Eleven Years

You died on a Thursday 
The ocean swallowed me whole
And I gasped for air
As you laid there with none left in you 

But I wasn't there 

Before your eyes closed a piece of my soul,
You were passing the time by dreaming
Not ready to leave
Not ready for what was to come 

And I wish I'd stayed with you

As your chest heaved
Up went the swell of it  
And down went the fall of us 
A final beat and my heart broke

And I should have been there

But, you died on a Thursday
Without me

Refine

          Refine:

          transitive verb

          1: to free (something, such as metal, sugar, or oil) from impurities or unwanted material 

          2: to free from moral imperfection: elevate 

          3: to improve or perfect by pruning or polishing <refine a poetic style> 

          4: to reduce in vigor or intensity

          5: to free from what is coarse, vulgar, or uncouth

          intransitive verb

          1: to become pure or perfected 

          2: to make improvement by introducing subtleties or distinctions 

I love the picture that is painted in this definition – to free something from impurities; to remove any trace of imperfection. The end result is so beautiful.

Many people hear the word refine, and they think of refining gold – removing any impurities or imperfections that exists, so as to increase the value. It is the final stage in production; the last step before the gold is flawless and ready. To accomplish this step, the gold must be heated in a furnace until it is so hot, it melts. Then, some ingredients are added, and the pure gold separates from everything else. Everything that was bonded to it is removed, and you are left with a precious metal, pure and perfect.

Whether you are talking about precious metals, or precious souls, the refining process is not necessarily a pleasant one.

          I will bring the one-third through the fire,

         Will refine them as silver is refined, 

         And test them as gold is tested.

         They will call on My name,

         And I will answer them.

         I will say, 'This is My people';

         And each one will say, 'The Lord is my God.'"

          -Zechariah 13:9-

We go through the fire, and it can be painful at times to walk through certain seasons in our lives. But, we have to remember that God’s mighty hand is always at work – plucking away, little by little, that which separates us from Him. Removing bondage to sin that ensnares us, casting down idols that captivate us, and eliminating barriers that keep us from fully surrendering to Him and His will.

Freeing us.

Don’t misunderstand, Christ has paid the price for our freedom on the cross – we need only repent and believe. But, Philippians 1:6 says that “He who has begun a good work in you will complete it until the day of Jesus Christ.” God continues to work on us, because He wants us to be conformed to the image of His Son. He wants us to fully surrender and give up all the things that are keeping us from experiencing true freedom in Him.

One thing I find interesting about the gold-making process, is that after it has been refined, it is too soft for most uses. So, it’s mixed with another metal to strengthen it.

Christ must be that metal for us.

He is infinitely stronger than us, but He is does not withhold that strength. When our faith is placed in Him, that strength will fortify and sustain us. It reveals and reinforces how much we need Him, and reminds us that He will always be there.

What a privilege it will be, to one day look back on our lives and see how holiness has filled the space where impurities used to lay. Until then, like silver or gold, we will continue to be made beautiful in the fire.

He Remembered

My dad's birthday was today. Sam wrote "papa" on the card envelope. He signed his name, and this time I could actually tell that it was "Sam" and not some circles and shapes. He also drew a picture of himself on the inside cover. He drew the face, then two lines coming down. I asked him what the lines were and he said "legs". Then he said "Oh yea, I have to draw some arms!". So, he drew two lines coming out of the sides of his face and even drew hands at the end.

Sam can read. He's learning to write. He can draw pictures and people can actually tell what they are supposed to be looking at.

When did this happen?

Just a minute ago, he was so tiny that he couldn't even climb up onto the couch without help. And just a minute before that, they were placing him on my chest in the delivery room.

He's so tall now. Even his teacher mentioned how tall he's gotten. He looks like a boy. He's not a baby or a toddler, he's a full blown preschooler. He's still 3 years old (for another two months), and if someone asked me today how old he is, I would say 3, because I'm not ready to say 4 yet.

Before Eva was born, I used to put Sam to bed every night. Steve does most nights now because I feed Eva before bed. But, we both have the same bedtime routine. Brush teeth, potty, pjs. Then we read a story, sing a song, pray and hold his hand.

Lately, Sam always has us sing the same song - "This Little Light of Mine". But, that wasn't always the case. There were 3 songs that I consistently sang to him since pretty much the day he was born - "Jesus Loves Me", "Hushabye Mountain" and "On Top of Spaghetti". We haven't sang those songs in forever - at least a year, maybe more. I sing the first two to Eva, but I honestly forgot about "On Top of Spaghetti".

So, the other night, I got to put Sam to bed since Eva needed to go to sleep a little early. I was holding him and singing "Jesus Loves Me". Then I sang "Hushabye Mountain", when I started having flashbacks to him as a 6 or 7 month old in the apartment we lived in. And then more flashbacks to sitting in the rocking chair in his nursery when he was a newborn, and even to a year or two ago when he was still in his crib, but bigger, and me singing these same songs to a much smaller version of him.

... And then I finished and he asked me to sing "On Top of Spaghetti".

It has been forever since I sang that song, but as my mind was going back to those precious memories of holding and rocking and singing to him, his was too. 

He remembered.

I sang him the last song and as I placed him in bed, I remembered how it felt to place him in that crib. He will never be that small again.

My Sammy is one of the greatest gifts God has ever given me. I love that boy more than any words on any pages could ever say. I look at him daily and just think "God, how did I get so lucky?". I am so grateful for my baby boy. My heart feels like it can't contain the joy he fills it with. I have been blessed beyond measure, and I am so incredibly grateful.

Black and Blue

Last week, I grabbed my phone and pulled up the song Black and Blue by the Counting Crows.  The last time I heard that song I was sitting on my living room floor, knees tucked under my chin, with tears streaming down my face. 

Although the song may appear to be about suicide, it's really not. It's about someone who is very fragile, and end of their rope. Someone who feels so empty ... so tired ... so ... nothing. Just nothing and sad. 

At least that's how I felt.  A tear-streaming, heart-aching pain that you can't completely quantify because it's not on the outside, it's coming from the depths of you, deep down inside. And because it's not a cut, or a bruise, it doesn't heal like a normal wound. It stays. It just is. It becomes you, and your identity is now wrapped up in this pain that you can't see or fix.  The person that you used to be, now so small and fragile, is tucked into this little corner of yourself, not knowing how you are going to breathe your next breath because everything just hurts. Everything is a struggle. It's exhausting, and it feels like it will never end. 

Fast forward a few anti-depressant filled years.

I have never been a faithful church goer.  I always felt a pull towards God, especially in difficult times, but once my husband and I got engaged, we felt it was important to find a church to belong to.  I pushed for it, maybe because I felt like it meant more to be married in a church. Like we would have a better shot at staying married? I have no idea where that logic came from, but nevertheless, we started our search.

I don't think either of us were prepared, or quite frankly even looking, for Jesus to enter our lives when we started looking for a church.  We believed that God existed, but didn't know Him or His Word. We tried a few services at a few different churches, but we just didn't feel comfortable. We finally found a small church, and for the first time we were hearing the Bible, not only preached, but explained so well. It was really amazing. 

We had been going to this church for a couple of months, and I remember it was Christmas time because the tree was up. White lights were twinkling, red ornaments singing. At the end of the service, the pastor talked about making Jesus Lord of your life. He also invited anyone with physical ailments, or those in need of prayer, to come up to the front of the church to be prayed over.

He had extended this invitation in the past, but for the first time I felt my eyes welling up, and before I knew it, I was walking up, past the Christmas tree, to the front of the church. I fell to my knees and I sobbed. I couldn't open my eyes or lift my head, I just sobbed. I don't know if that was when I got saved, but I remember that moment so vividly.  The pain I had been carrying for so long, the pain that was so deep inside that I was trying to hide from the world just came rushing out. And even though there was a whole church full of people, at that moment I felt like the room was empty, and it was just me and Jesus. 

I started reading the Bible. I started praying to God, and getting to know Him.  The more I got to know Him, the more I wanted to know. I became enamored by this love ... a love so strong for me, that He would send His own Son to die in my place. I really don't understand this love, and I certainly don't deserve it, but being loved that way has helped me love others better. I am a better wife, a better mother, daughter, sister, friend, all because of this love that, similar to the pain I once felt, comes from the deepest depths of who we are. 

This is a story that I have never told even my family or closest friends.  God is the only one who knows this story. I would guess that my friends would be shocked to know I felt that way, because I always appeared to be so genuinely happy.  A lot of the time I was, especially after I met my husband. He is a true gift, and I am so grateful for him.  But, there were those moments of solitude.  The happiness I portrayed then in no way compares to the joy that I feel now. 

So why even bring it up? In the past few weeks, I have been thinking a lot about what God has done for me and how changed I truly am. Not because I have done anything to effect that change - because I haven't.  If that were the case, all the tears and turmoil would have made a dent in how I felt.  It's because of what God did for me ... what He did to me.  I am literally not the same person I once was.  That shadow of a person tucked in the corner of herself - she roams free. My whole being abides in God and Him in me. He was there to pick me up when I couldn't walk or face another day. He pulled me out of my own torment and carried me safely to shore. 

Truthfully, He didn't restore me back to who I was before, either. I am new. I may still have struggles, like everyone does, but my son will never know that person I once was, and I am so grateful for that. So, that is my reason for writing this. 

There is hope in Jesus. There is love in Jesus. There is rest. Peace. Forgiveness. Joy. 

True, unbridled joy, that you have never imagined. 

There is LIFE.

   You will show me the path of life; 
   In Your presence is fullness of joy; 
   At Your right hand are pleasures forevermore.
                                       -Psalm 16:11

A Moment With The Moon

"Do you want to come look at the moon?"

For my husband to ask this, it had to be good. I jumped up from the couch and ran to the back door.  

It was breathtaking. So clear and bright. I don’t think I'd ever seen anything like it. 

My husband went to bed, but I stayed up and looked at that moon for an hour.  A good portion of the time was spent trying to take a picture of it, but I just couldn't get the camera to focus. It's funny how something so clear was doing its best not to be captured. Finally, after about a half an hour of getting unfocused blobs, I stopped.  I was missing out on this moment. If I would just take it all in – the sight, the smell, the air, I could have more than just the beauty of a picture when I went to bed that night.

It was a perfectly full, whitish-silvery moon.  So clear and radiant, with craters illuminated in different shades of grey and white. The night was not clear, but as the clouds moved across the sky, they appeared to move behind the moon, never obscuring its view, and giving the illusion that the moon was closer to earth than the clouds. It felt like I could reach up and touch it.

A few stars sparkled in the dark blue sky, and every now and then another one would peek its head out from behind a cloud. On this night though, the star of the sky was the moon.

I looked around and breathed in the crisp April air. Although it had not rained in days, it smelled like fresh rain on a summer's night. The bare branches of the trees were drenched in moonlight, and the grass lay quiet, soaking in the beams.  A plane flew in a straight line under the moon, followed by another minutes later, leaving trails of clouds one directly above the other.  In the distance, I could hear the hum of a train moving along the steel tracks. It whistled, and then, silence.

All this from just stopping to look at the moon.  I was struck with more than just the beauty of the night. How often do I really stop and take inventory of all the blessings God provides us? How often do I stop long enough to even recognize them? 

Not nearly enough. 

Standing there, covered in moonlight and breathing in the night air, I thanked God. It was just the moon; nothing myself or so many before me hadn't seen thousands of times, but it was so profound. All the senses filled to the brim and Him at the helm of it all. 

Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, in everything give thanks; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. -1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

In everything, give thanks. Not just the moments where you are expected to give thanks, but in the unexpected. In the moments where you are tired or weak. In the moments of everyday chaos, look for those unpredictable opportunities, and give thanks. 

It is not an accident that this world is filled with so much beauty. Everywhere we turn, there is something to be thankful for. We just need to take the time to recognize it. Put away the distractions, life is too short to spend it staring at a screen.    

And remember, never pass up an opportunity to stop and look at the moon. 

Set Me on the Rock

I want to be on that rock

In the midst of the storm

Set me there

The rain pours down

And the winds blow

But I am steadfast and unharmed

I am vigilant and unmatched

For the power of God is within me

He has set my feet upon this rock

And I shall not fear

And I shall not weep

For my God is my strength

So let the winds blow

And the rain pour

I will not move

Not By Might Nor By Power

I didn't get saved until I was in my mid-twenties.  Growing up in this world, there is a constant perception that we have to do it all. We have to manage everything ourselves. Being 'strong' is an asset to be desired, and it shows that you have everything under control. Weakness comes in the form of acknowledging you need a little help. 

God doesn't see it that way. 

But God has chosen the foolish things of the world to put to shame the wise, and God has chosen the weak things of the world to put to shame the things which are mighty. -1 Corinthians 1:27

Real might isn't our own strength on display for the world to see, it is God's strength manifested in us, for His glory. In fact, right before the verse above, it says that not many mighty (according to the flesh) are called. Why would we want to rely on our own power, when the God who created the heavens and the earth so freely offers up His strength for us?

Our God is mighty!  His understanding is infinite. With His mighty outstretched arm, He protects, and with the same arm, He pours out His judgement. He has the power to heal the sick and to raise the dead. In Him, we can drink from the unfailing fountain of eternal life. 

We don't have to navigate this world alone, pretending to have it all under control.  Through Him, we can walk victoriously.  Equipped with the armor of God and the Sword of the Spirit, we face this world. A world that Jesus has already overcome; and we do so with the knowledge that we are more than conquerors through Him. 

So, let the weak say, 'I am strong'!  For, He who is in me is greater than he who is in the world.