Changing My Clothes

I don't know if you can see it,
pacing all caged behind the corner of my eye,
waiting for the right interchange between another person and me,
or maybe the lack of any interchange at all,
that animal named Fear who rattles the cage door and threatens to escape to swallow me whole in one bite.

A deceiver walked with me on this path I've trod and told me a great lie,
that there are good emotions and there are bad ones.  The good ones are to be worn on the outside, like beautiful garments purchased with the affluence of joy.  Our world really only likes to look on pretty.
The bad ones ~ anger, fear, jealousy, despair, contempt, and shame ~ these emotions are to be contained, stuffed down, hidden away, as though we really have the power to control our feelings.  I have spent my life molding these emotions into one shape, one form that breathes fear quietly just behind my eyes.

You are angry?  We say it's not that you are angry, it's what you do with that anger.
You are fearful?  We say do more to increase your faith, for trusting more will take away the fear, or at least reduce it.
You are shamed?  We say you don't need to be, for Christ removed your sin and made you clean.  But never forget you are a sinner.  Somewhere, someday, you'll find the balance between being present/future clean and present/future dirty.

I don't have a neat and tidy principle with a corresponding scripture to finish this with.  The reality is I am learning to recognize the clothes of fear that I wear, worn close as undergarments against my skin.  Hidden beneath the pretty feelings I wear for you to see.  I think fear is the only bad emotion I've allowed myself to feel without the unmanageable shame that follows anything else bad.

I'm not trying to be introspective.  Truthfully I'm tired of studying myself.  I'm so tired I am willing to stop avoiding certain feelings in an attempt to not feel pain.  Isn't that why we all avoid feelings?  It is easier for men to feel anger than hurt.  Easier for women to feel hurt than anger.  I want to face off with anger instead of distorting it to fear.  I want to resist running away when I feel I'm not enough.  I want to sit in the ash heap with despair or contempt and know my God will sit with me in the dust.

Simply, I want to run to God instead of away from Him when He doesn't relieve my pain.  To do this I'm going to have to be just as okay with anger, fear, jealousy, despair, contempt, and shame as I am with joy, compassion, security, and hope.  Emotions are the language of the soul.  I'm willing to say I'm afraid because ultimately I know God offers more freedom than I have yet to grasp.  I want to let Him retrain my ear, that I may hear pure harmonies.  I want to sing through the dark, complex melodies of my life and lift high on the swell of emotion resolution brings to the score.  All emotions hold the gift of leading us closer to the scandalous wonder of the Cross and the beautiful heart of God.  In this, I will worship.

My flesh and my heart may

fail,

but God is the strength of my

heart

and my portion forever.

Psalm 73:26

...can recognizing fears be something to count as grace?  Even when they aren't rational?...

1717.  my children will be absent from my life as they enter adulthood.  Fear I will miss them so much.  Fear miles will take away intimacy and how will I do life without the joy of their friendship?

1718.  I won't do all the "right" things for Ben and Sam in homeschooling.

1719.  I committed to "more" with God regarding writing and what if I fail?

1720.  I can't even set up my new wordpress site and just what networking am I supposed to be doing?

1721.  So grateful that in all the ways I am recognizing fear, my relationship with my husband stands strong and secure.

1722.  So grateful that You will always lead me through things because You want me free more than I want me free.

1723.  He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.  Phil 1:6  Yes, Lord, YOU will complete the work, not me.

 

About Figs

This is a re-tooled post from the archives, one of best lessons I am still learning.

When they had all had enough to eat, he said to the disciples,

"Gather the pieces that are left over. Let nothing be wasted."  

 John 6:12

I had been reading in John, sitting on my deck under the broad, shady leaves of my fig tree when I realized I was sitting in a analogy - a visual, tactile, sticky-sweet smelling image of what Jesus meant by "let nothing be wasted." I had just read the miracle of the feeding of the 5000, ending with the collection of left-over bread. 

They all ate and were satisfied, and the disciples picked up twelve basketfuls of broken pieces of bread and fish."   Mark 6:43 

Bread was a gift from God. In Hebrew, the word for bread, lechem, can also mean food in general. Lechem represents not only all food but God's sustenance as a whole. In a Jewish home it is required what falls to the floor be picked up and left over bread never be discarded.  Doing so shows ingratitude for God's gracious provision.  Understanding lechem broadens our understanding of Jesus as complete sustenance for all. 

What does lechem have to do with a fig tree? 

Before the fruit of the fig tree ripened, sitting beneath those leaves was my favorite place to read, talk to loved ones on the phone, and laugh with the family over a meal followed by s'mores.  But then the fruit ripened.

A fig tree bears no fruit for the first three years.  With proper care and in the right region, a mature tree will produce figs 10 months out of the year.  Our backyard tree was definitely more than three years old.  Sitting beneath a fig tree bearing fruit provides either a great experience in harvesting or a sad reminder of what waste brings. 

From the moment the figs ripened and started "plopping" onto my deck they reminded me of little baby birds pushed from the nest. In addition, as they ripened the skin of the figs split and a host of flies and bees feasted on the fruit through the cracks. These figs were full of flavor and nutritional benefit, but I had to do some serious mental gymnastics to pop one in my mouth.

Ken liked the figs. I would make an effort to pick some from the tree each day for him, but the rest? Well, the mess on the deck was such a nuisance I hosed the deck off daily with a power sprayer. Figs surfed the deck to the edge, then over to be hidden in the ground cover.  The harvest out of sight and out of mind.  Eventually there were so many bees I didn't climb into the tree to pluck the daily few for Ken. I was too afraid harvesting might get me stung.

Let nothing be wasted.

How often do I choose not to harvest the fruit of God's labor because I don't like the way it looks? 
In more relational terms - how often do I walk past a person because they remind me of someone else? 
Because they need me more than I am willing to give of myself? 
Because they smell? 

The sweetness of figs begins to stink.

An unharvested tree brings flies. Hundreds of them.

Bees will sting.

I've learned some things from that fig tree, not from the satisfaction of a job well-done, but from the sadness of witnessing waste. 

Harvesting is hard work.  With a tree that bears fruit ten months out of twelve, the job seems like it will never be finished.  What truth, this job God offers will last a man a life-time. 

Harvesting might mean getting stung a few times.  We live to survive the stings of misunderstandings, unforgiveness, selfishness, false accusations - those we mete out and those we receive. 
In the grand scheme of things, getting stung is a minor nuisance.

In God's economy there is no waste. Even the pieces are gathered, that nothing be wasted. 
I must judge my attitudes and actions towards others, careful to offer words of encouragement, love, and hope.
These are the tools of the harvester who reaps the fruit of God's labor. 

When he saw the crowds, he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. Then he said to this disciples, "The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few. Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into his harvest field.   Matthew 9:36-38

God's laborers are not volunteers showing up to do good works we think will help God.
We are chosen, authorized, and sent by God through Christ.
"Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers..."  

Favored One, may we be joyful harvesters.

Let no people be wasted.

photo credit

Did You Know We Have More Kids?

Nothing says I've completely moved in to a new home like the decorated refrigerator.  Since it is one of the few appliances that is used throughout the day I tend to put things on it that bring a smile to my face.  How about you?  Is your refrigerator clean and crisp, or plastered with life all over it?

On one side I have photos of family and friends, 

which by-the-way, I need more recent shots and more photos of friends. (hint, hint)  

Shopping lists and upcoming wedding invitations, just reminders that life is so full.

On the other side I have our magnet collection,

 a little token of each place we've visited.  

If only I had thought of this tradition 23 years and 17 moves ago! 

 I can only imagine the number of magnets I could fill this space with!

The front of my refrigerator?

It is filled with faces I love and want my gaze to linger on long.  

Names I whisper in my heart and out-loud, 

hoping my voice will carry across the miles 

to rest on them with an "I love you."

These are my kids and this is sacred space.

Who knew an electric storehouse,

filled with the abundance of the harvest 

could remind me throughout the day that so many are starving?

These are my kids.  

I am blogging with Compassion International this month, partnering with them to help release children from poverty by raising awareness through Favored One.

Today I want to share our kids' faces.  Let you glimpse the mischief in their eyes or the shyness behind their smile.  

Tomorrow I will share their stories and remain in hope that my prayers add good chapters to their lives.

Meet Marcel.  

He lives in The Democratic Republic of Congo, 

and I can't help but smile every time I look at the feet he will grow into.

Meet Plamedi. 

 She draws pictures that could fit on a postage stamp.  

It reminds me every time that she has learned better than I the lesson on savoring resources.  

She lives in the DRC as well.

Meet Cristhofer.  

He and the rest of our kids live in the same village in Guatemala.  

Our boys noticed quickly there were several boys to adopt

 and we decided we needed them all in our family.

Meet Jorge.  

Couldn't you just whisk him up and spin him around?

Meet Willy.  

He's not as shy as he looks, but he does think on big people things a lot.  

Meet Moises.  

He is quiet, or at least his photos say so.  

We hope to get to know him in person some day soon, 

so I let you know if my guess was right.

Meet Mario.  

I haven't heard it yet, 

but I just know this little man knows how to give a good belly laugh.

I've been careful to frame God's command beside their faces,

in case I am tempted to forget the awesome responsibility I have been given.

And beside His command I have placed my humbling stone,

words roughly printed in my child's hand,

the message he chose to send to his family abroad~

Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.  

Matthew 18:4

A son of abject poverty, in a war-torn, Aids-devasted land ~ he prays for me.  

What an aroma that must be to the God on high,

my name lifted up from Marcel's lips.

Today, as you think on just how good life is, might you pray about welcoming another child into your heart? 

You can pray for him.
You can send him to school.
You can tell him he is beautiful.

Yes, you can, Favored One.  Just reach out and touch Compassion. You'll be so glad you did.  And would you please consider sharing this post with others?  Facebook it!  Tweet it!  Send it through email!  Let's release more children from poverty together!

Linking with A Holy Experience today ~

We Dreamed of You

After the "dark" years~

those we lived through with no medical insurance,

buying new tires every six months to replace the ones worn bald from country back roads to school,

and your daddy~

going to school full time, driving two hours round-trip,

working evenings at the community health clinic,

pulling 12-hour shifts all weekend in the hospital E.R.,

and always being a husband who provided,

a father who sheltered and made secure our home,

the man who never slept always dreamed.

After the "dark" years between Air Force service, when we never really knew we were poor~

After those years we began to dream of you again.

Your daddy put the Air Force uniform back on, 

wearing bars of butter on his shoulders to fill the bread baskets full.  I asked for another mouth to feed.  Just one I promised.  And we delighted in another son.  I had promised, just one.  But who are we to decide when our family has had its fill?  All those days towards Benjamin turning one, and me looking for the face that was missing from the table gathering.  We were not all there.

And then we were.

Samuel Grady Benton

June 14, 2001

  

You are the one who closed the circle of hands around our table. 

You have taken that seat and we have all baby-watched in wonder these years 

as you have risen towards manhood.  

We have wrestled your will, each of us, and marveled at the strength you possess not to break, 

the wisdom you have in learning to bend.  Ah, your mind is beautiful, Sam.

But your heart is what holds ours close.

We love that you live.

Happy Birthday, Sam.

I thank my God every time I remember you.

...and these are the graces I thank Him for...
1497.  the closeness you have demanded from me since I brought you home from the hospital ~ your devotion honors me
1498.  your hugs, hand holding, and smiles
1499.  your bravery in digging deep to resolve conflict ~ oh you are so small to have learned such big lessons
1500.  your amazing mind ~ the things you observe, the questions you always have
1501.  you get lost in books
1502.  you could read all day
1503.  you love to sing
1504.  you aren't embarrassed to let your inside joy live outside
1505.  Wasgau Wednesday coffee dates with you
1506.  you still play with stuffed animals
1507.  you play the piano beautifully
1508.  you dream big dreams
1509.  you give generously
151o.  you manage money well
1511.  you love chocolate and coffee
1512.  you are a thinker
1513.  you are my son


Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable - if anything is excellent or praiseworthy - think about such things.     Philippians 4:8


And I know you will.  I love you, Favored One.

Walking Psalm 72:15-19

Long may he live!

May gold from Sheba be given 

him.

May people ever pray for him

and bless him all day long.

Let grain abound throughout the

land;

on the tops of the hills may it sway.

Let its fruit flourish like Lebanon;

let it thrive like the grass of the field.

May his name endure forever;

May it continue as long as the sun.

 All nations will be blessed through

him,

and they will call him blessed.

Praise be to the LORD God, the God of

Israel,

who alone does marvelous deeds.

 Praise be to his glorious name

forever;

may the whole earth be filled with

his glory.

Amen and Amen.

Psalm 72:15-19

From Eugene Peterson's Praying with the Psalms:May 31

The double "Amen" is the emphatic, positive conclusion to these prayers.  Amen is the Hebrew word for "yes," a yes that comes to its richest meaning in an affirmative response to God.  We say yes to the God who says yes to us in Jesus Christ. 

We try.

We try to capture His glory in print, and pixels, photos, and words.

We share the bits of glory we can see.  

But His glory is more than what we consume.  It is something we experience, we breathe in. 

It is what we live.  

We live His glory.  

There is evidence of it everywhere.

Go enjoy a glory walk today, Favored One.  May people ever pray for him and bless him all day long.

Amen and Amen.

"Praise ye the Lord!  O let all that is in me adore Him!  All that hath life and breath, come now with praises before Him!  Let the Amen sound from His people again: gladly for aye we adore Him."  

Joachim Neander, "Praise to the Lord, the Almighty"

 

 

Moving

We are on the move again.

I'm not sure if the weariness I feel when I scan the things to prepare for boxes ~

while boys study words like 

deliberate

confront

compliant

inevitable

persevere

compel

contemplate

~ comes from this day-three migraine,

or the two-week graduation trip to TX in a few days,

or the knowing that there is a mile-high list of things to do when we get home mid-April before this move back to VA, and much of it will need to be accomplished in a foreign language.

I think it's mostly the migraine.

Migraines speak their own insidious language to me, accusing me of being un-knowable, unappreciated, and un-likeable, much less loveable.  They cloud my head with static and make it challenging to paint pretty pictures with words.  I love the art of word-painting.  Yesterday I started to post three different times and gave up.  Today, I'm ignoring the voices of migraine and letting you hear my voice, because the daily conversations keep going even when they are not pretty.  Sometimes the best art to ponder was created out of fuzzy, smudged, and painful moments.

City Signs

We moved from our first home in the Air Force in Hornbach, Germany 14 months after I unpacked the boxes, hung the curtains and set up the first of four nurseries.  I wish we had a sign like this for each place we've left behind.

Hornbach

Ramstein

Morganton

Frisco

Minot

Cheyenne

Kaysville

Ogden

Alexandria

Rodenbach

Each place has been the page that our pop-up home has rested on for a time.  And each place has etched lines and scars on our heart as we have turned the page.

(So that you can keep up with the voice change, the rest of this post is powered by a one-hour nap in the car while boys had piano lessons, followed by two large handfuls of peanut butter M&Ms.  Heaven help me, I'm a carb-craver when I have a migraine and I had to buy a birthday present for an 11 year old yesterday, which included a bag of candy in his gift bag.  You do the math.  And while you are calculating, you can estimate just how well-loved I am in this family ~ if you can count that high.  They have lived with me long enough to recognize the different voices, and are quite tender with their expectations.  My head feels better.)

Front Doors

If I knew then what I know now I would have a photograph of each front door.  It's an art, framing your door in just a way that welcomes the stranger and the neighbor alike, and beckons they enter quickly in to the space of friendship, respite, and love.  Or, at least that's what I'm hoping for each time I place the welcome mat in front of the new door.  

We have purchased quite a few welcome mats over the years!

Stairways

I wish I had pictures of all the stairs I have climbed through the years.  

Stairs I have gated, walls I have washed clean from smudgy hand-prints leaving their traces, having balanced toddler toes up or down the flights.  

Stairs pajama-ed children have waited on with great anticipation for dad to get the camera ready so they can greet Christmas morning stockings and chocolate for breakfast.

Backyards

I wish I had photographs of every back yard, where bikes were bounced without training wheels over grass, and hours were spent around a fire-pit making s'mores, reading books aloud, and sharing laughter with friends.  Yards where there was no grass to mow, only wooded land to tromp through, and deep snow to carve forts out of in the winter.

The Table

Will we have enough room to put all of the leaves in the table?  Will we gather a multitude around the table in the next house, or will we squeeze over into the living room, onto the couches and the floor to fit the family we will become ~ the gathered strangers, soon-to-be brothers and sisters.  Oh yes, this move I think we shall have all the leaves in the table.

The Empty Room

Are you white-walled?

Has someone colored you warm and thought of me, the transient homemaker who sets up house for 10 months, or two years, or the miraculous four?  Can I paint you and make you mine for bit?  

When we've spilled our too-much-of possessions from their crates, will you feel like our classroom?  Will we launch marshmallows from catapults and listen to Abraham Lincoln Old-time radio shows, and get bottom cramps from sitting on the floor too long in front of the radiator because it's the only warm place in the house?  Will we plaster the walls with laminated maps and hope the paint doesn't peel off the way it did here, even though we used removable wall-mount poster tape?

Plants

You will be purchased and potted, watered and trimmed.  And probably re-potted once before I find you a new home because you won't travel cross-country in the summer-heated car well.  And I'll smile anyway, thinking of you blooming on Tracy's end table or gathered in the beauty of Bette's garden. Yes, the windows will be filled with green-growing life. 

Because often times in the constant moving 

~before roots are established long and deep~

 I need to be reminded that my life will be pruned and repotted, 

it will be dormant and look dead,

it will be turning and turning, always towards the light,

and that pieces of my life are meant to bloom in other's gardens.  

So I won't envy their roots entwined with others, 

and the deepness into which they can grow together, 

for I have had the privilege of being planted in many different soils, 

beside an array of beautiful flowers.

I have smelled more than just the roses.

Our Spot

I guess most would simply call this a desk.  And truly, it functions as this when I'm paying bills, planning the school calendar and doing any other of the various family administrations.  But what I see is simply my spot with God.  Here in Germany I have been misplaced because I tend to sit against that silly radiator, back and bottom cramps and all.  And when it is nice, I sit outside and hear the birds and feel the wind and listen to the bells chime.  But always, always I come back to this solid plank of wood, where He has shown me through His word just 

how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge - that (I) may be filled with to the measure of all the fullness of God.  Ephesians 3:18-19

Yes, we are on the move again.

And blessed to have lives that are this particular part of God's story.  Even when it means facing the boxes again in a few months.  Someday soon I will share with you what it's like to be a woman, longing for the fellowship of women and having precious few days to live with one another before pulling up roots - and that a simple email or card in your busyness helps sustain those of us who enter dormant seasons frequently.  

  We know you love us.

We know we mattered to you.

Your remembering helps us bloom vibrantly when the sun comes out.

(I'm not sure whether pre-M&M's was clearer than post-M&M's, but I honored my desire to try to write daily.  If you need a boost now, I recommend the peanut-butter ones.)

Love you much, Favored One