Bah humbug!

Someone wasn't in the Christmas spirit.

She didn't really want us to put up the Christmas lights...probably because it meant she'd have to stay inside while we were out in the cold.

Sure glad she doesn't chew everything in sight anymore or she'd be one sick puppy!!

Unlocking closed doors

The other night I had a bit of a disagreement...a spat if you will with my just-turned-20 son. I used poor judgment with my knee-jerk reaction and he became angry about house rules and suggested that he would just move out - an idea he's been tossing around. I think it's important for a young person to move out on their own and learn how to handle life....but not out of anger. Better to go with wisdom, a plan and some goals. I was more concerned in that moment that he would have the desire to set his own wise rules of conduct and boundaries so he would make good choices when he's on his own.

I went to bed to mull over how I could have handled the situation better. I was hurt, not about the incident, but that our relationship was rocky in that moment. I love my son immensely and don't want anything to stand between us. I had a very poor relationship with my mother -we always locked heads on issues and I was bitterly unhappy at home through the teen years. I felt like I was never allowed an opinion. She was just always right, end of discussion. That along with other things left me in a great deal of internal pain that for the most part stayed locked up in me for many years. I vowed I would never have a relationship like that with my own children and I very much embrace the statement found in The Purpose Driven Life, by Rick Warren: "We are products of our past, but we don't have to be prisoners of it. "

But I'll admit I have battled over the stuff that's come out of me that reminds me of what I disliked in my mother. Spills out when I least expect it and annoys me. Amazing how so many responses are 'learned' and stick with us....so engrained we don't even recognize them in ourselves. It makes it difficult to 'unlearn' them. I learned in some studies I took as a young person that if you allow the people who 'grate' you to bug you enough, without realizing it, you actually start to become like them in your character. Funny how that works.

Anyways, as I lay in bed...(mothers do this to themselves)...I thought back to praying over my baby while he was still in my womb, the birth pains, foregoing sleep, sacrificing everything you are and have for the next many years as your life becomes all about raising your child.

Of course children don't recognize or remember the magnitude of sacrifice on their behalf. There is hardly a mother who is not truly hurt when a harsh word is spoken to her by her son or daughter because a mother asks nothing in return for the sacrifice of themselves that they have poured into their children. They quietly take the hits of unkind words, slammed doors, disobedience, etc while holding the love and care of all the years and memories in their hearts, and patiently wait for maturity to settle into their kids.

So being in a self reflective mode, I wasn't ready for what happened next. In that moment it was all about my pain that things were strained with my son....but the next moment was bizarre to me because it hit me out of nowhere. I can't describe it other than as an 'AHA' moment.

I suddenly could clearly see and understand that my mother had had exactly the same pain I was feeling.

In the past I always saw me as the victim and my mother as the one who was wrong, and though I had long ago forgiven her for all the pain I felt she had caused me and felt I was free of all that, I now could see all of my insolence to her, my crappy attitudes, my lack of concern for how she might have been feeling, and my self centered victim excuses, even into my adult years. I hadn't recognized her sacrifices.

My heart just kind of caved in at this revelation and I wept like a baby....a grieving kind of weeping as I have felt at gravesides....as I asked God over and over to forgive me for the pain I caused my mother. You know I can't remember ever seeing her cry, and yet I'm convinced she probably did when no one was around. And I had never cared about that.

So where did all that grieving come from?? I'm 51. That was like...30 years ago. My mom passed away several years ago.


I am not implying that my mother was a horrible person - she wasn't. I think she had her own private pain about stuff and quietly lived with many locked doors inside of her. No one can tell me pain from childhood whether perceived or real doesn't affect you into your adult life...even if you think you've dealt with it. We are often victims of victims. If you had a peaceful life, be very grateful. If you had some rocky times that you've shut away inside, keep your eyes wide open and your heart tuned. It may not be until your own children or other circumstance opens your eyes for an 'AHA' moment to bring healing of past pain.

Come to think of it, I had been meditating on forgiveness earlier in the week in regard to something else and had promised God I would surrender whatever He required of me in this area. Maybe God knew I needed this door unlocked that I wasn't even aware was solidly shut, in order to free me in other areas of my life.

Where are my glasses????

My all-time favourite comic strip is ZITS - I check it daily. My favorite is Jeremy looking at his dad who clearly has 5 pairs of glasses on his head and asking "Where are my glasses??". Meanwhile, his mother's purse is slung over her shoulders and she's desperately asking, "Has anyone seen my purse??". Jeremy shakes his head and mumbles that he couldn't WRITE stuff like this. I have vivid memories of feeling like Jeremy the teenager in this comic when I was his age, but now....I'm afraid of becoming like my parents. Where DID I put my coffee cup??

It's too funny. And the older I get, the more scary it is that we have moments when things are right there in front of our eyes and we don't see them. Now I don't mean to get all spiritual about a comic strip, but on the other hand.....my previous sentence could be a rather profound statement in the world of faith. Follow me for a minute. The existence of God can neither be proved nor disproved. Faith is as much required by an atheist, as a believer in God. (In my humble opinion, an atheist needs much, much more faith). But I just happen to be convinced that the 5 pairs of reading glasses are right there on the head...and the purse is right there slung around the shoulders...but we don't see....Him....the Creator.

So why does one person not see Him at all, and yet I see Him in everything? (That is not meant as a criticism - it is simply a statement).

I purchase fresh flowers every two weeks for my home because I am astounded by every petal and stamen and colour of a beautifully created living thing.

I put out bird seed daily to watch amazing creatures that rival any airplane fly about and live in the incredible order of nature.

I see the complex nature of the soil and insects and plants and seeds and bulbs in my gardens, as the seasons turn...always without fail.

The stars and planets, sun and moon - all perfectly placed to allow our existence.

I simply have to think and read about the awesome DNA and complete orderly systems that run and recharge themselves within my own body to be humbly awestruck by the Creator.

You could write libraries to fill the universe on all of these amazing 'creations'.

I cannot muster enough faith - not even the size of a mustard seed - to ever believe it just happened - no matter how many gazillion years you give it to have evolved.....from nothing. I see a Designer everywhere I look.....while others ask, "Has anyone seen God around here?"

Do I always 'feel' Him? Nope. Do I always 'hear' Him? Nope.

There have been times in my life when I have gone through depression and felt absolutely no emotion towards anything. Nothingness. Horrible nothingness. For a very long time.

Did I still trust God? Absolutely.

At those times in my life I would wake up feeling sick and couldn't even face the day, so I reached for my Bible before my feet hit the ground, immersed myself in it - and chose to believe that God was still there in the nothingness, caring for me. The description of His never changing character and unconditional love held me. I felt nothing, but trusted.

And that is what I believe God looks for from us....sometimes even tests it in us.

Trust.... in the moments we don't feel, hear or see Him. Faith.

Is that stupid? Is it a crutch? Is it just psychological?

You are welcome to believe that. But apparently we need to be like little children, with childlike faith - not like rocket scientists. Oh, we don't throw our brains out the window...but there will always be stuff we have no answers for. Like the child who just trusts Dad, even when he doesn't understand everything yet.

The thing that cements it for me is the person of Christ.

The story is that God himself became one of us in the person of Christ, laid His life flat out for me whether I cared or not, when He didn't have to.

That act of mysterious, unrivalled love provided me with the chance to know Him and be with Him when I'm done with this life. That event in history that we are soon to celebrate, screams really loudly to me that He's here. Reeeeeeeeally loudly. In fact, that event provides all the proof and assurance I need that God is alive and well. He gave all that He had, and all that He could. The rest is up to me.

I don't think He really needs to prove anything else to me. Do I believe He is the Saviour or do I walk away?

There's a wonderful mystery in humbling myself and trusting Christ. It's no longer a decision my mind has made....it becomes deeply spiritual. As I respond in love and profound gratitude to Him, His Spirit brings His words alive. The Bible that could otherwise be a history or theological book to me, now has life within its pages and it changes me as I respond. Christ refers to Himself as the bride of His church. Would we ever marry someone to only have an intellectual relationship with? No. It moves from the mind to the heart and into the spirit. His love and care for me is personal. I'm forgiven and I'm loved by the One who knows me.

He could choose to send angels or things to 'convince' me that He's real - but then I would not need faith, nor would I respond with a heartfelt love.

He could have made me a robot to force a response to Him, but I believe He gave Himself completely to win me, and now He yearns for a willing, loving, trusting response in return. Then it is truly a deep, loving, spiritual bond between us. It's the trusting that seems to invoke His response to me.

The more years I live, the more I really do see Him in everything, hear Him in my spirit and know that His Spirit lives in me. I can't possibly be convinced otherwise.

It has nothing to do with how I feel or the circumstances in my life. It's more than can be understood or figured out with the mind - my heart and spirit is engaged.

At times, it's overwhelming that I'm allowed to live in this place. Who can understand that God would want anything to do with me? It's beyond comprehension.

It's called joy - even when I'm not happy. It holds me during the rough times when the faith gets tested again. Should I ever plunge again into the darkness of depression, He will still hold me.

I read an article by Dale Fincher who told of an encounter with a dying man who pointed to the sea at sunset and asked "Where's God?" Funny how one can look at a sunset and ask that, while others are overwhelmed and see Him everywhere in the beautiful painted sky. What do you see? I'm going to have a look at that comic strip again. Question to self: In the light of what I've just rambled about.....which generation do I now think I identify with?

Addendum: I drafted most of this blog Saturday night. Sunday morning I was driving to church alone as my husband was called in to work. The song below (What Can I Do, by Paul Baloche) kicked in on our CD player and simply voiced all I was trying to say above. I cranked it and drove through misty eyes to church. To some, it's just a song. To millions who truly know their Saviour, it's a hearts cry. Listen with your heart....