Tag Archives: Comfort

When Your Heart Feels All Achy-Breaky

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Last weekend while driving the twists and turns of Michigan country roads I found my mind drifting away to another place and time. 

The weather was warm and bright, a treat for mid January, and the soft crooning of James Taylor filled our mini van. The combination did me in and before I knew it I was gone, gone, gone, Gone to Carolina in My Mind.

The blue sky and warm sunshine, the music, it all took me back to my days in North Carolina and all the people I love there. An ache lodged in my heart. Everything in me wanted to turn back the clock, hit the road, head south.

It’s a rather disruptive feeling, these aches that appear in the midst of an otherwise contented spirit. I love my life here in Michigan. I wouldn’t trade it for all the sunny south, but there are times like these when I miss that place…when I miss those people so much it hurts. I mean, really and truly and physically hurts. It takes my breath away.

When this happens there’s always an intense temptation to avoid the ache, to avoid the hurt. 

When I’m cooking supper, I love to set my playlist on shuffle and let my mind wander as noodles boil and beef sizzles in the skillet. Inevitably a song will play that triggers some forgotten ache.

Alan Jackson’s Remember When makes me miss my Uncle John.

Passion’s Oceans makes me pine to relive the day my little Promise was born.

Elizabeth Mitchell’s You are My Sunshine makes me remember, all too clearly, how fast these days of tiny feet dancing through the house will be nothing but a memory.

When the first notes of these songs trickle into the room my impulse is to hit skip, to not let my heart go there, to avoid feeling the ache. 

And sometimes that’s ok. Sometimes, for whatever reason, it’s ok to go numb, but I’m learning there are other times when it’s good and right and needed to allow my heart to feel. 

God created me to be a deeply emotional being, and He also created me to bring those emotions to Him, to use them as a vessel through which He can work.

When triggers like these arise in smells, music, pictures, memories, in tiny details that fill our lives we always have a choice. Allow our hearts to feel whatever they long to feel and take those feelings to God allowing Him to show us what He’s after or block our hearts from pain, from His work, from transformation and healing.

What I experienced this weekend, in my longing for North Carolina is a beautiful reminder to me to resist the urge to block my heart from pain and consequently from Him.

And yes, it’s confusing, yes it’s disruptive, yes it’s painful and hard. But it’s also an invitation. An invitation from the King of my heart to draw closer to Him, to let Him do something beautiful and sustaining in me.

How else do we get through life intact than by aching and feeling and opening to Him? 

And what are these aches and desires really but a longing for Him and His Kingdom? My heart may ache for Carolina, for the faces of family and friends. But on a deeper level I’m also yearning for Him, for His beauty, for relationship, for a time and a place when there will be no more good-byes.

I’m aching for my King and His kingdom.

I’m aching for His work in me.

I’m aching for home.

Dear ones, when an ache crops up in your heart don’t ignore it. Like a winding, twisting, back-country road, follow it to Him.

Three Things to Remember When Life Sets You Back

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So it’s been a while.

When I lasted posted on this blog, Christmas carols were still playing, lights were still hung on trees, and hope filled my heart for a fantastic start to the coming New Year.

Writing goals…

Homeschool goals…

Get-in-shape goals…

They each beckoned to me with the promise of a fresh start, a new year.

New Year’s Day came and went. So far, so good!

January 2nd, my best friend, Beth, arrived for her yearly visit from China.

January 4th, my new niece was born.

We were off to a smashing start.

And then January 5th happened. Blessing started to cough. Promise came down with a fever, Hope with a runny nose.

It’s okay, I thought. Nothing a little Elderberry and a day or two on the couch can’t cure.

Wrong.

What started as a cold for my girls, turned into colds for Mr. Wonderful and me too, and a long cycle of sickness ensued. As soon as one of us got well, someone else came down with something new.

Chest congestion…

Ear infection…

A sinus cold from you know where…

Nearly six weeks later we’re still recovering.

And those goals for my new year? Those beautiful visions of getting ahead? Of getting on track? Off getting things done?

They feel long ago and far away, forgotten. It’s hard to even remember what they were.

Wherever they are, whatever they were as I get myself, my family, my home back together, back to health and life as usual there are three things I’m trying to hold onto. Hoping that if I cling to these above all else, somehow, eventually, the pieces will come together and I will have the new year I hope for.

First of all…It’s a slip not a slide: My very wise friend and fellow writer, Cindy Bultema, once spoke about the importance between a slip and a slide. Slips are quick and easy to get over. Slides are long and drawn out. The difference between the two is almost always my attitude and the way I choose to see and react to what life brings. So January and February did not go the way I planned, hoped, or expected. So what! They don’t have to be a slide or, in other words, these past few weeks DO NOT determine the rest of my year. They can be overcome. I can move on. Quick. Easy. A slip not a slide.

Next there’s this…God’s grace can cover this too: The weeks of sickness my family has experienced is something I can’t control and sometimes recognizing what’s within my control and what isn’t, is half the battle. Rather than fighting against something I can’t control, my limited energy is much better spent doing the things I can do and trusting God with the rest. Because the truth is, His grace really is enough. For all the things that go undone, for all the ways I fall short, He provides what’s needed. Always, just what’s needed. So, yeah, we’ve missed a ton of school days. And, yeah, my writing is on life support, and yeah, these thighs, they ain’t gettin’ smaller… but we’re doing what we can, as we can, and somehow, I trust. I TRUST. It’s all gonna shake out in the wash.

And finally…None of this determines my worth: This is the big one isn’t it? The one we don’t even realize we’re doing to ourselves. The one that sneaks in like a snake and steals every spark of truth we have, every shred of joy, every fiber of peace. When set backs like this happen, when things don’t go the way I planned, it’s so easy for me to go there, to that place where I’m discouraged, where I’m convinced that I’m a failure, where all evidence shows I’m blowing it big time. And once I’m there it’s hard to get back. But the truth? This has nothing to do with me. It. Is. A Cold. A long-lasting, miserable, terrible cold. It is not a reflection of who I am and it’s not a measure of what I’m worth. When I find my identity getting mixed up with what’s going on around me, I know it’s time to start taking captive each and every thought. Inspect every one. Keep the truth: God’s got this. I am loved. It’s going to be okay. We’re going to be okay. His grace is sufficient. I am His and He is mine. Nothing can steal my peace or my joy. Pitch the lie: Ha! You haven’t blogged in a month and you call yourself a writer? How could you? What were you thinking? You are a terrible mother. What a mess you’ve made. What a failure. What a screw up.

Whether it’s at the start of a brand new year or anywhere in between, when the stuff of life sets you back, hang on tight to these three things. They may not take the sting away, but they will get you through.

Like Elderberry mixed with a day or two on the couch, may they be nourishment, comfort, and the cure for what ails you.

For When You Just Want to Shut Down and Stop Your Heart from Bleeding

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Tarheel PinA few weeks ago I posted a blog about what to do when your life feels like a March Madness buzzer beater and you’re on the losing team. Little did I know this was just the fate that would soon befall my beloved UNC Tarheels.

For anyone not into the drama of college basketball and the NCAA tournament, last Monday the University of North Carolina went head to head against Villanova in the championship game. With just seconds left on the clock Carolina’s Marcus Paige made an epic three point shot to tie the game and force what everyone thought would be an overtime square off.

But it wasn’t to be.

As the last tenths of a second ticked away Villanova’s Kris Jenkins shot a game winning three pointer destroying hopes and dreams of a UNC victory.

Going from the ultimate college basketball high to the ultimate low I watched my favorite players leave the court looking stunned, distraught, and dejected; my feelings, tumultuous as they were, surely only a fraction of what they were feeling.

To say the least it was heartbreaking.

Now I know the world of college basketball and all that transpires in the throws of March Madness is small cookies compared to the battles taking place in the real world. It’s a micro issue, respectively, but even still it stirs the hearts of those invested. I know it rattled mine.

And if nothing else, it has served this week as a reminder to me of a truth that matters in all of life’s battles both big and small:

Those who love deeply, hurt deeply. 

 

It happens all the time, the temptation to save your skin and your heart from pain. To check out, give up, ignore, don’t look, don’t touch, don’t feel. Don’t listen, don’t see, invest, get involved. Don’t go deeper. Don’t be real. And for heaven’s sake don’t let yourself be vulnerable. Because pain is always involved when you give your heart away. 

All day Monday I fought a subtle urge to not even watch the game. If they lose, I thought, I don’t want to see it. The disappointment that would cause the players…Coach Roy…me… would just be too unbearable.

But that game? That game! And, yeah, I got burned in the end…But how could I miss that game? 

When you find yourself hurting deeply, take heart! It means you loved deeply. And what has the Savior shown us about life but that loving deeply is the only way to really and truly live? 

All the things we love, the big and the small, it matters! It matters to Him. It matters to the story of your life.

When you start to get that feeling, that temptation to stop right there, to go no further, to look away, stop and think for a minute. Don’t just think about what you want to avoid, imagine what you’ll miss by shutting down your heart:

That relationship

That sunrise

That victory

That wholeness

That health

That smile

Laughter

Kisses

Welcome home hugs

Knowing what you’re made of

Knowing what He’s made of

Knowing what forgiveness feels like 

A life with as few regrets as possible

For all my Carolina dreams of winning the national championship, for all life’s battles both big and small, for all the deeply hurting, perhaps Garth Brooks said it best in the words of his classic song: 

“And now

I”m glad I didn’t know

The way it all would end

The way it all would go

Our lives

Are better left to chance

I could have missed the pain

But I’d have had to miss

The dance” *

Lean in. Invest. Be open. Stay open. Stay. In. The. Pool. Be you. Be real. Give your heart away. Give your heart to Him.

And whatever you, no matter what, don’t abandon the big dance for the sake of all the madness.

No, grab your Cinderella slippers and linger after midnight.

*Lyrics from The Dance by Tony Arata

The Miracle of Skin-to-Skin (and Why It’s Not Just for Babies)

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Skin to SkinA few nights ago My Promise ran the first fever of her ten month old life. It came on at bedtime and for the length of a sleepless night all she wanted and all I could do was hold her while she struggled to sleep. 

Cuddled in my arms she looked so terribly pathetic. Her eyes were weak, her skin was hot, and as she breathed she whispered the saddest whimper.

For a mom these are the moments when you’ll do anything to bring comfort to your little one. Around 3:00 am her fever spiked to its highest mark making sleep impossible for her and for me. Remembering her newborn days and how much she was comforted by skin-to-skin contact I stripped her down to her diaper and pushed back my shirt to lay her bare on my chest. Within minutes she settled down and drifted back to sleep. By morning her fever broke and the worst of her illness was over.

As I cuddled her in the dark, our bare skin touching, comforting both of us, my thoughts wandered out of our nursery and into the stable where Christ was born. 

I thought of the infant king, the Prince of Heaven, now wrapped in human flesh and I realized this miracle, this breakthrough from heaven to earth, this God with us, fleshy, and human, and born like us, was and is the ultimate skin-to-skin care the world has ever known.

Christ, who could have remained in heaven, who could have loved us from afar, chose to enter in. Chose to take on skin. Chose to live skin-to-skin among us.

In a mother to infant relationship the benefits of skin-to-skin contact in the first weeks of life are nearly endless. It comforts, it soothes, it promotes all kinds of biological goodness. It creates security, bonds of closeness, and helps and infant adapt to life outside the womb.

And when Christ came to earth this and so much more is just what He had in mind. To cradle us, weak and whimpering and helpless from sin, in His arms. To secure us. Heal us. Make us well. To help us cope and adapt to a world outside His kingdom no longer alone but with Him all around us, beside us, inside us. 

And perhaps most importantly, most amazing of all, was in Christ coming to earth, in Christ becoming human everything that existed between us was pushed back, stripped away. 

He entered in wholly and vulnerable so that nothing could keep us from Him.

As C.S. Lewis once wrote,

“The Son of God became a man to enable men to become sons of God.”

 

Dear ones, as you celebrate this Christmas Day may the miracle of Christmas comfort you, secure you, redeem you. May you find yourself in His arms, on His chest, cradled and cured by His love.

Forever changed, made well, made whole, by the touch of Savior skin. 

What We Have to Remember When Evil Breaks Loose

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Nativity“Tell me, Annabelle, how is she?”

“She’s different, my lord. I’m afraid her time in Lukenwalde, and that horrid Prince Silvano, has changed her dramatically.

“I was afraid it might be so.”

“Tell me, my lord, is it time? I hate to see her languish like this. She can’t even look at her gifts. She insisted I burry them in that wooden chest of hers. Hidden in darkness, they have remained there since the day she came home.”

“It saddens me to hear it, but no, ‘tis still not time.”

“Forgive me, but I can’t see the sense in waiting much longer. I know you have your reasons, but I don’t understand.”

“Trust me. ‘Tis all I can ask. I know ‘tis hard. I know you don’t understand. But trust me, dear Annabelle. Please, just trust me.”

~*~*~*~

As I watched the headlines light up the screen last Friday night all I could think was: Again? It’s happening again?

Innocent people murdered. People doing nothing but living their lives, attacked by pure evil.

I thought of the school children killed in 2012.

The marathon bombing of 2013.

The heinous acts being carried out against men, women, and precious children throughout the Middle East.

And now Paris.

I thought of what this world has come to and the evil we’re facing and how we desperately need a rescue.

And I thought of my story, of this scene I edited just a few days ago. About the king and his beloved that fill the pages of this tale I’m writing.

In this particular scene the king’s beloved, Princess Merrily, is in trouble. She needs a hero, a rescue. Her friend and confidant, Annabelle, implores the king to come. 

But the king, he’s patient and wise. He has a plan and it’s a good one. And while Annabelle doesn’t understand, the king asks just one thing: “Trust me, dear Annabelle. Please, just trust me.” 

When evil strikes like it did last Friday I think we’re all inclined to implore our King and Savior to come. To come and rescue His beloved. To come and recue this weary world. We don’t understand the evil or why He’s waiting so long.

But our King, too, is patient and wise. He has a plan. A good, good plan. To prosper and not to harm. To give hope and a future.

And our King, too, asks us to trust. 

To trust him and Him alone.

Not our government. The headlines. The next election.

Not our trendy beliefs. Our Facebook posts. Our celebrities, our leaders, our heroes.

Not the rock of dread in our gut. The voice of fear in our ears. The image of horror before our eyes. 

Just Him.

“Trust me,” He says. “Trust my tract record. My truth. My promise.”

“Trust my unfailing love for this world, for you, for my precious beloved.”

“Please, just trust me.”

 Trust that the King is coming.