My thoughts on certain national news

It was on otherwise peaceful Sunday night. 

News sprang forth, on Twitter no less, about the death of bin Laden.

Celebration erupted.

That made my spirit twist just a little, and I couldn't figure out why the celebration made me so uncomfortable. 

Was it because of the assertions, with all apparent certainty by the hordes of commentors, this man was in hell?

That certainly is nothing to celebrate. The thought of an eternity separated from God is unfathomable to me. That is nothing to be celebrated.

And as the risk of sounding sort of Robbellish, how do we know? That bin Laden is in hell, I mean.

 I know, he's an evil man.

Then why did I think of my sin that was covered on the cross?

I'm not as bad as bin Laden. Really.

 I do know the horror and destruction that his man caused. I do. 

And as my 4 year old climbed in my lap this morning, I thought of a 4 year old bin Laden. Did he ever crawl in his mother's lap? Did she kiss his head and rest her cheek on his head too? 

Am I humanizing a monster? 

My point is that he was a child, full of hope and wonder, and then sin crept in. 

And then we know where that sin ultimately led. We were all there on September 11th.  There are other attacks too. Vicious attacks against American citizens that provoked, and still provoke, emotions beyond description.

I'm not cheapening what this man masterminded and executed.

I am pointing out that what caused this destruction was very simply sin. The same sin that we battle. 

And the "fact" that bin Laden is in hell is simply not our statement to make. God alone decides that. If we state very simply that bin Laden is in hell, are we not doubting God's ability to save? What if God did decided to save bin Laden? What if when we get there, bin Laden is there? Would we be shocked? Horrified? 

How could God save him?

And how could God save me?

I've prayed that bin Laden came to know Christ. Does that make me simple and idealistic? Sure. But I'm not sure that's wrong. 

And I can't think of a Scripture that indicates that any amount of sin disqualifies one from being saved. 

In fact, a verse that I keep hearing quoted a lot lately says that God is "...not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance." (1 Peter 3:10)

One person wandered aloud if perhaps he wanted justice for bin Laden more than salvation for him. This person went so far as to call this a symptom of his "American-ness." 

That's a lot to think about.

I kept thinking about all the times in the Old Testament where God not only ordained war and murder, especially when it involved sinners and/or sins again His people. God's people even rejoiced when their enemies were vanquished.

I couldn't find as much of that in the New Testament. It seems like that part of the Bible is filled with God's show of love in the gift of His Son to not only those that believed, but to those who He died for that were sill in sin. 

And I'm sure I'm missing a lot there. 

I also keep thinking about Sproul's thoughts on justice. He says we can't fully understand or appreciate justice until we fully understand and appreciate mercy.

And I'm not trying to call out hordes of people who celebrated about this death. 

I just have a deep desire for the people of God to respond in a way that would and should represent the Christ that we serve. And maybe celebrating this man's death is totally okay with God.

 I do know that God's arm is not too short to save. I am so thankful that He saved me. I am so thankful that I am not a slave to sin anymore. I'm so deeply humbled and grateful for His gift of His Son, in that He saved me from sin and from an eternity of separation from Him. 

I'm praying for our missionaries who are serving in the Middle East who may become targets more because of their nationality. And I'm praying for our military for the same reasons.

And I'm fully aware that I'm pondering things that I really have no business pondering. I don't know everything involved in all the political inerworkings of Washington. I don't doubt that killing bin Laden was the best thing to do. I'm sure that decision was made my people far more educated than I. It's not his death that I question. Maybe it's just the response to it.

And maybe the response is just fine. I just have to ponder it. Because that's what I do.

Holy Week

Isaiah 53

Who has believed our message?

And to whom has the arm of the Lord been revealed?

For He grew up before Him like a tender shoot, and like a root out of parched ground; He has no stately form or majesty that we should look upon Him, nor appearance that we should be attracted to Him.

He was despised and forsaken of men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief; and like one from whom men hide their face, He was despised, and we did not esteem Him.

Surely our griefs He Himself bore, and our sorrows He carried; yet we ourselves esteemed Him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted. 

But He was pierced through for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the chastening for our well-being feel upon Him, and by His scourging we are healed.

All of us like sheep have gone astray, each of us has turned to his own way; But the Lord has caused the iniquity of us all to fall on Him.

He was oppressed and He was afflicted, yet He did not open His mouth; like a lamb that is led to slaughter, and like a sheep that is silent before its shearers, so He did not open His mouth.

By opposition and judgement He was taken away; and as for His generation, who considered that He was cut off out of the land of the living for the transgression of my people, to whom the Stroke was due?

His grave was assigned with wicked man, yet He was with a rich man in His death,  because He had done no violence, nor was there any deceit in His mouth.

But the Lord was pleased to crush Him, putting Him to grief; if He would render Himself as a guilt offering, He will see His offspring, He will prolong His days, and the good pleasure of the Lord will prosper in His hand. 

As a result of the anguish of His soul, He will see it and be satisfied; by His knowledge the Righteous One, My Servant will justify many, He will bear their iniquities.

Therefore, I will allot Him a portion with the great, and He will divide the booty with the strong, because He poured out Himself to death, and was numbered with the transgressors; yet He Himself bore the sin of many, and interceded for the transgressors.

A happy birthday

Ah. Another birthday. 

I always thought I'd age gracefully. 

That's not actually the case. 

I felt an impending sense of dread about this day. It marked the beginning of the last year of my thirties. 

That was weird. 

I'm sure there's a lot to this whole insanely insane fear of aging thing, but I'm not really through processing and/or overthinking it enough to get it down on paper. 

So for now, I'm just ignoring it. 

And I'm already saying that I'm "40." 

You know, just to get used to it. 

That in and of itself seems a tad insane. 

Anyway, my birthday got celebrated whether or not I wanted it to. Which I am sure is a good thing. A friend came into town just for the day, and a group of us got together to see her at a local park. That was nice, since a lot of friends were there to see her, and I got to see them too. 

Two of my favorite things: cupcakes and irises. I will probably end up changing my name to "Iris" one day. People say it sounds like an old lady, so I figure that since I'm there, it will be a perfect name for me. :)

Ah. The first one of the season! Another one of my favorite things.

My mother-in-law from Tennessee sent me my most favorite gift - a Target gift card. I managed to swing by there, you know, since it was my birthday.

These are the shoes that I wanted to buy but didn't. It was hard to leave those suckers behind, but really? Where exactly would I wear these? Don't answer that. I'd wear them everywhere. That's why I left them at the store and bought a much more practical (well, for me) pair. 

It was a gift card and it was my birthday. Back off the shoe buying, okay?

 

The day concluded with my husband's gift for me. Flowers, and a trip to one of our favorite restaurants. Then we went to see "The King's Speech." 

I don't have any pictures of that part of the day. I think I was exhausted and past the point of picture taking! This was what I saw on the way to the movies, though, and I did manage to snap a picture of it.

What ran through my mind was, "Wow. That's the best present I got today."

 I am so thankful for the love shown by so many kind friends and family. I was showered with gifts and cards and calls and sweet fellowship. I am humbled by the amazing people that God has allowed me to call friends. They are precious, and I am thankful for the ways God has used them in my life. I guess in that way, birthdays aren't so bad.

So hello, last year of my thirties. I hope we have fun together, grow more like Christ and part ways nicely at the end. 

Forty? I better start getting ready now...

Don't sweat the big stuff

I would like to say that I chose to co-sleep with the babies, but the truth is that they decided to co-sleep with me.

It's a well known fact that I had the worst sleeping babies in the history of the universe.

Well, perhaps that is an overstatement, but after 5 years of not sleeping, that's what it felt like.

When I thought about having children close together, I don't think I considered the fact that I wouldn't sleep for, well, years.

Co-sleeping helped. It really did.

I loved the time with the babies. I really think I knew somewhere in my exhausted, hazy mind that these days would be over quickly. I muddled through desperately some days, and nights, but snuggling down with the kids at nights mostly felt like a huge privilege.

I felt a kinship with the families all over the world that share family beds. Or that's what I told myself as I wondered when I would ever have a kid free bed again. The good won out over the bad, but sometimes I would dream of a bed with no kids in it.

The baby kid went to a futon in our room last June. That transition was a pretty easy one, considering the kid.

There he stayed.

Then, recently, I told him that his brother's bed had a bunk bed that went with it.


He seemed interested.

After school one day, I decided this was the day. Bunk bed installation was a necessary component to the day. It was time.  

I pulled down some pieces from the garage attic, keeping in mind each second that my clumsy self really had no business dangling from the ceiling atop a high ladder. 

God is good. 

I retrieved the other pieces from the house attic, including the mattress. Getting that thing down was, well, comical.

Then the kids and I headed off to Home Depot for some wooden slats and a couple of other things.

I am quite sure that nothing makes the nice people at Home Depot shudder and/or quake in their boots more than a mom walking in with her three kids so obviously having no idea where or how to get what she/they need.

They are so very nice at Home Depot.

So we put together the bunk beds. It was a fun thing to do together. And special too. My dad and uncle had slept in these exact same bunk beds. My boys are so much like the two of them, and the thought of my boys sleeping in the same beds made me very happy.

And I really didn't think Zane would do it. Sleep in the new bed, I mean.

And guess what?

He did. 

That kid amazes me. The day to day stuff is so hard with him most days. But something big like this? 

No problem.

He nailed it. First night. All night in his new bed.

And every night since then.

He has come into our room and said he's scared a couple of times. He snuggles down with me, and then I walk him back to his bed.

And last night I rolled over and rolled right on top of him.

Guess he was scared again.

But I carried him back to bed, and he never mentioned it today.

So with the big stuff, Zane is awesome.

Just don't ask him to take his dish to the sink. He might fall apart. 

But that's okay. 

**Edited to add:

Ironically Zane got in bed with me again last night. I didn't realize he was there until I rolled over and unceremoniously dumped him off the bed. The loud thump of him hitting the floor woke me up. He was not too happy about the rude awakening, but I'm thinking he may now prefer the safety of his own bed from here on out. Or let's hope that's the case...

A last thought...

That death post wore me out. It poured out of me with such a force (thank you, sweet Spirit) that I barely thought while it was flowing out. And I certainly didn't proof it well. I resisted going back and cleaning it it up - I felt like I needed to leave it raw.

But I do want to clarify one thing.

Death wasn't actually ever in God's plan. 

We messed that up in Genesis 3.

So death is a result of sin.

But not the final say in sin, because we know that Jesus' death conquered death once and for all. And His death conquers sin. And in the end, Jesus' death will forever wipe away death because we will live forever with Him. For billions and billions of years. (I'm resisting the urge to say "ACK!" Yes, it never ends. Some how. Some way.)

It's where our hope springs from and where our hope rests. In Christ and in His death that wiped away our death. 

I just couldn't let that go.

Death

Dear Abigail, 

I went to your third birthday celebration, but it was really weird, because you weren't there. Not only was it weird, it was wrong. And hard...

I've written this letter in my head for the last hours, and I thought finishing it here would help. I can't though, because it's too hard. 

And I can't stop thinking about death.

I was putting Zane to bed when my phone rang. I noticed that my friend Kathy had called, which was strange for a Sunday night. As I picked up the phone, I heard Jennifer's voice. It was a whisper. 

"Are you sitting down?"

What? I was so confused.

"Abigail's dead..."

My brain switched off. I clicked into practical mode.

Where are they? What did Kathy want? Where is Brandy?

I was putting my clothes on while I talked to her. I grabbed my keys and jumped into the van. The five minute ride to the hospital I prayed desperately.

I got to the hospital and waded through the people waiting in the hallway until I found Kathy. We leaned against each other. I was smack dab in the middle of a television show. None of it was real. 

When Brandy walked out of the room where Abigail was, my heart ripped in two. I'll never forget the look on her face. She walked toward me, and I gripped on to her. Her sobs ripped through both of us. I pulled back and said the only thing I knew to say.

Can I pray for you?

She nodded yes, and I folded her hands into mine.

Praise the Lord for Matthew 10 {...for it will be given you in that hour what you are to say. For it is not you who speak, but it is the Spirit of your Father who speaks in you.} I have no idea what I said, but I remember imploring God as a Father who had also lost a child to comfort Brandy in the way that only He could.

We spun through that next week together. The whole band of girls and their kids. We cleaned, shopped for necessities, made food, cried buckets of tears, talked, laughed and at times, sat without saying a word.

We somehow got through it.

The next year was an amazing show of God's goodness and grace. 

And it was the hardest year in my friendship life. Hard to watch someone I love grieve in a way that defies words. 

And I've thought about death way more than I ever wanted to.

I heard my precious friend Kathy Leigh yelling at me through the phone "AMY!" in that way that she did. 

I'm standing in Times Square, right now! WHERE ARE YOU???

We would plot how we would live in New York together. Preferably SoHo. We would laugh, heads bent together over the stacks of shirts we were folding. It was a silly out of this world plan. I had a husband, she had a daughter. But in our little world, we'd live there, in an artistic nirvana. 

But see, she was in New York to go to Sloan Kettering for a last ditch effort at curing her recurring breast cancer. 

She was calling, from the middle of Times Square, to say

I'm not really fighting cancer. We're here, living in SoHo. Happy, silly, laughing, spinning through New York in our safe, make believe world. But where are you? You aren't here!

There were over 1,000 people at her memorial service. The last words from Kathy Leigh were unintelligible words scratched out on a piece of paper. It took her brother nearly a day to decipher them. But as he gripped the podium in front of those 1,000 people, he grinned her grin and said, "I figured out what she said...

I can see Heaven

I thought about my Aunt Ann, who, by the odd spin of the genetic wheel, I was the spitting image of. Not just in looks, but in walk, laugh, wit and insanity... nearly her perfect doppelganger.  So much so her children still find it hard to be around me at times.

She lost her life in a car accident.

I still hear her {our} laugh. I see her understanding eyes on me. She did understand me like no one else. When she left, I felt a little more alone in the world. Purely selfish. 

As I pondered this thing called death, I felt the need to get to the core of it. Again. Or maybe for the first time. When Abigail died. I needed to think about it a lot. I needed to steep myself in it. I needed to swim in the dark depths of it. Touch the reality of it. 

And I came to the same age old conclusions. 

It's real.

It's inevitable.

It's natural.

It's normal.

It's God's plan.

So how do we not despair? How do we not lose our lives to death?

Hope.

But our hope does not lie in the seen. It's lies in the unseen. In God. The Creator of the universe who's plan is complete. And perfect.

And through His immeasurable love for humankind offered His Son as a sacrifice to pay for the sin we all commit. Allowed Jesus to be tortured and murdered on a cross, so that our sins would be forgiven. Jesus took God's wrath due us because of our sin. And as we believe and put our faith and trust in this Perfect Gift, we are rescued and ransomed from the penalty of death. By Jesus and Jesus alone we are then allowed to spend eternity worshiping the God who by His grace and mercy saved us. 

That's hope. 

Death is not the end for us. It's the door by which we step into Christ's presence.

It's the way we get to look Him in His face and tell Him

thank you

as if that would suffice.

But it's all I have. 

That and my life. 

Which I freely offer to Him.

So these thoughts swirled around in my head as I stood in the dining room where streamers and balloons were hung in honor of a 3rd birthday celebration where the guest of honor was so obviously absent. 

I had stood in another dining room a year ago, looking up at balloons and streamers with the number 2 on them. How strange that life and death were so closely spaced. A 2 year old birthday party and then 2 days later, death.

I cried more at the birthday celebration than I did the entire week she died. It was grief backed up by a year's worth of grieving. There were 365 days of sadness built up. 

{and true to form, we laughed too. My friend Erica said, "I can't move. My feel are cemented to the floor." I said, though tears, "It's okay, Erica. I'm here. I'll help you..." And she said, "No really. My feet and legs are asleep from sitting cross legged too long. I can't feel anything. I can't move." Laughter through tears. My favorite}

It seems like making it through a year without your daughter should afford you the prize of getting your daughter back.

But it doesn't work that way. 

So He continues to sustain. And provide in ways that no one can understand. 

And as I think about death now, it's simply a natural end to life that God gives so graciously. And it's another way to honor and glorify Him through such indescribable pain. 

And the simple fact that we will dance with Abigail in Heaven gives me such peace.

I will hug Kathy Leigh again. I will feel Ann's hand smooth my hair again. I will see and love each person that trusted in Christ that I loved and lost.

And it spurns on this fire to spread this precious Gospel. Not just as a means of avoiding a very real and a very eternal hell, but also as a way to come to know a most precious Savior. To live with peace and passion in Him. To know and be known. To love and be loved. 

Oh, I love you, Lord. Thank you for your Son. Thank you for comfort. 

Your praises will always be on my lips.

A new day

I tumbled from the bed wiping sleep from my eyes and smoothing my hair from my face. I fumbled for my glasses and phone, which had offensively woken me with a start. My body wasn't ready to start the day. 

As soon as my feet hit the floor, my brain began to spin. All the things that needed to be done flooded into my mind, like a dam had burst. As the thoughts raced around and around, I gripped a coffee cup and poured into it what I hoped would kick start some sanity.

I opened my Bible, asking the Lord to show and teach through His Word. He was faithful even though my brain fought back with fierce competition - the to do list and offending thoughts battled for my attention.

It was frustrating.

My walk was filled with desperate prayer, complicated thoughts and deep wrestling. Not entirely restful. My body refused to run. In fact I had to push it to even walk at a quick pace. The dog pulled and tugged against her leash. She too wanted to push back this morning. 

I stepped back into the dark warmth of the house, deep in thought over something I was reading on my phone as I walked. I collasped onto the kitchen floor as I tried to process the thoughts that seeped into my already over flowing brain.

As I looked up from my spot on the floor, I heard the phone ringing as I saw a dirty kitchen floor and cabinets in desperate of a good wipe down. 

I sighed deeply.

Around the corner came my middle son. He spoke no words as he saw me on the floor and quietly curled into my lap. I rested my face on his head and breathed. He said in his quite voice, "I love you." 

I closed my eyes to ignore the dirt and waited for the phone to stop ringing. I snuggled him a little closer and said, "I love you too."

I think as a mom, so much of the time I stress myself out. My to do list seems self made, at least in part. I must go to the grocery store today. Must get the suit from the cleaners, work on tax returns, and vacuum the living room...

The list spins on and on. The phone rings and suddenly I have more added to my list for today. More I have to do...

But really? Do I?

What do I have to do today? 

Help me, Lord, see the important, the most important, and just do that. I don't enjoy being overwhelmed and stressed. And I'm quiet sure this doesn't please Him. 

What I don't get done today will wait until tomorrow. And if I have to stay up late and work into the night, then there will be more quiet opportunity to spend time with Him. Right? Even if time is spent working, worship music playing softly will allow my spirit to worship Him even as the rest of me labors more. Right?

I'm desperate to be busy yet glorifying. 

I'm anxious to be productive yet pleasing.

I want to do only what is meant for me to do. 

And I'm asking for the little extra measure of grace that allows me to blog from the overflow of my day while I take a break from school to make lunch.

And to breathe while telling my brain that I'm really not overwhelmed even thought the rest of me might say otherwise.