would love it if for once our service would run two hours over because we were bursting at the seams with love and praise for our God. Not so this time. We did run over two hours, but it was because the pastor uttered the words "contemporary services" and asked for opinions at the tail end of the business meeting. Never will you see passions ignite like they do in a Southern Baptist church where music style is involved. It's sad, really.

When did worship become about us and what we like? Why did we put God in a box and decide when and where we were able to worship? We say that we go to church to learn about God and praise Him. We are so concerned about packaging our religion to make it more attractive to a newer generation that "just isn't being reached by our old methods" that we don't realize He's attractive all by Himself without our help! If we have certain "worship methods" then we are so far off base. Can we, just for a second, admit that we've come to be entertained? Can we admit that our entire Sunday morning is spent concerning what we enjoy, and that if it goes beyond our particular tastes, then we call it "noise", or if we aren't getting the newest and best most popular music, then we say that it's tired and overdone?

In Genesis, Abraham was sitting at his tent when he had unexpected visitors. The Lord and two angels showed up. Actually, they just appeared. Abe got excited, since he's spent time with the Lord and recognized Him, and he and Sarai prepared dinner for the guests. They didn't microwave lasagna or throw burgers on the grill. In fact, he told Sarai to "hurry up! Get some flour and make bread!" and then had a calf killed and prepared. Abe apparently expected the Lord to hang out for awhile! Anyway, when it was all said and done, Abe had fed the Lord veal and fresh, homemade bread, and who knows how many varieties of fresh veggies from the garden. And then they discussed the issue at hand.

My point is this: Abe spent much time in prayer before God appeared in human form to him. When God showed up, Abe knew who He was, even in bodily form. I learned this week that it's called a "Theophany," or a physical pre-appearance of the Lord before His birth in the New Testament. Abe recognized God, and he rushed to create an atmosphere that was conducive to their meeting. Do we eagerly prepare an atmosphere of worship on Sundays, our appointed time for corporate worship? Or more importantly, did we do so before showing up at church that day? Do we spend time in private worship with God, so that when He shows up, we recognize Him? Can we, in fact, worship (WORSHIP!!!) when God reveals Himself in unexpected places? Or would we rather race to put on the right outfit, arrive at church annoyed and breathless, and then let everyone know that "we just didn't worship with that kind of music."

I'm so sick to death of hearing "worship style" from people who think that we are there to put on a show. If we are coming to church on Sunday mornings to win the lost, we are going for the wrong reasons. Yes, you heard me right. If you think I'm wrong, then research a little and find out why we are commanded to assemble together. It's to worship the Lord, to gain strength for the week ahead in order to be able to fight the good fight and share Christ with others. If we come for any other reason we are wasting God's time. Of course people can be saved on Sunday in our churches! If they come on a Sunday morning and see us truly worship, then it's up to God to change them! But if we are so arrogant as to say that WE need to create an atmosphere that will attract the lost, and WE need to make God look better to the world, and WE need to affect change in the hearts of people who don't know Him, WE are missing the boat, big time. God doesn't need our earthly makeover. We can't liposuction the unattractive parts of His word, tighten up loose skin, and highlight the good parts. We've only succeeded in presenting God as an all-accepting lovable hippie who just wants to love us all. So what's the point of trying then, if He just loves us all unconditionally? What of the God of Justice who HATES sin and will destroy it? What of the God our Creator who demands that we approach Him on our faces, as Holy and right?

How flippantly we walk into His house, and call it "our church" as if we have some sort of seniority there. How arrogantly we try to manipulate Him and present Him in a more attractive light. How phariseical we proclaim the "right way" of worship as in according to our particular mood that day, while calling someone else wrong. We will stand before Him one day. We will be forced to our knees in holy reverence. We will never ever approach Him casually. He is God. He Is.

This week, tithe 10% of your time to God in order to get to know Him. (2.4 hours a day...) Know what He looks like, and Sunday show up to praise Him. When we all get this right, it won't matter if they play Skynard or Bach or no music at all. We will know Him, and He will come to us in order to bring us a message. And then (and ONLY then) will we WORSHIP.

Worship is like water on the seed of our hearts. It causes it to blossom until all around can see its beauty and long to experience its pleasing aroma.

More Like Him

As big a fuss as I made over waiting for autumn, football, and winter, I can't believe it's over. This has been the longest season ever, and I'm just glad it's over. I was busier than I ever remember being. My husband and I hardly saw each other. We worked, were in different programs, running the kids all over...it was crazy. January brings with it a kind of post football season depression. February brings on the serious depression because it's totally post season (I'm not a big pro fan, but I love the Super Bowl.)

Now what? New Year's Resolutions? I don't have that sort of attention span. I resolve something new every day. I have been in my Bible more this last week than usual. I'm studying Old Testament, particularly Genesis and presently Father Abraham. I'm inspired by the promises God made to Abraham, and how against all logic and odds, He fulfilled Abraham's deepest desire for a son of his own, even in his old age when his body was "as good as dead". I'm encouraged by the fact that God made promises to Abraham, and that God makes promises to us today and always keeps His promises, regardless of our failures and feeble attemts at doing right. I also am encouraged that when God says to be righteous and perfect, He is talking about the act of striving to be more like Him. I'm not righteous. I'm not even sorta good. I'm perfect, though, in that God is Righteousness in and thru me, even when I fall. I have perfected the falling routine!

When you have an impossible dream, be INTENTIONAL in pursuing God's will for your life. God gave us dreams and desires for a reason. They point us in the general area we're supposed to go, assuming that we are focused on Him and our desires serve to advance the Kingdom. By the way, God's Kingdom will be, with or without me. But my obedience draws me closer in my relationship to Him and as I am faithful, more of His will is revealed, and I find true joy in being like Him. God doesn't want or need me to like Him more. He wants me to be more like Him.