Summer Thunder

We have enjoyed an abundance of spectacular summer thunderstorms this year.  Many nights have found me staring up into the sky, nose pressed against the window pane as I attempt to absorb the majesty and splendor that flashes chaotically, followed by a tremendous drum roll of thunder.

To bring us all up to speed, I will give a simple, elementary-level definition of what creates the perfect summer storm.  "Thunderstorms result from the rapid upward movement of warm, moist air." (Wikipedia)  A perfect summer storm will often occur on a humid summer night, after the ground has spent the day absorbing the sun's heat.

Something inside me has always loved the power displayed in a violent, noisy thunderstorm.  Perhaps it is the unleashing of "nature's fury" that serves to release my own tensions with each burst of lightning, and the ominous booming of thunder.  When a "good storm" is completed, I am calmed by the sound of millions of droplets of rain; the water that seems to wash away bad feelings and leaves me still, quiet and small.

Some of you may have wondered at my lack of postings for the past couple of weeks.  The laze of summer days has imposed a silence upon me as I catch up with my troubled thoughts, my stormy feelings and seek to restore a turbulent, hurried life to a place of rest and surrender.

In many ways, I feel like a thunderstorm has been brewing; as my life, so full and heavy, has heated up over time.  I've been running hard and fast - in overdrive, with my engine close to overheating.  I even came close to zapping a few people with the frustration and frenetic energy which churned inside of me - but the storm remained, contained (barely) inside my heart.

It is no wonder, and no surprise that this decline to my emotions, and this challenge to calm my anger has come directly on the heels of reading about gratitude.  It seems that with each new revelation, we are immediately bombarded with something contrary - an attack, as it were, on the new-found knowledge and inspiration.

For the past couple of mornings, I have been waking early and studying scripture relating to thanksgiving.  (Not until after I have had a few sips of freshly brewed coffee, that is!)  I flipped my Bible open to Psalm 34, and was intrigued by the title above the chapter:  The Happiness Of Those Who Trust In God.  Yes, please!  I am always in line for some extra happiness - especially lately, when I've been feeling drained and burnt out - and I'm already foreseeing and dreading the coming busyness of Fall.

Everything that I previously wrote about, concerning gratefulness and thanksgiving being directly related to joy, was once again reinforced in the first few verses of this psalm.  To put it simply, a soul that is focused on the greatness of our God (not on our own, sometimes crappy existence), along with having a heart that lifts up thanksgiving (I will bless the Lord at all times; His praise shall continually be in my mouth) results in a HAPPY, contented person.

I've been steaming, and brewing up the perfect summer storm by concentrating on myself.  I've been distracted and overwhelmed by the negative, instead of offering gratitude for the many blessings that surround me.

Since I am a mom, various songs from cartoons end up running through my head from time to time, and I wanted to share one on my blog today because it seems quite fitting.  I couldn't find the original song, but instead found an acapella version of the Veggietales song "Thankful Heart" from the film Madame Blueberry.

It's not easy to be thankful when you feel stuck in the muck; whether you are overwhelmed by bills, sickness, bad attitudes, work, a struggling marriage, or all of the above.  In the end, I believe that there is always something to be thankful for:  Sunshine, fresh air, apple pie, sleeping in, baby giggles, family, a good book, summer storms, and most of all, a Heavenly Father who loves us!  No matter what is going on, thankfulness can lift your heart above your circumstances and give you the boost you need to get through the day.

A thankful heart is a happy heart.
-Veggietales

My New Book (and My New Revelation)

IT CAME!

The brown cardboard package encapsulating a book that I was sure to treasure was hand delivered to my bedroom by one of the kids yesterday.  I tore it open, wondering for a second if it was actually a book that my husband had ordered, but it was indeed what I hoped for.

Ann Voskamp's "One Thousand Gifts" looked up at me, with crisp pages and a pretty nest of robin's eggs on the cover, and "a dare to LIVE FULLY right where you are".

Isn't that what I struggle with, day after day?  It's no secret, and I'm sure my writing has occasionally hinted to this empty ache, this haunting desperation that I struggle with from time to time.  Sometimes I wonder if I'm simply battling depression, like I did when I was a hormonal, off-balance teenager.  Sometimes I just wonder if I'm crazy... having loaded myself up with a life that is so busy, so demanding and weighty with responsibility.

Yet, within the struggle, I know that my path has been God-ordained despite the many ups and downs; the tumultuous emotions, the mountainous treks that leave my feet sore and bleeding and my lungs gasping for another breath.  And there are times where I actually SEE... I look across the vast landscape from a temporary high place, and I am amazed at the journey and I relish the glory of God that has been revealed in my simple, complicated life: babies born, a passionate but deeply rooted man for my husband, the gift of many companions, and the list goes on.

But most days, I admit, it's dry.  I don't leap out of bed with joyous expectation for the treasures that the day will hold.  I don't rejoice and declare "This is the day that the Lord has made" - in fact, I hardly acknowledge that the day even belongs to HIM.

So I've been eagerly waiting for this book - for someone with a kindred heart to speak to me, minister to me, nurse my wounds and lead me into a better viewpoint.  The author is much like me:  a blogger, and a homeschooling mother of six.  Somehow she has grasped onto enough hope and learned to convey, with wisdom, the story of her journey to a joyful life.

I hungrily gobbled up the first couple of chapters last night, once the children were quietly tucked into bed.  As her poetry and the gently rolling rhythm of her words washed over my soul, conviction pricked at the dark places in my heart.

I'm no dummy.  Very quickly I saw the theme and the crux of her message as she painstakingly shared bits and pieces of her life-story, and the revelation that the Holy Spirit weaved into her searching heart.

This isn't actually a true book review, as I've only read the first three chapters, but I will touch on the lessons I've learned thus far.

The longing, searching and quest for "more" is as timeless as the Garden of Eden.  By ingratitude, Eve forsook God's rule and reached for something "more".  Turning her back on all the blessing, all the fellowship, she just HAD TO TASTE; had to question God's goodness and reach beyond her already abundant living.  The cycle continues.  We test limits, reaching out beyond our normal lives, perceiving that if we could just have MORE, we will be truly happy.

My life nods in agreement to this idea.  I have so much, and yet everyday I catch myself whining and pining over what my life is not, and what I feel I lack.  I think: "if only my house was bigger...", "if I had a nanny", "if we had more money", "if we lived in Hawai'i", "if only... if only..."  And even when I receive unexpected blessings in my current existence, I still wonder what life would be like on the other side of the fence - and maybe we should be missionaries in a far away country, or better yet, we should just be rich and live somewhere foreign and beautiful; then... THEN I would be content.  Then I would be happy.

And I know it's not true.

By Chapters 2 and 3, the answers are outlined and I regretfully must agree to the clear truths supported by scripture; supported by Jesus' life here on earth.  I know I want joy.  The truth is,  joy goes hand in hand with GRATITUDE.  You can't have one without the other.

I want a happy pill.  I want everything to seem bright and shiny and wonderful - but I don't want to put the effort into my own behavior to become that joyful person.  Sometimes I excuse myself, saying that it's merely a personality issue - some people are bubbly, and some are... flat... mellow... blah...  That's who I am - I can't be responsible for my God-given personality, can I?

Still, the truth rings clear as Ann Voskamp weaves deliciously, exquisite prose that beckons the reader without condemnation, inviting you to embrace the truth in your heart.  With a bird's eye view, I watch the transformation taking place in her life as she speaks of thanksgiving (eucharisteo) and explains it's necessity in our day to day living.  Daily practice of thankfulness, expressed by the author in writing a list of one thousand gifts, develops the practice of praise; revealing and replenishing joy in one's heart.

If I was more thankful; if I could see the good in things and count my blessings instead of the "curses" - I'm certain my life would change.

Have you ever seen a happy person who complains all the time?  A bitter person with an easy smile and bubbling laughter?  It just doesn't exist.  Yet I envy my joyous friends, thinking that they've been granted an attribute or perhaps a personality trait which I do not have.

I can't live there anymore.  I'm packing up my camp, and ready to move on.  It isn't likely that this will be an easy task, but the pursuit of grateful living beckons me with a promise of sunnier skies, rainbows after the rain and joy in the journey.

That, in essence is my response to the first 3 chapters of my newest book.
So, to get the ball rolling, I'll begin to practice (and chronicle) thankfulness right now:

Gift #1.  Revelation of my need to be thankful.

Good Grief

On Saturday, I was away at the beautiful Chateau Lake Louise, surrounded by the beautiful Rocky Mountains and hundreds of beautiful ladies.  Yet, in the evening as we sang songs that lifted up praise to the Lord and rejoiced in His goodness, a wave of grief struck the core of my being.  It wasn't unexpected, really.  In fact, Saturday was exactly 4 years to the day that I was told I had lost a baby, and that my pregnancy had ceased.

I'm not one to be sentimental about many things - I try not to hang onto trinkets and Christmas cards and I even tossed out my wedding bouquet a few years back because it looked like a heap of dead yellow flowers and really held little resemblance to the emblem of love and life that it used to be!  Yet there is something sacred about revisiting the memories of that fateful day of my loss, as I seek to uphold the image and value of a child I never knew. I find a sense of comfort in the painful ritual of brooding over the details and vivid images etched in my mind.  It's not that I want to contemplate the negative, but I know of no other way to commemorate the life of my baby, having little information to cling to, other than grief.

I have a special song I like to listen to, that deals with the pain of losing a baby.  (Glory Baby by Watermark) It lifts my eyes heavenward, knowing that the Father loves and protects my baby now; knowing that my little one is in a place that experiences no pain, regret or sadness.  I've made a habit of spending some time in prayer, and asking Jesus to hug my little girl, and let her know that I can't wait to meet her.  I have learned to grieve, and I know that grief is a tool that leads to healing.  Without these moments where I give myself the freedom to cry, I know bitterness would take root and my heart would be hardened.  It hurts to love, and it's harder still to have lost one whom you loved; but as the old adage claims:


I hold it true, whate'er befall;
I feel it, when I sorrow most;
'Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.

(Alfred Lord Tennyson,  In Memoriam:27, 1850)

Life holds many seasons for us as frail and imperfect humans.   We are all exposed to numerous peaks and valleys of varying degree as we walk through life.  Yesterday, as I was walking to the gym, I was revived by the sense and signs of spring that were abundantly present.  The grass is becoming green, tulips and daffodils are poking up out of the dirt, and the ever-present chirp of robins seems to be ushering in the warmth and growth of new life.

Grief can be a winter in our lives, that seems to seep it's deathly chill deep down into our hopes and dreams.  It can be hard to recover from loss, and often times you feel so numb that you can not imagine how life will ever seem normal and healthy again.  When I was once stuck in that murky fog, I had very few anchors.  The obvious anchor was my family and friends who upheld me and surrounded me in their love.  The other was a root of indescribable hope in God's love.  It's not that I was feeling very loved by Him at the time, and many questions rose up in accusation against Him.  Yet, deep deep down, in the depths of my heart, I knew He was real and that He loved me.  I can't claim to understand the reasons for pain and suffering, but I have learned that I can always trust Him.

I'm glad it's May.  I'm excited about gardening and little buds that burst into vivid green leaves, filling the vast mosaic that was previously overridden by dismal greys and browns.  There is hope anew.  There are new joys to behold.  I was broken and shattered, and felt like a barren tree blasted by winter's cruelty.  Yet my tears have watered the soil of my heart and I've received "beauty for ashes, The oil of joy for mourning, The garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness;" (Isaiah 61:3)  From the midst of my sorrows, the ones whom I love have become all the more precious to me, and I cherish each day with them as a immeasurable gift.