Going Anywhere?

This morning, listening to the radio, I hear a song by Chris Tomlin, "I Will Follow." The chorus said, "Where You go I'll go, Where You stay I'll stay, When You move I'll move. I will follow." 

Though only partly listening, the chorus caught my attention and I realized that while I've always pictured following God as being related to a location, that isn't necessarily the case. Actually, based on my experience over the last few years, following God may have nothing at all to do with a physical location and everything to do with the heart.

Let me explain; God has called me to journey into an emotional and spiritual desert. He hasn't left me alone, thankfully. But sometimes it is very, very lonely. And I haven't always embraced this journey as enthusiastically as I would if He called me to Africa or Thailand or Alaska (I have enthusiastically followed God's call to all three locations, for short term assignments) or somewhere I wanted to go. I haven't followed my Savior into this desert with the same excitement I might have, if the desert was a physical location, rather than an emotional experience, either. With a physical location, people can support you, encourage you, recognize the sacrifices you are making, and celebrate your obedience. With a spiritual or emotional desert, no one celebrates. Few understand, and fewer still celebrate. I certainly haven't.

I've sung songs like the one by Chris Tomlin, many times, with great sincerity. But, I'm not sure I'll sing them quite the same way again. Obedience is difficult; painful, even. It requires sacrifices that aren't always obvious, or easy. The benefits are definitely worth the sacrifice, and the rewards outweigh the pain, but pain and sacrifice are frequently involved.

When my daughter was invited to go on a mission trip to Africa, it required little pain or sacrifice (unless you count the shots required); she wanted to go. When we served lunch to the homeless at a local shelter, it required nothing more than time, and the blessings far outweighed the investment. Telling kids at the fair about Jesus as we painted their faces was a blast. When we help someone move, or help at an Operation Christmas Child collection center, or deliver a meal to a family recovering from illness, the sacrifices are minimal, the discomfort limited, the rewards abundant. My culture and community applaud my investment of time and energy, I feel good about what I've done, and (most of the time) I've had fun in the process.

When I love and nurture a very fussy and mostly miserable two year old, or hold a panic-riddled preschooler while she screams because something caught her by surprise, or explain to my dyslexic daughter what an "a" says again, because she can't remember and traditional teaching methods aren't working, it doesn't feel good. Nobody applauds my efforts. The sacrifices are tremendous (like personal time, reading for pleasure, or getting things done, just to name a few), the rewards (appear to be) minimal. It is not fun.

Yet, as I listened to Chris Tomlin's song, I realized that this very much is "where" God has called me, and I need to decide if I really meant what I said all those times, or not. Am I really willing to go anywhere God calls me to go, even if it is to an unpleasant place, or through an unpleasant experience? Honestly, I don't know. The journey I've been on has proven to me that I can trust God to take me where He wants me to go, and to walk with me every step of the way. But it isn't easy, and I don't always like it. I struggle with embracing "where" God has called me to go. I really do. But, by God's grace, I'm taking one step at a time along this path through the desert. And I can truly say I'm a better person for what I've experienced; I truly am.

Growing Up

Today I became an adult. It isn't quite like I expected, and I'm not sure I was ready, but I grew up.

It all happened with one decision. 

Our beloved family pet, Bootsie, has been going down hill for awhile. We've been wondering just how much longer she could last. Though the vet said she was basically doing fine, it was obvious to us that her days were numbered.

Then, last night, I noticed that she was having trouble walking. She couldn't make it across the room without stopping to rest, and she seemed to be in pain. Walking up the stairs was impossible. Bootsie was miserable. Her condition had deteriorated rapidly.

I knew what had to be done. 

And I knew who had to do it.

This morning I called the veterinarian to schedule the appointment, breaking down repeatedly through the brief conversation.  We made it for later in the afternoon, to give time to say goodbye. That time was well spent, treasuring the precious blessing of our furry friend. We were able to capture a couple of paw prints in modeling clay, and attempted to add her paw prints to a canvas; the shape doesn't really resemble a cat's paw, but we know what it is.

And then came the decision that has forever changed me. 

It was time to go.

Tears stained the faces of everyone in the car, because of my decision. It was one that had to be made. But it was still agonizing to be the one to make it. I could hardly read the consent through my tears.

The tech who walked us through the process was so gentle and kind. She affirmed my decision, explained our options, helped us decide what to do, and asked if we needed more time. 

Again, the details were up to me. 

As I type this, everyone is in bed. Bootsie has been laid to rest on my parents' farm, surrounded by treasures from those who will miss her most. The day is over. The carefree days of my youth have been completely laid aside. Innocence, without the weight of deciding life or death, is gone forever. In it's place is a resolve, a strength I didn't know I possessed. And I will never be the same. I wasn't ready, but I have completely grown up.

Melancholy

Maybe it is because I am not sleeping well, or maybe because of this crazy diet we are on, or maybe because life is slowing down and I actually have time to think, for the first time in over two years. Whatever the reason, I have been contemplating life. Somehow, that tends to take me back over mistakes I have made, or through situations I wish I could change. Such was the case last night; exhausted and ready for bed early, I wasn't able to get to bed until I was past that early window for sleeping. So, I stayed awake, for several hours. Before the night was over, I had wandered to a very dark place, thinking of friends who no longer consider me a friend, and reviewing all the times throughout my life when I had been rejected. Like I said, it was a very dark place. 

By God's grace, instead of meditating on those unpleasant awful memories, I cried out to Jesus, and focused on what was true; no matter who rejects me here on Earth, God promises to never leave me or forsake me (Heb 13), I am His name workmanship (Eph 2:10), and I am loved, not only by God, but by my family, too. 

Today, that melancholy has clung to me like mist on a foggy morning. Adding the challenges of life, it has been a less-than-stellar day, made worse by a migraine and malaise, most likely triggered by die-off from the GAPS intro diet (which I could have prevented, if I was more careful). 

Taking some time from the daily grind in my house, I slipped away to "detox," both literally and figuratively. As I was pouring my heart out to the Lord, He reminded me of what I need to do in times like these; keep my crown on!! 

Since God gave me that principle (which I thought was just a clever topic for speaking) it has amazed me how He has used it to encourage me. God has adopted me into His family. I am a daughter of The King. What a treasure?! What a precious reminder. No matter what happens in life, I can choose to keep my crown on. 

Unfortunately, it doesn't take away the pain of being rejected, nor does it magically restore broken relationships or undo mistakes. But, it gives me the grace not to be defined by these realities. It gives me "wind beneath my wings" to soar above my circumstances and keep my eyes on Jesus. 

Wow. The "detox" really helped, at least with the melancholy mood. It didn't take away my headache, or renew my strength and vitality completely, but I am SO thankful for God reminding me, again, who I am, and where my focus needs to be. God is so good!!

Another Adventure

I am beginning a new blog. It will describe our journey with the GAPS diet, developed by Dr. Natasha Campbell-McBride. You can check out my first post here.

Don't worry...I'm not leaving; just adding a page where you can share my adventures, if you so choose, through the ups and downs of eating a very different (and ultra-strict) diet than most Americans. This will continue to be my soapbox, and I will continue to wax eloquent, even if nobody is listening.

Hopefully you will drop in from time to time, to check my progress. I'd definitely love to have you share the journey.

Real Life Priorities

This post is actually from a couple of months ago. Looking over my blog, I realized it had not been published. My situation is different now (thankfully) but the lessons remain unchanged. If you can relate to what I share, please let me know. 


It is Sunday afternoon, by exactly fifteen minutes. Once again, I am home instead of having spent my morning in church. And, once again, it is because my dear son is sick. Over the course of the almost three hours I have been home with only one child, I have used half a box of tissues to wipe his nose, cleaned up multiple messes, started one load of laundry (twice, lol), cleared the table (but didn't get dishes done), started dinner (hurrah for slow cookers) and nursed three times. 

You may wonder why I am still nursing. This little man is two years old, after all. But, he still doesn't eat well, especially when he is sick. So, he nurses. Which, by the way, would be very normal, if we lived in Mongolia. Maybe he will be a really good wrestler, lol. But, I digress. 

Enjoying one of the few times when I am alone (almost), I had some pretty lofty goals. Needless to say, they were far too ambitious. You know what I did with my time, instead. And as I sit here, thinking about all that needs to be done around my house, it has been difficult to enjoy the moment, honestly. 

Oh, I know all about the poem that reminds moms of how fleeting time with our children can be. I know babies grow up, and houses can be cleaned later. But, it is much easier to say or read than to actually do. Especially when the baby is two and has required more time than the average baby. As much as I love my son, I must be honest. Sometimes I really want to get things done. Sometimes I want to be free to invest my time the way I want to instead of caring for a fussy toddler. It has been more frustrating of late, too, maybe because he is sick, again. 

It is difficult. It really is. I get tired. I get frustrated. I get impatient with my kids, and my wonderful husband. I still want to get things done, and I NEED to get things done. Everyone does. The poem is great, but dealing with reality is not nearly so romantic. 

But, even as I struggle with what I am not getting done and wrestle with what my priorities should be, I know what is most important. My house can be cleaned later. My son will not nurse forever. And while my house may bug me now, and I worry about how my older kids will manage their homes when they leave mine, I don't worry about whether my time is being well spent. I know it is.