I was happy, very content and surrounded by places and people that I loved. I had an awesome old Tudor home, lived 6 hours from my daughter and within minutes of my sons. I had grandkids, friends, and neighbors close by. I went to a great church, and Bible study. I was involved in a couple of non-profits, and lead a very fulfilling life. Life was good, very good.
And then in the middle of it all, my husband came home and told me that his entire division at work was being moved overseas and so was his job. He needed to find a new position within the company--fast. As he searched for jobs, I prayed. I did not want to move. I was happy just where I was. Everything was perfect. I keep reminding God of that little fact--everything is just how I want it God, please don't change anything! Please!
When the news came that we were going to be moving to Chicago I fell apart. Not outwardly, but on the inside. I cried and pleaded with God to change it back. I wanted Him to intervene. I can specifically remember one day--I was sitting in my brown leather rocker, down in the basement, fire going, worship music playing, me praying. I was right in the middle of letting God know just how upset I was when I felt it. Now this will be a little hard to explain, but I'll give it my best shot...I've always done obedience training with my dogs. I've taken them to classes and I've always relied on a good choke chain. Whether you agree with the choke chain method of training or not isn't my point here. It's what I used while training, and it's what got the message to said dog--you will listen and obey, or get a quick jerk. It worked most of the time, once the early stages of training were underway. And that's what happened to me that day.
God jerked that choke chain around my neck and got my attention. I felt (in my heart) that sharp pull straight up. And then I heard Him speak to me. Not gently as He usually does, but a little more sternly this time. He said--you have no idea what I have in store for you, what path I have for you to walk on, you have no idea. I have a plan for your life. Now stop. Look forward. I have a plan.
I sat stunned. He has a plan? Oh. And believe it or not, my attitude turned around (or began to anyway) that very day. I was able to go through the process of selling my beloved home of 11 years. I was able to say goodbye to great friends. And I was able to hug my children and grandchildren goodbye and with many tears, we packed up and moved.
That was 3 1/2 years ago. Everything in my life has changed. Everything. I live in a neighborhood where I know all of my neighbors. I attend an awesome church, Bible study, and small group (couples Bible study) and I am involved in lots of ministries. I love Chicagoland. I noticed something else too--I am having the time of my life and I am getting to know my husband all over again. Since we've moved and are basically kidless, we have been acting like newlyweds. We are a true couple again--laughing, exploring, enjoying life and having fun.
Yes, things are quite different now. But in a good way, a very good way. And God had a plan. Has a plan. He always does. I want Him to keep me accountable, obedient, teachable and thankful. Always. When and if my life changes again, I want to be ready. Hopefully, I have learned through this process exactly what it means to listen and obey. To give up my will for His. Yes, that's it--my will for His will.
I think about all of this sometimes. On those days. Those days when I am missing the past. The days when I am sad, or lonely, or when my heart is breaking from missing my kids so much. On those days, I ask my Father to hold me close and remind me of His awesome love for me, of how He protects my heart, of how He always has my best interest held deeply in His heart. You see, I do still, every once in awhile, have those days. On those days, the hard days, I have to spend an extra long time in prayer. I have to rely on God so heavily to help me, to remind me, to trust Him--however then, oh and then, I get together with a group of friends and laugh so hard that my face hurts the next day. I go to church and look across the room and am reminded of how dear these new friends are to me. I go on a walk in the quiet of the snow through my little neighborhood and marvel at all that God has done in my heart over these past few years. And I think to myself--it truly is well with my soul.
This year all of our children and grandchildren will be with us. 8 adults, 6 grandkids, 4 bedrooms, lots of food, fun, and presents. And again I am reminded of just how blessed I am.
Merry Christmas everyone.
Wednesday, December 18, 2013
Tuesday, December 3, 2013
His Love Never Fails
I might regret writing this. I've been told many times over that I share too much. However, I've also been told that my sharing, my honesty, my exposing my heart has helped others. So why not tell you what happened this past Sunday? Why not share from my heart and expose the enemy? For that is what he is--he is my greatest enemy.
I woke up feeling more discouraged than I had in a very long time. I can't remember the last time I felt so down, so depressed, so undone--for it is not my nature to have these types of feelings. Usually, I am up and raring to go--after coffee of course. Always after coffee. I am up and ready for what the day may bring--I like to keep busy, I like to have fun and I like to go, go, go. Except for Sunday. The last thing I wanted to do was go--to church that is.
It felt as if a blanket of depression was almost smothering me. I told my husband that I just wasn't in the mood to go to church, and then I proceeded to tell him why. In a nutshell, it was my attitude. It stunk. Really it did. I wasn't in the mood for traditions and hymns, rituals and Advent, communion and all the other stuff that was going to happen that day in church. I just was not in the mood. You see--I am the most non-traditional traditional person I know. Anything that seems ritualistic bothers me unless it is rituals that I like. I don't know why. Maybe we are all that way to some extent. I've spent a fair amount of time analyzing this weird hang up of mine and have not come to a conclusion. But can you see the quandary I was in? In my mind, it was all about what I liked and didn't like. And these preferences were being used against me that morning. Satan was whispering in my ear--stay home. You'll have more fun decorating for Christmas, going out to lunch, shopping. You need a break anyway. You are at church way too much. You are too involved. Take a sabbatical. Disengage--just a bit. Yes, he said that and more. And I listened.
I shared all this with my husband, and he said that he thought we should go anyway. Because if Satan was so adamant about keeping me from going to church that morning, there must be a pretty good reason why. Wow, my husband is so smart. So I relented and I went and got ready. I did not put on a bright cheery face though. I did not smile. I pouted. All the way there. And I made my husband promise to take me to lunch afterward. I'm a big baby that way, I wanted a prize for going to church that morning. I am so spoiled--so very immature at times. OK, all the time.
Funny--it happened just the way I thought it would though--at first anyway. Yep, we started singing an old hymn I had never ever heard of in my life, not my type of song--at all. But then, the next song was better, and the next--even better. And by the time our pastor began to preach the cloud had lifted off my heart and I was able to listen, take notes, learn and enjoy the service. Afterward, we ended the morning with an awesome song. I felt God there that morning. That last song touched my heart. In fact, it melted my heart. It turned my discouragement into pure joy. I realized that I wasn't there for me, but I was there for God. To worship and praise Him. To sing to Him. To be there because He told me that I needed to be there. It wasn't about me at all--it was all about Him. Not me. Not me.
I know that I know that God has brought us to our little church for a reason. The people are awesome. We have great friends there. We love that sweet church with all our hearts. And guess who doesn't like that one little bit? Yeah, him. The one who is my greatest enemy. And I almost listened to him. I almost gave in--to the enemy, to my flesh, to my selfishness. I almost caved. And it dawned on me--even the most positive, optimistic people fall prey and get attacked. He's out to get me and you. He's out to win this battle for our hearts and souls. However, I have a father who watches over me. Who protects my heart and guards me. Who will never leave me or forsake me. All I have to do is call out to Him and He will hear me.
Thank you, God, for being patient with me. For listening to me, for letting me "get it all out", for letting me throw a tantrum and still loving me. Thank you for this life of mine, for being faithful and most of all for loving me even when I am unlovable. Kindness, mercy, grace, love, patience, understanding--I could go on forever. My love for my God is endless. His love never fails.
I woke up feeling more discouraged than I had in a very long time. I can't remember the last time I felt so down, so depressed, so undone--for it is not my nature to have these types of feelings. Usually, I am up and raring to go--after coffee of course. Always after coffee. I am up and ready for what the day may bring--I like to keep busy, I like to have fun and I like to go, go, go. Except for Sunday. The last thing I wanted to do was go--to church that is.
It felt as if a blanket of depression was almost smothering me. I told my husband that I just wasn't in the mood to go to church, and then I proceeded to tell him why. In a nutshell, it was my attitude. It stunk. Really it did. I wasn't in the mood for traditions and hymns, rituals and Advent, communion and all the other stuff that was going to happen that day in church. I just was not in the mood. You see--I am the most non-traditional traditional person I know. Anything that seems ritualistic bothers me unless it is rituals that I like. I don't know why. Maybe we are all that way to some extent. I've spent a fair amount of time analyzing this weird hang up of mine and have not come to a conclusion. But can you see the quandary I was in? In my mind, it was all about what I liked and didn't like. And these preferences were being used against me that morning. Satan was whispering in my ear--stay home. You'll have more fun decorating for Christmas, going out to lunch, shopping. You need a break anyway. You are at church way too much. You are too involved. Take a sabbatical. Disengage--just a bit. Yes, he said that and more. And I listened.
I shared all this with my husband, and he said that he thought we should go anyway. Because if Satan was so adamant about keeping me from going to church that morning, there must be a pretty good reason why. Wow, my husband is so smart. So I relented and I went and got ready. I did not put on a bright cheery face though. I did not smile. I pouted. All the way there. And I made my husband promise to take me to lunch afterward. I'm a big baby that way, I wanted a prize for going to church that morning. I am so spoiled--so very immature at times. OK, all the time.
Funny--it happened just the way I thought it would though--at first anyway. Yep, we started singing an old hymn I had never ever heard of in my life, not my type of song--at all. But then, the next song was better, and the next--even better. And by the time our pastor began to preach the cloud had lifted off my heart and I was able to listen, take notes, learn and enjoy the service. Afterward, we ended the morning with an awesome song. I felt God there that morning. That last song touched my heart. In fact, it melted my heart. It turned my discouragement into pure joy. I realized that I wasn't there for me, but I was there for God. To worship and praise Him. To sing to Him. To be there because He told me that I needed to be there. It wasn't about me at all--it was all about Him. Not me. Not me.
I know that I know that God has brought us to our little church for a reason. The people are awesome. We have great friends there. We love that sweet church with all our hearts. And guess who doesn't like that one little bit? Yeah, him. The one who is my greatest enemy. And I almost listened to him. I almost gave in--to the enemy, to my flesh, to my selfishness. I almost caved. And it dawned on me--even the most positive, optimistic people fall prey and get attacked. He's out to get me and you. He's out to win this battle for our hearts and souls. However, I have a father who watches over me. Who protects my heart and guards me. Who will never leave me or forsake me. All I have to do is call out to Him and He will hear me.
Thank you, God, for being patient with me. For listening to me, for letting me "get it all out", for letting me throw a tantrum and still loving me. Thank you for this life of mine, for being faithful and most of all for loving me even when I am unlovable. Kindness, mercy, grace, love, patience, understanding--I could go on forever. My love for my God is endless. His love never fails.
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