Revealing The Story

How Our Stories Fit Into THE Story

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May 31, 2017 /

We’ve  made it to the end of May! Can we agree? This month rivals December for the title of “most insane month” when it comes to schedule.

Each day is special but sometimes I want to scream: “get me off this crazy train!”

If you’re  like me, even amidst days full of activities and people, I fall into bed with a body that is weary, and a soul that feels dead. And since time is precious, I will make this short:

We need moments of refreshment.

Momentary exhales where we remember that God is God and we are not.

Moments to surrender to His lead, to relax beside still waters (maybe only figuratively) -because it’s there He  refreshes our soul.

Recently I found myself in that familiar tired, worn out place.  So I forced myself to put the laundry down, leave my phone in the kitchen, go to my room, and close my door. (The struggle is REAL, friends).

In the quiet, all alone, my eyes filled with tears and I wrote :

“My soul is so hungry, Lord.”

God reminded me, ” I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never go hungry ” John 6:35

“My spirit is dry and I’m so thirsty“

And I remembered the verse..”but whoever drinks of the water that I will give him will never be thirsty again. The water that I will give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.”John 4:14 ”

“I am so tired and weary”

“Come to me, all you who are weary and heavy laden and I will give you rest.” Matthew 11:26

I realized there was a commonality in these verses: when we admit our need, He beckons us to “come to Him” then promises to fill our emptiness.

And I’m  finding that only God satisfies the deepest longings of our soul.  Scrolling Facebook, nor scarfing a bag of chips, nor Netflix binges, nor even small talk with a friend will refill our cups the way that moments with Jesus can.

Think about it..When things get all outta whack on our computer screen, or an influx of input causes the machine to glitch and freeze, what do we do? We look for the refresh button and with a click of a finger all things align and fall back into place.

These days I’m reminded to search for those “refresh button” moments.

When life makes me frantic or I notice I’m operating on empty-  it’s time to return to my Maker, the one whose burden is easy and light.

Let him refresh your soul today with the words from this song based on Isaiah 55.

” All who are weary,

all who are weak

come to the fountain

dip your heart in the Stream of life.

The pain and the sorrow

will wash away

In the waves of his Mercy

Where deep calls out to Deep

come Lord Jesus, come. ”

 

–Alyssa

waves

May 17, 2017 /

I’m fine.

Not really.

Let’s give each other permission to tuck away our practiced smiles and admit when it’s been a tough day.

For, no matter how good we’ve become at riding life’s waves, they sometimes crest over our heads.

This is normal. We don’t have to be ‘happy’ all the time; especially when we’re talking to God.

Father, I’m worn-out. Trust is hard. I keep thinking I know what’s best.

If one of your kids asked you for bread would you give them a stone? If you know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more capable am I? – Matthew 7:9

Yes, but what if letting go means watching someone get crushed?

Make me your dwelling and no disaster will come to you. My angels will lift you up. You will trample the great lion and the serpent. – Psalm 91:9-13

Bad things happen all the time. And, I can sense the lions prowling. Don’t ask me to believe that they’ll simply disappear.

Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name, you are mine. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze.-Isaiah 43:1-2

I can smell the smoke.

I will cover you. Under my wings you will find refuge; my faithfulness is your shield. – Psalm 91:4

You know the fragile aspects of this situation. Fear lurks around each shadowed corner.

My grace is sufficient for you. For my power is perfected in your weakness. – 2 Cor. 12:9

Waves will come and go.

Let’s not make their impact worse by judging ourselves for swallowing water.

Lean in to the One who can strengthen your legs when they grow weary from treading. Lean in to the One whose capacity for love exceeds your own. Lean in to the One who can provide peace in the midst of chaos.

Keep riding, dear ones. Keep riding.

 

Laura

The Mirror

April 26, 2017 /

This last weekend I was able to pull away from the busy whirlwind of life and take some time to be with God.

I sat beside a beautiful babbling brook in the fresh morning air and prayed about the state of my heart – asking Jesus to show, to reveal my heart. To look in a mirror and see what He really sees when He looks at me.

Truth be told, I was afraid of the mirror.  Some mornings I don’t like the physical mirror. So I definitely didn’t want to look into a spiritual one.

I was afraid of the reflection that I assumed would be there.

You see, I feel like I’m sort of a broken-glued-back-together person. And it had been awhile since I had looked into the mirror. It had been awhile since I had looked into His eyes and asked what He saw in me.

Life has a way of pushing us, prodding us, and sometimes breaking us.  Sometimes I look at where I am in life and feel confused. This isn’t exactly how I had pictured it going. I’m guessing you might relate, friend. Whether it’s big things or small things, we all can start to feel like we’re just glued back together, and although functional, not very pretty. Events and people in our lives can have a way of changing us…and for me, I feel so different that I guess I assumed my reflection must be pretty scarred.

But, fears aside, I sat on that bench by a serene creek in the middle of the woods, let down my guard, and asked my God to show me.

I was praying, and all of a sudden was struck at how beautiful my surroundings were.

It was just stunning. The sunlight refracted across the plants and weeds, pulling forth a vivid green. The moss-covered boulders jutted out from the ground, telling the water which way to flow. The low hanging trees seemed to admire their reflection in the pools around the edges. The air was fresh and full of earthy goodness. The creek gurgled soothingly as it passed me by.

The birds sang while my God nudged me to truly see.

And that’s when He showed me the mirror.

This scene I sat in was so life-giving, so beautiful, and yet so not perfect. It was actually full of disorder. Broken pieces of rocks everywhere in no particular order. Splashing water flowed over broken places. Moss, a fungus growing, unruly vines and weeds sprouted all over. A tree stump spoke of life cut down. Even mud and bugs.

And yet Beauty.

Not manufactured beauty, but true beauty. Unique beauty. Restored beauty.

Friend, it is just so with you and with me. He takes our broken places and restores them into beautiful places that are life-giving to those around us.

This place, was unique. Although I could find thousands of other beautiful places in nature, not one of them would be identical to this.  No one else can look like you. Your beauty, your true beauty, your restored beauty is unique. Your restored self is what people need because it is life-giving.

Restoration in one of my favorite characteristics of God. Until I sat beside that creek this weekend, I had forgotten that our heart reflections, if we are submitted to Him, will simply reveal His endless faithfulness to restore beauty.

 

-Kallie

Welcome to my mess

April 19, 2017 /

“Trails and trails of ants.”

Not exactly what I wanted to hear as I hurriedly walked into the house bearing arms full of groceries. Expecting to see the clean counters I had scrubbed last night, my eyes instead zeroed in on the hundreds of cans and jars,  boxes and bags of food that covered every counter top while my husband quickly pulled out more.

An army of ants had invaded our kitchen.

I hate ants.

They make my blood boil.

And that specific morning, after all the rain had subsided, the ant brigade thought it’d be a perfect time to take refuge in our food cabinets where the feasting possibilities were endless! (How long HAD it been since I had cleaned out the stickyness and crumbs in those shelves?)

As I  joined my husband in the romance of wiping off objects and throwing bag upon bag away- I had this daunting realization.

We’d be hosting a major playdate any minute.

And one of the little girls we invited over was fresh off the plane from Autstralia and had never been over to our house before. This was not my idea of a welcome party.

Like clockwork,  the doorbell rang. I looked around my kitchen. It looked like an absolute disaster zone. My stomach churned,


I had the passing thought “Maybe they’ll just drop the kids off at the door and I can finish cleaning this up.”

Her parents and I chatted cordially at the door. I stood where I could strategically block the view of my disastrous kitchen. .. But then my fear became a reality- these people weren’t leaving any time soon.

And I sensed God whisper “Invite them in- to join you on the couch;” Like an obedient child,  I promptly IGNORED it.

This happened three times until I knew I needed to oblige. They weren’t picking up on my non-verbals that said “time to go home.”  And so I called them over to the couch with the spectacular kitchen view.

I tried to offer an explanation and make a joke about the 2017 Ant  Storm- the- Kitchen Operation, but continued to feel embarrassed. As we chatted,  my mind began to spiral...what were they thinking? What judgments would be made about us? What did this MESS say about me, as a homemaker, mom….human being??? (as if a dirty kitchen tells all!)

Our mess. Human nature is to HIDE it.

Somehow we’ve come to believe the myth that smiley posed Facebook pictures are a snapshot of REALITY, and that someone who doesn’t appear to have it all together won’t have any friends.

Somewhere along the line we’ve also believed that we’ve gotta clean ourselves up before pursuing friendships, going to church, exploring “religion” or making steps toward God.

We make comparisons and excuses. “I’m not pure enough like THAT person. When I have more time, after I’ve gone to counseling, once I’m married and have kids,  THEN I’ll look into this God thing.”

We seem to think we’re the only people on the planet that are messed up, and that a holy God couldn’t accept one as broken as us.

But, here’s my FAVORITE truth from the Easter story this year…..

Not AFTER we were all cleaned up, or worthy, but WHILE we were funk messy.

Jesus chose the gnarly- the tax collector who knew he was unpopular, the smelly fisherman who said it like it was, the outlandish Peter who couldn’t quite control his emotions or tongue, even Judas, the friend who would undoubtedly betray him. Jesus comes for the broken. Those who open their pantries and acknowledge their mess.

He’s all about GRACE. “If you confess your sins, He is faithful and just and will forgive your sins and cleanse you.” I John 1:9 .

“Confess your sins to each other and pray for each other you will be healed.” James 3:1

Are we willing to be vulnerable? 

God wants us to be real with Him. and with each other. Because most of the time, when we are, there’s miraculously HEALING there.

You know that fateful ANT invasion day ?

Here’s the thing: everything was actually o.k. when I welcomed people into my mess!

Strangely, these new friends seemed to relax and sit back in the refreshing humanness and  imperfection of it all. And somehow I hope that with a little glimpse of  my REAL they’ll feel more welcome to not have to tidy up as much when we stop by next time.

Vulnerability. It’s a big word I learned from those dang ants.

Maybe we need to leave things “as is” in our home (or hearts) and welcome people in anyway…

Or maybe, today, it’s time to open up the cabinets and empty the drawers of our hearts before God. Let Him see our mess…(He’ll love  us the SAME!) And we’ll experience freedom and BUCKETS AND BUCKETS of GRACE not trying to hide anymore.

So say it with me: “welcome to my mess!”

–Alyssa

 

 

eclipse

April 12, 2017 /

Life is sunny.

Until the rain comes.

Precious family members and sweet friends have recently been pummeled by hospitalizations and serious diagnoses. Each bit of news a bomb leaving craters all around; a community-wide ache like a long line of dreary days.

Perhaps you’ve experienced such days.

Total havoc. No words.

My heart has grown heavy as I’ve attempted to navigate this crater-marked landscape of suffering.

‘Jesus, where are you – in – this?’

Shadows are eclipsing the sun.

Shadows take countless forms: self-reliance, denial, anger, disengagement, loss of hope. Shadows are exceptional liars. They seek to divide and conquer.

Tim Keller, a New York City preacher, was asked to come to Ground Zero and address the topic of suffering on the five-year anniversary of 9-11. I’ve been listening to that sermon ad nauseam as my eyes adjust to the shadows.

Keller opens with a common quandary: if God is good yet cannot stop the suffering of mankind, then he must have limited power. Conversely, if his power is limitless yet he chooses not to stop our suffering then he must not be good.

Keller urges us to look back to the work of the cross when Christ took on our suffering, look forward to his ultimate victory over suffering, and look into the wonder of the gospel — the greatest love story ever told.

In a few days we’ll celebrate Easter. It’s a remembrance of Christ’s willingness to step down from perfect community to enter our broken community.

Have you ever wondered why he often withdrew to lonely places? Sure, it was a way to refuel through prayer. But as I attempt to navigate these craters I’ve come to wonder if a deeper need drove him towards that time with his Good Dad.

Think about it, the more we open our hearts to love the more we expose them to weariness. And there’s never been a more perfect love than his. If I am at times overwhelmed by the crater-marked landscape of suffering, then how much more was he? I only need to look as far as the shortest bible verse –‘Jesus wept’.

This Easter you might be surrounded by bunnies, chocolates and pretty things. You might be dragging from the busyness of holidays. Your heart might be draped in shadows. You might be fighting the notion that you’ve been betrayed.

Dear one, lift your chin to the Son. Squint your eyes to see past the shadows. Cry out to him. Beat your fists against his chest. Take ahold of his pierced hand. Pierced for you. He endured the ultimate suffering so that your suffering can someday be swallowed up in victory.

Unclench your fist. Let it fall into his hand. Go at the craters together. There, only there, will you encounter a miracle – affliction eclipsed by glory.

Laura

 

100th POST GIVEAWAY!!!

March 29, 2017 /

TODAY is a day of CELEBRATION for us at Revealing the Story!

We’ve reached 100 posts – stories of God being revealed in the real and ordinary days of our lives.

A big shout-out to all of our guest authors who have courageously shared their stories. We have all been blessed.

And to celebrate 100 posts, we are doing a GIVEAWAY!

 

We’re giving away a fantastic  best-selling new book, by one of our GUEST AUTHORS, “Choosing Real: An Invitation to Celebrate when Life doesn’t go as planned” by Bekah Jane Pogue.  We promise, you’ll LOVE this book.  (to get a taste- check out Bekah’s post  http://www.revealingthestory.com/failure-i-applaud-you/)

To be entered:

  1. Add a comment to this post
  2. Subscribe to the blog (if you already have- let us know)

One entry for each of these! Drawing will be in one week 4/5.

 

 

Riggedy jig and away we go- A tribute to grandma

March 22, 2017 /

Today we said goodbye to my grandma.  A memorial day of beautiful, bittter-sweet moments.  And somehow I feel the need to pen a few thoughts before the sun sets on this sacred day.

I’m  fighting to hear her voice again, her laughter ring in my ears. Suddenly this memory surfaces  and I can hear her sing with all gusto ..

.”…Rrr—iggedy jig and away we go, away we go, away we go, riggedy jig and away we go hi -ho, hi -ho,hi -ho.”

I’m 5 again, her soft hand holding mine and my little brother’s on her right.  We’re skipping up the hill by her house off on another grand adventure. Her little poodle, Tuffy tags along and discovers a butterfly on the sidewalk’s edge. Grandma stops us abruptly…  ” Look!!” She exclaims with a twinkle in her eye- “Isn’t that just won-der-ful!” she claps her hands with delight. “Our God is SO good to show us that!!” And then the song resumes and we skip off again into a world full of possibilities.

You see, this.  THIS is how she saw life.  Each day, a gift from Her creator and one step closer to Heaven.  Her eyes were trained to see the beauty all around and she’d often invite others to share in her joy.

I remember the house she and grandpa lived in and how excited we’d be to knock on that thick brown glass door and ring her cathedral chime doorbell.

I remember the front room, and how perfectly clean it was, doilies  covering every table top surface. To a little girl it appeared to be a mansion!!! I remember the honkey- tonk  piano and organ and how I learned my first piano pieces there by her side.

I remember the glass jars of peach rings, Werther’s originals, and Hershey chocolate nugget gold bars. (She’d always encourage us to sneak a few even in our grown up years).  I remember their den where she sat me on her lap and taught me to sew and the stories she’d tell tell while we did. She could captivate any audience with her stories, but children especially. I remember the smell of her lavender soap when we took baths there on overnight stays.

I remember childhood mornings or later in college when I often crashed there for the night. One thing never changed…the morning routine: the smell of coffee brewing, a hot bowl of oatmeal decorated with brown sugar and raisins, and sweet rolls on dainty glass plates at the table in the enclosed patio room. Grandma and Grandpa would begin every day (rain or shine, camping or home, healthy or sick) by cracking open the weathered blue Bible and reading a portion of scripture, then praying for each family member by name.

And then grandma would get up and fill the three bird feeders outside the window with a koolaid- red liquid. We’d  watch with anticipation  to notice which birds might come to visit  THAT day.   Hummingbirds were her absolute  favorite.

And she’d marvel at how God made such tiny creatures who could fly so fast. “Only He could design something like that. …and just imagine, if He could provide for the sparrows how much more will He take care of us??” She’d say.

She loved the Lord and His Word. One year, while taking care of my grandpa with Alzheimer’s, things were getting especially rough. Grandma had cared for him tirelessly.  She explained how Psalm 91 was her anchor. And she told us any grandchild who memorized  the chapter would get $10. We followed bait, line and sinker -dollar signs in our eyes.. “He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High God, will rest in the shadow of the Almighty....” What Grandma knew was that  $10 was a tiny investment compared to the deposit it made in our personal journeys with God.  For each of us, we’ve  clung  to those memorized truths in our toughest days.

We loved doing life with her. Each of the grandkids (and even our spouses) have a chapter we can point back to of weekly meals/Bible studies/scrabble games with Grandma. And we treasure those memories. She was just the type of lady people wanted to be around. Her joy and laughter, contagious.  

In recent  years my little family would accompany my dad and visit her at the retirement home where she lived. Though dementia was sneaking its way in, she had these great moments  of wit and humor. We’d sing and laugh together. She’d marvel at the kids’ voices saying “beau-ti-ful !!” and maybe encourage them to take a ride on her motorized scooter or “for Pete’s sake”  at least have “nut and chew” See’s candy.  We’d all leave encouraged and happy. That’s the affect she had on people.

Then one Tuesday morning  in February, just after her 92nd birthday, she woke with a stomach ache and was surprisingly gone within the hour.

As the doors to the hospital were being thrown open..the gates of heaven were doing the same. Heaven gained a saint.

Days later, I  helped my dad clean out her room, and a lady named Martha  stopped  by. With tears in her eyes she said, “I’m the housekeeper. Every Monday I’m here cleaning but I save your grandma’s room for last. She’s always here watching TBN and after my shift I sit for a spell and we sing hymns together and then we pray. There’s a lot of darkness in this world but she, she was a light of Jesus.”

I sat on grandma’s bed with Martha  that day and cried big, fat, ugly tears because it wasn’t just US who knew the wonder of our grandma..it was everyone who came in contact with her. And even in her last days, when her mind was foggy and dementia set in….her foundation stood firm. She delighted in God and loved His people.

So tonight as the casket has been lowered, the ceremonies concluded, and the sun sets on the hills, I imagine Grandma looking down from heaven with that twinkle in her eye saying (like she did at the end of every phone call) “goodbye dearie.”

And I imagine her skipping off into heaven singing: “riggedy jig and away we go…hi -ho, hi -ho, hi- ho..”

Goodbye Grandma. We will miss you.

-Alyssa

The Road to Forgiveness

March 15, 2017 /

Forgiveness.

Oh that word. A word of such weight.

It is a heavy word, one that is so completely life-giving and yet at times has felt like it’s going to bury me.

From a close friendship that turned very painful, to hurts purposely inflicted from a co-worker, I am no stranger to relationship pain and the process of forgiving. When I say forgiving, I mean  the release of bitterness, the surrender to God to do what He wills, and the moving on of our hearts. I’m talking about healing. I am not talking about sweeping things under the rug. Or allowing those individuals to continue to hurt you. Forgiveness has everything to do with the condition of our hearts and is not about our offenders accepting that offered forgiveness. I have spent years learning to walk in forgiveness, offering it over and over again as my heart wrestled with the tendency to pick  the hurts back up. We often treat forgiveness as a one-time act, which is  partially accurate. As followers of Christ we do have to make the decision to forgive even when we don’t feel forgiveness towards those that have hurt us. But I have found we sometimes don’t talk about the process; the road of forgiveness. A road that, depending on the depth of the hurt inflicted, can be littered with potholes and reminders of pain.

I’ve also walked the road of forgiving someone that didn’t apologize. Someone who claimed no responsibility for the scars that they had intentionally given my soul. Someone who abused me. Have you been there? When no apology comes, the road to forgiving  can feel impossible. That road seems to lead into a stormy ocean of pain with no way across. It was there standing at the edge of those dark waters that I found I needed a God who parts seas.

My Beloved stood with me in front of those waves. He spoke tenderly, telling me about the healing waiting for me on the opposite shore.

He taught me that in order to truly forgive I had to give up my right, to be right.

I wrestled with that one. I would internally argue that I was right, that justice was not prevailing in this situation. “Father, do you see what they have done? ”

But I ask you to lay that right down and follow me, He whispered.

Lay down your understanding.

Lay down your defense.

Follow me. My example. And watch Me provide the forgiveness you need.

The key to supernatural forgiveness is that I cannot offer it in my own power. I do not possess it. I could not cross the violent waves in front of me by swimming. And let me tell you, I tried. I’ve tried to manufacture forgiveness. To pray that God would give me the strength to swim across the ocean. It didn’t work. Not really. Deep in the crevices of my heart, the crude of unforgiveness was impossible to remove. And the waves of my pain and hurts continued to crash over me. Drowning me. Defeated, I would crawl back to the edge and sit there drenched in my broken mess.

But God had this forgiveness. He had a way through the waves of pain.  He gives it to us freely so we can then give it to others.

I watched in awe as He, in His power, parted the violent waves, the dark waters of all my pain and led me through. As I left my right to be right on that beach, I was able to walk through my ocean of hurt on dry land. He never fails to overwhelm me with His provision. He always provides for me. For you, too, friend.

What He taught me is that I have to recognize that I may not have done the things that my abuser did…but I’m just as guilty of other offenses. That’s a tough one. It never feels like that could be true. But that’s because I have such a skewed vision of truth sometimes. I forget that my pride is just as nasty to God. My thoughts are just as unruly, unrepentant, and hurtful. I am guilty. My sin, in whatever form, required Jesus to die for me. I need forgiveness and I need it bad. God’s sweet forgiveness of my brokenness is what allows me to walk on dry ground to forgiving others.

When I allow God’s forgiveness to pour into my dry heart, when it saturates every crack and crevice, the unforgiveness that was stuck in there becomes dislodged and dissolves. I hold His hand as we walk forward free and unencumbered, overflowing with forgiveness.

-Kallie

 

 

living in the dusk

March 8, 2017 /

There are moments when a seemingly obscure passage in scripture just leaps from the page and spears your heart.

This happened as I worked through John chapter 11. It is the story of Lazarus. A beloved friend of Jesus who died and was resurrected to life in order to bring glory to God.

If you know scripture, then I would imagine you have studied this passage and all that it conveys and foreshadows…with Jesus’ death and resurrection.

This time, verses 9 and 10 leaped out at me. They stared boldly into my face and issued a challenge.

Let me share:

“Are there not twelve hours in the day? If anyone walks in the day, he does not stumble, because he sees the light of this world. But if anyone walks in the night, he stumbles, because the light is not in him.”

These twelve hours can symbolize an entire life. Devoted to God and walking in his will, filled with light and not darkness. When we seek him in all we do and in all we purpose to do, we are able to see clearly where he would have us go.

Now, that doesn’t mean life is easy. Climbing a challenging hill, even in the middle of the day, is still challenging. However, climbing a challenging hill in the darkness of night, in the black that would have you stumble and grope for each step, is SO much harder.

When we allow God to guide us, lead us, and direct our every step, we walk in light. Pure, illuminating, stumble-free light.

So, what about dusk? Or dawn? Or the twilight of evening..where light fades and darkness arises, or darkness fades and the sun emerges? How many of us are living in these half-lit areas?

We like the darkness of our sin. We like to have control over our lives and choose our own steps. We dabble in the dark. Yet, we still claim the light. It’s right there. It’s low…and dim…and not quite filling the sky…but it is there.

We embrace the selfish sinfulness of our hearts, but we attend church. We covet what others have, but we tithe generously. We have materialistic hearts, but we serve in ministry. We skirt the edges of the sun while dipping our toes in darkness. It is hard to let go.

There is beauty in darkness. The stars in the sky. The lights of the universe on display. The moon in all its phases. There is beauty in darkness. And trickery. Our eyes adjust to the lack of light and we think we can see. We determine that the darkness isn’t so bad and that we can manage. This is how we justify our sin. We adjust to its normalcy and move forward. Sure we stumble, but if we don’t get hurt, then it is not that bad…right??

We stumble occasionally and blame the darkness. We have sure footing other times and credit the light. We allow ourselves the stagnancy of living in the dusk. Always balancing a bit of the dark with the light.

God wishes for us so much more! For those who have completely abandoned the light it is sometimes the painful fall over a cliff, and for others it is just enough to send a beautifully brilliant sunset to lure you back toward light.

If you allow him…he can draw you through the darkness and bring you to the dawn of a new life, where only light, and sun, and warmth prevail. Where the road is not always sure-footed…but at least you can see.

My prayer today is for God to reveal the dusk in my heart. The dusk in my life. And bring me back into the brilliancy of day.

– Carrie

Carrie McChesney is a jill-of-all-trades who speaks, writes, photographs, and studies scripture all while raising two wild little men and remodeling their mountain home.

 

second mother

February 8, 2017 /

Whether through adoption, foster care, or marriage, there’s a unique vulnerability in becoming a child’s second mother.

We’re 21 months into this adoption journey, nine since my littlest dragon joined our family.  It’s been both an eon and a finger snap.

The hard truth is that ‘mom’ love wasn’t automatic. Nurture, sure. But, every single ounce of genuine mom-level love has been earned through blood, sweat, and tears; a slow expansion of the heart.

I celebrated the day when authentic mom love finally began to spring forth on its own. But then the floor opened to reveal a whole other layer of uncharted territory — the ‘nameless’ territory.

Extending mom love and receiving back nameless engagement… Who am I in this little dragon’s life? More than a caregiver or guardian. Different from an aunt or grandma. Not yet (ever?) a mom. [And does an expansion of the second mother relationship require some sort of diminishment of the first mother? That seems crazy!]

The place of first mom will always be sacred. I get it. I honor it.

However, life in this waiting space requires staring into a huge, gaping gateway to the unknown. Questions fly by like ghastly phantoms, haunting me with unanswerable wonderings.

In between these aches and wonderings I’ve been thinking about God’s relationship with us. [Please don’t mistake this for bragging about some sort of *super* holiness. In the helplessness of this waiting space I’ve leaned into the only source of comfort I know; He has responded with kindness.]

All throughout the Bible God declares his unconditional parent-level love for his kids – each one of us – as seen in Jeremiah 31:3…

I have loved you with an everlasting love. I have drawn you with an unfailing kindness.

And all throughout he depicts the pain of us not loving him in return.

God, the one who offers perfect love, has kids who’ve chosen other ‘firsts’. He understands my aches. He surrounds me with tenderness and love as I face the unknown.

My work as a therapist and observations of friends who’ve adopted has also provided some comfort. Unfortunately, the reality is that no one can perfectly predict the terrain that lies on the other side of a waiting space.

Therefore, I must face the unknown with greater assurance than what can be drawn from circumstances.

Six years ago, acute pancreatitis landed me in a trauma unit – a huge, gaping gateway to the unknown.

The point at which I could no longer change my circumstances smacked me like a giant brick wall. The aches and wonderings threatened to swallow me whole. There, in that waiting space, Christ met me as Jehovah Nissi (The Lord My Banner).

He taught me that my warrior nature is from him so of course I’m to use it. Then, he added a critical component: press forward but slow down. Allow my heart to stand still in the midst of the fight so that my eyes can open to the miraculous power and peace that comes from his presence on the battle field.

Six years ago, I watched him work and I fell to my knees in awe proclaiming look at my God. Look at what’s he’s done!

Life has landed me on my knees again.

Jehovah Nissi, open my eyes to see your work on the battle field. Still my heart to sense your presence.

 

Laura

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