(Written July 17, 2012) My husband and I have been married for 10 years next month. No small
accomplishment considering I have been hormonal, pregnant, or nursing
more than 2/3 of that time. We’ve had a lot of challenges to overcome
simply because we are from two different cultures. Different food,
different languages, different customs, and different childhoods.
Compromise has been the secret to our success. We eat Asian food half
of the time and American food the other half. Don speaks to the kids in
Vietnamese while I speak in English. Compromise, out of love for each
other, has been the foundation of our relationship.
One of
the small things I learned to “give on” in the beginning of our
relationship was humor. Overall, I'm a low-key kinda gal but I like to
drop a joke once in a while. Well, more than once in a while (but we'll
get to that). Early in our marriage I realized that Don was less than
amused by my humor. He wasn't trying to stifle me. He just frankly
didn't get it. He didn't understand American humor and had never really
heard of the slang that I thought was so funny. So, I just learned to
communicate with him differently and kept the bathroom jokes to a
minimum (until I had boys old enough to laugh at them).
Something
beautiful happened the other night. During a serious moment, I blurted
out some kind of silliness, and Don laughed at me. Not the usual
chuckle of acknowledgement, but a belly laugh!! If he weighed more than
47 pounds, I'd say his belly jiggled, but no chance of that one.
Anyway, I asked him why he was laughing and he said I was funny and that
he had gotten used to me over the years. I cannot tell you how much
that laugh meant to me. He was delighted in me. He savored my words
and it gave him joy. I felt validated and loved. A priceless moment
indeed.
This made me think of a story that a man told
recently of an out of body experience he had during surgery. He was an
Atheist, and when he died he was taken to the gates of hell.
Unspeakable injustices were done to him at that place but in a moment he
remembered the lyrics to "Jesus Loves Me" that a Sunday school teacher
had taught him as a child. As he sang, Jesus came to him and saved him
from that horrific fate. He took him to Heaven and communed with him
and eventually he was sent back to Earth to live a very different life.
But something that he said during the interview stuck with me. He
talked about a moment when he made a funny remark to Jesus. My favorite
part of the story is that Jesus laughed at him. The gentleman shared
that Jesus is delighted with us. He loves us, He receives our praise
and honor, but he also laughs at us.
When I think of
this, I think of Jesus as a parent. How many times have I laughed when
one of my kids muttered a word incorrectly or stumbled while learning to
walk. The innocence and immaturity of their efforts can be
heart-warming. Watching them try brings us joy, and their missteps are
soon forgotten. What honor to know that Jesus delights in us! We cannot
make him NOT love us. Yes, He challenges us. Yes, He convicts us.
But, He also delights in us. The confidence in his delight and
unfailing love gives us the courage to get back up when we fail because
"Daddy" is watching. Watching with a smile on his face.
My
heart is full knowing this truth. My life is changed having this
confidence. I am challenged and more passionate than ever to make him
proud of me because I know that his delight in me is unearned. It is
free and it is mine.
Zephaniah 3:17
"The LORD
your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight
in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with
singing."
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Losing It & Getting It
(Written July 15, 2012) Tonight was such a sweet time of worship at church. It was
beautiful. It has been a long week and a refreshing was what I needed.
Honestly, I floated to the van where my test awaited patiently.
Approximately 32 seconds from the close of the van door, it happened. The two kids in the back seat started fighting, another kiddo began screaming at the top of his lungs, while the 4th blessing incessantly shot a toy machine gun at the screamer. Most mommies can guess what happened. Yep, I LOST IT!!! Ugly momma face kinda lost it. A bona fide loss of self control. Well, that is until my sweet husband gave me the "take a chill pill" look. I quickly calmed down. Mostly because of the close proximity between his eyebrows, but also because I had two thoughts in that moment.
#1 Thank God for church child care.
#2 God still loves me.
Yes, He loves me still. He loves me just as much during the time when I was worshiping him as the time when I was turning down the worship music in the van because it was added noise. He loves me. He loves me when I'm weak and he loves me when I'm strong. He would never condone my loss of self control. But, He loves me just as much when I "lost" it as when I "got" it.
And, I love him more than ever because I felt the confidence of his unfailing love for me tonight. He is God, my creator, and he chooses to love ME. He even took time to speak to my heart to remind me that my kids had been away from me for 2 hours and were trying to get my attention. Albeit, LOUDLY trying to get my attention. Nonetheless, God's love for me challenges me to work harder to gain self control during those difficult times of life (a.k.a. van rides with 4 kids and The Wiggles).
He's my inspiration. I long to have His character and His nature. His love for me draws me closer to Him. Lord, please forgive me for losing it with my family, but thank you so much for another life lesson from Your throne.
Lametations 3:22-23
Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed,
for his compassions never fail.
They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
Approximately 32 seconds from the close of the van door, it happened. The two kids in the back seat started fighting, another kiddo began screaming at the top of his lungs, while the 4th blessing incessantly shot a toy machine gun at the screamer. Most mommies can guess what happened. Yep, I LOST IT!!! Ugly momma face kinda lost it. A bona fide loss of self control. Well, that is until my sweet husband gave me the "take a chill pill" look. I quickly calmed down. Mostly because of the close proximity between his eyebrows, but also because I had two thoughts in that moment.
#1 Thank God for church child care.
#2 God still loves me.
Yes, He loves me still. He loves me just as much during the time when I was worshiping him as the time when I was turning down the worship music in the van because it was added noise. He loves me. He loves me when I'm weak and he loves me when I'm strong. He would never condone my loss of self control. But, He loves me just as much when I "lost" it as when I "got" it.
And, I love him more than ever because I felt the confidence of his unfailing love for me tonight. He is God, my creator, and he chooses to love ME. He even took time to speak to my heart to remind me that my kids had been away from me for 2 hours and were trying to get my attention. Albeit, LOUDLY trying to get my attention. Nonetheless, God's love for me challenges me to work harder to gain self control during those difficult times of life (a.k.a. van rides with 4 kids and The Wiggles).
He's my inspiration. I long to have His character and His nature. His love for me draws me closer to Him. Lord, please forgive me for losing it with my family, but thank you so much for another life lesson from Your throne.
Lametations 3:22-23
Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed,
for his compassions never fail.
They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
Windy Day
(Written April 22, 2012) Today is a windy day in our coastal city. As I lay in bed, I can hear
the wind swirling ominously between the houses in our neighborhood. It
comes with its loud howl demanding attention and doing its damage, then
it exits with the same intensity. For a moment, all seems calm until a
familiar rustle reminds you that the wind is still there.
This made me think of the process we call grief. It has been 10 weeks since my Daddy went to heaven and on the outside life has gone on. I've fed my family three meals a day, laundry has been reluctantly folded, homework has been completed, and all seems calm...until the wind comes.
It is hard to explain exactly but a moment of grief comes to me almost like that wind that comes making tons of noise, then leaving as suddenly as it came. It can be triggered by a memory or a kind word of sympathy from a friend. It can bring a tear to my eye or can cause me to cry uncontrollably.
I'm still trying to understand what is "normal" when it comes to grief. All I know is that it is like the wind to me. It is always there. Sometimes it is the quiet breeze in the background and other days, like today, it is howling too loudly to ignore. One thing I am certain of is that I'm not alone in this journey. Just like the grief is always here, the presence of God is also always tangibly present. Sometimes God speaks comfort to me in a still small voice and other times I feel his presence as loudly as that howling wind as he reminds me that he is my Daddy.
Tomorrow will come. Lunches will be made and laundry will be folded, and I will be here desperately waiting for God's comfort to guide me through another windy day.
This made me think of the process we call grief. It has been 10 weeks since my Daddy went to heaven and on the outside life has gone on. I've fed my family three meals a day, laundry has been reluctantly folded, homework has been completed, and all seems calm...until the wind comes.
It is hard to explain exactly but a moment of grief comes to me almost like that wind that comes making tons of noise, then leaving as suddenly as it came. It can be triggered by a memory or a kind word of sympathy from a friend. It can bring a tear to my eye or can cause me to cry uncontrollably.
I'm still trying to understand what is "normal" when it comes to grief. All I know is that it is like the wind to me. It is always there. Sometimes it is the quiet breeze in the background and other days, like today, it is howling too loudly to ignore. One thing I am certain of is that I'm not alone in this journey. Just like the grief is always here, the presence of God is also always tangibly present. Sometimes God speaks comfort to me in a still small voice and other times I feel his presence as loudly as that howling wind as he reminds me that he is my Daddy.
Tomorrow will come. Lunches will be made and laundry will be folded, and I will be here desperately waiting for God's comfort to guide me through another windy day.
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