The earth is full of His glory

"I saw the Lord, high and exalted, seated on a throne; and the train of his robe filled the temple. Above him were seraphim, each with six wings: With two wings they covered their faces, with two they covered their feet, and with two they were flying. And they were calling to one another:

'Holy, holy, holy is the Lord Almighty;

    the whole earth is full of his glory.' "

Isaiah 6:1-3

This is the anthem of heaven. Day and night, this is happening. It's beautiful and humbling, and many song writers have included words from this passage in their music. I was singing one of these songs a few days ago, when I sensed a twinge of discord with the idea of the whole earth being full of "His glory."

I thought about the slums in Chicago, orphans dying in Haiti, North Koreans starving to death, women being raped for for sport in the Congo. And it seemed to me that the earth is full of suffering, pain, and death more than "His glory."

In my quiet time this morning, I was hashing this pill of contempt out with God. Instead of planting His heels and defending Himself, it was as if He gently took my face in His big hands and reminded me of just the sliver of His glory I have experienced in my limited lifetime. Things like;

• how a summer night's wind stirs conversation among trees, caressing the evening air with their voices
• the Rocky Mountains in all their splendor (who says the rocks don't cry out in praise?).
• ocean waves' relentless crashing onto the shore, and how something so violent can be so soothing to us.
• the sun and moon never tire of taking their turn in our sky.
• that He has lovingly programmed momma cats and newborn kittens to know what to do at birth.
• crisp moon shadows of craggy trees etched in fresh snow.

I thought about how this beauty, even in all its perfection, is marred. About how Creation is groaning for liberation from its bondage to decay (Romans 8:20). And it occurred to me that His creation is perpetually waving a wand of glory over the earth. But the selfishness and destruction of the human race dulls its roar of grandeur to a whisper-- a steady stream of praise, abuzz with compliments to His mercy, righteousness, sovereignty, and power.

It's not that the earth isn't full of His glory; it's that we're muting it out.

Glad to be where I am

This morning, I was running around vacuuming, sweeping, filling sippie cups, fetching garbage cans from the yard (thanks to last night's storm)-- normal houseworky stuff. In the midst of it all, this angle caught my eye and paused my busy day.

I had set my mop down to check on the banana bread. This particular time, my 2-year-old didn't run off with my mop (to "wash" the windows or toilet or whatever), so it rested beside the stove. And something about this moment made me feel full. It was something of an epiphany for where I have come.

Over 10 years ago, I married Rodney. I had never even browned hamburger. I had no idea how to cook anything other than Easy Mac and Cream of Broccoli Soup and various brands of microwave dinners.

We had the number of our children picked out (as most couples do), but I didn't really want any. I figured that would change some day, but wow, was I not a fan of kids. Truth be told, I'm still not a fan of OTHER PEOPLE's kids much. There's a smack of truth to the phrase "Kids are like farts; you can tolerate your own, but others' are unbearable."

But slowly, my life has morphed, and the nearly-30-year-old-Laura bears little resemblance to the teenager who stepped into her new life in Wisconsin all those years ago.

I don't wake up, scrape the windows on my car, and head to work every morning. I don't go out to eat, almost ever. I don't stay up late or hang out with big groups of friends. Blasting my music and dancing with the cat are a thing of the past. And my calendar never has more than 5 or 6 "blank" dates on it.

No, my days consist of rising early to spend time with my Jesus to give me strength. I lift babies from their beds, bathe them, wrestle with them, dance with them, comfort their "owies," sing to them, snuggle them, chew on them (just a little), and give tons of kisses. Of course I'd be lying if I didn't include the fact that I also yell at them, ignore them, get frustrated with them, and do a lot of apologizing.

With the exception of that beautiful, precious hour in the afternoon called "nap time," my life is not about me anymore. Teenage Laura would not have approved of this plan.

But as I looked around my world this morning, I saw dishes drying, buns rising, clean floors (it's the little things), and happy babies. And it exposed a sense of purpose and belonging and fulfillment.

Today, I loaded up my crib, changing table, and a number of other "baby" things to give away to another mom. My kids are growing up. This chapter of my life will be over sooner than I can possibly fathom. Whether I rush through it or try to hold onto it, I'm grasping at the wind. It will be gone.

I wrote this blog recently about my calling to stay-at-home-momming. I can't imagine ever doing anything else. I have never lived my life this rich, and I don't want to move on. But after today, I won't have a crib in my house-- for the first time in over 6 years. The truth is that I am already moving on. Lord, prepare me for the years to come. Because right now, I don't really like teenagers much :)

Silence in Storms

I listened to a sermon yesterday titled, "Why Does Our Faith Fail?" It was about Peter walking on the water with Jesus. Honestly, even I wasn't very excited to listen to the message, because I kind of felt like I knew all there was to know about that passage. And having been in church nearly 30 years (and having attended a rigorous Christian school for 7 of those years), I was pretty sure that by now, I knew not to "take my eyes off Jesus in the midst of life's storms."

*Yawn*

But I guess I'm not as awesomely smart as I thought I was. Because a few new concepts popped up on my radar. I'll save the best for last :)

The first is something that wasn't necessarily "new" for me, but the way it was presented in the Bible was a twist on my perspective. It's simply that the old adage of "the safest place for you to be is in God's will" is a misnomer. Here are a few examples:

• Prophets like Elijah and John the Baptist resided in deserts, living off of insects and food that birds brought to them.
• The prophet Ezekiel had to lay on the ground on his left side for over a year (Ezekiel 4:5).
• Jesus was in God's will. We all know how that ended for Him.

Clearly, being in God's will isn't any indication of "prosperity" or easy living.

But Mark 6:45 says, "Jesus made his disciples get into the boat and go on ahead of him." Not that He offered them the option, but that He "made" them. He knew that there was a whopper of a storm coming. Yet He sent them out AND left them.

The second thing I learned was shocking to me and blew me away. If we read on in Mark 6. . . well, let me just quote it for you-- with minimal interruption. My words are in brackets.

"Later that night, the boat was in the middle of the lake, and he [Jesus] was alone on land. He saw the disciples straining at the oars, because the wind was against them [He saw them in the midst of their struggle]. Shortly before dawn he went out to them, walking on the lake. He was about to pass by them, but when they saw him walking on the lake, they thought he was a ghost. They cried out, because they all saw him and were terrified."

Wait. . . did you see that? "He was about to pass them by." No way!! Check out a few other translations:

• "He would have passed them by." KJV
• "He meant to pass by them." ESV
• "He intended to go past them." NLT

In each translation, every time, the phrase is followed with "but. . ." And it's beautiful. The reason Jesus stopped to help, the reason Peter got to walk on water, and the reason the whole storm subsided was because they "cried out." And it wasn't a well-worded plea, premised with eloquent, poetic praise. They were scared out of their minds, crying out in fear.

I kind of wish the Bible included what they had said. But the incident was recorded in three books of the Bible, each of which was written either by the hand of a disciple who was there, or by a man who had interviewed a disciple. And I bet they weren't talking :)

Regardless, the fact remains that the sound of His children's cry stopped Him in His tracks and altered His path. I think it's easy to buy into the idea that God has some concrete slab carved out with our exact moves and His exact response. That there's no spontaneity in the Deity. And that concept puts a pretty heavy damper on a person's prayer life. What is the point?

But this passage (along with some Old Testament examples) portrays a God who is sometimes willing to set aside His omniscience, and treat us as if He is on our level. He is powerful enough (and in His own right) to vaporize me, yet He is willing to sit with me on my bed and chat. That is the God I'm excited to know more.

It's Your Call

As Christians, we often get wrapped up in what God may call us to do some day. And our projected dreams are grandiose; we will minister to an indigenous African tribe or start a Panamanian orphanage or rescue all the greyhounds of the world-- in the name of Jesus.

Not many aspiring college students have ambitious goals of applying for a degree in factory work or janitorial services or cashiering or dish washing or farm hand-ing. And yet this is where many of us land, holding to a status of "less than." We believe that, "If only [fill in the blank] then I could be happy and do the Lord's work."

The truth is that whether you're 6 or 106, wherever you are, you are called. You are called to be free (Galatians 5:13), to love (Matthew 22:35-39), and to exude fruit of the Spirit (Galatians 5:22-24). You may argue that these are just general callings to all believers. That you can fulfill these no matter your vocation.

That is my point.

You are called to be where you are. I often listen to a pastor named Steven Furtick. Several weeks ago, he preached a sermon titled "Can't Call It," which has stirred up a fresh outlook for me.

I am a stay-at-home mom, so I spend every day with my kids. On good days, I realize that this is blessing. But most of the time, I'm just trying to make it through the burden of another day. If I can just press on until the next time they're in bed, I'll be able to breathe easy. If they can play by themselves, I can get things done. If I can sit and type up a blog post without pink, little feet on my keyboard or being summoned for more juice, potty help or various sibling injustices, THEN I can be a great writer.

But what if I started viewing their interruptions as invitations instead of irritations?

I have been challenged to start calling my calling what it is. The Bible tells me that my kids are a blessing, and they are! What if I started calling them that? It's possible that by calling them a blessing, I may begin to believe that they are a blessing. And if I treat them like a blessing, they may start acting like a blessing.

Maybe for you, you need to quit griping about your dead-end job and rename it your "temporary assignment" or your "training ground." If you refer to your marriage as "the old ball and chain," it's going to feel like the old ball and chain. If you complain that the demands of life are stressful instead of thanking God that you're able-bodied and busy and not stuck in a hospital bed somewhere, then you're going to feel stressed.

"When you call it like God sees it, God will change it to make it what He knows it truly has the potential to be." -Steven Furtick

On the Run

Friends and faithful readers, it has been many months since I've blogged. Part of it has been laziness or simple lack of inspiration. But for the past few months, my reason has been more noble.

The whole purpose for starting this blog was to exercise the "writing" muscles in my brain. The hope was to hone in my skills enough to properly write a book. Not just any book, but my story.

Throughout the 15 years Rodney and I have been together, I have been unfaithful on many levels and on too many occasions. I've talked to many other women who have also been unfaithful. And most of them share a sense that they are alone. That they are the first and only ones to experience the emotions that come with this branch of life.

Someone once told me (in a lofty, philosophical tone) that your story doesn't matter until you share it. I disagree with that to some degree. But God has brought me through a struggle of great magnitude, and if I could be used to help women with insight I have gained, why would I NOT want to share that?

To get to the point, I am taking this weekend specifically to work just on this project. I'm leaving tonight to spend the next 2 days in the home of a generous family who has no little kids and no responsibility for me. I will be spending most of my time plopped in front of a computer screen, typing words to women I may never meet.

I know I will need prayer in this.

1) I need to have a clear mind. Everyone is familiar with "writer's block," and I would like very much to NOT encounter that this weekend. I've been given a time that's rich with potential, and I don't want it to go to waste.

2) I ask that you pray for spiritual protection. Undertaking the task of this book has brought on strife in my marriage, dreams of old flames, the desire to seek out other men, and other oddities that can be attributed to the hand of our enemy. He is not excited about this project, and he has made that abundantly clear.

3) Pray for my remaining family at home. Rodney isn't used to running this place without my assistance. With this week's release of a new computer game, he will likely be working on less sleep. And Murphy's Law ensures that the kids will certainly be more needy and difficult :)

Thank you in advance for caring for my family in this way.

I am going "off the grid" until Sunday afternoon. So I will see you all on the flip side :)

Loosen the reigns; they're not yours anyway.

Putting my kids to bed last night involved a LOT of whining. I put a great deal of deliberate effort into training my kids to not whine. We have innumerable conversations about talking like a big boy/girl instead of a baby. Sometimes physical discipline is involved or privileges are revoked. I don't believe it is a "phase," because  we all know too many adults who still whine when things don't go their way.

I'm no exception to this. I have been working for many months to try guarding my tongue against complaining. I know too well how prone I am to just let everyone know how I feel about things like winter and paying bills and my husband's untidiness. The bittersweet angle is that there is such a steep pile of blessings behind every one of those complaints. And since it's poor planning to try convincing someone to do something you're not modeling, I've been trying to implement it in my own life.

But my oldest is 6 years old now. Six!! It is beyond inappropriate for her to throw herself on the ground in a fit of disagreement and take the tone of "whine" with me-- or with anyone for that matter. It strikes a chord of anger in me. I wanna just kick her out the door on her butt. The worst part is that she's a teacher to her younger siblings. So you can understand my acute sense of urgency to get this thing beat!

But time and time and time again, I find us in wrestling in this whirlwind of repeated, failed messages.

After the kids were finally wrangled and snuggled into bed, I collapsed dramatically onto the couch and lamented to my husband, "We're never going to win. I feel like all I ever do is fight the same battles, and our kids aren't getting any better. All I do is fail." Caught off guard, his consoling reply was, "I bet that feels bad."

This, dear friends, is why I value my relationship with God :)

I was talking to Him about it this afternoon-- just putting it all at His feet. This is something I do often. I cry to my Daddy, ask for help, and let Him pick me back up. Today went just a little differently. Today I heard this:

"If you're already doing the best you can do, I can ask nothing more than for you to bring them to Me. Work to do your best."

What release! It's not my job to CHANGE my kids. The Bible says nothing about "changing" children. It talks a lot about directing, guiding, disciplining, and setting examples for them to follow. I had never thought of that until today.

I heard once that instead of praying for our kids to be godly, we should pray that WE would be godly. I try to do that. But it's hard not to demand that God "fix" my kids. Now.

Anyway, this was something that touched my heart today. And I think it could benefit other moms. You really can't do more than your best. God's gotta take it from there. And you've got to be the one to give it to Him :)

My Other "Third"

Good morning Love,

I was lying down yesterday afternoon, listening to Aspen play & chat with her Hello Kitty figures, and foolishly hoping for a nap. I thought about what I was doing 10 years ago yesterday. And I have no clue :) I know our rehearsal was in the evening, and that we hung out with friends and had an amazing time together. But before that? Nothin'.

I thought about how 10 years ago today, your lousy brothers came in and interrupted my bridal beauty sleep at 7 am with a boisterous, "If we have to be awake, then so do you."

I also thought about how we've watched those same brothers grow from dorky teenagers into responsible fathers and exceptional husbands to their Julias :) And your angry, clench-fisted rebel of a sister is well. . . still kind of a rebel :) But she's not a kid anymore. She's a woman. And my friend.

The morning of our wedding we spent dodging each other. And I am sad for every other couple in the world who doesn't experience the thrill of trying not to see the other person's face in a small town. It kept me jittery and excited for every last-minute errand that needed to be run. At one point, Cristen was even shoving my head down in the car because we thought we saw your car coming at us down the same street. It was such clean, unbridled fun.

Anyway, we did finally get married in the afternoon, but everyone scattered from the reception because the mosquitos threatened to devour every last guest. Then we went to Chicago, which I remember pretty much nothing about-- except being WAY underdressed for the hotel (lol), overpaying the valet drivers, and being disappointed with the Museum of Science & Industry.

We spent our first year working third shift, occasionally surprising each other with homemade breakfasts. Or, better yet, splurging on Maxine's. Mmmm. . . Maxine's :) I loved the morning I staggered out to see my car decorated with a balloon and a Nutrageous bar and a map with directions to my various birthday presents hidden all over town :) Third shift was pretty lame, but I really do have a lot of good memories from that time. I'm sure it had NOTHING to do with being newlyweds or finally being together every day after 3-1/2 years of dating long distance. Nah.

Through the years, we've lived in 4 different places, botched countless home repair "projects," started 3 different businesses (watched 2 of them tank), visited Puerto Rico, burned through every episode of The Office, Arrested Development (twice), Burn Notice, and Prison Break. We went to the THEATER to watch "Finding Nemo." We didn't have kids back then, and we didn't have to take out a small loan to hit up the theater either. There was no Redbox or Netflix. Just Premiere Video. Oh, the money we dumped into Premiere Video :)

We have introduced the world to 3 new spectacular people, and they're all cute. Together, we'll figure out how to help them grow up without too much scarring, Lord willing. Boy do we need help from Him :)

You've come from being a "cute boy" to a man I respect as a father, a husband, and as a leader in general. Sometimes, you drive me up a wall, of course. I don't think anyone could say otherwise about you :) (I'm not perfect either, I know. I know.) But you are amazing. Brilliant. The things you come up with sometimes. . . "simply stunning." ;)

Anyway, 10 years seems like a lot, but with the realization that Aspen is already 6. . . this is actually going too quickly. Our 50th will be here in no time. Hopefully our only vehicle won't blow up at the hand of an incompetent mechanic that year, and we'll be able to hit up Puerto Rico again. Hey, maybe they'll even let me jet ski this time.

Here's to a great partnership-- one that no one believed would make it :)

You, me, & God: Unequal "thirds."

Love you,
Wife

P.S. I can't remember exactly when this shot was taken. But I would guess that I was 16? So probably the summer of 1999. We're both wearing bracelets from each other. *rolls eyes at cute, young love* :)