Labels

I've been doing a Bible study with the ladies at my church and Beth Moore is always on the screen and we always guess what bold color she is wearing this week.  Watching the videos about Esther is like drinking water out of a fire hydrant.  There is so much coming at you that you hope the Spirit will filter out what you don't need.  This week one of our fill in the blanks had to do with the labels, the names we give ourselves.  I can't find my book; it's missing in a lot of clutter right now, (I hope it's missing in clutter otherwise I can't even guess,) but I hope I'll do the question justice here, it was an amazing writing prompt.

It had to do with labels, what names we call ourselves... One is fake and one is truth, or that's what I remember from the book I haven't seen since Monday (and today is Friday.) 

________________ the _________________
________________ the _________________

I feet like I could write so many negative ones.

Cailey the dabbler-in-doodling-but-not-even-that-anymore-because-there-is-no-time.  Cailey the Artist.
Cailey the blog pretender.  Cailey the writer just starting over.
Cailey the household slave.  Cailey the wife, raising three, stay at home mom who ministers to hearts more than to chores.

My 'take home' on this is just to be more aware of what I'm telling myself.  For example, I am feeling very disappointing at blog writing already.  I don't know how to link my blog to others, I don't have categories for you to easily browse each blog, I don't have great photos to put up yet, (or maybe not ever,) and I don't have a soundtrack to go along with you reading this, friend.  I don't even have a plan, and I don't know where this is going.  It's hard to commit to writing when I don't even want to share this on Facebook because I haven't told my family that my husband was laid off, and half my Facebook friends wouldn't understand the love I have for Jesus, and some of them even openly mock Him whom I love and I've become a timid personality on social media.  I have friends who use it for boldness and I tell myself it's because maybe their friends all believe, and it's easy to feel bold in front of people who won't argue with you, but maybe I've just become complacent.  I think now that I've got that off my chest I know just where I need to let God in to tell me the truth of what He sees.  And as I write this I hear a song on a playlist I play all the time and I wonder how I've missed the song, or what kid moved it into my precious itunes playlist, but here it is: "It's okay to believe, just open up and receive.  I want you to have confidence..."  Couldn't be more clear, and God uses even a song for the first time to get through my brain... 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ITc1m1p2emg if you want to listen to the whole 8 minutes... ;)

I wrote the previous post yesterday and published it this morning and I forgot that I want thankfulness to finish the blogs until I get to 1000 and that's my goal.  I'll quit or I'll continue to write, but I decide at 1000.  (I meant to write 100, but in the style of Ann Voskamp, I'll just leave this at 1000 and see what happens.)  A lofty goal indeed for a girl who just said a paragraph ago that I don't have a plan...

4: Yesterday was Thursday and that meant Bible study.  I treasure my Thursday night! 
5: Today was payday, and it might be the last for a few weeks and EI may or may not come, but it's not worth worrying about.  I'm just celebrating pay day! 
6: Loving watching Star Trek TNG on Netflix with my husband.  (It's true!  I'm a geek for Sci-fi!) 
7: I'm singing tonight at the Awaken night at House of Prayer.  It's fun, it's edifying.  I love it!
8: My daughter who is 7 won a game of Dominion yesterday beating her father and I with a score neither of us has yet attained.  How did she do this??  What a great reader and (somehow!) strategist! 
9: I have lots of food.  It's one thing I don't have to worry about for quite some time.
10: This place of peace.  I think I'm going to sell my Breakforth ticket, and I'm not worried about missing the conference.  If God wants me there, I'll win a ticket or something, but I don't need a conference to fill any missing gaps in my armor this year. 

I woke up this morning with this thought: if God is my heavenly father, I feel like I'm grounded!  I don't mean rooted and established in His Love kind or grounded, nor do I mean secure as a tree planted by streams of living water grounded, no.  I mean, "Go to your room young lady, and do not pass GO; do not collect 200$," kind of grounded.  Which is weird!  I'm a mom to 3 young children... I thought it was funny.  I'll put it in my pretend folder marked, "When I do a comedy routine."  But why was I thinking this?  Did I grieve the Holy Spirit?  Did I have a weird dream?  Because I don't mean rooted and established in His Love kind or grounded, nor do I mean secure as a tree planted by streams of living water grounded, no.  I mean, "Go to your room young lady, and do not pass GO; do not collect 200$," kind of grounded.  Which is weird!  I'm a mom to 3 young children... 

I know there are many verses about discipline, and a few about discipline in relation to my Heavenly Father, so I looked them up...

Proverbs 3:11-12 is a jem!

My son do not despise the LORD's discipline,
 and do not resent his rebuke,
because the LORD disciplines those he loves,
 as a father disciplines a son he delights in. 

And this one from Hebrews 12:11,

No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it.

"...as a father disciplines a son he delights in." While it is hard to accept discipline, it is a joy to hear words of life this day: God delights in me!  He does not delight in my discomfort, or in my frustration or my inability to know the future, no!  His delight is that my "whole spirit, soul and body be kept blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ." 1 Thessalonians 5:23. And my delight is to  "Love the Lord [my] God with all [my] heart and with all [my] soul and with all [my] mind." (Matthew 22:37.)  Not that I get this commandment perfect or even near the mark, but I'm working on it! 

When there is a lot to panic about

Friday.  Job shortage, husband is laid off.  He's worked one out of the last 5 weeks because of injury and illness.  It's hard to pay bills without an income.  I haven't worked in 7 years, not really.  No career, no degree, and I've made this bed for myself.  I've had odd and end jobs and I'd fit right in at Walmart, I'm sure, but I wasn't called to work; I wasn't made for retail.  I'm struggling to stay cheerful; I'm struggling not to go to my defensive corner that everyone around me would call "anger."  I'm supposed to be homeschooling my 7 year old.  I'm supposed to have it together enough to walk barefoot through the house without crumbs clinging to me like sand at the playground.  Should I sleep on the floor tonight to try to ease the pain in my lower back?  Do I apply at Starbucks and hope for the best, even though the best isn't going to 'a happy house' make?  And life right now feels exactly like this paragraph - I don't quite know where to fit a break in it. 

Sip. Tea. Repeat.  (It's cold; of course it's gotten cold but it's something.) 

I know - I see just exactly how I've made an idol of work, of my husband having a job, of his ability to provide an income and benefits and I had repented.  I thought it was enough, I thought God was pleased that I had, that my heart was leaning in and His heart bending low to me, and this was all before the news on Friday.  Now I'm leaning in harder, I'm singing louder, but he has a plan and it isn't for me to work for salvation or for provision. 

Joel 2 12-14 in the Amplified version says 

Therefore also now, says the Lord, turn and keep on coming to Me with all your heart, with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning [until every hindrance is removed and the broken fellowship is restored].

Rend your hearts and not your garments and return to the Lord, your God, for He is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in loving-kindness; and He revokes His sentence of evil [when His conditions are met].

Who knows but what He will turn, revoke your sentence [of evil], and leave a blessing behind Him [giving you the means with which to serve Him], even a cereal or meal offering and a drink offering for the Lord, your God?

<sup>And this morning as I sat doing nothing important, I heard a drip, drip, drip and found that somehow the snow was melting through the roof right onto the furnace; the mechanical, the electrical beast in the house I don't understand, and my husband said don't worry, but I see water damage on the ceiling and I think this was the last straw, the very last straw.  Then I tell myself everyone is healthy, and I've heard too many stories of doctors saying "Who knows?" that help remind me to stop being so dramatic.  All the same, the situation feels amplified.  It IS amplified.  I know it's only been 5 days since he was laid off, but there is no income and there is no promise of a paycheck in the near future, so I don't know what to do.   

Sip.  Tea.  Repeat.  

I'm going to borrow an anger management technique and count to three.  I need to count, really count, three blessings, and give an offering of thanksgiving to Him who is able.  Ephesians 3:20

1.  I am so thankful to be encouraged to write.  I feel it in my heart, and I've been encouraged through friends.  Even if this is a cathartic form of therapy meant for me alone, I need it and it feels good to do it again.

2. I've been in similar situations before.  Once, my husband was told to lay on his back on a hard surface for 6 weeks to recover from a herniated disk.  I was angry, I was stressed, I was harried and hassled.  It was awful.  The fact that I am not in the same panic mode, the feral wild eyed fear I felt then is proof that Christ in me the hope of Glory (Colossians 1:27,) is at work and doing a good thing.  I am thankful for fruit.  

3. The Bible is true and God is trustworthy, therefore I can pray Philippians 4:19, that God will richly supply all my needs according to his own riches that are in Christ Jesus.  

One more thing I've been thinking about: Psalm 46:10 Be still and know that I am God...

Be. Still.  Know.   

Oh, how to be still?</sup>  

Bunnies, Slave Lake, and grace.

Here is an e-mail from two weeks ago to my pastor.

"I had prayed last week, probably Tuesday, that God would have a word for me from someone. About anything. I just needed to hear from God, so I asked Him in a Gideon sort of way. The day before asking, I found a wild baby bunny and took it home. It died a few hours later. Bunnies for me are what ladybugs are for R, so I was very upset. [Side note: R is his wife, and what I'm describing is a sort of language of the heart... God knows our delight in these creatures especially, and He delights in our delighting, I believe, so when we see our favorite creature, we say something like, "Thank you Jesus, for thinking of me."] I thought I had saved it, and that it was going to a good home, (my friend's farm,) but instead it died. When I got home with it (before it died), I researched online what to do with a baby bunny. Everything I read said, put it back. The mom will come at night. Just put it back in it's nest. I felt horrible because I knew I would never have found the nest; I couldn't even remember what part of the road I had found the bunny on. I asked God, "What was the point of that? It was so stupid of me, and any other animal I would have just left on the road, but YOU KNEW about bunnies God, so what was that?" God showed me that leaving the bunny in the storm, right in the middle of the road would have been grace; the mom bunny would be there at night. But instead in my pride, I thought I knew better. I thought I had the best rescue plan; knew what was best for the bunny. I'm sure I don't need to explain to you how that might apply to my life, or anyone's for that matter. It was a hard lesson. I hope I don't have to learn it again."

Later that same week, we packed the 3 kiddos into a rented bus to drive north to a town devastated by fire. Here is a link to a recent article:

http://www.edmontonjournal.com/news/Government+build+units+temporary+housing+Slave+Lake+fire+victims/5116717/story.html

When we were taken on a tour, we wondered at the seeming randomness of it... a few fences left standing, and a wooden play-set where you could see clear across whole blocks wiped out from the fire. Or the block right beside that had no damage, or maybe one house was gone while the rest remained. Thirty percent of the homes were destroyed. Fire whipped from the surrounding forest at up to 100k/hour, (I think that's right...) and blew huge chunks of wood on fire into the town. The pastor giving us the tour said that the town hall caught on fire while people were meeting IN it. They had no idea it was on fire, because it was spreading so quickly. At one point, large groupings of vehicles waited for word from the RCMP because all the exiting highways were also compromised by fire. I imagined how that might feel; if I waited in the passenger seat of our van, nerves high, tension high... praying and immobile, while my kids fought in the back and laughed nervously. What truth would I declare to them and to my own weak spirit? Or would I be bold, declaring God's goodness and standing firm on faith? (Honestly, right now... I think it would be more of the fear part and less of the bold.)

So, with God's revelation in mind, (the bunny thing and grace I mean,) I looked at the ashes and saw grace. We were told that not one person was killed in the fire! But more then that, the Bible says, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” 2Cor12:19. Maybe this sounds silly to you, but I know my Father is up to good things for Slave Lake! He is making the people stronger. "... though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. ⁷ These have come so that the proven genuineness of your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed." 1 Peter 6-7.

Do you miss Darlene?

"Do you miss Darlene?" my mom asked me and I could hear in her voice that she was holding back tears. Darlene, my mom's cousin. Darlene my Godmother in title, and in creating a space to learn a little of God. The one who spoke peace into our family with her gift of hospitality.
It's been 7 years.

"Yes and no," was my answer.
"Oh?"
"Yeah, I, um, I had a dream about her..." and I hesitated; what would she think of my dream?
"I had a dream I was in a beautiful field, and there was forest off in the distance, a cobblestone road and a bridge over a stream. Very vibrant. I knew I was dead, and I felt so much fear! But when I saw Darlene, I felt welcomed. It felt like a home kind of feeling. She took my hand. I said in my dream, "Jesus, I love you. Please take care of my family." Then I woke up. I felt peace. Darlene was at peace and in Heaven, I've no doubt."
My mom was so pleased with my dream, but maybe not comforted. I don't know. The conversation went south and I wasn't sure if I had done right in sharing my dream.
Truly, truly I thought that was all: my grieving process made bearable by a dream of Heavenly beauty.

Our conversation took place maybe two or three weeks ago. Today in a moment of my vulnerability, God showed me memory after memory, suppressed but not completely forgotten and I cried and cried. I remembered playing next to her in church playing with a doll; remembered my terrible imaginings of what lay behind a door in her apartment, (just a stairwell - emergency exit!) I remember going with her to a farm and seeing an artist's loft in the garage, (oh my delight!) and her restaurant... Her trailer by my grandparents cabin, (the memory fading... small fridge, smell of mothballs; my wonder at the sheer number of different things all growing in the same green shade spread out as lawn!), and more church memories. Perogy dinner at the Basillica hall: blessing the baskets at Easter: A picture of Jesus wounded, eyes infinitely sad that people kissed and kissed. (I could only think of the germs; I could not look at His suffering,) I remember sparkly glass and decorating Ukrainian Easter eggs. A dog named Snoopy, and her best friend Elizabeth. Wonderful memories. Sweet memories. Some memories only sad: her funeral: a sheer force of numbness that I am sad to say is my very own retreat into escapism, her on her couch; my mom her comforter and her nurse. Bittersweet. I am sad but very blessed by these memories.

And so I find myself, almost 2 in the morning again, writing. Writing a thank you to God who knows me better then I know myself. Who knew that I needed a good cry... Who orchestrated one more step in my healing: who drew me near so gently that I almost missed it. For it was my friend K's wedding this weekend that opened the crack: her wedding held in the same hall I had been to many times before, with Darlene, only this time instead of excitedly anticipating a dinner with games and prizes and tables full of sweets... this time it was a celebration of love! How gentle of my Father in Heaven! How tender in mercy; how full of loving-kindness! A wedding to draw me out of my shell and bring me back to a place of remembering.

^{Psalm 51: 17}
My sacrifice, O God, is a broken spirit;
a broken and contrite heart
you, God, will not despise.

^{Matthew 5: 4} Blessed are those who mourn,
for they will be comforted.

Not sure if this will work but I'm linking with my friend Emily today:



Praying for a safe and speedy delivery of her 2nd baby, another miracle, as she was told she would never have kids. :D

It is what it is

The saying "It is what it is," really bothers me. Is it a dismissal? Is it a refusal to accept that while you don't understand the facts, you are more then happy to stand on your soap box and say... something and nothing at the same time? Is it an awkward transition to a new topic because, as the French say, "C'est la vie?" (And therefore a fatalistic acceptance and passive resistance to said topic at the same time?) WHAT IS "It is what it is?" ???

You can now understand my dilemma a little better. I lay sleepless and yet so tired that my head is spinning, and think to myself, "It is what it is." To me this is a trendier way of saying, "Meaningless, meaningless. All is meaningless." It almost sounds like something with some substance. "Been there, done that." It even sounds a little humorous. "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade." (Well, okay, at least that one, I GET.) But it's nothing! A vapid puff of words. Just like my nothing sleep I'm having right now. Maybe I should just "Get over it."

Let's get real here. The reason I started this blog was to write, 1: funny stories involving my kids and/or self depreciating humor, 2: an outlet for my creativity that isn't otherwise satisfied with cleaning crayola painted bathtubs , dried playdough crust off my floor, sharpie marker on the couch, kids, self, house, etc in my daily routine. (Oh Lord, let Sharpie cleaning NEVER be a part of my daily routine!!) Lately I have been feeling so depressed and self-loathing that nothing is funny. So I'm praying for God to restore my sense of delight, of joy, and more more more sleep, so that I have an eye for the funny again.

TTFN

Great Grandma

My grandma speaks the way a stone skips across the water. Only she isn't the stone going straight, straight, straight... she is the ripples, symmetrical, crashing; surface disturbed. I think I have learned the new language - the one after stroke. Words mean other things. "I took the paper," is "I read the newspaper," 'he' and 'she' are usually mixed one for the other. Everything is spoken with the same importance, and I find it wearying to listen for hours. Her breakfast menu spoken as if it were her last wishes, her daily walk, a treasured secret she shares with me. I keep meaning to record a conversation or two; her and I in electronic memory. Why I find it so wearying I don't know. Sometimes she feels like she has been given a second chance, sometimes she feels like she was robbed of a graceful death, but she rambles and I am a tired mama.

Today I found myself at a geriatric assessment clinic, surrounded by grandmas, each delighted to hold my 4 month old. "We certainly don't get many babies in here," said one nurse, who held Theron long enough for me to skim a magazine article. Me wishing for rest, wanting to hide behind baby, wanting to prove that I am keeping my head above water, keeping tears back while I drive, keeping tears back while I read. And grandma says to me, "I remember when I took my stroke. I was at Zellers and I thought, 'Oh, oh, oh,' and I thought I was going to die. Maybe not die today, but I thought the next day I would be in the hospital and I would die." "You remember that?!" I asked, so surprised. "Yes, and I was ready. I wasn't scared at all." Articulate. Clear eyed. Strong. And I didn't want to cry. I was proud for her.

I feel like I am the one missing out. My time should be a treasured secret too.

That's her on the left holding Theron in November. I'm sure I could find a better picture, one that isn't a picture of a picture on a scrapbook page, but I'm too tired to navigate my computer's files right now.

Splash!

When somebody uses the word 'profound' I always wonder what exactly they mean by it. Because it can be said with such passion or such dullness. Sometimes they might as well be saying, "My shirt is so red." instead of, "That was so profound." Or they might hold their breath and wonder for a time... let it mull, (whatever it is,) and think deeply for a minute, an hour, a day. It is a hard read, that word, without any more cues such as facial expression or a bigger sentence context.

When I hear the word, I have a picture association: a plunge, a dunk, a great big splash in water. I never thought about it long enough to figure out why until this morning, but I think I'm mixing the word profound with the french word, 'profonde'. "Deep." Same word basically but you can use it for deep water as well as deep thoughts. I'm still not sure, but I think the image I have fits. I never know what heavy object is making the disturbance in the water, but I see bubbles all around rising up. I see saturation; I see ripples. Nothing is the same, the water is 'disturbed' and it swirls, both on the surface, and under it. But I see it as a still photo. The kind where the photographer timed it just right. The balloon as it bursts from the pinprick. The bullet shattering the apple. Iconic kinds of photos.

Anyways hopefully this link works...

http://www.aholyexperience.com/2010/11/why-youve-been-running-from-real-love-all-your-life/?fb_ref=facebook&fb_source=home_oneline

I'll let you make up your own thoughts, but I thought it was pretty profound.

On a way lighter note, and more to the title of this blog, we were at Wal-mart yesterday when Selah says, "Daddy, mommy has a lot of pimples." Speaking of when not to laugh out loud, daddy bursts into deep bubbling laughter. She says, "Daddy, it's not funny, pimples are real!" That would have been the end of it, but a stranger also laughed, and took a quick glance in my direction to confirm if this was true. (And yes, yes it is. lol) So I caved and bought something I haven't purchased in years... Foundation. Not sure if I am pleased or disgusted with myself right now.

:D