A Tangled Mess

Can you make out what this picture is? It's one of those things that really makes my skin boil.

TANGLED NECKLACES.

I'm getting a little heated just thinking about them! I dub myself as a patient person. So, when I talk about losing my patience, you must know that whatever got to me was really bad. Bad, like tangled necklaces bad.


My girls decided it was ok for them to get into the ONE place that's off limits to them in my jewelry chest. The doors on the side- that's where the more delicate stuff is. Not expensive, just the stuff that would end up TANGLED if gotten into.  I've managed to redeem 2 necklaces from the pile. The rest is still just that, a pile. 


The whole time I was trying to work them out, I said over and over, "Ok, Lord, surely there must be a spiritual lesson for me in this." I said it over and over because I just wasn't seeing one. All I could see was a tangled mess.


And then, out of nowhere, I asked myself "Is this me?" 


We all have go through phases where we feel like a total mess, don't we? (Please say yes.) Honestly, I'm not in that phase at the moment. However, I have no doubt I'm about to go through one. Something about having a newborn can just make a woman feel completely inadequate for the job at hand. Have you ever had the following conversations with yourself? 

• "On one hand, I'm passive, but make me mad and I'll put you in your place." (unsettled anger will explode if left unattended)
• "I want to be her friend, but she gets on my nerves." (she really just needs someone to call friend)
• "I want that pair of boots, but, I don't need them." (and there's a family with no shoes down the street)
• "I like traditional furniture, but I also like clean, modern lines." (the most frivolous debate I have with myself even when I'm not in the market for furniture. Really, who cares?)
• "On one hand, I want to say 'God, I give you all of me,' but on the other hand, that means I'm not in control!" 
• "I want to spend more time reading my Bible and praying, but I keep hitting snooze."
• "I want to be a better wife, but I'm too busy to focus on that." (Uh, the husband came first.)

Sounds like a mess to me. Internally, I can be so wishy washy. Wanting to serve God with all my heart, let Him guide me in every step during the day. However, the ways I choose to spend my time or money reflect that I only want to serve God with some (or even most, but not ALL) of my heart. The way I deliberate over some decisions is ridiculous. I think deliberation, for me, is often a way for me to stay in control (read blog name: FALSEcontrol). Deliberation just prolongs the decision!


Here's what I gathered in the tangled mess saga. I am so much like the tangled necklaces. Some pieces of me have gotten straightened out. But, if I don't keep inviting God to work the rest out, then the rest of me stays all messed up. It takes time, patience, a focused eye, and careful maneuvering to untangle a pile of necklaces.  Rather should I say, to untangle me.


Why do we do some of the things we don't want to? Why do we let ourselves be characterized by undesirable characteristics? Paul said it well in Romans 7:15-20, "I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. ¹⁶And if I do what I do not want to do, I agree that the law is good. ¹⁷As it is, it is no longer I myself who do it, but it is sin living in me. ¹⁸I know that nothing good lives in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. ¹⁹For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing. ²⁰Now if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is sin living in me that does it." (This passage always makes me laugh. I relate all too well.)


If we weren't the tangles messes that we are, we'd have no need for God. We'd be perfect. Seeing that we are not, and will never be, we can engage God to beg for His merciful, loving, sometimes painful, straightening out. One by one, our messy-selves will enjoy the blessing of being refined- untangled- by His hand. 


Tangled necklaces will always be just a pile of messy metal if we don't exercise the patience to (painfully) focus on one strand, freeing one bead, one knot, at a time. Not an enjoyable process, but rewarding in the end. 


The best part about being a tangled mess? Once a necklace has been untangled, it is ready to be used. 

As I Wait

A friend from college facebook-ed me this week asking for prayer. She is ready to be a mom, but God isn't.  So, she waits.


My five year old son has become a little too attached to Kung-Fu Panda on the XBox 360. He cries and cries for it. We explain to him that playing games/ tv is NOT going to be a priority in this family. It's just not important. We understand he likes to play, but the fits over not playing are just not ok. We are making him take a game break for a few days. So, he waits.


My sister's husband is a Marine. He'll be deployed soon. We know the day is near, so they make the most of everyday together. And she waits.


My friend's husband is addicted to surfing inappropriate websites. She prays he will soon see how destructive the material he sees is to their marriage and family. And she waits.


This week, some friends of mine from high school had to bury their 2 week old son (a twin). This week, my friend D, a Marine, was under major attack from the enemy in Afghanistan. This week, another friend from college (under age 30), began chemo for breast cancer. Again. I have 26 days until I'm due with child #4. Every little physical discomfort has me wondering if early labor is setting in. Last baby came a bit early,  so I anticipate this one will, too. And my complaint of the week? None of my pants fit. My, how God uses others to put life into perspective.


I really want a fourth child. But, I have to admit, that in these last few weeks, I've gotten a bit afraid of a fourth. Of the four, not one of them is old enough for school! I've questioned whether I can do this or not. I mean, not as though I have a choice. God promised He would never give me more than I can bear. I am reminding myself of that now so that when everyone needs something "right now" and there's no other adult around to help, I can press on with the day. I get fearful of the first 2 weeks this baby is here. All the feeding and pumping! Who has time to feed and pump? I mean, really, can't he or she take cereal yet? I think about lunchtime. That small window when everyone is hungry, all are in need of a nap, complaining of boredom (hello, we just had Christmas = no sympathy from me!), and needing something to eat immediately. Otherwise, they will surely die, you know. I think about growth spurts. Outfitting 4 children. Praise God for hand-me-downs, clearance racks, and grandmas. I think about trying to "get away" for a date with my husband. Who, besides us, can handle our children? I'll have to have a grandma for each kid! I think about sleep and how I won't get much, but still have to function, lovingly, during the day. I want to be a woman after God's own heart, but He is the God that never sleeps. That wasn't exactly what I had in mind when I said, "Lord, I want to be more like You."



Did I mention I run my own business, too?


I once would have been held captive by these fears. Now, I have them, but I hand them over. Really, am I going to worry about not getting a full night sleep at the same time that D is dodging bullets in Afghanistan? Am I really going to worry about losing my patience as A is losing her hair to chemo? Am I really going to worry about having 4 children when S longs for just one? No, I will not. I choose to not. Instead, I will go about my day, seeking Him for TODAY, His purpose for me TODAY, and let tomorrow be tomorrow.


And I will wait. 
Psalm 40:1 "I waited patiently for the LORD; He turned to me and heard my cry."

My Greatest Fear

My greatest fear is...

someday I'll be like my mother.

Fear: An emotion that prevents us from moving forward and keeps our eyes looking back. An emotion that entangles, and sometimes, strangles us. 


A fellow mom who is expecting her 3rd child asked me how I do "it." (Getting 3 preschoolers in the door while pregnant with a 4th). She said I make it look flawless. If you have been reading my blog for anytime at all, you know I hate this perception! While I do take it as a compliment, I felt like it is time for an open-book moment. Today, it's to share my greatest fear. 


When I was in elementary school, I suffered- and I mean SUFFERED- from stomach ulcers. I was a mere 10 years old (and all ages surrounding). I didn't have a weak stomach. There was no family history of ulcers that made me susceptible to developing such pain. I took medication to keep the inflammation down, but I worried so much that the medicine didn't really help that much. What helped sometimes, was going to our school counselor's office, Mrs. Long, and letting her hold me. Or, sometimes Mrs. Davenport. She was snuggly, too.


Worry was the root of the pain. Not even a teenager, and I was a chronic worrier. I couldn't sleep because in the stillness of night, I would lay awake, thinking- dwelling- on all the bad things that could happen to me. Things no child should sit and fear. We tried counseling, but that didn't help. 


Once I was in high school, teenage drama somewhat took the place of things I traditionally worried about. I began to heal a bit and see worry from a Biblical perspective. It's sin, by the way. By the time I was in college, I began to feel free from the bondage of worry. I began to understand what placing my worries, my fears, my cares, at the the feet of Jesus really meant. Several years went by. Got married. And then.... I had a kid. 


As a child,

• I was deathly afraid that the man who killed my father would ask one of his friends who wasn't in jail to find us and hurt us. Afterall, in my mind, we were the reason he was in jail. Not just jail, Death Row.
• I was deathly afraid that someone would break into our home and harm us. I loved it when it rained. No one broke into homes when it rained because they probably wouldn't want to get wet in the rain, you know. To this day, night rain has a special comfort to me.
• I was deathly afraid something would happen to my mom. She was all I had. And, she had been through so much. I worried that being a single mom would be too much for her and she'd leave us. I had absolutely no reason to believe this, but it's what I manifested in my head! If she were ever late picking me up or showing up to something, I just knew, I just KNEW, she'd been hurt in a car wreck.
• I was deathly hopeful that my father would walk into our home. Deathly hopeful. Strange combination of words. I thought about this as often as I thought about everything else. I'd lay in my bunk bed at night and stare at the door. With my heart pounding, I'd imagine him standing there. And see, what had happened is that they were wrong. It wasn't him that was shot. They just thought it was him. He'd been lost and finally found his way back. Or, sometimes, I thought that maybe he'd not really died, but that we'd mistakenly buried him and he got out of his casket. Trust me, he had alot of explaining to do.

As an adult,
I am deathly afraid that I'll become my mother. Not for all the reasons one typically has this fear. My mom doesn't nag, she knows her boundaries, respects my marriage, encourages me in parenthood, and loves unconditionally.

So, why the fear?

She was widowed by the time she was my current age (28). Widowed with 2 young children to raise. Alone.

Her fate- the story behind who she is today- has petrified me since the day I wed. I've become even more petrified with this idea since becoming a mom myself. It's one of those secret fears that I've never shared with anyone. Not even my husband until recently. I figured it was time I explain why I bark at him to put his seatbelt on or to be careful doing basic things (like mowing the grass). I often lay awake at night gripped with the fear that because she lost her husband to death at a young age, I'll lose mine, too. 

My only defense to these worries is reading, reading, and re-reading Matthew 6:25-34.


As the confessions continue, you must know that there is still something about nighttime that gets to me. There are nights that I lay awake for HOURS, sometimes till the not-so-wee-hours of the morning. I lie awake in bed, body stiff as can be, imagining the "what ifs" of my children's lives. Z has recently grown tall enough (and smart enough!) to unlock the door. On more than one occasion, she's run out to look for her daddy. We live right next to a church parking lot. You know where my thoughts go for that! My son is just barely 5. He's developing intuition. But, he's still young enough that if someone said, "Your mom said to come with me," he might go. Oh, the awful things I've imagined! Being hit by cars, kidnapped, lost, drowning,  the list goes on. And, of course, none of these worries are warranted. I trust God a great deal during the day. But at night, I'm like that little girl laying in bed worrying about her parent. Only this time, I'm a big girl worrying about her kids.


Can you relate to this? I trust God with matters of life. I get sketchy around matters of death. I manifest these CRAZY scenarios that are more than likely, not even possible. These thoughts rob me of peace and rest. While I trust God with the reality, the possibilities are what I struggle to give up. I mean, if my kid gets sick, really sick, I don't really worry. Concerned, of course, but I said it once, I'll say it again, HE loves them more than I do. While I know this to be absolutely true, I still have to fight off the sin of worry and actively place my trust in Him. 


For everything... all matters... life AND death.


And for the record, my mom rocks.