Filed under: Woman2Woman
I’m hosting a Woman2Woman ministry event this Saturday - A Titus 2 meeting at my home. It’s a time of fellowship and building relationships with one another, a time of prayer, study in God’s word. It’s also a time where women are encouraged to live out the calling to come along side one another as given in Titus 2, hence the name. This week we’ll be making quick breads – baking, sampling, sharing.
In thinking about the Bible study portion, I kept going back in my mind to something I had shared earlier in this blog about two women who have impacted my spiritual walk (Holy Legacy, May 24, 2007).
“I find it curious that in the last month I have described two ministries simply by the names of these two women. In describing the role of mentor, teacher, encourager…I said I wanted to be an Irma…In describing a ministry of hospitality and gracious welcome, I wanted to be a Melinda.
“Is our heart, our gifting so obvious that our very name becomes synonymous with the gift? Are we pouring our lives into others’ in such a way that the mention of our name carries with it the legacy of our ministry?”
Our church has something called Martha Ministries, of which I have been a personal and grateful recipient. When a family is in distress, this group mobilizes. In the days and weeks after we lost Nathan, these Marthas cared for us by providing meals, prayers, care and company. They of course take their name and ministry from Martha of scripture, the sister of Lazarus, and it is a valuable gifting.
But what of Mary, Martha’s sister? Jesus himself said Mary had the better part.
Now as they were traveling along, He entered a village; and a woman named Martha welcomed Him into her home. She had a sister called Mary, who was seated at the Lord’s feet, listening to His word. But Martha was distracted with all her preparations; and she came up to Him and said, “Lord, do You not care that my sister has left me to do all the serving along? Then tell her to help me.” But the Lord answered and said to her, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and bothered about so many things; but only one thing is necessary, for Mary has chosen the good part, which shall not be taken from her.” (Luke 10:38-42, NASB)
Martha had the gifts of hospitality and practical service – wonderful things. And yet these gifts became a distraction to her and caused her to feel frustrated and resentful, “worried and bothered.” I sense this is a common ailment in our culture, particularly when busyness, overscheduling, and tiredness have become badges of honor.
But what of the gift of simply being in the presence of Jesus? I said recently that I was swimming in the Word. I like the visual of that. To be completely immersed, saturated. Truthfully, I don’t do that often enough. I’m much more of a Martha, but I see the need to develop Mary’s gift in my life.
We recently hung a swinging bench from a tree in our back yard. It is in a perfect shady location to just sit and enjoy the singing birds, the blue sky (when it appears), the chickens – God’s glorious creation. It has become my favorite place to sit “at the Lord’s feet,” something I desire to do more and more.
Also, in my ponderings, I’ve been praying about a weekly women’s bible study. Those same themes seems to resonate – becoming women after God’s heart; sitting at Jesus’ feet; loving Him and being loved; sharing that love with others
We will be exploring giftedness together as women of God – our own gifts of service, worship, hospitality, teaching, encouragement, and Christ’s gift to us of simply sitting in His presence – and how to use those gifts to pour ourselves into others.
May you enthusiastically embrace the gifts God has given you and generously pass those gifts along. Blessings.
Filed under: Uncategorized
When my mother heard that we were going to be childless for a week, she asked if we were going to go away. A couples weekend.
The thought has come up a few times – the need to “get away.” It’s not that I ever need to get away, there’s no place I’d rather be on this Earth, it’s that I need a change of pace from time to time. So I made a request and my husband happily obliged.
We spent an entire day in bed!
Realize, I usually wake up at 5 am and I haven’t been able to sleep in past 7 in years. So this was the height of decadence for me. Tim, too, is such a hard worker that sitting still for any length of time is alien to him. This was a real stretch for us!
What luxurious bliss it was to snuggle in, eat strawberries and homemade bread, read (Tim – Alexander Dumas’ Count of Monte Cristo, JoDana – David McCullough’s John Adams), nap, listen to the rain one moment and enjoy the sun streaming in the next.
It’s hard to fathom that we were actually tired after all that strenuous nothingness, yet it was an ideal Sabbath rest for us in body as well as spirit.
It was a glorious day.
I woke up this morning to Nathan’s laughter.
What a gift. Of course, I recognized instantly that it was from a dream – Nathan’s been laughing in Heaven for nearly seven months now – but it was a treasure to me just the same. In my dream he was helping me with a particularly devious practical joke. He was laughing because he couldn’t believe I was the one pulling it. (I’ve planned some pretty elaborate gags, I just come short of actually doing them out of concern for the victim. Warning: That may change some day.)
So today I get to carry with me the image of Nathan in his ratty t-shirt and baseball cap, delighted grin on his face, and the music of his beautiful, goofy laugh. Thank you, God. I needed that.
I’ve been depressed for some weeks now. My grief had been put on hold somewhat while I cared for other people in crises. I think losing Irma, my friend and mentor for many years, was the catalyst. My grief-interrupted is finally allowed center stage.
I’m not wallowing in self-pity or sobbing constantly, nothing like that. I’m just very tender-hearted: my emotions sit near to the surface, not buried; I have a low tolerance for hurtful, callous words and thoughtless deeds; I’m easily overwhelmed in large groups; I desire to be home and go out only when I must.
And I’m okay with it. I have been going through my “grief work” since losing Nathan, and I don’t believe I’ve been in any kind of unhealthy denial. It’s just that at the most intense moment of grief, I was forced by circumstances to deal with more. All of it traumatic, all of it difficult. And, it seemed, all dependent on my strength and calm in crisis to care for others. I just couldn’t do it all at once, so something had to be put on the shelf. Now I’m taking it off the shelf. And it’s okay.
And I know this will pass. I’ve been spending more time than usual in the Word. Not studying, just reading, wading, swimming in it. I’ve been spending time with God more. My prayer time is different. I don’t sit down and pray through a list. I’m just with God – all day long. Any thought just automatically gets lifted to Him and I know that He hears it and is responding.
I learned yesterday that Cathy Ash died. Cathy is the daughter of my parents’ dearest friends, Barbara and Bernard Mesman. Barb and Berne are my other parents and I love them with all my heart. All us kids grew up together and I’ve known Cathy my whole life. Like Irma, Cathy had fought cancer for several years. Her death wasn’t a surprise. The family had gathered for a celebration, a wedding, and they were with Cathy when she died. I’m grateful they had that. The richness and blessing we experienced after Nathan’s death was in large measure from having our family near.
I’ll be writing a letter today sharing my heart and grief with them. They are just beginning a journey without their child and I hurt with them.
I was wounded recently by someone I trust. Collateral damage, I think, from the battle I mentioned earlier. If I were in a different place emotionally, I’d have been affected by it, but not to the same degree. What got me is that he knew I was struggling and chose to hit me a couple more times with harsh words and false accusations anyway. I tend to trust people until they prove to me I shouldn’t. Once that trust is broken, it takes a lot to earn it back.
I care for this person and I’m praying that God will rebuild that bridge of friendship in time. Frankly, I’m in no hurry.
And then there is my beloved, my dearest friend, my Timothy. What a privelage it is to be married with him. As difficult as these months have been, I wouldn’t want anyone else walking beside me in this valley of shadows. All that I ever desired in a husband I have found in him: compassion and tenderness, humor, courage, integrity, giftedness. He was in the battle last night and came home weary, but with a smile on his face, confident in the Lord, happy to see me.
Expressing my love and gratitude for him has become the central purpose to each day.
I’m in a sad and wounded place, and I’m taking my time getting through it. I enjoy watching my chickens (“the girls”), puttering in the garden, working side-by-side with my husband. These are the things that sustain me. Simple things. I’m not lost in the past, nor am I focused on the future. I’m just here, now. I haven’t spent much time in “Now”. Think I’ll sit a spell and enjoy the view.
Some months ago while driving home, I was reflecting on all the difficult events that had occurred in our life. I was doing this in light of what I know of my enemy, Satan. I wrote about some of that, My Enemy-Lacking Creativity, but Very Effective (March 17, 2007). I had no doubt that even in our wounded state, perhaps because of it, the battle would come.
I wasn’t fearful or anxious, just expectant. I’ve been here before. And here we are again at the edge of the spiritual battlefield.
I’m so proud of my daughter. In the past we’ve insulated her from our battles, but in her own way she is at the vanguard. She is passionate about reaching the lost and discipling believers. She is devoted to God’s word and living it in every aspect of her life. She recognized on her own the attack of apathy and shallowness on her youth group and began asking questions, directing others to scripture. She’s even experienced a bit of the backlash. In sharing with her last night, I pointed out that God is giving her a taste of the bigger battles to come – she’s getting it in miniature. God is preparing her to be a fearless and mightly warrior for His glory.
My husband too, a learned and passionate Man-of-God, the most courageous man I’ve ever known, is at the vanguard. He is pointing other men, leaders responsible for shepherding the flock, to scripture. He is challenging them to be bold, brave, knowledgeable, passionate about God’s word. He’s challenging them to be courageous men of God. It is uncomfortable. It requires risk. Frankly it requires backbone.
They seem frightened. They seem threatened. I would think that to a Believer, a disciple of Jesus Christ, Scripture would be the least threatening thing in the world. And yet, his questions about Scripture are causing them to cower.
We stand at the cross roads and there are two ways this could turn out. The well-worn path is this: The rumors will start, probably having to do with taking over the church (nonsense), some sin will be manufactured, and we’ll be either actively driven out or marginalized. The other option, the road less traveled, is this: They’ll step up. They’ll accept the challenge, explore scripture for themselves, and boldly and confidently do God’s will, regardless of the price.
Christianity was never intended to be passive. And it is certainly no place for cowards or the feeble-minded. It should be infused with the Spirit of Power, not of impotence. Paul prayed for boldness. David prayed that God would have the victory.
In my role as armor-bearer, I am praying for my husband. Courage, faithfulness, patience, compassion, boldness, love, unwavering devotion to the Word. For my daughter too. We will bind up one-another’s wounds. We will allow for rest. We will share our strength and faith with each other. Above all, we will be faithful no matter the cost.
Put on the full armor of God, so that you will be able to stand firm against the schemes of the devil. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places. Therefore, take up the full armor of God, so that you will be able to resist in the evil day, and having done everything, to stand firm. Stand firm therefore, having girded your loins with truth, and having put on the breastplate of righteousness, and having shod your feet with the preparation of the gospel of peace; in addition to all, taking up the shield of faith with which you will be able to extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. And take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.
With all prayer and petition pray at all times in the Spirit, and with this in view, be on the alert with all perseverance and petition for all the saints, and pray on my behalf, that utterance may be given to me in the opening of my mouth, to make known with boldness the mystery of the gospel, for which I am an ambassador in chains; that in proclaiming it I may speak boldly, as I ought to speak. (Ephesians 6:10-20)
Blessings from the battlefield.
I do not have a reputation for being an air-head. Let’s just make that perfectly clear from the beginning. One wouldn’t know that, however, if they were watching me now.
Several months ago, while in the deep grip of grief, I noticed that I was severely cognitively impaired. I couldn’t keep a thought in my head for more than a few seconds, my thinking was random, I couldn’t process complex ideas at all, and even simple, routine things were overwhelming. And helping my daughter understand Organic Chemistry? Forget it!
I was so excited when I got my brain back, but it seems to have gone missing again.
Case in point: I don’t forget appointments. I’m very diligent and purposeful that way. In the last week I have forgotten two dentist appointments, two webinars, and countless phone messages. I’ve even forgotten stupid routine things, like making a deposit so a check would clear (I NEVER bounce checks! Grrr!!! Thank Heaven for automatic transfer), and, just moments ago, starting a fire in the wood stove and forgetting to open the flue. I’m sure my sleeping family appreciated the smoke alarm going off at 4 AM!
And no amount of writing notes and to-do lists seems to help.
When I went through this alien experience a few months ago, along with the rest of my household, I developed a new motto: I am embracing my limitations. I stopped making apologies for seeming dazed and confused, because frankly, I was dazed and confused. I lowered my expectations of what I was capable of and it was quite liberating. Since I no longer had the capacity to be superwoman, I stopped trying.
It’s frustrating me this time. It’s been over six months since the trauma that short-circuited my cerebrum. The world has moved on and I get the sense, perhaps misguidedly, that I should be better. I should be further along in the grieving/healing process, I should be functioning according to normal parameters, as it were. Sometimes I am and do. But not this week! Grr.
It’s been too long (it can’t be six months already) and yet not long enough (the wound is still so fresh). Does a grief like this ever really heal?
One of the great liberations of my motto is that I completely stopped caring what people think. If I needed to cry in the check-out line, then cry I did. If I messed up at work, I just gave a little explanation if I felt it was warranted, and started over. If I couldn’t figure out organic chemistry, I’d just laugh, toss the text book, and Sabrina and I would curl up on the couch and do something else.
At least it’s not a total loss. I can multiply polynomial radicals in Algebra. That’s fun. (No, really. I think it’s fun). And I’ve set a goal of accomplishing at least one work-related thing every day. That’s actually an improvement. At one time it was one a week!
So I suppose what I’m learning is that this is going to hit me in waves and there’s nothing I can do about it. When a surfer wipes out in a big wave, they’re just supposed to relax until the soup clears and then swim to the surface. If they tense up and fight it, they’ll panic and get in trouble. I live near the beach and I’ve learned a few things about surfing. This is my wipe out.
So, Jo, relax. When the water clears, you’ll float again. Until the next big wave.
