Clutter

It's all around me.


I am the worst 'stacker of things'  you could know.


"I'll get around to it..." is my mantra


And then, when I can stand it no longer, 
I. Must. Attack.


Why do I do it?
Why do I stack and stash and push things aside for the time being?


Most of the time, it's because in the moment, I don't know what to do with it.
I don't want to mess with it.
I don't want to take the time to actually put some thought into it.


I have other clutter in my life.


Things I just don't know what to do with.
(yes, I am aware of the grammatical incorrectness of that sentence).


Some things I know how to do well.
Other things I am at a loss.


And as I sat on my porch this morning
That first deep breath of morning air
Those quiet moments filled only with the sounds of aviary greetings
That first sip of steamy liquid manna
My mind turned to clutter


Things I am at a loss as to direction


I don't know what to do with the judgment of others
I don't know what to do with the persistent reminder of my vulnerability
I don't know what to do with the lack of second chances
I don't know what to do with the lack of grace I receive from others
And the lack of grace I extend


I sit.
And I stare.
Blankly.


And they pile up.
Until I can stand it no longer
Because, like my sink overflowing with dirty dishes
Or my entry table overrun with mail and notes and reminders


They have taken on a life of their own.


So,
I embrace (once again) Lamentations 3:22:


"Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness."


And I proceed, one mess at a time, to eliminate.


Because these 'things' are not mine to hoard.


And I begin
To let go.

Inviting the Invitation

There is a reason.
There is a why.
For yesterday's post.


I've been there.
And I've stood in the center of the barren, dusty, lifeless wasteland remaining after the atomic blast of the adversary.
And I've looked around.
In Awe.
And Shock.
And wondered,


"What. Just. Happened?"


Folks, there are reasons.
There is no "out of the blue".
Really.
If we are honest with ourselves.


And, if you've followed me and recall, I took a good.hard.look. at myself.


Excuses:
"I'm doing the best that I can."
"If he would just..."
"I'm so tired."
"I'm so neglected."
"I...
"I...
"I..."


It would have been easier to blame.
And hate.
And lash out.


(If I confess, truly, I have done those things).


But-


I did NOT do the best I could.
I neglected.


And I left that door open.
Wide.


For the Invitation to even be extended.


Wives: Honor your husbands.
Gossip, Idleness, Lust, and Tearing Him Down do not Honor him.


Husbands: Love your wives.
And Lust, Neglect, and Selfishness do not show Love.


I should know.
Take my word.
Learn from me.


There is no such thing as


Harmless Flirtation with the Enemy

The Silent Invitation

Busy Day.
Busy Life.
To and Fro. We run.
Work Completed. Bills Paid. Lists Checked.
Hug Hug. Kiss. Kiss.
Hum-Drum.


Time Passes.


Quiet Night.
Sleepless Night.
Still and Quiet Night.


The soft glow of the LCD screen.


Mindless Chatter.
Giggles Shared.
Harmless Occupation of the Mind.
Defenses Down.
A Brief Glance.
An Old Friend.
A Cathartic Conversation
Turns
Personal.
Then Uncomfortable.
Then
Frighteningly Delicious.
Lines Crossed.
Justification Examined.
And Enacted.


And Death Looms.


Or.


Brief Glances.
Become.
Lingering Stares.
Become.
Longing.
Then Lust.
Reality Becomes Meager.
Inadequate.
Images Become the Ideal.

Justification Examined.

And Enacted.

And Death Looms.

Regardless of Gender.

Regardless of Situation.

Regardless of the Actions/Inactions of Another.

Guard your Hearts.

Your Eyes.

Your Ears.

Your Minds.

Your Relationships.

Justification Kills.

Families.

Hearts.

Lives.

Souls.

Your Enemy Awaits.

An Opening.

He Offers

The Silent Invitation.

To Death.

The World is Not a Stage

I want to be real.


I want to be transparent.


I also don't want to be one of those people who airs out every ounce of their life's drama on their social network of choice.


By nature, I am an optimist. 
I learned that a few years ago.


But, also, now and then I need a reality check.


Mine came this week along the lines of: Motives.
I like encouragement.
I like to be strengthened.
I like to feel loved and valued.


But, believe it or not, I like my toes stepped on.
In love.


I need it.
My soul deeply longs for it.
Because it feels good?
Not.One.Bit.


But, because it keeps me growing.
It keeps me moving.
It challenges me.
It also strengthens me.


And I have precious friends who step on my toes often.
In love.


No one wants to be punished.
Yelled at.
Humiliated.
Tossed aside.
Judged.


But a little conviction in love is needed.


This week, mine has been on motives.
Why do I do what I do?
I know my heart.
I really do.
But, am I showing my heart?
Am I using my gifts to the best of my ability?
Am I being more than a voice?
Am I being a help?
A comfort?
A shoulder?
A helping hand?


Or am I just being one big loud mouth?


Matthew 6:1-15

One of Those Days

Just beginning to take a breath.


As my Aunt Joann says: "B-R-E-A-T-H-E"


Hullaballoo of latest injury has quieted down.
Although every time they drive away I holler,
"Be Careful!"


As if they won't be careful if I don't holler that in their general direction.
*sigh*


My drama has been subdued.
Daily tasks continue.


And then another left-field blow.
This time pain hits another's camp.
And the wind abandons sails again.
And when we love - our sisters, our brothers, our family - our hearts ache right along with them.
Sometimes there are no words.
There is no comfort.
There are only tears.


Then
Alone in the house, appliances humming with their assigned duties of easing my work load.
I foolishly turn on the evening news.
Violence.
Terror.
A child, exactly my son's age, gunned down while playing in the street of his village.
Having all I could handle for the day.
The week.
Face in hands.
I wept.


There are days
When heartache overwhelms
When pain becomes oppressive
When brain and heart
Cannot
Stand. Another. Thing.


Lord,
Please Come Quickly.

Is Cancer Contagious?

We have so many hopes and dreams for our children.
And so many of these do not come to fruition.


My children are journeying into experiences I never imagined they would be at their ages.
Mine are the first in their circle of friends to introduce the word "divorce" into their friends' vocabularies.
Words do not express how that has broken my heart.
I've imagined the conversations between these friends and their respective parents.
Questions.
Confusion.
I've seen the perplexed looks on friends' faces when I see them on Sundays and have to explain that my children are not with me that day.  They'll be back at church next week.
*sigh*


So much that children don't understand.
But as they grow and mature, and face new circumstances, 
New questions arise.


One day last week, my daughter asked me,
"Mommy, Is cancer contagious?"


What?
Random.
Odd.
Bewildering.

One of my dearest friends is the mother of my daughter's best friend.

This mother is fighting, and beating, cancer.

Cancer. Another word newly introduced.

Questions.

Confusion.

This time from my own children directed to me.

This dear friend of mine is crafty.  And creative.  And clever.

Many, many things I am not.

She has crocheted both of my children baby blankets.

And for my birthday this year, in the midst of chemo treatments, she crocheted me a beautiful, soft, yellow blanket.

I treasure it.

It is gold to me.

And, unbeknownst to me, just prior to this random question posed by my angel-girl, she was rifling through a box of hand-me-downs in my closet, and she found this blanket my friend made me.  And questions arose in her precious 8-year-old mind.


Logical line of thinking, to her.


So, we chatted.  About cancer.  What it is.  Where it comes from.
And that it is definitely not contagious.
I will not catch it from snuggling my precious blanket.


Friends, our children are bombarded.
From without and within.


And as I held her closely, and tried to reassure her innocent mind, I prayed for her future.
So many new issues to be quickly introduced.
Childhood is fleeting.


God, strengthen my babies with your Armor.

My Last Week

Crises.


What would our lives be without them?


Our latest was the smashing of a finger in a door which resulted in a severed fingertip.
My poor boy-child.


This is the one who's broken both arms, 15 months apart.


We just got a cast off a few weeks ago.


We are now sporting stitches and a stubby finger.


It was a long day.


A morning phone call stating:
"They're ok.  But you need to get to the ER."


The longest.drive.ever 
from Fayetteville,TN to Huntsville, AL.


Initial images of a blood-soaked shirt and bloodied bandages.
His pale face.
His worried baby sister.
And extended family.


Long treks to Pre-Op


A long wait for surgery.


My baby?  Surgery?  Anethesia?


Kisses goodbye.
Strangers wheeling him down a hallway.


And waiting.


A hodgepodge of family.
Broken relationships or no,
We are still family.


Wait being over, hugs and kisses on my little trooper.
And the trek back home.


This momma bird was elated at having her chicks back in the nest.


Food, meds, rest, kisses.


I've been told I'm strong.
But, you do what you gotta do.
When it comes to those kids.
You. Just. Do.


My "come-aparts" are less dramatic the older I get.
I suppose it's age.
It's something.
And late that evening, my come-apart moment consisted of gentle weeping on the very strong shoulders of my man.


I'm grateful.
For a good hospital.
For my son's bravery.
That this wasn't worse than it was.
For adults who could focus on the patient and nothing else.
For God's protection.


For provision.


For a safe place to land when the dust settled.


For leaps and bounds in the maturity of this young man who is my son.


For perspective.


God gives us strength to face the most unexpected, and trying, of circumstances.


Tonight.
Just grateful.

Love Songs

How have you experienced God?


Those who have (from our earthly perspectives) sinned much tend to have a greater appreciation for the forgiveness of  their Savior than others who've lived fairly rule-following lives.


Those who've felt the sting of abandonment and loveless relationships have a deeper grasp of the bottomless well of Love our Father offers.


There is a reason God has so many names in the Bible.
There is reason He tells Moses He is "I AM."


He is many things.
He is all things.
All that is good. And lovely.  And desirable.  And worthy of praise.


There is reason I call Him the Great Love.


To me, He is just that.


My Great Love.
The Passionate Pursuer of my heart.


I've heard it recently said that a song which one could sing to a boyfriend, girlfriend, husband, wife, significant other, could not possibly be considered worship to our God.
Songs such as this...


Hold Me


Honestly, that kind of hurts my heart.
I am not saying my brother in faith is wrong.
Our perspectives are just radically different.


I know that God has been relentlessly desiring my heart for my entire life, but the true chase was on in the Spring of 2009.  That's when we met.  
Face to Face.
Heart to Heart.
Tear-stains to Tear-stains.


And I'm telling you, 
He held me.


That's been my experience.

We refer to Him as 

Father.

Savior.

Redeemer.

He tells us He is Love.

Every love song I hear is a Love Song to my Savior.

I cannot ever again hear another love song on the radio and NOT think of my Savior.
The I AM.
My Great Love.


For,

I've told you mine is a Love story.

So is yours.

Hoarding

Sometimes the inside of my heart, or head, looks like the home of a hoarder.


You've seen them.
Whether in your all-too-real experience or on television.
Piles of unused items.
Or used ones.
And garbage.
In homes uninhabitable.


As I purge my home
My body
My spirit...


I've scrutinized
and explored
Hoarding.


I've seen some things I've held on to.
Things I've not quite been comfortable enough to release.
Too many memories.
Good or bad.
Dark recesses I've not quite been ready to air out.


But that begs the question:
Why?


My friends, it is time to let go.
Of pain.
Of anger.
Of bitterness.
Of grudges.
Of heartache.
Of it all.


"If only it were that easy!"


Friends, we're the ones who make it difficult.


Because, as is the source of all that is ill in the world,
When I cannot let go
My focus is on 
Me.


Take the first step
And choose
To
Let
Go


"If anyone has the right to be angry, it is not you.
It is not me.
It is God.  
For centuries of defiance, rejection, and selfishness.
Yet, His anger has been reconciled through the gift of His son."


I have no right to be angry.
Or resentful.
Or bitter.


I have no right to hoard.


Unbolt the doors.
Open the windows.
Rid the recesses of their stale air and 
Breathe in the freshness of Life.


It's ok.
It really is.


God gives you permission.


Let it go.