One Tear at a Time

One Tear at a Time

       Who can hold each tear or tell from the place that it falls from. There is nothing like letting your child go to heaven and not having a mother that wants to hold you through this process, or at least eachother. I am struggling with trying not to add this hurt that I am experiancing to the baggage of our relationship. Two phone converstaions in 7 months and each lasting maybe five min. 

I have found myself as I was when I was younger desparately wanting to be loved by my family and profoundly rejected. I am frusterated with my self because I desire that no matter how much I try to kill that desire. 

A Pharisee To

A Pharisee To

     Guilty by omission. Thats right I am a pharisee to. Although if you'd ask me just six months ago I would have been highly offended. This is what has made me realize that just how I fell into the pharisee trap. 

God in his mighty strength snatched me from a pit of death, planted me on sold free ground cleaned me off and began to heal me. I fell in love and my zeal for Him grew and grew. I was getting to know Jesus and his heart for me. After a while I realized that the crowd of believers that was experiancing this same zeal was smaller then the crowd that wasn't. I began to ask why they were not excited like me. How could they not. I mean did they not fall in love too. 

Then as God was willing to work with this mess called me. I began to understand and become skilled in the way of ministry. I then realized that not all leaders had zeal either and my heart started to form opinions and draw conclusions and I studied people and their walk with God. I became fearful that I would loose my zeal and therefore I became diligent in my seeking of God. The more I saught God the more I let others know that if they wanted a closer relationship with God they to must seek him, because it was working for me. 

My heart is good and I have to say that I had no idea that I was a pharisee in training. Isn't this how satan works though. You are filled with zeal for the Lord and then satan takes your gaze away from God for a split second and you realize that what you are seeing and hearing how others experiance Christ is a far cry from what you experiance. It is a deadly trap an addictive one. 

Countless times I have asked why are they leading they don't even get it, or this is a sad time the church is a mess. In my heart I have said much more. I pray that I am not the lone pharisee. 

Yet this problem begs for a deeper answer. How do you loose the joy of your salvation? How do we as leaders encourage others to lay hold of their zeal for God with out coming across as having it figuared out? How do you walk in humility, grace and understanding sometimes for years with one person or several while being passionate, determined, feirce, and bold? Those seem so opposite of eachother. I am incapeable of not sinning. 

Beautiful Release

Beautiful Release

When I am faced with any change in my life that reqires me to face uncertainty I grapple with fear. Tremendous fear. I had made fear my advisor in life. Currently we are facing a life changing circumstance. We are currently planning the celebration of life service for our unborn son. This is much like an Abraham journey. I have viewed letting go of something loved as a valley experiance, much like a funeral of the heart. And it has felt very much like that. Choosing to remain pregnant till God chooses to recieve our gift I aliken to the walk Abraham made up the mountian with his son Issac.

The other day pre labor contractions started and I was fludded with fear. Not of  the death of our son, but all of the unknowns and the pain. My loving husband lay next to me as I wept and frustrated with his unablity to take this from me, he washed my broken spirit with the word. Suddenly the question came to my mind. why are some healed and others not, why do we pray and pray and press into the father and still recieve that what we do not want. I am possitive that Abraham wrestled with the same questions as he packed his bags and headed for the mountain top. Then God gently spoken to my clinging to fear heart. Do you believe really that I am good? And, in that moment being completely honest I was having my doubts. Sometime the losses feel greater then the rewards. It was as if a old veil was being removed from my eyes. If I believed He was good and his desire for me is good then my fear is really a lack of belief in him. If I believed he was good then my journey up the mountain would be a relief my obediance to His desire to have our son to Him self would be my greatest pleasure. What I was veiwing as a valley experiance would be quite beautiful, quite holy.

This is devine holiness. And, this has changed the way I pray as I walk this mountain. I pray that my mind is kept pure, that I do not stumble, that I am able to rejoice on my way, singing new songs. Songs of His generostity, goodness, and His faithfulness. I want to celebrate the unknown and misunderstood mystries of God and His marvolious heart for us.
Earlier in this journey I was grieving hard and asked a dear friend how do I find joy in the midst of my suffering, how do I suffer well. Purhaps this is what Paul was talking about. Joy in suffering is when we let go of it's sting.

So I let of my life line called fear and reclined in the lap of God and swang in peace from this mountain top. From here the veiw is stunning, and worth its suffering. It is a beautiful release!

Confessions of a grieving mother

Confessions of a grieving mother

I found my self today grappling with the fact that God gave his son for me and I am having a hard time giving my son back. The way He asked me was loving, enduring and clearly the desire of His heart. But, why am I unable to give this child of my to God who loves me more than I can comprehend, who's plans are good for me and His will being so soverign and generious. The last thing I ever want to do is grapple with God over this one. In my heart I want to freely give as he ask, and yet I am selfish, angry at times and jealous even. I find myself questioning things I swore I never would.

If only this was the only confession. I have become critical even judgmental. I splatter my grief like a toxic paint on what seems to be everyone around me. What I complain about is not even the fact that I will be laying my son to rest when he is born. It's about everything else under the sun. My pet peaves are on a hightened sense of irritation and I am itching to voice my opion. When what is that anyway. Being right is all that is, being right, and even then most times its not worth it.

Who am I to complain? Yet, at this moment I am not as thankful as I long to be. Im in a pit of pain, grief, discontent, and even worse bitterness. I know its a mistake to look at the grass on the other side of the fence, yet at times the side I am on is some times unbearable. What I don't want is to look back at this time and wish I worshiped more, was more thankful, and offered more grace because the grace offered to me in this time of my life is truely a gift in it's self.

Just some confessions of a grieving mother.

So much life

So Much Life

Its been far to long sense my last post, but a recommendation from my bereavement nurse that I began to write again. 

I am mid way through my 27th week of pregnancy with our beautiful son Peter Roman and we are planning his going away celebration of life. On one aspect I am blessed that I have the oppertunity to put thought into what we are and will be experiancing when we lay our son down. Yet I am so torn. I do not know how to grieve. I feel a great sense of responsibility in grieving with hope for those who are watching and because I love Jesus. There are so many women who have gone through this and yet I feel as though I am blazing a new painful trail.

I am loved, supported and encouraged by hundrends of beautiful people and yet I feel utterly alone. Like my world has stopped but everyone else is in movement. I don't know how to carry my son, feel his movements and stay emotionally and spiritually level. I hate being the center of tragitiy and that there are few times in my life where there has not been tragitiy on some level.

This is my 10th pregnancy and I have two living children, and I wish that was all the tragitiy but far from it. I beg to go home, I beg God to take me home because I am utterly broken and the older I get the harder it is to remain vonrable and the less I trust. I don't want to be that person but it feels so out of my control. I feel ship wrecked and fear I have lost who I am.