Letter To My Father, My God & Myself

I said I was going to go to bed early tonight...but that's just not going to happen :) This MUST come out. This one is for me, but if you're reading, feel free to join me.

I have needed a father, a dad, a daddy this week. Usually I manage just fine. I'm a grown woman with three children of my own. I've got a good life, a good husband and a great God. But, this week, the world seemed especially big and bad. I felt the need to run for protection, to be covered by someone, but who is it???

The hole that is still in my heart due to the absence of my dad (Will it ever go away? I want it to and I pray for it to often.) seemed absolutely cavernous this week. I was picked on by a bully and was afraid.

The first person I cried out to was God. And, I know He is always with me. But, sometimes, do you ever just need someone to hold you? Someone who's bigger and stronger than you? I pray all the time, "Jesus, just let me feel your arms around me."

So, around the same time the bully situation happened, I had gone to the store for my annual ritual called "find the most loving yet generic Father's Day card ever created". It's a stretch, to say the least. Too mushy would be a lie that we both recognize. A funny one? No, there's never been humor exchanged between us. I have to find the one (and there's always JUST one) that walks the precarious line of stating "You are my father, this is Father's Day, so have a good day."

That wound was already open. BUT THEN...

The proverbial "salt" was poured in when yet another young woman who has an unsatisfactory dad has claimed mine for her own; so much as to pour out her heartfelt feelings for him on Facebook (truth be told, my dad's not even "on" Facebook, he doesn't even know how to text). Yes, we all have known the pain of reading something on Facebook that we wish we had never, ever seen...

This girl is young and I count her as innocent. I forgive her because she knew not what she was doing, I am sure. But, that hurt is still there, ringing in my ears, crushing my heart, preoccupying my thoughts.

So, I am left alone, just me and my Heavenly Father's presence, ever so heavy and strong in this room. This is where the rubber of faith meets the road of life. How do I do this? How do I believe that God is enough? That He loves me more than my earthly father ever wanted to or is capable of? That He cares about this? That He caught the numerous tears that have slid down my cheeks today?

I keep repeating what I know of God to myself. He will never leave me. Be still and know that He is God. He works all thing together for my good.

Somehow, I sense that this is about so much more than the relationship that I want but have come to terms with never having with my dad.

NEWSFLASH: I think I made my dad an "idol"!

In trying to reconcile, forgive, admit my own mistakes...I think over the years I thought of my dad as a gift that I thought for sure God would finally give me. I think I missed that GOD is the gift I get. Period.

I want to say goodbye to all of that. Because that will never, ever satisfy me. Only God can fill what is indeed a God-shaped cavern in my heart. I'm going to keep asking Him to do that for me, because my spirit is willing, but my flesh is weak. I simply do not know how to do it, to snap my fingers and poof, God's enough for me. But, it is my prayer that when this day comes around next year, instead of mourning what I don't have or what was stolen from me, I can rejoice in what was bestowed upon me by Jesus.

P.S. My dad's not on the internet, either, so yeah, he'll also never see this. So, I guess this is really just a letter to God.

What My Life Looks Like

I have three daughters, ages 5 (going on 16), 2 1/2 (who acts EXACTLY her age) and 1 1/2. These girls are my everything and have changed everything about my life. This is what my life looks like:

*I've found Hope putting $100 prescription eye drops in her baby-doll's eyes.

*If I am looking for my favorite bracelet, the first place I look is their toy box.

*If it is quiet too long in my house, I head to the bathroom where I have found an entire roll of toilet paper unrolled, Hope applying my mascara to herself, Trinity getting into the bag of guards for Steve's electric hair clippers, Hope using the entire dispenser of soap to wash her hands with bubbles overflowing from the sink, etc.

*I estimate that I could feed our entire military with the food that I have found in our couch cushions, under furniture, in our van and just plain wasted by being thrown on the floor. Entire box of crackers and bags of pretzels are vacuumed up on a weekly basis.

*Going to the grocery store with these three inspires complete strangers to give me looks of empathy, offer me their cart, offer to take my cart back, help me with my girls' coats and other nice things. These people usually offer up the information that THEY had three little ones who are either teenagers now or are grown. I thank God for them! I confess that I have asked complete strangers to hold my baby while I use the bathroom -- and they have complied, only too happy to hold a baby :)

*Some people in public say some not-so-nice things as well. This brings out the lioness mama in me and we won't talk about those instances :)

*Steve and I have forgotten what the inside of a semi-nice restaurant looks like. Friday's? Smoky Bones? Now, the best we can manage is Bob Evans or Chick-Fil-A :)

My life is one that I never imagined for myself and never actually wanted -- because I didn't think I COULD ever have it or deserved it. Raising these girls is refining me. In particular, staying at home, trying to make it as a one-income, one-vehicle family has taught me to be more efficient and not take things for granted the way I used to.

Sometimes, I will admit, this life is very, very difficult. There are many days that I cry. My refuge is the downstairs bathroom where I go in, lock the door and turn on the exhaust fan so I can cry out to God to help me. Many days I am frustrated, exhausted and worn-out. I make mistakes, it seems, in every hour of the day.

I can see that my life, these girls, have been a way for God to draw me closer to Him. I have a lot to be thankful for, even on days when everything has gone wrong and no one has behaved (including me).

Each time I go into my girls' room at night to pray over them, I am speechless at the beautiful gifts God has bestowed on me. I don't deserve them, even today. I see the difference in my girls' life compare to my own childhood -- God has performed a Great Reversal, as the Message version of the bible puts it. I am thankful beyond what my words can say.

God who made you has something to say to you;
the God who formed you in the womb wants to help you.
"I will pour water on the thirsty ground
and send streams coursing through the parched earth.
I will pour my Spirit into your descendants
and my blessing on your children.
They shall sprout like grass on the prairie,
like willows alongside creeks.
This one will say, 'I am God's,'
and another will go by the name Jacob;
That one will write on his hand 'God's property'—
and be proud to be called Israel."~Isaiah 44 MSG

Spoiled, Bratty and Faithful

I don't know how to say this without sounding bratty, so I'll get on with it: God takes care of me. I have a good life, a really good life with Him, because of Him. I've grown accustomed to having, as His child, His favor. My prayers are (for the most part) answered. My life is relatively easy. Things are "handed" to me, things that other people have such a struggle for. I'm not saying my life is perfect, because it isn't, but it's very good.

Jesus is my savior, He is the only reason I am not messed up to the Nth degree. I have a normal life only due to Him, I've certainly done nothing to deserve it.

Last night my poor baby Trin was just miserable. I was up with her all night. She was in pain due to cutting teeth. I gave her Tylenol. I prayed for her. I gave her a bottle. I rocked her. I sang to her. I bounced her. I prayed more. I gave her a snack. I held her and tried to sleep sitting up. I cried out to God, in anguish because of her anguish.

"What the heck? Where are you, God?????" I felt as though my prayers were bouncing off the ceiling. He was, in my estimation, doing NOTHING. I couldn't understand why He wasn't helping my poor child who is just a baby and was in such pain. Why wasn't He helping me? Or at least letting me know He was there?

We were up until 6am. No sleep. When Steve came downstairs getting ready to go to work, I asked him to stay home. How could I care for three children on no sleep? He did that for me, took Trinity in his arms, and I trudged upstairs to our bed. As I fell asleep, I was so hurt. Why had God seemingly not cared for what I had been through?

After I woke up, I layed in bed for a while praying and asking Him what in the world had happened. I ran it through my mind what I believe:

Hebrews 13:5 ...because God has said, “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.”

Matthew 28:20 Jesus speaking: I am with you all the days (perpetually, uniformly, and on every occasion), to the very close and consummation of the age.

I was left shaking my head. I got dressed and went out to the van to go to class. As I started the van, a CD came on that I had gotten at the library the night before. I hadn't turned off the radio, so it started up right away. This song, which I have never heard before, began to play:

Faithful by Brooke Fraser

There's distance in the air and I cannot make it leave
I wave my arms' round about me and blow with all my might
I cannot sense you close, though I know you're always here
But the comfort of you near is what I long for

[CHORUS]
When I can't feel you, I have learned to reach out just the same
When I can't hear you, I know you still hear every word I pray
And I want you more than I want to live another day
And as I wait for you maybe I'm made more faithful

All the folly of the past, though I know it is undone
I still feel the guilty one, still trying to make it right
So I whisper soft your name, let it roll around my tounge,
knowing you're the only one who knows me
You know me

[CHORUS]

[BRIDGE]
Show me how I should live this
Show me where I should walk
I count this world as loss to me
You are all I want
You are all I want

Of course, that song spoke to me and I felt the love of God. I thought about my experience all day. I thought about how, like a spoiled child, I have grown accustomed to having my way. I pray for a parking spot because I have to lug three children into the grocery and...there it is. I pray for my children to be made well and...they are. I pray for others, too, and many prayers are answered. These are little things in the grand scheme of things, of course, but to me they are paramount.

So, what is God trying to show me? Was it a test of my faith? Praying last night was certainly not easy; it was frustrating and difficult. I wanted to give up but didn't. I was stretched.

God did heal Trinity, just not as quickly as I wanted Him to. The minute I put her into Steve's arms and went to bed, it was over. He didn't have to give her more Tylenol. She didn't fuss and cry, she went to sleep, too. When I got back from my class, she was smiling and playing. "What was that?!?!"

I realize now that I do act like a spoiled child. I do not "deserve" the things I normally get, so perhaps I should change my attitude about all of that. I need to remember that God is God and I am not. He knows best, even when I can't understand what He's doing, or not doing.

And as I wait for Him, maybe I'm made more faithful...

Leaves

Last winter and spring, there were times I would be thinking about God and a leaf would appear. At a point in the year when the leaves should have all been blown away, encased in ice and snow or just have disintegrated, it caught my attention.

In March, one of my friends had a birthday celebration at a park. We were talking and all of the sudden a leaf blew by us. She said, "Wow, that's random, who would have thought a leaf would still be hanging around." Yeah, random :)

I was sitting outside, enjoying the nice weather we're having. It's the end of October and no coat is required! I was looking at the piles of leaves on the ground, admiring the colors and thinking about how beautiful creation is. A leaf hit me on my hand and I smiled.

Recompense

Every so often God gives us a gift that only we can truly comprehend the significance of.

Like many others, my past is full of shattered dreams and hurts. As believers in Jesus, we are told that we will receive "double for our trouble":

"Instead of your former shame you shall have a twofold recompense; instead of dishonor and reproach your people shall rejoice in their portion. Therefore in their land they shall possess double what they had forfeited; everlasting joy shall be theirs. ~Isaiah 61:7

rec·om·pense 

noun

compensation, as for an injury, wrong, etc.: to make recompense for the loss one's carelessness has caused.

It has been utterly beautiful to see God take something ugly and horrible and bring something wonderful from it. He has indeed repaid me more than double -- and really, did he have to repay me at all?!?!

I recently had the opportunity to show love to the person who has been "responsible" in my eyes for much of the hurt in my life. To be able to forgive, and not forget, but to reach out to this person and truly express love....no words. It wasn't saying, "I love you." It was saying, "Yes, you did wrong, but you also did some things right." It was saying, "God loves you, even though..." It was verbally taking them by the hand and leading them back down the path to love and light.

Me, doing this? It seems unthinkable and unlikely that it ever would have happened. But, God.

I am convinced that we are charged with the mission of being light-bearers. Once we have been brought into the light, having been shown forgiveness and love, we must show others the way as well.

Jesus makes his mission known in Luke 4 when he quotes Isaiah 61:

"The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to release the oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor."

When we forgive and choose to love (love as a verb) someone, don't we do these things? We "preach good news". We "set the prisoners free". We "release the oppressed" and "recover sight for the blind". Not only do we set the other person free, we are set free as well.

How exciting this is to think about. These opportunities sound romantic and wonderful but walking them out is quite difficult. "Loving" my neighbors who are mean to guests who come to my home. "Loving" one of Faith's classmates and their parent when said classmate is making my daughter cry at school.

I take comfort in that God meets us in these things and even goes before us. Forgiveness, as I have heard it said, is not actually for the other person -- it is for ourselves, our peace of mind and joy of heart.

Deciding To Be Myself

So often in the last few weeks, I have heard the resounding message, "Embrace who you were created to be." When you hear the same thing every time you turn around, it's hard to ignore and I have been thinking about it a lot.

Accepting who you have been created to be is something that everyone struggles with. Look at any adolescent and you'll see them either trying to be alike or trying so hard to be different that they all end up being alike in their differences.

Faith and I picked up "Stellaluna" by Janell Cannon during our last trip to the library. As I was reading the book to her, that same theme came through Stellaluna's story.

Stellaluna is a bat who is separated from her mother and is raised in a family of birds. She is forced to stop what comes naturally to her, hanging upside down and eating fruit, in exchange for sleeping at night and eating insects. When her mother finds her and returns her to "bat life", she discovers how much easier her life is doing what she was made to do. When her adoptive bird siblings visit her and try Stellaluna's bat ways, they find themselves in danger because they are acting in ways they were never meant to.

I have lived out the discomfort of trying to be someone I am not. I have suffered the consequences of trying to do things that I was not meant to do.

We look at others and want what they have; talent, looks, personality, family background, personal experience. The list could go on and on. But, these are things that we do not choose, they are handed out to us. And, I believe that they are not random, we are specifically planned to be who we are.

King David said that God knits us together in the womb (Psalm 139:13). I don't knit, but it looks like very intricate work to me; work that has a design and shape when it is started.

I recently heard Joyce Meyer say this:

"We're always looking at somebody else, thinking that they're the epitome of what we should be. God is never going to help you be somebody else. You might as well decide to like yourself because if He wanted you to be somebody else, then you would be somebody else."

I don't know if it has to do with age, having children of my own or my life right now, but I am becoming more comfortable with this idea. I do not claim to have total peace with who I am, but I am beginning to a) know who I am and who I was created to be and b) kind of like who that person is.

I see this as freedom and the best path to the fulfilled and abundant life that Jesus has promised us (John 10:10). Embracing who we are embraces God's sovereignty and will in our lives. When I have done that, He has never failed to fulfill His promises to me.

You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body and knit me together in my mother’s womb. ~Psalm 139:13

I came that they may have and enjoy life, and have it in abundance (to the full, till it overflows). ~Jesus, John 10:10

Unexpected Answers

If people in general have one question for God, it has to be, "Why?" In my own life, what I have wanted to know from God is not why things happened, but where was He when they did. Over the past several years, I have grappled with where God was when certain things happened in my life, specifically during my childhood and teen years. I diligently seeked answers, but received none.

I've thought many times about how different my life could have been. I have ranted to God, "Really? You couldn't find one person in a thousand generations before me that honored You?" In my eyes, my life was not blessed, as He promises to bless the descendants of those who love Him.

But I lavish unfailing love for a thousand generations on those who love me and obey my commands. ~Deuteronomy 5

In bible studies when I filled out my family tree and how each of those people affected my spiritual life, I was just in tears. All I had to fill in were things like alcoholism, adultery, abuse, abandonment, or just plain leave them blank because I didn't know the answer.

I had almost come to terms with accepting that I would never know when I started to get some answers. But, they have come in ways I didn't expect.

Recently I have had memories surface of my paternal grandmother, Emma. I last saw her when I was 11 years old. She was the wife of a coal-miner, a tall, strong woman who had been dealt her own fair share of pain. When I came to her spot in those family trees, I always put her on the positive side. The memories I did have of her involved her talking about Jesus. I remember her telling me that if I was scared at night that I could sleep with my bible, which she gave me, underneath my pillow. I've taken her suggestion a few times over the years. Other than those memories, my recollection of her has been vague.

One night after I had prayed for my daughters, I was walking out of their room when a memory suddenly hit me. I could see my grandmother praying with her eyes closed. She was speaking in a whisper very quickly, taking breaths and then praying some more. She was praying for me. The memory took me by surprise and it brings tears to my eyes even now as I write this. When someone prays for you, it means they care, and I have always believed that no one back then really cared.

Today I was praying for Hope's "boo-boos", which any toddler is obsessed with. She'll point to every bruise or scrape that is just about gone and ask me to pray for it. As I was doing this, another memory of my grandmother came to me. She was doing the exact same thing for me. Just like Hope, to me it was a game. I can see her placing her hand on my foot and praying for it, thanking Jesus, lifting her hand and smiling at me.

I have no idea why I haven't remembered these things before. It has been so comforting to me and completely overwhelming. I know that my grandma's prayers were heard.

Although I was not spared from certain things, I believe that God did preserve and protect me. I really should have suffered so much more because of my own choices. Rather than showing me where He was in the times of pain, He has chosen to show me where He was in the aftermath. I see it so clearly. I am so thankful.

"Lost and insecure, You found me, You found me
Lying on the floor, surrounded, surrounded
Why'd You have to wait? Where were You? Where were You?
Just a little late, You found me, You found me"

-You Found Me, The Fray

For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are My ways higher than your ways and My thoughts than your thoughts. ~Isaiah 55