Today I took my kiddo with me to celebrate the first birthday of a local rescue home that takes in girls who are victims of human trafficking. It was great to celebrate what is happening through the staff and volunteers who are working with girls who have had the unspeakable done to them.
I had explained to El Kiddo that these girls were horribly abused and people really hurt them (I did not explain any more deeply - he got enough to know why I would care). He was indignant that any parent would allow that to happen and that anyone would do that to someone in the first place. At the celebration there was a box where you could write encouragement to the girls. His said, "I hope you get well soon." While I know he doesn't understand what they need to heal from, he understands that healing is needed.
I was thankful he chose to write anything. I have a passionate conviction about helping others and I express that a lot, but I never tell him he has to agree or that he has to do anything. I just involve him in some of what I do and I live it out in front of him. When he took a card to write a note, it was wholly his own doing. I was so proud he cared enough to write something to hurting girls he'd probably never meet.
During the celebration they had a survivor of trafficking speak. As she told her story, I felt my heart aching for her. A beautiful Indian girl, she said, "I thought if I was just White things wouldn't be this way. I thought I would be loved and worth something." After she told her story - and her incredible story of healing in a safe house - she sat down. The celebration closed and El Kiddo grabbed me and said, "Mom, that girl said she didn't feel like she could be loved because of the color of her skin! That is so wrong! God loves her! She is special! I need to tell her!"
I looked at him. His eyes were wide open. It appalled him that she had said that she didn't think she was special. I told him I'd walk over with him so he could say whatever he wanted to... We approached her and he said, "You are special. The color of your skin doesn't matter. God loves you. I want you to know that. I heard you say you didn't think you were special, but that's not true." She thanked him and talked to him for a few minutes. She asked if she could have a hug and he gave her one of his signature bone-crushing hugs (hope she needed that chiropractic realignment...).
My eyes welled up with tears. He was genuinely grieved that she ever felt she was less than. I watched God take hold of his heart and use him to love someone who had experienced immense brokenness. As we left the event he said, "I'm glad we went. No one should be abused. I'm glad we can help."
Tonight I'm the proudest mama on the planet. Not because I've done anything other than provide an open environment where God is central and where I live what I believe. What happens in El Kiddo's heart is between him and Jesus. And when I get glimpses of God at work and see my sweet boy love well and love real... Well, I'm overjoyed. And I pray that my son becomes a man after God's own heart, loving Jesus with all he has, and loving others well - no matter how messy their lives are or have been.
Saturday, July 27, 2013
Tuesday, July 23, 2013
Pressing in when being pressed on
Today is one of those days. You know the kind. Where stress seems to overtake you and you hit your limits of what you can handle. The days where everyone is pissed at you, trying to cover their own butts, and oh-so-willing to copy your line manager on stuff - whether or not you could control any of the outcomes to begin with. It's one of those days where it seems nothing works and then you get the call that what you had planned for later in the week just got a whole lot harder and exponentially increased your workload. It's the kind of day where it all rolls uphill if you're in management and you get to step into the conflict of others to defend or protect or help. It's the kind of day where you hit your upper limit of being able to cope with the stress and you close your door to take deep breaths, or go to your car, or go to Starbucks. Or do all three.
And these days don't happen in a vacuum. No, regular life is happening too. You know, the kind where you drop your crying child off at the before school program and end up with snot on your black suit jacket. The kind where the night before you got to have your first real "birds and bees" conversation with your son who is on the cusp of puberty, all while acting like it's totally normal meanwhile you're totally uncomfortable, praying desperately for God to give you the words, and mourning the loss (to a degree) of your baby - and this is all in one breath.
For me, days like today also make me press in. The unbearable pressure from a day where everything seems to be going wrong and not working and where I know my stress level has moved beyond the limit where I can successfully cope and where I feel like just crying - then I press in. It's times like this I feel my weakness and my frailty. I feel how much I need Jesus, and how much I simply cannot stand under the weight of a challenging world without Him. I feel how much I need His strong arms to pick me up and hold me close. I can press in to Him.
And because He is limitless He can hold me up and help me walk forward no matter how beaten and bruised I feel I am.
So I take five minutes, and deep breaths, and for a moment I let myself feel the closeness of Jesus. A few tears escape and drop onto the keyboard while I just exhale, deeply thankful that when I feel like I can't stand up under the pressure, I can press in. Today, I'm a weary traveler. I'm also the daughter of a great God. So life presses on and I press in.
And these days don't happen in a vacuum. No, regular life is happening too. You know, the kind where you drop your crying child off at the before school program and end up with snot on your black suit jacket. The kind where the night before you got to have your first real "birds and bees" conversation with your son who is on the cusp of puberty, all while acting like it's totally normal meanwhile you're totally uncomfortable, praying desperately for God to give you the words, and mourning the loss (to a degree) of your baby - and this is all in one breath.
For me, days like today also make me press in. The unbearable pressure from a day where everything seems to be going wrong and not working and where I know my stress level has moved beyond the limit where I can successfully cope and where I feel like just crying - then I press in. It's times like this I feel my weakness and my frailty. I feel how much I need Jesus, and how much I simply cannot stand under the weight of a challenging world without Him. I feel how much I need His strong arms to pick me up and hold me close. I can press in to Him.
And because He is limitless He can hold me up and help me walk forward no matter how beaten and bruised I feel I am.
So I take five minutes, and deep breaths, and for a moment I let myself feel the closeness of Jesus. A few tears escape and drop onto the keyboard while I just exhale, deeply thankful that when I feel like I can't stand up under the pressure, I can press in. Today, I'm a weary traveler. I'm also the daughter of a great God. So life presses on and I press in.
28 Have you not known? Have you not heard?
The Lord is the everlasting God,
the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He does not faint or grow weary;
his understanding is unsearchable.
29 He gives power to the faint,
and to him who has no might he increases strength.
30 Even youths shall faint and be weary,
and young men shall fall exhausted;
31 but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength;
they shall mount up with wings like eagles;
they shall run and not be weary;
they shall walk and not faint.
The Lord is the everlasting God,
the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He does not faint or grow weary;
his understanding is unsearchable.
29 He gives power to the faint,
and to him who has no might he increases strength.
30 Even youths shall faint and be weary,
and young men shall fall exhausted;
31 but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength;
they shall mount up with wings like eagles;
they shall run and not be weary;
they shall walk and not faint.
Isaiah 40:28-31 (ESV)
Friday, July 5, 2013
New Life Where It's Least Expected
I failed.
As a mom.
As a generally organized individual.
I forgot to sign my son up for before and after school care. Now it's full. In three days he starts school and I have few options. With him being on the autism spectrum sudden changes are hard enough. Sudden changes that don't have an easy resolution are devastating. In this week of transition I threw in another one through my own lack of organization. I let him down as it relates to his routine. I let him down at a grade transition. I just plain let him down.
And, I'll confess, I'm having some tough moments, too. I know that we'll figure something out. We always do. We're survivors. Somehow, we will make this work. I'll find something, we'll walk through it, and it will be okay.
And then I cry, not knowing how this will work out and heartbroken because I've caused my son more challenges. Yeah, stuff happens in life and sometimes I even orchestrate change so he can grow in this area. But I'm also so cognizant of his anxiety, his need to understand, and I try so hard to only make beneficial changes. And this surely doesn't feel like one.
In the midst of scrambling to figure it out I've been crying out to God. I really have no other place to take what I feel. He's the only one who can bear the brunt of my stress and still love me as I flail and freak out and try to trust. Yes, we've been in precarious spots before. He always provides. So, in the middle of my distress I did what all people do - went to get Thai takeout.
Okay, maybe no one else does that. But I have no dinner-making materials so it's a takeout night. Besides, I find curry comforting.
As I came back in my house, I looked down that the attempts I have on my front porch at growing plants. Two pots are doing well. One pot is dead.
Well, I thought it was dead.
As I surveyed my "garden" I saw what appeared to be little shoots coming out of the soil. The closer I looked I could see it - there was new life. In this plant that I thought had no hope there was new life.
Peace flooded me as I thought about what Jesus says about new life. He brings beauty from ashes - even ashes I helped to create. And that brings me peace. It brings me peace to know He can (and does) redeem anything. He loves both my son and me more than I could eve hope to. He is with us. He will bring new life.
I walked into the house, set down my Thai food, and just thanked Him. I am no closer to resolution than I was before I left. I'm no less sad. But I am at peace. Even in the moments where holding on to who God is seems nearly impossible, He shows up. He transcends my mistakes and failures and loves me (and my son!) with an unbridled love that I can't even begin to fully fathom. He is here.
As a mom.
As a generally organized individual.
I forgot to sign my son up for before and after school care. Now it's full. In three days he starts school and I have few options. With him being on the autism spectrum sudden changes are hard enough. Sudden changes that don't have an easy resolution are devastating. In this week of transition I threw in another one through my own lack of organization. I let him down as it relates to his routine. I let him down at a grade transition. I just plain let him down.
And, I'll confess, I'm having some tough moments, too. I know that we'll figure something out. We always do. We're survivors. Somehow, we will make this work. I'll find something, we'll walk through it, and it will be okay.
And then I cry, not knowing how this will work out and heartbroken because I've caused my son more challenges. Yeah, stuff happens in life and sometimes I even orchestrate change so he can grow in this area. But I'm also so cognizant of his anxiety, his need to understand, and I try so hard to only make beneficial changes. And this surely doesn't feel like one.
In the midst of scrambling to figure it out I've been crying out to God. I really have no other place to take what I feel. He's the only one who can bear the brunt of my stress and still love me as I flail and freak out and try to trust. Yes, we've been in precarious spots before. He always provides. So, in the middle of my distress I did what all people do - went to get Thai takeout.
Okay, maybe no one else does that. But I have no dinner-making materials so it's a takeout night. Besides, I find curry comforting.
As I came back in my house, I looked down that the attempts I have on my front porch at growing plants. Two pots are doing well. One pot is dead.
Well, I thought it was dead.
As I surveyed my "garden" I saw what appeared to be little shoots coming out of the soil. The closer I looked I could see it - there was new life. In this plant that I thought had no hope there was new life.
Peace flooded me as I thought about what Jesus says about new life. He brings beauty from ashes - even ashes I helped to create. And that brings me peace. It brings me peace to know He can (and does) redeem anything. He loves both my son and me more than I could eve hope to. He is with us. He will bring new life.
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