Laboring Love

'Was watching an ultrasound of another the other day. So much joy in the occasion. :) There's nothing quite as fascinating as seeing for the first time another teenie tiny human growing inside your body, swimming around the womb; itty bitty limbs a'flailin'. At the time of mine, I did not feel worthy of such a task; carrying a miracle. But there I was, entrusted to it, anyway, whether I felt worthy or not and I reveled in the wonder of the event, nonetheless.

Today I know the name of that miracle and it is Grace. Abundant, Grace. There's no event that He does not or cannot make beautiful. And she's the most beautiful thing I've ever laid eyes on.

I do hope the Lord would grant me the privilege of hosting another miracle. I've wavered back and forth with wanting another and then not and being okay if I didn't to really hoping for another. The lonely part wants another because it means a man companion for life will be attached. The exhausted part doesn't because, well, it's exhausting. :) I'm not sure what the Lord would have for me, but I trust He knows the desires of my heart, since He placed them there to begin with. And if it is His will for another bun in the oven, He'll make it so.

I joke sometimes about running out of time and I sure hope He works soon, and quick, if it is to be so! And then I ponder Abraham and Sarah, and Mary. Age is no determiner of God's plans, and neither is the seeming impossibility of physical limitation!

Regardless of the difficulty of circumstance that surrounded my pregnancy and motherhood, bringing life, into life, is what I was created to do. I've never known anything more absolutely in my life. If I could, I might have a whole bushel of children (19 and counting, anyone?)...but I won't. Kinda beyond possibility, even though I believe in a God who can do crazy miracles.

Perhaps it's not my lot to have 19 and counting children, but I do know equally as absolutely that I've (we've all) been called to bring/escort/chaperone life, into life, laboring various other forms of love via a multitude of other methods; laboring Grace into existence. I do not feel equipped for the task sometimes, but all He asks is to walk one step at a time with Him; we can do all things through He who strengthens us. No sense in digesting an entire watermelon in one bite. That babe birthed from me did not happen overnight, nor will any other life birthed from adversity. But abundant and joy filled life from adversity is a promise, for those whose Hope is in Him. And I will gladly partake of the laboring process for He who has given ME life. :)

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Pondering Mortality

They estimate she passed away on Sunday. She was found Wednesday when a concerned neighbor requested a welfare check from the police. I wonder how much longer it would have been if it weren't for the neighbor reaching in.

Another passed away far too young, leaving her husband, children and friends behind with the deep looming question about the frailty of life and who will miss them when they are gone. 

As age creeps upon us and mortality starts knocking on doors, the wonder of the purpose of life and the legacy we will leave begins to weigh heavy.What is this all about, anyway?

I remember a time years ago, driving/crawling down the 635 parking lot freeway in Dallas, TX, alone, many states and thousands of miles from family, with very few acquaintance friends and it crossed my mind...how long would it take for anybody to know I was missing if something happened to me?

I think about the woman found days after her spirit left her body...and think about how desperately lonely that must have been. My heart hurts deep for her. Happy now that she is free, but is she really? Free from the torment of life's toil, but is her spirit flying freely in perfect companionship with others now?

I think about the multitudes; the majority who are desperately lonely, lacking the fullness of relationships rich with love for one another. Homeless, orphans, divorced, single parents, elderly, prisoners, addicts, husbands, CEO's, creatives, the poor, wives, teachers, victims, the anorexic/bulemic, children, the rich, Christians; men, women and children from all walks of life and every nationality and every skin color...all so desperately seeking to fill the voids inside their lives they don't realize the harpoons tossed unknowing that serve to perpetuate the cycle of loneliness and soul starvation. Harpoons of pain and destruction, desperate for solace and peace, but not knowing any other way. Habit and fear and paralysis hold us hostage with no hope for anything beyond the next drink or needle or angry outburst, hate spewing bitterness at the unfairness of it all. 

A pandemic of global proportions.

We cannot receive love if we cannot give love. We cannot give love if we cannot receive love. 

And I wonder what I can do to escape the loneliness. I wonder what I can do that might help me to know that when it is my time to go, that people will miss me. That there will be a crowd of hundreds/thousands gathered around my spirit left body to celebrate my life. Not because I was popular or funny or collected a lot of friends on Facebook, but because I somehow had an impact on their life. What legacy will I leave, that people will want to celebrate my life, when it's my time to go?

Maybe it starts with one look. Looking into the eyes of the homeless man or woman on the street, when I walk by and greet them like they really are there, instead of ignoring them like they are not. Because I need people to look me in the eye, too. It helps me to know that I am alive.

Maybe it starts with having a conversation with someone who might not have anything in common with me. Asking them how they are, and really asking them because I really want to know; because what is going on with them matters. Their status or position in life doesn't matter as much as their heart and I think it would be surprising to know how many of us just want to be heard; that our pain and struggles are valid. That I'm not weak...just human, with needs, just like everyone else.

Maybe it starts with taking one step forward into a place of discomfort. Saying two words, "I'm sorry." That will build a bridge back to the heart of the matter. I'm sorry that I hurt you. I'm sorry that I didn't know better, but now I do...and I really am sorry.

Maybe it means taking the first step towards someone instead of waiting for someone to take the step towards me. Encouraging someone because I know they need it as much as I do; being the voice of encouragement while I wait to be encouraged... but realize in a surprising twist that encouraging others actually provides me encouragement...

We're all lonely people bumping along life's pathway, needing love, wanting love, hoping for love, seeking for love. How many of us wait for the love to happen to us, when we in fact hold the love in our very own hands.What happens when it's our time to go, but we've been waiting...waiting...for the love to happen to us. And we arrive at heaven's door with only a small handful of those who will miss us because we waited too long to get the legacy started... 

I don't know what my legacy will be when it's my time to go, but I sure hope it has Grace and Love written all over it. And a little something about Jesus...who showed me what Grace and Love are supposed to look like.

And I'm not going to wait a moment longer or wonder when I'm going to be loved or feel loved or less lonely...because someone else may be less loved and more lonely who needs me to look them in the eye, because they matter, and let them know they will be missed when they are gone.

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I Still Forgive You

She, in constant motion and procrastination, challenges the mama who tries to get her tucked into bed in a timely and orderly fashion; always a longer and more strained process when the mama feels restless and irritable. She doesn't move fast enough and she talks too much and I just need her to be still so I can have the brain space I need in order to process this thing that has created discomfort in my inner being.

Irritability frustrates me. But something is askew and needs to find new perspective or the truth to be shined into it. I'd like to get to the bottom of it as soon as possible. But this life...this life doesn't allow the process to be unfolded in the form, fashion and timing that I'd prefer.

The Truth...it reveals itself right there. The seed of irritability is planted into the soil of entitlement and control, that I somehow should be able to have things in the form, fashion and timing that I would prefer. It causes life and precious moments to be viewed through a lens of inconvenience more than the fullness and richness of this very moment, right here, that I will never have again.

As irritability robs me of the sweetness of this bedtime routine, I am able this time to catch myself and say to her, "I'm sorry that I'm being cranky. Will you forgive me?" She tells me yes, she forgives me and then hugs and kisses me all over my face and then starts her routine of resisting sleep by telling me the last three weeks worth of stories she might have forgotten to tell me, including everything new she's discovered and wondered and observed. I take a deep breath and try to muster the strength to be present with her in this space. And she squeezes me one last time before I climb into my bed and she says, "I still forgive you, Mama."

My still irritable countenance loosens a bit as Grace speaks into my heart and soul...

You can stop beating yourself up, now. I still forgive you. 

Somehow, in the chaos of the swimming thoughts and agitated countenance, the sweetness of this moment is returned. She gives that to me; Charis. Grace. And she reminds me that this is the only moment that matters; this one, right here. And everything else that is not happening in this very moment, has no relevance and should be left for the moment that it will.

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Coffee, Shall we?

Hello. My name is Nikki and I’m a Facebook addict. 

I’ve tried with all my might to break myself of the habit of clicking into Facebook every other minute of every single day, the past couple of weeks; fail. I think I could resist if I was in the deep woods somewhere with no internet access or a device of technological wind catching available for my dawdling. 

But only if I was not by myself. 

As I struggle through the compulsion to click there AGAIN, I realize it’s not actually Facebook that draws me in; it’s the mirage of connection and relationship that it mimics that is the draw. And my incessant clicking is reflective of the deep well of emptiness that I feel sometimes. I want to connect deeply and desperately, but each time I click on the book of faces, the well becomes deeper and dryer and emptier; because I pour myself out for a device that does not reciprocate. It is a machine that churns words and faces and stories for all those who are starving thirsty; who at the sight of a mirage will drink the sand. 

To be clear, I am actually acquainted with the hundreds of friends I have there (which surprises me that I know or have known that many people) and their place in my life is important and relevant. Each one has formed and fashioned who I am and I’ve been enriched beyond measure by knowing them. I’m eternally grateful for each and every one. 

However, there is a deep longing that is not and cannot be met by friendships and acquaintances relating only through an electronic device. 

I have come to realize over the course of time with wisdom’s education that I’m deeply introverted…but have lived as an extrovert for a very long time. It is exhausting. I think, and this is only my perspective, that extroverts are recharged by many conversations with many people and are very social; can mingle well in crowds and are not intimidated by fleeting conversations. I couldn’t ever figure out what was wrong with me because all of this kinda sucks the life out of me. I’ve finally realized I’m not wired that way. I need alone time a lot to recharge, but I’m lonely because I need one on one, face to face conversation. I want to know people deeply because it’s the way I was knit together. Facebook does not offer deep relationship. Neither does email. It’s a reach out and touch someone (but not really touching) option, but it comes and goes and moves on whether I am a part of it or not. 

Nowadays, when I’m in the physical presence of someone I feel a deep connection with, it actually intoxicates me. You know, too much of some things can do that to a person. It can also make someone sick if there is too much, too fast, of something they’ve been starved of. It is sad to me that a short amount of time with someone causes intoxication, because it speaks how disconnected I’ve been from the things my physical person, not to mention my soul, desperately needs and was created for. 

I can see all this disconnection and acknowledge it and want to change it, but actually changing it requires some risk. It means I have to do it; reach out and actually invite someone into my starved world. It means allowing awkwardness and discomfort to have its way for a time; it means doing it afraid and showing fear that it’s a liar. There’s no way around the matter; it just has to be done; work THROUGH it, not around it. 

I’m single. And lonely. But grabbing a man and choking the life out of him to satiate my own starved one is not the answer. At some point a man will come and I don’t want to choke the life out of him because of my desperation for connection. So what is a person to do in this scenario? Play the field? Date as many men as possible until one lets me choke the life out of him? I mean, until one surrenders? I mean, until I find one as needy as I am? I mean…  Does it mean signing up with every singles dating or match making site in order to become visible to as many as possible? I don’t think it’s about a man at all. 

I think…it’s about cultivating relationships with all kinds of others; women, specifically (for women, and men for men). Go about making friends and doing what God has called me to do, during this time. Serving others and getting to know them I’m beginning to understand is richly satisfying. 

So today, I would love to get to know you, whose eyeballs scan these words. Can we step away from the cyber book of faces and schedule a cup of coffee and share life and stories in real time? Can I look into your eyes and get to know who you are? Because you are a treasure and worth getting to know; for real. I want to be rich because I know you; because the things that matter in your life really matter to me. And I want you to know that.

The Suffering of Temptation's Lure...

The lunchbox with leftover Kentucky Fried Chicken, original recipe (my favorite), calls to me from the vacant place my daughter was sitting next to me. I put my hand in the box to pick up the last couple bites; it's a bad habit, eating after her. I can smell it. Mmmmm Taste it. But I have to put the morsels down. Push the box away. Resist the temptation that pulls me with a magnetic force almost unbearable sometimes.

The war...it wages because I can't have it any more. It is not good for me. I'm gluten intolerant and I cannot eat anything that even thinks about being in the same space with anything prepared with wheat. I've fought it long and hard, thinking I could somehow manage it, if I only consumed a little bit here and there; I can control it. And then my body started shutting down. Because it, this gluten intolerance, in fact is much larger than I. I cannot win this. The surrendering is not easy, but it is for the best; for my health.

As I was pushing the chicken away and having a small internal tantrum because I really want the chicken and I'll never taste it EVER again, the wave of overwhelm accompanied by whetted salivary glands, eventually, slowly began to dissipate. At first glance it doesn't seem harmful. It's just a piece of chicken. But my body begs to differ. It can cause terminal harm if not managed properly. Besides...it's not just the chicken that is the harmful thing. It's often what accompanies the innocent thing that causes the greatest harm. In this case, batter and seasonings containing wheat gluten.

My mind drifts to other things, other circumstances where I've been asked to surrender. Some things seem innocent enough and may or may not ultimately cause terminal harm, but may be contrary to the plan God has for me, but there are other things that seem innocent enough, too, but again, would actually cause harm down the line. And I ponder the strength of the pull of my flesh to have what it wants, when it wants it. And I wonder why I continue to resist and fight and battle for what I want when I KNOW that gentle probings from the spirit contrary to those wants, knows the better way. Why do I continue to want to drive when I know I'm a bad driver? And especially when I know who IS the better driver? Why is it such a struggle? I only make it harder on myself.

And I seek to know the Truth; is there something I need to know about this? Is there something I may do to relieve myself of the mental gymnastics that wanting desperately to have my own way causes?

For we know that the Law is spiritual, but I am of flesh, sold into bondage to sin. For what I am doing, I do not understand; for I am not practicing what I would like to do, but I am doing the very thing I hate. But if I do the very thing I do not want to do, I agree with the Law, confessing that the Law is good. So now, no longer am I the one doing it, but sin which dwells in me. For I know that nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh; for the willing is present in me, but the doing of the good is not. For the good that I want, I do not do, but I practice the very evil that I do not want. But if I am doing the very thing I do not want, I am no longer the one doing it, but sin which dwells in me.

I find then the principle that evil is present in me, the one who wants to do good. For I joyfully concur with the law of God in the inner man, but I see a different law in the members of my body, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin which is in my members. Wretched man that I am! Who will set me free from the body of this death? Romans 7:14-24

Seems pretty futile; hopeless. I'm in bondage to sin and flesh. The willing is present in me to do the right thing, but the doing of the good is not. So what's the point in trying? If this is the battle that will wage for life, this tug of war between right and wrong, good and evil, what I want and what is not good for me...what really is the point? I will fail. Always. Wouldn't it just be better to do what I want and have my way? I'll suffer either way, right? May as well be for what I think I want...

It's humbling to arrive at the full understanding of my wretchedness; my incapability, weakness, selfishness.

But...

But...

There is HOPE! :)

...The law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus has set you free from the law of sin and of death. Romans 8:2

What does that mean, really? 

God sent His son to bear the burden of my wretchedness, so that I would not have to carry it. His Spirit is alive in those of us who choose to accept it and follow in the freedom that it brings.

But I've accepted Him and I don't feel free all the time. The battle continues to wage. What does that mean?

The battle is between flesh and spirit. I have the choice to answer to flesh, or answer to the Spirit. And when I choose to set my mind on fleshly desires, it feels the suffering of it. When I choose to set my mind on the Spirit, the suffering is set free.

For those who are according to the flesh set their minds on the things of the flesh, but those who are according to the Spirit, the things of the Spirit. For the mind set on the flesh is death, but the mind set on the Spirit is life and peace, because the mind set on the flesh is hostile toward God...Romans 8:5-7

Ah...so the suffering is actually death and hostility toward God (which causes separation) that I feel. When I demand my own way, I'm choosing death and hostility, rather than the way of life and peace that God offers (when we are connected). 

That's a lot to take in. The human condition is one that prefers to have its own way. But the miracle of God is that He actually really does allow us to have our own way. It is always our choice. We can choose suffering, or choose peace and freedom. So when the temptations lure me in with a power that can overwhelm, in a moment, I have the choice to allow it to, or turn from it. I have complete control over the situation. And that's what I've always wanted, isn't it? Control?

I often get frustrated because of what I cannot have or what I perceive I cannot have, but the truth is, I CAN have it, if I choose. I can eat that chicken. There's nothing stopping me from stuffing it in my mouth. The interesting quandary with temptation, though, is that it always comes with consequence. A choice with no negative consequence is not a temptation.

No temptation has overtaken you but such as is common to man; and God is faithful, who will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you are able, but with the temptation will provide the way of escape also, so that you will be able to endure it.1 Corinthians 10:13

The escape available to us is to stop long enough to realize what the consequence is, and choose the better way. We do have control over it's lure, and subsequently, it's suffering. I wonder how things might have turned out if Eve paused long enough to consider the temptation before her?