Tears at Christmas and the Greatest Gift of All

It's our annual-shopping-day-with-Dad-for-Mom's-present outing, and we have stopped at Panera for a quick refuel.

My still-recovering-from-a-bad-sinus-infection body slumps into the chair while my dad and sister go and get the food.


**photo credit

Even at two in the afternoon on Christmas Eve, the place is bustling with activity.
Two large groups of ten or more fill the restaurant with the cacophony of holiday fun and camraderie. Close behind me, accents from other lands fill my ears, with the chatter of the local twang mixed in for good measure, and I smile.

A father chases his young son out the door as mommy follows close behind.  A gray-haired lady finds a table by the fire, removes her layers, and settles in cozingly. Moments later, a man her age appears with food and drinks. They munch comfortably, reading papers and soaking in the afternoon lull.

I feel alive with the Christmas spirit around me.

And then, out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of another woman. Attractive, well-groomed, tailored, also white-haired, and yet her face plummets quickly into her hands. I turn away swiftly, unwilling to intrude in her private moment, but my heart betrays me and I chance a peek again moments later as her friend arrives. Their words are muffled, but I can hear the desperation in the beautiful woman's voice.

I am saddened by her sorrow at Christmas.

A few weeks ago, I reveiwed Mandisa's new Christmas album, and this one song finds its way into my heart in this moment... Sometimes Christmas Makes Me Cry.


{Click here if you are in a reader/e-mail or cannot view video}

While I have walked through some personal losses and continue to live the life of unseen dreams making the past few Christmases...well...hard.... I have found my face full of a torrent of tears more than once, and yet somehow, some way, I have found my way ONE DAY AT A TIME...back to the heart of the Father, back to the Hope of Christmas... Jesus.

And to be REALLY real...it is still hard.
And not without personal loss...

So today from a heart who knows brokenness, my heart aches ...
for the mother who mourns for her child,
for the soldier far from home,
for the loved one dead and gone,
for the relationships broken and beyond repair,
for the lonely and the desperate and the forgotten,
this Christmas.

For you.
For the ones you love.
For the one who lives next door to you.
For the one you pass in the grocery store.

I believe and pray that the tears of sorrow for the woes of this earthly life will be transformed by the Hope that is to come, by the Peace that passes every understanding of our human minds, by the Love that not only lights our way in this world, but shines in and through our hearts. May you know that the Father understands every tear, feels every pain, knows your every struggle because He Himself found a way to surrender His one and only Son in the form of a babe, knowing He would die a painful death because through that .... YOU would be His!

May your tears find their way back to the beauty of that Love, that precious promise, the greatest gift of all.

When Tears Come...

Sometimes the ache is so big you can hardly breathe.
Sometimes the sorrow feels so real you cannot separate it from your skin.
Sometimes the movement in your soul
violates the peace,
the joy,
the radiance
He longs to display
within all those broken pieces.

Like a warrior
you fight
Hard and strong,
Swift and sure,
Noble and steady
in your aim.


And then there are days,
weeks,
months,
seasons where
the emptiness is too great to carry,
and you hide away,
fragile from the touch of the world,
lost in a sea of faces,
even the beautiful ones that hold you so dear.

The anguish burns away your passion,
your dreams,
your destiny.

Nothing to hold close
Nothing to draw near
to your heart,
your hand,
your cheek.

And there you stay
for awhile,
as sorrow burns pupils
begging to be released
from the torrent of angst that rages inside.

Until rebelliously
one tear
finds its way
down the curve
of your downcast cheek
past the carefully constructed walls
your heart has long held high.

When tears come,
words fall.

When tears come,
prayers spill forth.

When tears come,
peace floods the abandoned corners,
filling every crook and crack,
lifting shame and condemnation from the shoulders of the weary,
splicing pride and comparison with the very sword of truth,
breathing life into marrow
and felicity into dry bones
where dreams seem lost
and promises seem all-but-about-to-come-true.

And there the still small Voice speaks
with groans that flout intelligence
with whispers that quiet the dissonance
with Light that defies the darkness...

May it be well with your soul, My child, 
right where you are,
right in this season,
right in this moment.

May it be well with your soul.

"Oh yes, people of Zion, citizens of Jerusalem, your time of tears is over. Cry for help and you’ll find it’s grace and more grace. The moment he hears, he’ll answer. Just as the Master kept you alive during the hard times, he’ll keep your teacher alive and present among you. Your teacher will be right there, local and on the job, urging you on whenever you wander left or right: 'This is the right road. Walk down this road.'” 

~Isaiah 30:19-21 

Also linking up with these beautiful communities....
 Hear it on Sunday, Use it on Monday, Playdates with God,
 The Soli Deo Gloria party, and In, On, and Around Monday 

and with....
Jennifer, Mary Beth, Ann, Duane, and Heather
and the encouraging communities they have created here on the web.

also with Michelle and Emily at Imperfect Prose.

So thankful for places like these to share our words together...

When You Just Cannot Make Sense of it All

Maybe you just lost someone.
Someone you loved with all of your heart.
Someone who meant the world.
Someone whose presence the world is now oh-so-empty without.

Maybe the dream that you have longed for
The one you imagined as a little girl
The one that would make life just perfect
Has all but broken your blooded hands
As the doors have slammed over and over again.

Maybe you just feel desperate
The walls are closing in
The bills are piling up
Your health and mind are not what they should be, what they used to be
You wonder if healing and breakthrough will ever come

The kids have destroyed the house, the car, the yard, the neighborhood.
The man you loved, and to whom you gave half your life, walked out the door
The woman who pledged I'll-keep-your-secrets-and-you-keep-mine friendship just broke your heart
The believers, the brothers and sisters of His body, turned their back on you in your hour of need.

When life is just so hard
And you wonder how to make sense of it all.

Cry.
Cry hard and deep and long and good.

Run.
Run fast and strong.
Beat your chest.
Raise your fist to the sky.
Shout up at the heavens
and scream, "Why?"
Fall into a puddle.
and cry some more.

Sit with your grief
Your questions
Your anger
Your heartbreak
Feel them deep
Deep into your soul
In the place where deep cries out to fathomless deep

Embrace your sorrow
Your should-have-beens
Your wish-it-could-haves
Your want-it-back-that-way

And cry.
Cry some more.

Let yourself mourn.
Give space to be broken
Let go of perfect
Release the noisy pressure of "Its-time-to-let-go!!" pounding in your head
Breathe deep again.

Grieve hard and strong and long, if needed.
Throw out the timelines.
Forget the try-hards.
Abandon should-bes.

Let yourself be human
Real.
Raw.
Afraid.
Honest.
Broken.

Scream into the pillow
Or punch it.
Let the rage run its course.

Walk out into the crisp cold night.
Let the tears come
Draw ragged breaths over and over again
Let your soul mourn.

Cry again.
A lot.
Until you think there are no tears left to cry
And then ...
Cry some more.

And day-by-day
As you let the anger and hurt and disappointment and frustration out,

Breathe in grace and truth and love and mercy

Let it wash over you

Let the contours of your soul find rest

A 

little

more

each 

day.

Exhale hurt.

Inhale grace.

Exhale heartache.

Inhale joy.

Exhale injustice.

Inhale mercy.

Exhale brokenness.

Inhale healing.

And one day...

you will begin to see

that the grace....

....outweighs the sorrow.

May it be well with your soul

As you plumb the gaping depths of your brokenness.

May the warrior be the child

As you crawl into the arms of the Father.

May your scars remind you that you are real

As you see the miraculous signs of healing.

May you be patient with your heart in the process.

May you find refuge in the shelter of His wings.

May you know how desperately you are loved.

May you feel Him wipe every tear from your eye.

Also linking with Jennifer, Mary Beth, Ann, and Duane 
and the encouraging communities they have created here on the web.
So thankful for places like these to share our words...

31 Days of Story {Day 29} When Your Greatest Fear Becomes Story

The memory is seared into my brain.
I can see it like it was yesterday.


photo by Jonathan Thompson

I walk into the classroom reminiscent of the sixties in hues of gold and blue. I smile as I see my-slightly-more-chatty-than-normal-psychology-major friends sitting in our usual front-row-of-the-class seats. I slide into my seat excited, as our newly-favorite professor begins the study of the day.

Counseling Psychology I.
Finally, it is my senior year and already this material is making my Top Hits list.

Dr. Feller shares scenarios with us and we students engage in a lively, guided discussion, especially the loud mouths on the front row. And suddenly he begins to present the case that would impact my heart for life….

A couple in counseling…. …because they cannot have a baby.

Immediately solutions spouted from the mouths of students in class.

“They have so many options.” 
“Maybe they could adopt.” 
“They could get a surrogate.” 

I raised my hand in frustration, “But what if that is not the point. What if the desire of this woman is to carry this child in HER womb? What if she just needs to grieve THAT loss?”

Would you join me over at Must Love God for the rest of the story today....?

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What She Did Not Know {A Letter to My Mom}

"....After many years of having my soil tilled and turned, the ground is supple to receive the God of Hope. And because of His great mercy in my life, to save me from my fearfully expectant heart, my daughter receives new land on which to plant. My freedom won is her inheritance to build upon. The fullness of God I pray almost daily for in my own life, isn’t just my platform for the next age. It’s hers too. And her daughter’s...."
~ Sara, Every Bitter Thing Is Sweet

When she said yes to ministry, to my dad, to missions, and to motherhood, she did not know the road she would travel.

When she embarked on her adventure as a newlywed missionary to the island of Hispaniola, she never imagined the trials she would need to overcome.

When she carried her firstborn child in her womb, accepting the mantle of motherhood at the ripe age of 22, she had no idea the heartache that awaited her, not years but months later.

When she woke up in a hospital with tubes in her chest helping her to breath, learning that the plane crash that she and her love had just survived through, had ended in fatality for their precious daughter, she could not imagine the fears she would need to crush to walk out the journey the Father had lay before her.

When two years later, a second pregnancy brought only anguish and loss, she did not know how this would shape her into the woman God was calling her to be.

When she finally held the babe that local newspapers heralded as "The Promised One" in her arms, she could never know how important her hard-won lessons would one day be in the life of this wee child.

The child who would not sleep through the night for almost 3... okay... maybe 4 years.

The child who would stay under her skirt tails just to be near her until she was nearly 14 years old.

The child who would ask incessant questions, provoke endless frivolity, and observe the slightest nuances in behavior and tone.

The child who would obsess over school work, get lost in a world of books, pour her heart out into journals, dance upon the rooftop, and dream of a world unbeknownst to her little heart where anything was possible.

The child who would with her blessing leave home at sixteen to pursue knowledge, fall in love...more than once..., and remember with fondness the island home that she so often had cried to leave.

The child who would work hard to change the world, to love BIG, and to give selflessly, just like she saw her mother do.

The child who would marry an African, move across the globe, and miss her mother's hugs and words EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. but keep it to herself because she had learned bravery from her mother.

The child who would face her own journey of loss and struggle of infertility and waiting and pain and sorrow to one day hold a babe in her own arms.

She could not have known how the wisdom learned from a lifetime of battle scars would be the platform of hope for her daughter to find her own way in the valley of the shadows, to "hold onto Jesus for all you are worth" because "my momma said so." and because she watched her live it out.

She could not have known.

But she lived anyway with purpose, hope, integrity, character, grace, and love, modeling Jesus-as-a-woman, with every breath she breathed.

And THAT is her legacy, that she still gives day in and day out....hope to the world, strength to the broken, courage to her daughters to face every obstacle, to conquer every fear, to know that Jesus is bigger than we are, tougher in our hurts, deeper in our despair, greater than every foe...more than we could ever imagine or know.

Mom, 

On Mother's Day {and every day}, I want to REMIND you what a treasure you are to me. I often tell you, "You are a mother's mother!" And I mean it! You are the picture next to the definition in the dictionary {seriously!} and I hope and pray that one day, I will give the same grace to my babies that you gave to me. That as you paved the way for me to stand in the midst of hard times, my own struggles will be a foundation for my children to KNOW who Jesus is, even deeper than I could ever know. You are SIMPLY THE BEST, Mom, and I love you! 

Thank you for being MY mom!

"I learned more about Christianity from my mother than from all the theologians in England.” 

~John Wesley

So considering Mom and Dad have served in Haiti for the past 40 years {this year!}, I felt like this 1000 Moms Project with Ann Voskamp was just the perfect thing to be a part of. Simply by writing this post {which I planned to do anyway}, I am participating in a project to help Moms in Haiti.  Click on the link below to read more about it. 

THAT just seemed like a pretty full circle way to say THANK YOU to my mom, don't cha think?!

When You Just Need ONE Thing....

"Oh, Lord, please don't let me bleed again this month..."

My heart held up this plaintive cry heard only in the recesses of my soul.

After four years of no birth control, some doctor's visits, possible prognoses, and A LOT of waiting in between, this monthly emotional cycle is no stranger to me.

But somehow, this month the pang and squeeze of my heart feels a little deeper, a little tighter than it has in a long while, and I find myself consciously remembering to take deep breaths lest the sorrow overtake me.


Four years of waiting to be pregnant, three years of unknown chronic illness, 2 years ago since I almost lost my parents in the Haitian earthquake, a year and a half since we stepped down after 10 years of full time ministry, 6 months since we decided to pursue foster care, 5 months after we put in an offer on a house....and in every circumstance...silence, SLAMMED closed doors, windows sealed shut, and when I look at the ugly realities, I can truly often wonder, "Where is God?"

To read the rest of my post 

AND to hear about a new phase 

that is opening up for us 

where I DESPERATELY need your prayers, 

please come over to Must Love God!

{RE}discovering Him :: Day 18 - The Hard

Sometimes life is hard.

Sometimes you wake up in the morning expecting one thing and by the end of the day you are saying goodbye to someone you love.

Sometimes your day is spent in the hospital with not one, not two, but three loved ones with ailing bodies.

Sometimes you experience "the hard" and sometimes you are there to help others through THEIR hard, even if just for a short portion of their day.

Today was that day for me.

Today was a day that I could take a step out in those callings, desires, giftings that burn my eyes with tears or simply tug at the recesses of my heart and give love to those I love, when they were hurting.

I wish I could have done more, stayed longer, loved better, but I took my first step back into the game. I did what I could, what my body allowed for today, and tried to just BE THERE, like He is for me.

{RE}discovery :: When He is strong IN me, real TO me, there FOR me, He gives me something to give into others' lives, no matter how small or insignificant....nothing He uses is every wasted!!

Previous - Day 17 :: The Strongest

Next - Day 19 :: The I Am

He Heard My Cry

I found my heart was breaking, longing, hungry for meaning, purpose.

I was missing connection, community, I-have-your-heart-memorizd friendships.

I felt alone, scared, isolated, lonely.

I wondered why this, why now, why here, and what do I do to change it?

I saw closed doors all around me and was too tired to try one more time to push them open.

I just cried.

And the Lord heard my cry....

I love the Lord; for the Lord hath heard the words of my prayer.

Psalm 116:1

4 days later, I found myself being encouraged, comforted, and loved on by two of my close college friends whom I haven't seen in over 5 years.

God put together a I-love-you-no-matter-what-because-I-love-your-heart girlfriends weekend, and I cannot help but just stand in awe of how He knows WHAT we need, WHEN we need it and exactly HOW it needs to happen.

Mood: Thankful :)

Friendship it has no survival value; rather it is one of those things

that give value to survival

- C. S. Lewis

The Day a Letter Set Me Free

It was 1999, and he was my best "guy" friend.

We hung out mostly in a group of 8-12 friends. We were a tight crew. But he & I had a special connection. He was witty & sarcastic & boyishly charming. I was analytical & strong-willed & intellectually-challenging. Everyone knew we had a unique friendship, but it was "purely platonic."

No. Seriously. It was.

Was, that is, until that summer.
The summer after he broke up with his girlfriend from back home.
The summer we hung out in Maine with our friends.
The summer that everything changed.

We crossed the boundaries of friendship, and things would never be the same again. At first it was thrill-me-to-my-toes exciting. We were "us" but now MORE, and it was fun!

But then, real life happened.

We went back to college, back to classes, back to our normal routine.

But she came too -- his ex. She was now a part of "our" world.

Suddenly, he pulled away from me. He needed "space" from "both of us" to "figure things out". It was hard, but he was my friend, right? So I wanted to give him room to grow and to know his own heart & head.

Then one day the bottom fell out of our relationship. In one day my heart broke.

He knew my schedule, so he had been avoiding me, although I hadn't realized that at the time. He didn't count on my meeting being cancelled that night. He didn't plan for me to be in the cafeteria a little later then usual for supper.

That's when I saw them.

The two of them.

Together.

I couldn't understand. My mind did not want to register. Why would he lie to me? He is my friend. He WAS my friend.

I'm not his choice.
I'm not good enough,

pretty enough,

smart enough,

I'm not ENOUGH!

And HE LIED TO ME!!

That is the moment the darkness crept into my soul, my very being. As the days passed, I would wake up each morning in such agony and pain and HATRED. I felt betrayed, abandoned, stupid, faithless, ignorant, unwise, alone. The feeling in my gut was like someone was daily twisting my intestines. I know that sounds intense and dramatic, but I felt like I was walking in a fog. I would read Scriptures almost mindlessly to just "stuff the Word" into me. I would get ready for the day and just beg the Holy Spirit to help me.

But nothing seemed to work. I would cross paths with him. Or her. Or him & her together. I tried to face things. I tried to let it go. I tried to "get over it!"

But the anger seemed to just build and build and with that the shame. How could I let this happen? How could I be so stupid? And the bitterness just increased.

Months passed, and one day, I went to a revival service. I don't remember what the message was about or anything that was said in particular except the invitation to the altar at the end. I went forward and I felt that tugging at my heart strings.

It's time to forgive. It's time to let go.

And instructions followed.

Write him a letter. Write her a letter. Ask them for forgiveness.

WHAT, LORD? YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!! There is NO WAY! I didn't do anything wrong. He blatantly lied to me, and she rudely ignores me. I am the one who has a RIGHT to be angry.

And the quietest of whispers....

Haven't you held anger, resentment, & bitterness in your heart against them?

Well, yeah, but THEY don't know that! I have been nice.

My child....Forgive.....

That night, I sat down at my computer and typed out my apologies.

{Photo Credit}

It was hard.

It was real.

It was honest.

The next morning, I went and dropped them off at the campus post boxes.

When I walked out of the CPO that day, I am convinced, the sky was bluer, the clouds were fluffier, the bird-song was sweeter, and there was a spring in my step.

There was something amazing about accepting God's forgiveness and requesting it in return from others with NO AGENDA!

Forgiveness set me free!!

Linked up with Bonnie @ Faith Barista and A Lesson Learned @ Mama's Losin' It

"I WANT IT NOW!!!" {stomp, stomp, stomp....SLAM!!}

Sharing a little wisdom from my pal, Oswald C. ;)

Spiritual Dejection

We were hoping that it was He who was going to redeem Israel. Indeed, besides all this, today is the third day since these things happened —Luke 24:21

Every fact that the disciples stated was right, but the conclusions they drew from those facts were wrong. Anything that has even a hint of dejection spiritually is always wrong. If I am depressed or burdened, I am to blame, not God or anyone else. Dejection stems from one of two sources— I have either satisfied a lust or I have not had it satisfied. In either case, dejection is the result. Lust means “I must have it at once.” Spiritual lust causes me to demand an answer from God, instead of seeking God Himself who gives the answer.

What have I been hoping or trusting God would do? Is today “the third day” and He has still not done what I expected? Am I therefore justified in being dejected and in blaming God? Whenever we insist that God should give us an answer to prayer we are off track. The purpose of prayer is that we get ahold of God, not of the answer. It is impossible to be well physically and to be dejected, because dejection is a sign of sickness. This is also true spiritually. Dejection spiritually is wrong, and we are always to blame for it.

We look for visions from heaven and for earth-shaking events to see God’s power. Even the fact that we are dejected is proof that we do this. Yet we never realize that all the time God is at work in our everyday events and in the people around us. If we will only obey, and do the task that He has placed closest to us, we will see Him. One of the most amazing revelations of God comes to us when we learn that it is in the everyday things of life that we realize the magnificent deity of Jesus Christ.

I Know Your Pain

I know your pain.

You just received ANOTHER wedding invitation and you dread the RSVP -- Number attending __1__.

You go out with your group of friends and you wonder, "Will I be the 3rd, 5th, 11th wheel.....AGAIN???

You hear a woman complain about her husband's dirty shoes or dishes and you think, "At least you have someone to hold you before you go to sleep tonight....", but you say nothing...you DON'T want the pity!

You wonder how to survive in a world that seems focused on couples, marriage, & relationships.

You wonder how to function even in the Body of Christ that preaches and teaches FAMILY as the MOST important, primary, and basic institution that God has established.

I know your pain.

You see, I, too, have been there. I know what it feels like to cry yourself to sleep and wonder, "Father, have you forgotten about me? I have tried so hard to wait on Your time, Your plan, Your purpose? Am I still not good enough? When will someone love ME?"

I feel embarrassment in my questioning, yet I know that He holds my fragile heart and catches my tears....and then I hear Him whisper to me...."Remember the cross..."

"Father, why have you forsaken Me?" - Jesus

Jesus spoke those words? He was human? Like me? He was real. He was raw. He felt heartbreak. He felt pain.

He felt MY pain. HE KNOWS MORE PAIN. He not only holds my heart and catches my tears, but HE walked a mile in MY shoes and farther and farther and farther until every pain I would faced was walked out. NOW, He is prepared to walk the distance with me, to comfort me, to pick me up, to prod me forward, to challenge, and to encourage because HE KNOWS.

HE KNOWS!!

HE KNOWS YOUR PAIN!

And as I now feel another, deeper, harsher, more ravaging pain (for me personally) -- a greater longing, a chasm filled with unfilled promises -- MOTHERHOOD.

I remember. He reminds me.

"I have walked miles farther so your path would be lighter and your burden would be easy....REST, my child.....REST...."


"I KNOW YOUR PAIN."

Hope Revisited: Hope or Despair?

I found this on the Livesay Haiti weblog yesterday and thought I should add it to my "hope" collections. "Hope" that this encourages you as much as it encouraged me....

“Hope and despair are not opposites. They are cut from the very same cloth, made from the very same material, shaped from the very same circumstances. Most of all, every life finds itself forced to choose one from the other, one day at a time, one circumstance after another.

The only difference between the two is that despair shapes an attitude of mind; hope creates a quality of soul. Despair colors the way we look at things, makes us suspicious of the future, makes us negative about the present. Hope, on the other hand, takes life on its own terms, knows that whatever happens God lives in it, and expects that, whatever its twists and turns, it will ultimately yield its good to those who live it well.


When tragedy strikes, when trouble comes, when life disappoints us, we stand at the crossroads between hope and despair, torn and hurting. Despair cements us in the present; hope sends us dancing around dark corners trusting in a tomorrow we cannot see.

Despair says that there is no place to go but here. Hope says that God is waiting for us someplace else. Begin again.” (unknown author)