Mother's Day

Mother's Day.

I used to dread this day.

And then, like tide over sand, God washed the old away and made everything new.

Where there was sadness, there is now great joy.

Where there was loneliness, companionship.

Where there was anger, now there is contentment.

Where there was a holding on to hurt, there is a letting go.

And the letting go, is just bliss.

Today is about my babies.

Today is about family.

Today is about celebrating the women who have stepped INTO my life instead of stepping away.

And it is so beautiful.

I looked through Lily's newborn clothes today. All of the little, all of the pink, all of the memories flooded me with such joy.

And also the knowledge of just how far we have come, she and I.

From a tiny newborn fighting for strength to this sweet spitfire of a girl.

A girl with her own voice, and her own spirit.

And me. A mother of two on this earth, learning that motherhood is so much more than I ever thought it could be.

Infinitely harder.

Infinitely sweeter.

It has broken me, mended me, and broken me again.

It has opened my heart to such a degree that I cannot close it again. Not to my children, not to the world.

Made me softer to all things, more compassionate at all times.

Made me love deeper. Made me hurt worse than any other pain.

I believe in something bigger than myself- in family and love that can and will not be broken.

I believe in all of the true things, the lasting things, and the God given things.

I believe in my abilities as a mother and as a woman.

And I also believe and know that my children will never know what I did.

They will know love and devotion that does not waver. They will know loyalty that will not turn away, ever.

They will know love that does not ever give up. Ever.

Life is sweet. Life is good.

And God has made it all possible.

Happy Mother's day.

Redeemed

My facebook friends status said simply:

"i serve a God that has come to set the captives free."


I read it. I re-read it. I choked up. I looked at it at least 10 times.

And every time I came back to it I felt a pull, a deeper meaning that was trying to wind around my heart. I kept thinking of these words, over and over.


Today I was driving Lily to school and those words flashed in my head again. Two days of this carousel going around my mind and I was about to come unglued.

"Lord, please just tell me what this means? Please tell me why this is so important that I can't get it out of my head?"

And my mother's face flashed in front of me, clear as day.

My mother.

My mother was a captive.

Captive to her own mind, which drove her to drink, to pursue men. Which kept her from ever caring for me like she should have. Which kept her from knowing where I was for years. Her own mind imprisoned her as surely as iron rails.

She couldn't love. She couldn't care. She couldn't function.

Severely bi-polar people cannot function unless they are medicated. Medication from a knowledgeable doctor, or self medication in the form of alcohol, drugs, and sex.

My mother was never diagnosed until she was terminal with cancer. She was then put on lithium. She was normal. She wanted to mend broken-ness. She wanted to live.

And then, she died.

Captive to a body riddled with cancer, even though her mind had finally been freed.

I used to be angry with God for those last few months. When she reached out to me. When she wrote to me, sent me money to visit. Begged me to come.

I was too angry then. Young and stupid. I didn't want to forgive her. I didn't want to mend anything. My heart was blackened and stilled with anger.

Captive, if you will. Imprisoned by unforgiveness and rage.

And so she died in a strangers house, in a strangers bed, with no blood family around.

Freed from a body of pain, and a mind of torture.

A captive set free.

He set her free from herself, from the bondage of mental illness and cancer. He resurrected her to Him, whole and without blemish. Without sickness or sadness or regret.

She was restored. She lives, even now. She was set free.

And today, I realized, so was I.

I was set free from the worry of where she was, and the pain of separation from her. I was freed from her presence here on earth, and the chaos she always came with. I was set free from obligation to her.

I was freed to forgive her.

And today, I also realized she will be RESTORED to me.

One day, I will walk into the gates of heaven. And she will be there. And all of the bitterness will be washed away with the redemption of Christ's love.

The moment she died, she was free.

And so was I.

I serve a God who came to set captives free.


Isaiah 49:

8 This is what the LORD says:
“In the time of my favor I will answer you,
and in the day of salvation I will help you;
I will keep you and will make you
to be a covenant for the people,
to restore the land
and to reassign its desolate inheritances,
9 to say to the captives, ‘Come out,’
and to those in darkness, ‘Be free!’

I ran.

Yesterday I went for what I thought was a walk. I was praying as I usually do as Sam chattered from the stroller. Then:

"Why don't you run?"

Clear as day. I inside my head. Along with a compelling need to do as I was asked.

So I did.

I jogged until my breath was squeezed from my lungs. Then I walked. Then the voice, again:

"Why don't you run?"

I bet you can guess what I did then. I jogged some more. Then walked.


And so on.

And I made it 4.5 miles in 70 minutes. I can hear all of you runners making a little joke in your head. Yeah, I know...it's slow. Turtle time.

But for me, it was a huge victory. I actually jogged.

The feeling was one of exhiliration. I didn't die. I wasn't even damaged or injured.

And I felt incredible.

And this morning, I did it again.

This time I started out jogging, taking only a few breaks to walk.


Everytime I wanted to give up, I got strength to go a little bit further. To push a little bit longer. To breathe deeper and dig deeper.

And I did 4.5 miles in 50 minutes.

50 MINUTES!

THAT JUST HAPPENED!

I sat down afterward as Sam snoozed in the stroller. I sat in the sun on a bench overlooking the pond, and I cried. I called out to God in a voice filled with wonder and gratitude.

"Lord, I ran!"

"I know."

"No really, Lord...I RAN! For 4.5 miles. Just like I had prayed for for so long!"

"Remember, your dreams are MY dreams."

And then I just cried harder.

I doubted myself, and I doubted my God. I was ashamed of this body He gave me. I cursed it.

And then, this body carried me into a run.

This body carried me through miles. My lungs stretched to accomadate my drive, my heart beat hard and true to take me father than I thought possible. My legs did not tire. I did not collapse.

I ran. I ran into the dream that I had had for so long. And God ran beside me, step for step.

It's not over.

Mark and I woke up to the news that Bin Laden is dead.

I was immediately elated. And just after, stricken with guilt for being elated.

After all, I am a child of God. And God does not celebrate over death of an enemy.

However.

Evil has lost a figurehead this day. Evil has been defeated in this small way.


Justice, after 10 years. Or is it?

Is it justice that this evil evil man has been shot in the head when 3000 of our fellow Americans died a fiery and terrible death?

Is it justice that he died quickly and had a burial in the Islamic custom when so many of our people were never recovered? And so many of our military have given their blood and lives to find him?

Is that justice? A quick death?

No.

But it is what is. And evil is less powerful today than yesterday.

I am not celebrating death today. I am celebrating that evil has been trumped in this small way on this day. That our country somehow has a bit more peace knowing this monster is gone.

I am celebrating our military's patience and dedication to hunting this man down.

I am celebrating that our memory is long and our patience more so, and that we REMEMBER what this man did, and that we were relentless in finding him.

I am celebrating that the evil that brought down the towers has lost their figurehead.

But I know it's not over.

Far from it.

This is good and evil. This is predicted and known.

In a way, it is just beginning. Not ending.

So today we clelebrate the defeat of evil. And tomorrow we get back to the buisness of rooting it out and destroying it.

Yes, this is a rant.

I am tired of being fat.

I am tired of pulling my shirt down, my pants up. I am tired of hiding myself.

I am so weary of being self concious. So, so weary.

I am tired of worrying my husband will become disgusted with me.

I am tired of worrying my kids will get teased for having a fat mom.

I am just so....tired of it all.

I am constantly wondering how fat I look. When I sit this way, do I look fatter? Am I disgusting in this swimsuit?

Why the hell do I do this to myself?

I don't have an answer. I really don't.

I broke down last night. Tears flowed over this whole struggle. I sobbed over this body I am trapped in.

And I am trapped. I feel powerless.

I feel ugly and disgusting.

And I try. God knows I do. Exercise, eat well, and the weight comes off, right?

Not for me. Never for me.

Mark says the things that hurt, but are true- "Maybe you will never be able to lose it. Maybe you can't."

And he also says "It is so hard to see you punish yourself."

I agree with him, on both counts.

This is something I have struggled with for 24 years. I have spent countless hours hating myself.

And I truly don't know why.

Am I truly this vain?

Do I truly think how I look matters this much?

Yes. And no.

I don't know.

We all have something, right?

But this something colors every interaction I make, every decision I make, everything.

I will never wear a cute sundress without being self concious.

I will never love how I look in a swimsuit.


Do I believe I have worth...yes.

Do I also believe when somebody looks at me they see laziness, gluttony?

Yes.

My body says something that is not true- that I am a weak person. I hate that.


And right now, I don't have any answers.

I want to at least be peaceful with myself.

I want to not struggle. I want to like myself.

And I do. Like myself. I like the inside. I like my heart and soul. I like mySELF. I like ME.

I just don't like the way I look.

So do I make peace with it?

And if so,how?

Can I leave it behind after this decades long struggle?

I just don't know.

The Bitterness of the Sweet

I have had a long love affair with sugar.


Looooong.

Epic, if you will.

Sugar is tangled up with alot of other less than sweet things in my past. It was, and still is a total comfort to me. A crutch.


Not to sound cliche, but I eat my pain. I cover things up with food. The sweeter and starchier the better. Had a bad day= eat some chocolate. Riding the mothership to PMSPlanet= M&M's and soda. Anything really. Any excuse.

And I hate this about myself. I am weak. And my weakness is food. It is my drug of choice, and always has been.

I was a chunky kid, and I never truly leaned out like most people do. Did that have to do with the steady stream of candy and ice cream? Heck yes.

Add to all that a childhood filled to the brim with chaos and stress and you got... well, me. Overcompensating with food. Dealing with a huge amount of belly fat that no amount of exercise diminishes.

I eat healthy, I exercise, and I do very well for a few weeks. And then I fall off the wagon into a pile of jellybeans and dat's it. Back on the sugar and back on the pounds.

I don't know why this is important today, but it just is. I need help to break this cycle, but damned if I know how. It's not as simple as saying "Don't eat sugar." If it was, I would be 90 lbs. It's way more tangled and complex. And I can't explain it.

I don't want to be thin. Truly, I don't. I just want to be fit. I want to be healthy. I want to live to 100 years old to annoy my children. And I can't be who I want to be when I have this addiction.


And I don't really have a point. Or maybe I do- I need help! I need suggestions and ideas and prayer. I need to know I am not alone in this- is anyone else struggling? Because I feel alone in this- and I feel really weak.

So friends....anyone? Anything? Beuler? Beuler?

Halfway/ All the Way

Today my hormones are all over the place. I am a mess of teary-ness and snappy-ness and a little mean-ness. I am a hot mess, by all accounts. I have barred myself in my bedroom with salty snacks and soda and I am writing from a place of tornado-ish feelings.

I am unsettled in my soul. I am feeling as if I don't know how to do anything well. Oh I can do anything halfway good. I can halfway clean before getting called away. I can halfway play with the kids before I need to make dinner. I can halfway talk to my husband before real life intrudes. But I can't do anything ALL the way, because I am constantly having to help others do their stuff all the way.

I know this makes very little sense.

Or maybe it does, to you. Maybe you are in this inbetween space of having to do most things halfway in order to do things all the way for your kids. Maybe you are sitting in a cluttered dirty house, but your baby is well fed and nestled to your neck for a nap. Maybe you are in the midst of unpacking from a trip and have 3000 loads of laundry to do. Maybe you are just overwhelmed for no reason, like me.

I am restless in my skin. I am wanting to be so much more than I am now. More than a housewife and a mom. More than just this person in this skin. More. But this is not the season of my life for that. This is the season of caring for others, giving over to others my all...even if it means I am lost a bit in the meantime.

These days won't last forever. There will soon ebe a time of no diapers, no endless cooking/cleaning up/cooking. They will not seek me just when I sit down. They will not seek me at all, in time.

So Lord, let me be content to set aside myself. Set aside my chores and need for control. Let me be with them in this moment when their cheeks are sweet with the smell of sunshine, when their hair smells of baby shampoo. Let me watch as they light up when they are chased, as they giggle so hard they fall down.

Let me be a halfway cook, housecleaner, laundress. Let me be halfway in the things that don't matter and won't change with time. But Lord please let me be an all the way mom and wife, right here, right now. While it counts.