I Accept

"In acceptance lieth peace." ~ Amy Carmichael
Several years ago I found this quote and copied it out of her biography onto a little piece of notebook paper. It hangs on my bulletin board and from time to time I pause to meditate on the truth it contains.

Lately, peace has been fleeting... like polite smiles and sunshine in NW PA.
It comes, I have it.... I feel it.
And then it's gone; chased away by a fearful thought, unexpected circumstance, unanswered question.

I get that peace flows straight from the gracious hand of My Father.
I know that He desires me to be at peace... and to rest in His Sovereign Goodness.
But sometimes what I know in my mind travels a winding, fractious path to my heart; warring with my flesh the whole way.

Recently I implored My Heavenly Father to allow me to hang onto something that He seemed determined to take from me.
Using both hands I gripped this thing, digging my heels in, pulling it to my chest... declaring my ownership of it. Foolishly convinced that I knew better: I needed this.
 It. Was. Mine... darn it.
Yup... He took it anyway.
And I was left on my face, outstretched arms weary from the battle, hands emptied of my treasure... weeping.  (Seriously. Like a baby.)

Then God spoke straight to my heart; bypassing my brain, my reasons and my selfishness.
I was convicted of my pride, my foolishness... my sin.
And as I confessed my failure and my weakness, God allowed me a glimpse of what He was doing to me and in me.
And, of course, it was not about me. It was about Him. And His Glory.
I was holding my possession so high that it was casting a shadow on my reflection of Him.
Ultimately impeding the flow of His Grace... which is the only source of peace.

I would like to say that I graciously, maturely, handed it over. I wish I could. But that's just not true.
I continue to wrestle with my desire. I still really want this. I really do.
And I struggle to accept that I am better off without it.
But more than this thing... or any other, I want peace with my Heavenly Father.
So I choose to accept, with my mind, that God is doing in me whatever He needs to do to make me who He wants me to be.
He created me, so...  yeah.
And if this forced acceptance, this discipline if you will, gets me closer to being like Jesus - well -
that's the whole point... isn't it?

1. When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
   When sorrows like sea billows roll;
   Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,
   It is well, it is well, with my soul.
2. Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
   Let this blest assurance control,
   That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
   And hath shed His own blood for my soul.
3. My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!
   My sin, not in part but the whole,
   Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,
   Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!

 H.G. Spafford

Merely Human?

I am a "people" person.
I love to talk to people.
OK, apparently I love to talk... period... but especially to people.
My dream job would be to have opportunity to sit and talk to people... and listen to their stories.
(I know... hence the word "dream")

Over the years I have talked to a lot of people.
My family will agree with the notion that I know no strangers.
Along the way I have discovered that everyone has a story.

No, really. Everyone.

Some are fascinating, some are horrific and some are kinda "normal". 

But we all have one and it is uniquely ours.

I came across this C.S. Lewis quote in a book I was reading:
"There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal."
I agree.
But I've been thinking...

Sure I am friendly and talkative, most of the time.
But what is my motivation?
Why am I talking to some and not others?
Do I make a beeline to the obviously-interesting-good looking-I'll bet they will like me- people?
Or maybe the -I think they can do something for me-people?
Or the -I already know them-this will be comfortable-people?
How many people, and their stories, have I passed on my way to "better", more enjoyable prospects?
Frankly I am not sure I like where this is going.

"For You formed my inward parts; You knitted me together in my mother's womb.
I praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made." Psalm 139:13-14a


Yes, I believe that God has created every person, knowing them before they were even born; actively putting them together... just they way He desired. Making each person special and unique.
Not ordinary.
But am I living like I believe that?
Or do I, in fact, view some as "merely" (nothing more or no better than) human?
I am convicted by this. 
Faces of people who I could have, should have spoken to, smiled at, cared about are kinda running through my head.
Often I have selfishly, even deliberately, ignored an opportunity to extend myself, to affect someone else in a positive, loving way. Hurrying by, averting my glance... too busy (or important). Really.
This most surely is not "What would Jesus do?" material.


Years ago I was standing in line at a local restaurant with my small children.  An older, disheveled, smelly man entered our line. Almost immediately, I drew my children closer to me, slightly turning away from him. And just as I did, God's Spirit spoke to my heart..."I died for people like him." 
Yeah. 
Those words echoed in the emptiness of my prideful heart.


I'll bet that man had a story. 
I have no idea what it is.
I didn't care enough about him to even make eye contact. 

Let go

Lately my grandson Leeland has become somewhat mobile.
I have been enjoying pictures of him making his way across the room... chewing cords, trying to eat out of the dog dish... all that fun stuff.
Soon he will crawl and then walk... and his mom will experience one of her first "letting go" moments.

This fall Ayla put on her backpack and name tag and twirled her way up the steps of a big yellow bus.... for the first time... leaving her mom behind, empty handed, waving "goodbye" through a blur of tears.
Yup. Letting go is tough.

I love being a mom and everything that goes with it...
The sweetness of babies
All the "firsts"
Helping, guiding as they learn, grow... become
Cooking favorite meals
Bending the rules ( we have a few)
Sharing laughter, tears and secrets
Being the "one" they want when they are sick, lonely or heart broken
Finally crossing the border between parent & friend... (maybe my favorite)

Of course there were lots of sad, hard, frustrating and disappointing things along the way.
My heart has gotten a work out... that's for sure.

But... I love it.

Multiplied by six.

I know a bit about letting go.

So far I have had the privilege of watching three of my children mature to the place where our once shared path, diverged ( think Robert Frost ), and they were walking alone.

And as I stand on the edge of another departure, it is bittersweet. And palpable. 

I wonder at God's design... giving us precious babies, allowing us permanent, temporary custody of His children, and once we accomplish our part of His purpose for them, He leads them away...

To a school ridiculously far away... or seemingly so.

Or to a strange, new country half way around the world... to teach English, to share Him, protect our country, or save the world

Or into a relationship that is good, and right, and godly... but leaves us on the periphery, trying to jostle ourselves into our mysterious new position...

After all the years of providing opportunities for their well being... physical, emotional and spiritual...

we are done. 

Well, not completely.

But our job is diminished. 

It's time to open our hands, and let go.

Enter the bittersweet.

During our infamous summer of 1998, one of the many lessons I learned was that my children, are not mine at all.

While my relationship with them is vital to their well being, they don't really need me. 

They need Jesus.
God will do what He wills in their lives and in mine to get them right where He wants them to be.

With me, in spite of me, around me...

While I will always love and be loved by them, our closeness... physically & emotionally, is temporary. 

Most likely, one day they will meet and marry someone who they will unite with in a way that supersedes their relationship with me. 

And that's the way it should be.

  

So I am thinking that my relationship with God is a pattern for parenting...
nurturing, disciplining, loving.
But while my time here, on earth, is necessary and right, it is only temporary.
And while the people I love, experiences that I have had are all real and important,
one day, I will be united with Him in a way that is far superior to anything I have known.
And, when He returns to take me Home,
 I will open my hand,
empty it of all I hold so tightly
and happily let go.

Meanwhile... I will savor the bitter, along with the sweet.