When your dreams get lost in the mist

There have been many starry-eyed beginnings on this long journey to becoming a professor, but today was not one of them. On the last eve before I face a roomful of 100 or so starry-eyed students, sophomores and juniors entering their first semester of the nursing curriculum, I found myself much less excited and much more afraid than I had dreamed. It was an eve of many tears as I realize just how ill-prepared I am for the first day of this journey.

I go out to the porch swing, my personal sanctuary, at 2 a.m., when I should be sleeping, as those students await me at 8 a.m. sharp, with their skills lab packets, ready to begin their pre-testing for which I am the somewhat clueless evaluator. Instead of sleeping, I am shaking in my boots.

And, as He has so many times before, God matches the internal pendulum of my thoughts and fears with a picture in nature to comfort me. The very trees I treasure are hidden from view as a pea-soup fog rolls over our valley and clouds the night in an impenetrable white of hidden hopes and dreams, darkened landmarks of comfort and familiarity. I take a deep breath of the humid, heavy air and I know that the fog will lift in the morning - from this landscape I love and from these dreams I hold so dear and so close.

I remember my affliction and my wandering, the bitterness and the gall. I well remember them, and my soul is downcast within me. Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: 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. I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for him.” The Lord is good to those whose hope is in him, to the one who seeks him; it is good to wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord. It is good for me to bear the yoke while I am young. Let me sit alone in silence, for the Lord has laid it on me. Let me bury me face in the dust— there may yet be hope. Let me offer my cheek to one who would strike me, and let me be filled with disgrace. For no one is cast off by the Lord forever. Though he brings grief, he will show compassion, so great is his unfailing love. For he does not willingly bring affliction or grief to anyone. (Leviticus 3:19-33)

 You have my heart

And I am Yours forever

You are my strength

God of grace and power

And everything You hold in Your hand

Still You make time for me

I can't understand

Praise You God of Earth and sky

How beautiful is Your unfailing love

Unfailing love

And You never change God You remain

The Holy One

My unfailing love

Unfailing love

You are my rock

The one I hold on to

You are my song

And I sing for You

And everything You hold in Your hand

Still You make time for me

I can't understand

Praise You God of Earth and sky

How beautiful is Your unfailing love

Unfailing love

~Chris Tomlin~

A day with no earthly helper

I wake up feeling full of holes. Son crying, poopy morning diaper, a kitchen island filled with the debris of a long and busy weekend, the summer-to-winter clothes switch just beginning. My mother, stalwart helper, has a surgical complication and is off to the doctor and I am here alone with my brood.

I think of these bits of foliage from my trip to Charleston. Still beautiful even though eaten through by a million tiny insects. I bow my head, pray that I will be a beautiful full-of-holes mother today.

School. I have papers to edit, a paper to write, am contemplating the potential of a new job at the hospital that will demand a month of my time. I am my children's teacher, and I think about time commitments and how much to ask of them this first full week.

This job never really ends.

In the hardware of a barn, I see my title in rusty metal. It's a mantle that I wore unexpectedly, a hat I didn't imagine I'd have to wear for four-children-in-four-years. Yet how lucky to have any at all, with my diagnosis of infertility! I remember that, and bravery steels my soul for a long day at home.

These days, too, shall pass. Too quickly.

Already I watch my friends and family, with their sweet, cuddlesome babies, and my heart is filled with longing and regret for what I missed during those years.

My prayer today: be mindful. Live in each moment. Absorb the events of the day. Stay engaged. Lord, help me in my weakness.

Excerpted from my gratitude journal #806-829:
#806 Rosy reads an entire Laura Ingalls picture book
#812 My auntie Rosalie coming for a night and a day
#816 My children in the parade I used to be in as a child
#817 The sun beating down hot in September
#820 Bean fields drying yellow in the heat
#826 Sumacs turning red in Echo Woods

Finding the "beloved" in the broken

First bare feet of spring on the wood shavings and gravel.

Cuts and bruises wait to be washed tomorrow.

Two pots of maple syrup kiss in the black and white eye of the camera.

The world goes black and white and I only see black,

the smudge of smoke, the blackened pots, the grill sagging

with years of tending syrup chalky with dust and dirt.

The wind whips and whirls and the steam flows fast out of my pots.

The wind draws the last lonely aching breath from my lips,

and I put down work and sit - slump - in a chair by the fire.

The pain of the past few weeks comes to the surface 

like dross in my syrup pan.

I am drowning in dross.

Yet below, the clear brown liquid, the sweetness of surrendering days

to vigilance and artistry with the works 

of Creator God as instruments in hand.

The dross drifts away and I dip for a sip of reminder that

this too shall pass.

The tears, the sorrows, the terrors of the night,

the torment of the day, the faces floating like a mirage of bitterness

where before were faces of mirth, beauty, simplicity, joy.

Just dross.

Dross I nearly drowned in.

Dross that is forever defeated at the Cross.

And afterward, in the sour way a meal tastes after you've vomited,

joy returns, and laughter buzzes through my lips again.

For He saved me, from this too, a sea of depression

so wide no boat could traverse.

Only on eagle's wings could I mount high above

and see it little, like He sees it,

a blurry mass of blue on a spinning earth filled with green.

I can't lie.

The past few weeks have been some of the worst of my life.

I have to sit down and pray about how to write it out,

what details are important, what sections to keep filed

forever lonely in my own memory bank.

Bear with me

and please keep praying as I continue this slow emergence

~ butterfly from chrysalis ~

from the valley of the shadow of death.

Too long I have lived

In the shadows of shame

Believing that there

Was no way I could change

I am not who I thought I was

And who I thought I had to be

I had to give them both up

Cause neither were willing

To ever believe

But the one who is making everything new

Doesn't see me the way that I do

He doesn't see me the way that I do

Forgiven beloved

Hidden in Christ

Made in the image of the Giver of Life

Righteous and holy

Reborn and remade

Accepted and worthy this is our new name

This is who we are now...

~ I Am New, Jason Gray~

After Christmas haze

You know how kids act in those lack-luster days just after New Years? The sparkle of Christmas gives way to the cacophony of New Years, and suddenly, there you are, a few dozen new toys later, feeling just the same as you always did. It is a time of returning to center, getting back to normal, reorganizing, and coming to grips with the fact that all the celebration in the world doesn't change reality. Because the truth is, life is a series of small tasks, small joys, small sorrows. There are a few major events thrown in to the mix, but life, the everyday living of it, is a collection of small details that make up mundane, tiny parts of a more majestic whole. "After Christmas burn-out" - I think that is the term I am describing. Climbing a hill necessitates the coming down afterward. Anyone who has scaled a mountain knows it is much easier to climb up than down.

I am in the after-Christmas phase of this trial. I woke up that morning of reunion with the same butterflies in my stomach I have had on Christmas Eve morning ever since I can remember. The joy of seeing my children and husband again - holding them - was better than unwrapping any gift I've ever been given. Now I am experiencing that period of being overwhelmed, feeling as though my world has been turned upside down. I feel a bit like a stranger in my own home, with routines, chores, and sleep schedules all just a little different than they were when I left. Not only that, but I feel frustrated with being overwhelmed! I wish I could say that yes, I've learned my lessons, and I value and cherish these children more than ever and delight to care for their every need. I do, in one sense, but it is still difficult. Cherishing the tasks does not make them easy. Christ warned us of this, and now I am learning it firsthand in new ways. If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will save it. (Luke 9:23-24) I am taking up my cross, the heavy, rough wood of it scratching into my shoulder, making me ache by bedtime. I am taking it up daily, each morning inhaling deeply and rising to the needs of the little ones I am called to tend today. I am fixing my eyes on Christ, determinedly, in spite of the burn-out. When I am overwhelmed, I am closing my eyes in prayer for strength. I want nothing...burn-out, stress, plethora of tasks and studies, little troubles in relationship...to distract me from the work I have been assigned, and the joy I have been provided.

You're the Light in this darkness
You're the Hope to the hopeless
You're the Peace to the restless

You're the strength in our weakness
You're the love to the broken
You're the joy in the sadness
You Are

Greater things have yet to come
Great things are still to be done
In this city
Where glory shines from hearts alive
With praise for you and love for you
In this city
~ God of This City, Chris Tomlin

Keeping my hand to the plow

...visible things are signs of an invisible reality; that common duties may be "an immeasurable ministry of love." The spiritual training of souls must be inseparable from practical disciplines, as Jesus so plainly taught; "The man who can be trusted in little things can be trusted in great; the man who is dishonest in little things will be dishonest in great. If then you cannot be trusted with money, that tainted thing, who will trust you with genuine riches! And if you cannot be trusted with what is not yours, who will give you what is your very own?" (Luke 16:10-12, JB). (The footnote to "your very own" says, "Jesus is speaking of the most intimate Possessions a man can have; these are spiritual.")

~ Elisabeth Elliot, Keep a Quiet Heart

I have been asked many times whether I will be taking a leave of absence from school, seeking help with my housework or childcare, giving up this commitment or that one. I haven't yet. It is a little more difficult than it used to be to fit everything in, but I feel as though the duties I perform as wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend, part of the body of Christ at my church...it is these things that define me and bring my life purpose. Keeping hands and feet busy is a sure way to avoid pity-parties, my mother always used to say. She was right! When I am focused outward - on my children, husband, family or friends - it is impossible to be too introspective, brooding, anxious, wracked by sorrow. There is no room in a busy mother's day for more than a few tears, a few moments of aching in the heart. I must go on, and it is so wonderfully freeing to do so.

This from the "Mother's Topical Bible" on the topic When You Feel Overwhelmed by Your Responsibilities...reminds me that no mere physical ailment or emotional sorrow can possibly overwhelm me - for I have all the tools and strength of my Savior at my disposal, if I will only ask! That is the "reason for my hope" (I Peter 3:15) in these difficult days of lacking something my physical body needs to live and work. I am trusting that God is sufficient in this, as in every human struggle I will ever face.

"For though we walk in the flesh, we do not war after the flesh: for the weapons of our warfare are not carnal, but mighty through God to the pulling down of strong holds; casting down imaginations, and every high thing that exalteth itself against the knowledge of God, and bringing into captivity every thought to the obedience of Christ." ~ II Corinthians 10:3-5