fires we didn't start

could write about how i'm archiving all of the grief posts onto one page

could write about homemade tortillas

could write about . . .all kinds of things that i'm not really thinking about.

there's such a fine line hanging out there once you choose to dump your life out in front of people

choose honesty

choose real

choose the heartbreaking joy of not faking

there's this line that can be crossed.

it's called the oversharing line.

not everyone needs to know that Hayley had a bad day.

it's unnecessary.

it drags people down.

it's the reason I don't update my status with a Motrin mention when I have a headache.

so hopefully I'm not oversharing when I say that sometimes. . . in the middle of a very blessed life

and beautiful children

and an incredible man to love me, I still have really bad days.




sometimes life gets complicated

and decisions have two sides

and truth is grey

and you're not sure if the answers are what you need.

sometimes the fires we have to put out weren't ones that we started.

sometimes



you know. 



so when it was one of those days 

and I heard this song tonight. . . it stopped me in my i'm right this time, he's wrong tracks.

I had to pass it on because I cannot be the only person in the world who has days when fighting for your marriage is hard.

love isn't something you fall into.

it's learned.

we have the very best Teacher.

and we learn to love. . . because He first loved us.





I need the fear of a love that's lost
I need to stop trying to count the cost
I need to fight on the losing side
And always hold true
I will always stay with you

Til we know the pain of a broken heart
We can't walk through the fires we didn't start
Just hold on to the way it is tonight
And learn to love through the darkness and the light
I'm on your side

I had the fortune of a second chance
I know the reason why we all should dance
I've seen the end and all you have to do
Is always hold true
I will always stay with you

Til we know the pain of a broken heart
We won't walk through the fires we didn't start
Just hold on to the way it is tonight
We can learn to love through the darkness and the light
I'm on your side
Always hold true
I will always stay with you

Til we know the broken heart
We can't walk through the fires we didn't start
Just hold on to the way it is tonight
And learn to love through the darkness and the light
Oh, learn to love

{Needtobreathe, Learn to Love, from the album The Reckoning}

Forgiveness (7 x 70)

I was driving through Lake of the Ozarks several weeks ago when I heard this song for the first time. Navigating unfamiliar roads, I frantically grabbed at a pen and post its so I could scribble down the artist and title.

What speaks to your heart through this song is that life is hard. Sometimes we're told that we shouldn't let hard stuff or cutting words or abandonment define us.  But that's kind of a joke, because hard stuff does make us who we are.  There usually isn't the option of just moving on or getting over it.

Tonight, besides our ever-popular {ever-patiently playing 10 games of UNO with JD and Cambria} Henry, we had another young man sharing our dinner table.  He spoke about a life that I can't even begin to imagine.

abandonment

little brothers and sisters torn apart by neglect, lost parental rights, adoption to different families

phone-call relationships with parents

unanswered questions

why didn't they care? 

That  kind of stuff does define you.

I love how Chris August writes (and sings) that forgiveness makes a way.  It doesn't erase;  it wraps around.

( . . .rain. . . )

I don't usually post videos.

I definitely don't watch tv preachers.

And I never look up inspirational "talks" on YouTube.

But when Daniel came home after watching this at a mens night at church, he looked it up for me and made me sit down and watch.

It's moving.

I wept.

The love that a father has for his son - the images reminded me of that morning and watching my husband and son.  And to realize that God loves us through the rain and storms of life. . . overwhelming.

If you have ten minutes. . . watch this with an open heart.

Inadequacy. . .

Choice:

Choose to dwell on the fact that Jacob wrote his name on his Sunday pants while we were blissfully enveloped in the Steven Curtis Chapman concert

or

Choose to dwell on the fact that I totally fail at the respect part of Emerson Eggerich's great Love & Respect concept

or

Choose to dwell on the fact that JD has apparently not been obeying his Sunday School teachers for some time now

or

Choose to dwell on why Cambria *still sucks her thumb*

or

Choose to worry if I can let myself love another baby

or

Choose to be frustrated that my husband bought me a super nice expensive razor (I do shave my legs, that wasn't a hint from him) instead of something that I would rather have. (Men and their gift choices never cease to amaze me)

or

I can choose dependence on Christ.

I can thank Him that I have a concrete (or rather, ink) opportunity to train my son.

I can be thankful for a husband that I can respect.

I can be thankful that I have the awareness and ability to teach my son to obey authorities in his life.

I can thank God for a sensitive daughter who needs me and needs love.

I can trust that perfect love casts out fear and know that God will fill my heart with the love I need to care for my little people

I can enjoy a super nice razor and enjoy the card my man got for me that tells me I am appreciated and loved (even though I feel so, so inadequate).

Inadequate is a good place to be; I realize that it's not about me.  It's not about my skills.  It's not about my wisdom, and definitely not my parenting.  Inadequacy forces me to the Cross and to acknowledge that it's about Him.

Note:

When I found the ink name, I brought the pants to Jacob and he looked dutifully guilty.  I told him he would have to help me scrub it out among other things.

"Mom."

"Yes, Jacob."

"Look in the pocket."

{I look.  Crumpled up note.  Misspelled words.}

Mom as so [backward "s"] god too me. Love [backward "l"] Jacob

"It says mom is so good to me."

Big brown eyes.

Hopeful for forgiveness.

I melt.

Thanks, God, that You model forgiveness and give me so much hope for my inadequacy.  Let me live that kind of love and model that forgiveness to my children.

this hand is bitterness

.

This hand is bitterness -- we want to taste it

let the hatred numb our sorrow

The wise hand opens slowly

to lilies of the valley -- and tomorrow.

from Natalie Grant's amazing {Held}

I never understood the concept of hatred drowning out sorrow. . .

never had any reason to contemplate that.

When you grow up in an incredible family

marry a gorgeous guy

live in a beautiful home

have friends you don't deserve

receive the gift of three perfect children. . .

. . .that kind of existence doesn't negate the obvious stresses of life, but it also doesn't lend itself to. . .

bitter tears

crushing pain

confusion in relationships

broken hearts

anger at people who don't understand

bewildering loneliness

frightening loss of reason and balance

I am struggling with forgiveness tonight. . .

It's oh so much easier to let hatred numb the sorrow.

Irrational anger at ones who don't understand. But how could they?

Frustration with carefree people. Carefree. What does that feel like again?

Fury directed at stuff that doesn't matter. Let's fixate on how annoying it is that Cambria threw sand in the pool and clogged the pool filter. If I can stay annoyed, maybe I won't feel the pulsating grief.

Not angry with God.

How could I be angry at the Giver of Gabe's life?

I have cried out to the silent heavens, standing by his little grave, God. . . . whhhhhhhhyyyyyyyy?

And those stories you hear of people who are so incredibly submissive to the will of God in the face of unspeakable tragedy?

Yeah, not us.

There was a lot of ER hallway wall pounding from Daniel -- God, no, no, no, no, God! A lot of screaming no, no, no, no, God from me {in pillows, in the car with the windows rolled up, into his little fire hat}.

I've told God that it's too hard.

I've told Him that I don't want to do this.

But I am not shaking my fist at my Heavenly Father.

People, on the other hand. . .

I need so much grace for relationships right now.

I am so weak.

My flesh is so strong.

It is so tempting to nurse bitterness.

To be slow to forgive.

To allow wounds to fester instead of heal.

To close my heart to anyone who is less than superhuman. Our friends & amazing family - yes, you guys - you are superhuman. {everyone can't be superhuman? what?}

Yuck.

God - can You drown out the bitterness. . .

the anger

the hatred

the wounds that seem too deep to heal?

You can heal.

You are way strong enough to fix our broken hearts.

You can supply the oil of forgiveness.

My cup is so empty, Lord.

There isn't anything in my heart left to give. . .

. . . but You are the Giver of Life.

You are also the Giver of Eternal Life.

I love You for that tonight - the promise of eternity with You.