Understand

There are so many things in life that I just don't understand.

I don't understand people who stir up drama. I can spot them a mile away. They always say things like, I'm not one to stir up drama, but...

I don't understand what's happening in Missouri right now. How is looting, arson, and robbery going to make white people like, trust and treat black people any better? Won't it have the opposite effect?

I don't understand why people that the church has sent as missionaries are so quickly forgotten. Aren't we responsible for the ones we send?

I don't understand how once strong, deeply connected church leaders get so far off track. Why doesn't the Spirit expose their pride before they destroy other people? Or call them to repentance?
I don't understand a lot of things. Some things I think I might understand, but then find out I really didn't have a clue. Other times, I do understand.

I understand my own faithlessness. I lose heart, give up, give in, have a pity party, and wallow. I understand my shallow faith that is so quick to forget the Father who loves me and has everything in His hand. I understand my fear that maybe this is all a joke or maybe I'm not saved after all; the fear that I'll completely fall on my face.

I understand that my sin entangles me like the thorns and briars of a young wood. It snatches at my hair, grips my clothes, cuts me and scrapes my skin, then leaves it's poison to add an ongoing ache.

I understand suffering. The separation and grief of death. The quiet and bone -deep sorrow of listening to a loved one's final breath. The agony of trying to get life's last blood out of carpet. The terror of PTSD.

I understand it because I've lived it.

I may not understand God, but I cling to Him by faith. I wrap my arms and legs as tightly as my spiritual muscles can hold. I shout the truth of His love and forgiveness until my throat is hoarse. And when I am too tired, too weak, too faithless and fearful, I surround myself with friends who will keep shouting it to me.

Thankfulness

Tonight I am thankful for many things.

There are things in my life that aren't exactly fun, like my stupid teeth. More specifically, the infected socket that was scraped for fifteen minutes by my dentist and now seems to be feverish. That pretty much sucks. Or like one of my most favorite people in the whole wide world, my Uncle Teddy. What an amazingly wonderful man, who is currently struggling physically with fungal meningitis and complications. That sucks. Or the irritating and completely self-involved customer who just left us a bad review because, *gasp* her food took 45 minutes to come to her table when the restaurant was packed and she's confronted with the fact that she is NOT the center of the known universe. Yeah, that sucks too.

But...

In the midst of all that, I am thankful.

Thankful that I live in the age of dental implants. Otherwise I would be the poor lady with no teeth and terrible halitosis.

Thankful that I have had the blessing of Teddy Jones in my life for the past 41 years. Thankful that he has loved me and my children and husband so well. Thankful that his love for his sister, my mother, connects me to her still. Thankful for the way he can point out my sin with one phrase, "Now Cris." Thankful that he is getting medical treatment and will be with me a bit longer.

Thankful that I get to be a part of a restaurant that has a voice for the gospel in my town. Thankful that people, for the most part, love being there and use us a gathering spot. Thankful that, but for a very unkind people, we can make people smile and be happy.

I am also thankful for the hours spent with my children, remembering funny stories or laughing about old movies, or talking about their future. I am thankful that they want to talk to Chris and I about dating and sin and really, really important things. I am thankful that all those years of thankless sacrifice have a reward and I get to see it and experience it.

I am thankful for friends who are honest and share their struggles. Thankful that with grace, we can be open and transparent about our sins and craziness and not be destroyed and condemned. I am thankful that the best people I know want to be my friend. That's amazing to me.

Now I am off to bed because my pain medicine will kick in soon and my face hurts and I have to get up early in the morning.

Inner Life and Personal Theology

Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I'm off the mark, but I think we don't need to know everything our loved ones think. Maybe there's such a thing as too much honesty.

When I'm tired I think mean, selfish thoughts. When I'm selfish, I wish that other people would just do things my way and be happy about it. When I'm in my flesh, I think things completely opposed to what my redeemed inner self truly believes.

Out of the heart the mouth speaks... but does that apply to my redeemed and reborn heart? In Romans 7, Paul explains that the flesh is a separate entity from who I am in Christ. "So it is no longer I who do it (sin), but sin that dwells within me." So that evil that comes out of my mouth, is the evil that lies close at hand. (V21)

I don't know all the deep things of God. I DO know that I don't want to know the grumpy, selfish thoughts of my closest friends towards me. There is grace to cover that. I let love cover that sin. (1 Peter 4:8) And I don't want them to know my grumpy, selfish, sinful thoughts- that's why I try very hard to not say them out loud. That's why gossip is so destructive; it indulges the flesh. The very flesh that should be crucified daily, not fed and petted.

Rambling That Led to an Epiphany

My second child had his last first day of school. He isn't the most chipper person of a morning so no photos were taken. How is it possible that I'll graduate another child this year? That this man-child is really my sweet baby boy who refused to sleep in his own bed for the first year of his life? It stuns me sometimes.

My oldest child will be leaving the country in 10 weeks. Leaving. The. Country. How can my heart stand it?

Have you ever had a time in your life when things that happen are so deep, so troubling, so exhausting, that you just couldn't bring yourself to articulate them? When the things that trouble you aren't huge, traumatic, attention-getters, but rather tiny little shards of glass in your soul? Almost innocuous looking, but painful nonetheless.

I miss my father-in-law beyond anything I thought possible. How can the world keep spinning when he is not here to guide us? I miss everything about him.

...

What were those other things that were bothering me? My grief is blotting them from my sight momentarily.

Oh yeah...

I broke my foot. I don't want to talk about that, but suffice it to say, I don't like my cat very much.

Customers at work can be such selfish buttheads. It's hard not to get my feelings hurt sometimes. That sounds so shallow, but when you pour your time and energy into a kingdom endeavor and Captain You Planet comes along and tries to destroy you on social media because their chip basket didn't get refilled fast enough... well, it can turn a person against humankind for a time.

I miss my Nanny. The happiest times of my childhood were spent at her side. I've realized in the past month that she anchored me to my mother and my great-grandmother. Now she is gone and I am the anchor for my children. It's lonely in my life without her.

My kids are growing up so quickly and it makes me grieve. I adore them so deeply and spending time with them is the best part of my life. When they are grown, will they still long for me and home? Will they remember all I've taught them? Will they lay down their lives for this eternal kingdom God is building?

I wish I could communicate to my friends with little ones what all those well-meaning people mean when they say "enjoy this time". Little ones are so hard. They cry and throw fits and loose your keys and get snot all over everything. They break your nice things and refuse to eat your fancy food. They leave their toys everywhere and refuse to flush the toilet. They fight and bicker and slap at each other. They keep you up at night and wake up too early in the morning. They, generally speaking, ruin the life you've become accustomed to. They take and take... and just when you think you have nothing left, they start to give back. They gain wisdom and understanding. They clean up after themselves, bathe without being told, drive themselves to work. They begin to do for themselves and in the process, allow you to get back to that life they previously ruined. You can start sleeping all night and your house stays cleaner. You can sleep later and have nice things. But the trade off is they start getting ready to leave you. There are times when the lack of sleep and snotty noses seem like a worthy trade-off if it means you can keep them close for a little while longer.

I don't know if that is true for everyone but it is very true for me. Life is always changing and it makes my head spin. My dear friend reminded me today to make an event of my grief. It does more harm than good to try to soldier on and get over myself. There are things in my life that need to be lamented. I've lost loved ones to death; I'm losing children to life. My life, it is a-changing.

Mothering

The past year has been pretty difficult for my family. Death, pay cuts, sadness galore. It's been a year of immense changes. One child has graduated. I have gotten a job. Just these two things alone throw off the carefully created balance of our home. It's hard.

Tonight, after an eleven hour day, I came home to a very messy house. Dishes everywhere, laundry literally thrown into a giant box. Such utter defeat coursed through my body that I couldn't even find the energy for a good cry. It's like that nightmare where you're being chased and you run as hard as you can, but you can't move. Added to the defeat was a nagging sense of guilt.

I verbalized this to Chris in the form of a question. "Why do I feel so guilty asking the children to pitch in above and beyond their list of chores?"

Before he could answer, a voice piped up from the other room. Gracie answered for them, "Probably because we give you heck about it and we shouldn't." Then both my girls appeared and cleaned. They cleaned along side me until my kitchen was clean, the dishwasher running. They sorted the laundry, cleaned off the table. It was one of the most tangible and life-giving examples of grace that I've experienced in a long time.

Even knowing the beauty of the Gospel as well as I do, I still attempt to find worth in my ability to "keep it all together". I still feel like a failure when I can't maintain my standard. I still, over and over, forget that my value, my worth, my identity, is not, NOT, in what I do (or don't do), but in who I am. I am a beloved, valued, adored child of the Most High.

Even when there are 2 day old, soggy pancakes in my sink.

My Heart

Have I really not blogged in three months? I'm a little shocked. It doesn't feel like that long. I checked my Facebook and realized I've not been posting much there either. I suppose I'm in a quiet time of life.

Since my last post about my grandmother's death, we finished a school year, graduated a child, and I started working more. It's been a long three months. Not bad, just jam packed.

As of right now, Maggie is at about 80% of her missions support. She's getting close. I am, simultaneously, excited and sad, happy and fearful. I see God leading her on a path that I cannot follow. That's exactly what we've been raising her towards. But for her to go where I cannot follow is frightening to this control freak.

I go back to those deep deep questions: is God good? Does he love me? Does he love my girl?

Yes. Yes, he does. She is safe in his hands, safer than in my tight grip.

I am now adding her to the list of missionaries that I know, love and support. Crazy cool.

When she goes to Europe I would love to travel with her. As her momma, I would love to get her settled, make sure she's okay. As her sister in Christ I would love to visit with and attempt to encourage the missionaries she'll be staying with.

My ideal would be to spend a few days with the Morgans and the Reids in Ireland, Jevon in Leeds, the Donahoos and Culcheth Community Church in Culcheth and the Jennings in Birmingham. I suppose I could try to raise support for this, but I've not felt led to do that.

Instead, I'm waiting tables. Who knew it could be fun? I enjoy it. All of my tips from serving go towards being able to go to Ireland and England. If you want to help me reach my goal AND eat some spectacular Mexican food at the same time let me know. I'll be there every Tuesday and Wednesday lunch and every other Thursday night.

Thanks for reading. Thanks for praying. Thanks for supporting my girl and I.

So Much Sorrow, but With Hope

My Nanny is dying. I call my mother's mother "Nanny". I was twelve before I knew that a full time, paid childcare employee was called the same thing.

My oldest daughter is named after her. Margaret Sarah. Nanny's name is Sarah Lou. She had red hair most of my life and was the most competent woman who ever lived.

My grandfather made a habit of starting businesses, getting them stable, then moving on to the next thing. Nanny would run them and do the books until they sold the business. In this manner my grandfather made plenty of money, but he couldn't have done it without Nanny.

At one point when I was a kid, Nanny had my sister and I for the summer, took care of her elderly mother, taught Sunday School, grew a garden and ran a used car lot, a gas station and an electrical supply company.  She graduated from Samford when I was ten.

When they decided to plant a church,  before it was fashionable, Nanny kept the nursery every Sunday for years. Paw Paw would preach the sermon to her on the way.

Nanny always had a kiss for us, even if they were the wettest kisses on the planet. She always licked her lips first. She always kissed Paw paw the most though. She adored him until the Alzheimers stole him from her. They did everything together. Their rv saw almost every state in the continental United States. I can still picture her scratching his head and kissing his cheek. Or making him a sandwich that was half wrapped in a paper towel.

Nanny taught me how to be a wife. Never did a husband have a better, more dedicated help mate. He valued her opinion and sought it out. He recognized that his ministry to the poor was possible because of the dedication and servant's heart of his bride. He knew how to tease her to laughter when she took things too seriously.

I remember a million things about her. The way she would wash my feet before I went to sleep on clean sheets. The way she would keep calling my name until I remembered to say, "ma'am?" The crunch of her homemade pickles and the gag factor of her sweet n low tea. The funny noise her nose made when she sniffed and the sound of her voice singing while she worked. The smile on her face when she saw me. Her favorite flowers planted in the front garden.

I will miss my Nanny. I'm sad that my children never experienced her the way I did. But I know that she's ready. She is ready for heaven and to see her Savior. She's ready to see her husband and her daughter and her parents. She's ready, but I am not.

I will miss her terribly.

Sainsbury's

There's something very different about seeing a place in pictures and going to that place in person. The first time I went to Culcheth, England I wanted to see everything, memorize everything. I paid attention to street names and businesses. I looked at maps and absorbed all I could. ... I did this because one of my best friends was moving there. I wanted to have a picture in my mind when she told me about her day.

"We went to the Cherry Tree for Sunday roast." - I can picture it in my mind. I know where the bathrooms are and what the paintings look like.

"I met a lady in the check out lane at the grocery store." I know where the cereal aisle is and where to find the cheese section. I remember the smell of it.

I can navigate in my mind's eye from the pitch to where the new Quench Cafe sits. I know where my friend Sue's guest toilet is located in her house and what her banafe pie tastes like and where she keeps the plates in her kitchen.

All of these things make England a real place to me. When I think of England, I have memories, not knowledge.

So many preach brokenness and for a long long time I really, truly thought I understood them. I KNEW that I was broken and couldn't save myself. I KNEW I needed a savior. I KNEW God was ever present. I'd seen the photos, read the verses. I knew and trusted to the best of my ability.

Then God showed me himself and all my gift packages and strengths and strategies melted before him. My heart trembled out of terror at my inability. I couldn't pray, only plead. I couldn't minister, only show up. I looked at all my hard work and realized it didn't matter a bit; it wasn't sufficient. It couldn't save anyone, myself included. I felt desperation. A desperation for God, for his presence, for his breath on my face.

When I hear someone speak of brokenness now, it is a memory, a present reality that I plead never goes away.

My complete lack of ability takes me so close to the very throne of God that I can feel his whisper in my ear. He doesn't need my strengths, his are better and stronger and infinite. He doesn't need me to plant a church; it's his bride and he pursues her with a zeal I cannot imagine. He doesn't expect me to be him. He is enough in himself.

I pray that when I feel pretty good about myself, when I think I have something great to offer that is not HIM, I pray that I will remember the smell, the images, the street signs of that blessed brokenness when I had nothing but him and he was more than enough.

"But my grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in your weakness."

February

"This is February, month of Valentine's Day and the beginning of spring in Ireland. It's supposed to be a month of love and new beginnings, but I've been struggling- especially in the last few days- with how small and cold my heart can be, and how little change seems to be happening in my life. Looking inward, there's not a lot of hope I can see. But God has made me a crazy promise that I am "competent to minister" (2 Corinthians 3:6) through a Spirit that breathes life into the most unlikely places.  When He lifts my eyes to that promise, I see how His Kingdom moves inexorably forward in my most flawed and clumsy efforts. The hope in that is inexhaustible."   -Laura Carmel Palmer

After a day of utter failure at every thing I've touched, this short devotional really resonates with me. It's been a day of failing at motherhood, friendship, homemaking, work ... You name it, I've failed at it.

In addition to these failures is the stark pain and suffering. There is death on every side. Cancer. Alzheimer's. Abortion. The suffering of racism and hatred. The pains of addiction. The destruction of marriages. Atheism expressed in overt anger... All of these things in one single,  exhausting, miserable day.

Like the writer above, I look inside and don't see much hope. I am woefully, horrifyingly incompetent. Nothing I seem to do works. Like the writer, I lift my eyes up to the promise, desperate for some kind of reassurance, and find the countenance of a loving Father who is making all things right, in spite of my clumsy efforts. His Kingdom knows no end.

There is an overflowing abundance of hope in the smiling face of the God who loves me.