Author: Jaimie

Perspective

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Image

Photo by Rachel Woodland (my daughter)

The sun sits full above the earth beneath. The day is in motion, bustling as my list gets longer though I work through tasks one by one. I am taking this moment to still myself and realize how blessed I truly am. Tiny baby feet kick my middle filling my heart with love and the knowledge that everything’s okay. The older kids are off to school and I know I’ll see their smiles soon and have a chance to hug them and laugh with them.
We sold my old van yesterday…the one I refused to drive at some point because it was just too unreliable and I wanted better. We sold it for the amount the junk yard was willing to pay us for the scrap metal. The family that picked it up was so thankful and appreciative and felt privileged to be able to drive it home. We told them about every problem it had, every hiccup, the fact that the a/c was broken and the passenger’s side window couldn’t be rolled down because it wouldn’t go back up, the missing headliner, yet they talked about how they’d never let the kids eat in it and mess it up, how precious a blessing it was to them. I realized our perspective was skewed. I realized how blessed I truly am.
The funny thing is that I can remember the days when there wasn’t food in the pantry and the car didn’t run and the floors had holes and the house had rats. I remember the beans and cornbread for weeks straight because that was all we could afford. When I lost perspective I don’t know, but somehow I forgot to remember to be thankful for the blessings I have now. Worldly possessions matter so little, but I can so easily take them for granted or worry about how we’re going to pay for the baby that’s on the way or whatever.
Yet here I am, in my comfortable home, with clothes on my back, food in the kitchen, transportation in the driveway, kids that amaze me daily, a husband who overwhelms me with love, a new baby bouncing to the rhythm of the keys as I type reminding me of life and new beginnings; and I can become overwhelmed by the trivial.
Lord, let me never forget to thank you. Let me stop when the hectic hits and gain a little perspective. Let me remember to hold everything in my life with an open hand realizing that it all belongs to you. Let me give freely and love deeply. Let me surrender everything for the sake of your kingdom. All you ever asked for was all of me and I am yours.

Forgiveness

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Gripping my heart, the things I thought I’d let go, fingers flexed to squeeze out tears and the strangest of fears. I thought I’d forgiven. I guess there’s still work to be done.

I had a strange dream a few weeks ago about someone I haven’t thought about in years. This person happened to be on the short list of two individuals I can think of in my life that I had the hardest time forgiving. I don’t really know what brought about this reminiscence but just before I woke up I heard the Lord speaking to my heart that we were going back until I’d dealt with it once and for all.  I really didn’t think I had any issue with this person whatsoever anymore.

Now the other one on the short list, I can acknowledge, still haunts me from time to time. There are days when, though I’ve forgiven repeatedly, the disgust and anger find a way of coming up and sitting in the back of my throat like bile. My husband is so great at catching these moments and reminding me to get it under control. I’m so thankful for him.

This week, I realized how much more work I need to do in this area. There’s a difference between shoving the feelings aside and dealing with them until they’ve been fully uprooted from the soil of the soul. Maybe true forgiveness is a process in which God is faithful enough to remind us about the roots still clinging tightly at just the right moment when we are strong enough to tug them out. Maybe He works on different sections of the garden of our heart because we can’t handle the pain if He did it all at once. I don’t know. I can only relate my experience and my shortcomings.

My ex-husband was a drug addict (I optimistically choose to use the word “was” there in hopes that he is in fact doing better though the bile of cynicism is attempting to creep up even now as I write). The entirety of our marriage was a roller coaster of issues between drug relapses, outbursts of wrath and malice toward me and our kids, pornography, prostitutes and strippers, finally leaving me no choice but divorce. I am so thankful that God protected me and my children through all of the chaos and that He’s brought us to where we are today. I believe that these experiences have served to make me stronger and prepared me for my life. As Corrie Ten Boom said, “This is what the past is for! Every experience God gives us, every person He puts in our lives is the perfect preparation for a future only He can see”. Still, there are memories, I’d love to forget.

My husband and I have been helping and counseling a family recently who are dealing with issues very similar to my old life and consequently, I am facing memories of the past that aren’t pleasant. In one situation this week, I found myself paralyzed after flashbacks of certain situations came flooding in. Then all of a sudden, with the anger and pain of the memories, a bizarre fear crept in that maybe someday my perfectly amazing husband, who has restored my faith in mankind, could somehow fall victim to some of these atrocious sins and I could end up right back where I came from dealing with the same issues over again.  In the brain, it makes no sense, but in the realm of the soul where my emotions are being sloshed together with pregnancy hormones it hit me like an avalanche and I realized that maybe I’m not as “over it” as I once thought I was. 

All of this, though painful and raw, causes me to be so thankful! In His infinite mercy, God is allowing me to see the areas that still need tending so now, I can move toward healing. Were it not for these moments, I’d still be pushing aside little annoyances and snide comments every time the ex’s name was mentioned. Were it not for moments like these, I’d be walking around with bitterness in my heart unable to move forward. Once light is shined in darkness, the dim is forced to yield to the brightness! That is so comforting to me. I can rest confidently knowing that God is faithful and just to complete the work He began in my heart long ago and bring me to a place of true freedom. When the tears and fears are squeezed to surface, his living water can come in and refresh my soul.

Thank you Lord for every ache, every pain and every tear as long as they draw me nearer to you!

 

The Snake in the House

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Snake under the Fridge

Snake under the Fridge

I learned an important lesson yesterday. Creepy crawly critters move fast and often unnoticed. I was getting some ribs prepared to go into the oven and needed something from the other fridge, the one on the back porch so I opened the slider, got my ingredients, came back in, closed the door and resumed my work in the kitchen. A few minutes later I heard something fall behind the turtle tank. I looked to see what those crazy turtles were doing in there that could possibly cause the extra filter pack to fall behind their tank and saw nothing but two turtles swimming frantically toward the glass. I shrugged it off as a work of gravity and went back to work. Until something moving caught my eye. Right there in the middle of my dining area, slithering across the tile was a long black snake.

I’m not necessarily afraid of snakes. I think they’re pretty nifty from a distance and when you know they’re there but when they appear suddenly, randomly, in places they should never be, the only appropriate reaction is to scream and run and that’s precisely what I did. My fifteen year old daughter was at the computer desk across the room and heard my screaming “it’s a snake!” and she (being terrified of snakes), screamed even louder and ran. My thirteen year old daughter waited a minute, unsure about what could possibly be going on, before emerging from her room and walking outside. Luckily, my six-year-old was already playing outside. So there we were, the whole family on the porch recovering from the shock.

My neighbor heard us screaming and came over with a stick. Neither of our husbands were home. We ended up with two women, four girls under the age of 15 and one 6-year-old boy, in the house on the lookout for the slithery sinister being to emerge from the fortress he chose underneath my refrigerator. He was not coming out. Eventually, I resumed cooking while watching out one eye for him to fly out at my feet at any given moment. I had to get my ribs in the oven!

After about an hour, he came out and another neighbor had arrived and our efforts to shew him out the door ended with him under the stove instead of the fridge. We removed the drawer under the stove and were poking things in there to coax him out and he was so scared he just wouldn’t come. Finally, my Pastor (also my neighbor) showed up and took over. We tried to get him out in a humane way, but the uncooperative little booger met his demise. Pastor, the hero, killed the snake and freed us ladies from the reign of the little tyrant. It was an adventure.

When my husband got home, he mentioned that we should have killed him last week…Last week, he was on our front porch eating a frog. We all looked at him and tried to get pictures of nature in progress (which I would share, but they are terrible). We thought it was kind of cool. Black snakes are generally good to have around since they eat pests so we’ve let him live comfortably and close to our doors without much resistance. Still, my husband said we may have allowed him to get a little too familiar and comfortable with us making it more comfortable for him to sneak in the house.

Either way, it made me think about the little things in my life that I don’t necessarily bother to deal with right away. I think sometimes we see sin lurking at the door and we don’t bother to totally get rid of it because since it’s not inside it doesn’t bother us that much. We may even think it’s kind of cool sitting out there. We may toy with the idea of looking at it and keep peeking out the door to check on it and see where it is. What we don’t realize is that when we allow it access to the close proximity of the door, it can creep in so fast that we never saw it coming until it’s there, stuck and we can’t get it out because it’s weaved into a crevice somewhere where we can’t even see it anymore other than the occasional moments where it rears its little head out from underneath. Maybe even in this, it takes Pastor with a shovel in hand to bash our little creeper in the head before we can grab it by the tail and get it outside.

I often hear people talk of not opening the door for the enemy of our souls to come in. I contend we should take it a step farther and guard the yard. We should be like Joseph and RUN the second temptation comes along. James says “Then, when desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and sin, when it is full-grown, brings forth death.” James 1:15. I am determined to not even allow sin to be conceived in my heart instead of waiting until it’s in the house and trying to stop it. It’s much easier that way.

Prayer

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When I open my mouth, let your words come out
Let me not be afraid to open my mouth
When I look, may I see through your eyes
Let me not be afraid to open my eyes
When I take a step, calm and guide my wobbly feet
Let me not be afraid to walk
When I pray, may I seek your desires instead of mine
Let me remember to pray
When I sing, be the melody and frequency that carry the song
Let a song be ever present on my tongue.
You be the voice. You be the strength. You be the brain. I’ll give you my throat, my hands, my all. I won’t settle for less.

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

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Deep within the mirror, reflected back the image of who I once thought I was. Something beyond the obvious stares back at me through eyes windowing the soul of the seeker.

More than sharp features, high cheekbones and brown eyes, I am won; wholly purchased by the author of beauty who sees me lovely.

Beyond the broken glass there is a story. Love overcoming the dullest ache and the deepest uncertainty. Surrendered now to its power, I rest in the arms of one who sees more than an image on a glass screen; more than the portrayal of plastic offered by the populace; more than wrappings and trappings adorning the fearful. My lover sees me.

Creator who marked the heavens with unending glory, you who painted the sunset and placed each peak in its wonder to jut from the earth in majesty, reveal to us the wonder you see in each masterpiece you’ve created. Let us look beyond the mirror to the artist who sculpted us with careful, meticulous purpose. Let us see the only the reflection in your eyes as you rest in us and call your creation “good”.

“For You formed my inward parts; You covered me in my mother’s womb. I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; Marvelous are Your works, And that my soul knows very well. My frame was not hidden from You, When I was made in secret, And skillfully wrought in the lowest parts of the earth. Your eyes saw my substance, being yet unformed. And in Your book they all were written, The days fashioned for me, When as yet there were none of them.How precious also are Your thoughts to me, O God! How great is the sum of them! If I should count them, they would be more in number than the sand.” Psalms 139:13-18

 

Flyboy

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20130220-174452.jpg Flyboy finds a shell and sends it soaring helpless into the surf. He knows he can cause it to skip and skim instead of sink. When it disappears deep, he finds another and begins again, each time adjusting his angle, the spin of his wrist, the speed and thrust.

Finally, he looks up to Dad for an example. As the shell, gracefully leaves his hands, Flyboy watches with wonder as it jumps three times before falling deep.

Flyboy believes he can be just like daddy. He sees shell skipping on water in his mind and knows he can do it. Frustration is short-lived and only causes him to look up for instruction.

IMG_0211I pray I look at life just like Flyboy…knowing I can do anything…knowing when I’m sinking, I can look up. I pray I never lose the wonder of what surrounds me. I pray I always remember that I can fly. IMG_0253 IMG_0256

Calm in the Midst of Chaos

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Wedding  “See! The winter is past, the rains are over and gone. Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come…Arise, come, my darling; my beautiful one, come with me” Song of Solomon 2:11-13

The past few weeks have been a bit chaotic. My husband and I have been running in a million different directions and juggling multiple projects and tasks until we hit the pillow each night in a state of soreness and exhaustion (the soreness from his being a carpenter and doing very physical work and from my being six months pregnant and achy). Most of the things we’ve been doing have been incredibly rewarding. Still some have just been requirements of life and business…I’d rather not spend my evenings pouring over bank statements and Quickbooks data, but it has to be done. Regardless, it’s been a whirlwind kind of month.

On February 4th, we celebrated our first wedding anniversary. It was such a wonderful time of refreshing for us. The preceding weekend had been jam-packed. We both worked that Monday morning and then at an appointed time, we met, left the world behind and focused on us. It was magical. I even forgot my cell phone at home (honestly, I didn’t mean to but I was so glad I did). There we were, just the two of us…a fabulous dinner, then a night away in the exact room we stayed in on our wedding night. We have a wonderful marriage everyday but there’s something about taking that extra time for one another, away from the world, that can be so valuable.

Shortly after breakfast the next morning, his phone started blowing up with small work emergencies and the world caught up with us. But for one night, we found the calm in the midst of the chaos. We found the ability to forget everything except for the things that matter the most, the covenant we have with each other, the remarkable blessing it is to find the one who God created just for you, the family and the life we’ve built together and our mutual commitment to Christ.

Today, on Valentine’s Day, I’m feeling especially sentimental. I see so clearly how all of the awful parts of my life, the pain I’ve endured, the mistakes I’ve made and the successes and victories I’ve claimed have brought me here to this moment when I can truly say that “The winter is past, the rains are over and gone. Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come”. I can put the world aside and come away with my beloved daily. Together, we can dive into the water of the word and be refreshed. Together, we can work to build a marriage others can see and know that true love and commitment still exists. Together, we can do anything. All of the doubts I once had have been washed away by the grace of God and the love of a man who loves me as Christ loves the church. Fairy tales do come true.

Most importantly, I believe that God desires that we would find such times with him. He, our beloved, invites us to come away with him daily…To find refuge in the peace and safety of his love. He calls to us in the midst of the chaos and reminds us that he is altogether lovely. He brings us to a season of singing where nothing from the past or present can begin to interfere with the way he loves us. He hides us in the palm of his hand, in the shadow of his wings, in the cleft of the rock and then whispers ““O my dove, in the clefts of the rock, In the secret places of the cliff, Let me see your face, Let me hear your voice; For your voice is sweet, And your face is lovely.” Song of Solomon 2:14.

I invite you to hear the call of your beloved today and come away with him to your secret place. Find time to love and be loved by the ultimate comforter, Jesus Christ.

Bible Study

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Sword Drill Steady rhythms that pulse from page to soul like life that courses through the veins. Deep within I feel it rise. It shakes me to know I am one of them…one of the wandering ones who could so easily forget and lose my focus. Gehazi, who would become leprous for two pieces of silver (2 Kings 5).

Hang on another day and breathe deep. Allow the ink and papyrus to awaken to more. Call upon the author for meaning and understanding. Make me a seeker, who would not just observe your wonder but embrace it. Life of God, consume me until I am hidden in your hand, tattooed upon your forehead like your word tattooed on my heart. Bind it on tablets of stone that I carry around my neck, before my eyes, in my being. I love your voice as you speak through words penned long before me. I love that you penetrate bone and marrow with meaning that is fresh every day. Speak Lord, I’m listening.

Stained glass

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Dimly, I see through the glass before me. Faith, the constant reminder that in the end good always prevails. Even the dim can lend beauty. There’s a hope to be had at the core, the distant presence of light illuminating just enough to show the depth of color and contour within. The knowledge remains that the panes and frame have been tried through time and proven lasting. There’s a fragility and holiness in them. Experience tempered with the light of the world and the weight of glory, it’s a masterpiece.

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The Past Can Hurt

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The past can hurt. I’m finding myself facing things this week that I’d made it a point to bury. I felt it was better for me to not dwell on things gone by…it seemed better that way. However, this week, I’ve needed to pull from the memory banks and remember how it felt to live through what I’ve lived through. I believe God allows us to go through certain situations so we can help others later. I’ve always felt that my experiences made me stronger and prepared me for the road ahead, but here I sit, remembering, feeling and praying that I have the right words…that I would be inspired by the comforter and let His words flow through me. I feel completely inept. Maybe that’s a good thing.

I took a small break from cleaning and organizing projects I had planned for the day. I flipped on The Learning Channel for background noise while I munched on a granola bar and it happened. Memories I’d locked up for years came flooding back. One episode of “Hoarders” and suddenly, I was a little girl digging through the six-inch deep carpet of laundry on the bathroom floor. My favorite shirt had somehow inched deeper into the mayhem and landed on the bottom. By the time, I rescued it, it was too late. It was mildewed and completely ruined with no hope of recovery. The brown, grease and grime covered appliances on the TV were like they came straight out of my memory. As I watched, I was amazed to find things so similar to my past, like the holes in the floor that guests sometimes fell through because they didn’t know the proper procedure for jumping over them.

I remember the day a family friend came over and attempted to help us clean. She and I were in my parents’ bedroom and I was standing on the bed when she made the mistake of touching the closet door. It was just enough to cause the closet door to give up its mission and it broke and fell directly on top of me. I laugh now at the memory being completely buried under door and who knows what behind it while our friend screamed in panic and unburied me.

I knew our lifestyle was extreme, but I didn’t realize how it affected me until that moment the other day watching others living in similar circumstances. I panicked. suddenly, ever corner of my home that had the slightest pile of clutter became the enemy of my soul. The pile of mail sitting on top of the piano mocked me as if it were ready to multiply any minute. The books I have been so reluctant to part with because, let’s be honest, who wants to get rid of BOOKS?!!, suddenly seemed so unimportant. My husband has never quite understood my attachment to the printed word, but they’re so pretty! Ah, and my husband…he’s a conservationist apparently. The man will reuse anything. We have little stashes of salsa jars and empty lunch meat containers that he uses to take his lunches to work. It saves my Tupperware and for that I’m grateful, but what if it too, multiplies into a horde of garbage invading my kitchen cabinets until they explode and trap me underneath the pile. I was losing it.

After a short meltdown, I decided to tackle one cluttered area at a time starting with the things I tend to ignore most frequently. I had to make myself remember that my past doesn’t define me. The bondage I lived in as a child (most of which was completely out of my control) has no power to dominate who I am as a woman. I may never completely rid the world of clutter, but my home is NOTHING like the home in which I was raised.

This, just like all of the other things in my life, both physical and spiritual, needs to be tempered and balanced. I cannot fall into an opposite mania, where I strive so hard to be different that I forget about who I am. I can learn from my past, facing it bravely and moving forward with grace and dignity. I can use my experiences to teach my children the importance of doing things a different way. I can use my experiences to remind myself not to go back but to press on, knowing the difference between extremes and finding a balanced ground to rest on in the middle of the two. I can use the panic I felt when facing those memories to understand a little more about myself and why I pressure myself to have the “perfect” home; why I often feel as though I don’t measure up to the imaginary standard of what a woman should be able to accomplish. I can use this knowledge to pray for healing, to grow in grace, to move beyond my past into the woman God designed me to be. I can get over it…and I will.