there was a little girl . . .

 

 

 

 

(Picture credit: http://www.pinterest.com/raegeo2000/nursery-rhymes/ )

We are sitting in the car & we are both being stubborn.  Neither of us are going to give in easily.  We are sitting here & it's too warm for so early in the morning.  He is digging his heels in & I am not going anywhere ‘til he caves.  He is falling apart & I hold my breath.  I will not give in & I will NOT lose my temper.  I explain again, ‘Sunny, we are not leaving ‘til you’re clicked in.’ He is gasping & sighing and his face is screwing up.  ‘I can’t do it! You HAVE to do it, Mum’. 

Calm voice, steady, assertive.  ‘You can do it, Sunny.  We are going to sit here ‘til you do it.’

Reassuring. ‘There’s no rush, just take your time.’  Panic and the kicking and the arching of the back.  My heart rate rises as the little girl sitting in front of him starts to make I-can’t-sit-here-happily-for-much-longer noises.  Then the tears and the wailing.  ‘I CAN’T do it! You HAVE to do it, Mum. You have to HELP me!’ 

 

I try another tack.  ‘I’ll help you, yes.  But I’m going to explain what to do.  I’m not going to do it for you.’  He screams and protests and tugs angrily at the strap.  It pulls taut across his neck & when he lets it go slack there are red marks left behind.  ‘See! I can’t do it.  IT'S TOO HARD!’  he screams, flying out of his carseat and over the back of the seat.  Scrambling forwards, until he is in the front of the car with me. Clinging.  With as much self-control as I can muster, I gently pull his fingers from around my neck and ease him off my lap.  He is gasping and sobbing and people are watching.  I try again.   ‘Sunny, I know you can do this.  You’ve been able to put your own seatbelt on for months. C’mon, I’ll talk you through it.’  His response is another scream of protest.  And on and on it goes. 

I would love to be able to say that I stayed peaceful and patient and gently coached him through it.  That he finally sat down and calmly clicked himself in.    In reality that was not the case.  Oh, I managed not to yell and he managed to put his own seatbelt on.   That was AFTER I stared at him and through clenched teeth & in a freakishly calm voice let forth a stream of choice language.  Safely in his seatbelt, I pulled out of the mall carpark and drove home, defeated and feeling physically sick at my own loss of control. 

Hindsight is wonderful, isn’t it?  Upon reflection, choosing that moment to use as a ‘growing opportunity’ was not the wisest.  What I wanted to show him was that he was more capable than he thought.  That instead of saying, ‘I can’t,’ he could say, ‘I’ll try’.  I think it’s safe to say that lesson fell flat.   And that it's safe to say, it wasn’t my finest parenting moment. 

Sometimes as a mum, I feel like that little girl in the poem.  When I’m at my best, man, I am on to it.  Involved, enthusiastic, encouraging, responsive, communicative, loving, empathic, gentle, and fun.  But in a ‘bad’ moment, it all gets pretty ugly.  I’m yelly, shouty, snappy and reactive.  Yes, in those moments, I am horrid. 

Now before you abandon this blog, thinking it's just another ‘woe is me, I’m a terrible mother’ kind of post, hear me out.

Philippians 4 v 5  - Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near.

When I think about what I want to be as a mum, it's this.  We were in Australia.  My parents and five of my seven siblings and me.  What were Mum & Dad thinking embarking on this trip, on a limited budget, with six kids ages 9-19 and our accommodation for the majority of that time – a very basic two-bedroom apartment?  I remember seeing a video taken on that trip, by my dad or a brother.  And most of us were in a pool and my mum was sitting on the side and we were all splashing about and having fun and making a LOT of noise.  The thing that stood out to me, watching that years later, as a teenager, was the way we little kids kept yelling out, ‘Mum, mum, watch this!’  ‘Watch me, mum – look what I can do,’  all over the top of each other, vying for her attention.  & her response:  just the right amount of calm, and steady, encouraging and interested at the same time.  I remember hearing all that noise and our high-pitched shrieking voices and thinking ‘How can she be so calm and patient? All that noise, everyone yelling at me – it would drive me crazy!’  But for the most part, that was my mum. Patient, peaceful, gentle.

In contrast, I remember an evening when Sunny wasn’t even 2 yet & his sister, 3 and they were eating their dinner.  Sunny accidentally knocked his cup over and water spilled everywhere.  There was a brief pause, as both children looked at me in horror and then simultaneously erupted in tears.  And I knew it was because of all the times this kind of thing had happened and I had responded with a loud gasp & flailing arms & a dramatic, ‘Oh no!!! Now look what’s happened!’ as if the world was about to end because some water was on the floor. 

I might be wrong, but I don’t think my mum has ever had to work particularly hard on this aspect of her personality.  I genuinely think that her calm disposition is just a part of her character, her make-up.  She’s generally a laid-back person, who isn’t easily riled.   And that’s brilliant.  I’m happy for her.  Happy for me of course, because it was nice being raised by someone like that.  But that’s just not me – I’m easily flustered and highly strung. I have a temper. An ugly temper & a short fuse.  BUT.  I do not want to be the angry parent.  & I don’t want anger to be a black smudge on my kids' childhood experience, as it was on mine.  I love my kids too much to settle for this.

It would be so helpful if there was an easy answer.  But I don’t think there is.  I have developed some wonderful strategies over the 6 or so years I’ve been a parent which help me maintain my composure in times of stress.  And yet I still find myself offering heart-felt  (& broken-hearted) apologies to my children (and husband) for angry outbursts again and again.  I wish I could offer up a special prayer and instantly morph into this sweet, easy-going, mild-tempered mother. 

Mum used to have this annoying saying.  Something along the lines of being 'so filled with the Holy Spirit, that if you get bumped only the Spirit sloshes out.'  And you can put that right up there with ‘washed in the blood’ and ‘lay it at Jesus’ feet’ and all the other many weird-and-irritating Christian sayings.  .  . Except, sometimes I think I know what she meant.

 2 Corinthians 12 v 9a -  But He said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” 

There is something about letting Someone Else be in charge.  & I don't in any respect  mean absolving myself of responsibility either.  But being able to admit that this is something so important to me, & yet an area in which I fall so terribly short.  & that I can't do it on my own - in those moments of heat, taking a split-second pause & crying out  'Can You help me?'    

The victories are in the small moments. 

 

running

I am a runner.  I love being able to say that.  I love it because for so long I had such great admiration for runners, but looked on enviously from afar.  You know those runners - charging effortlessly down the road, looking relaxed and energised, like what they are doing is as simple & natural as breathing?  And the endurance runners – those crazy ultramarathon runners who do epic runs across intensely hot deserts, or over treacherous mountains for days on end & upon reaching the finish line already have their sights on the next big adventure?  Something about that appeals to me.  I have to admit, at present I’m not even close.  I’ve been running for almost a year & only just completed my first 10 k a few weeks back.  And truth be told, as much as I’m desperate to get back out there,  I’ve barely managed more than a brisk walk since.  Gammy knees.  Enough said.  But I AM a runner.  And I will get back out there soon.

In regards to our journey of faith, Hebrews 12 vs 1 talks about running with perseverance ‘the race marked out for us’.     

  

A few years ago, I really felt like I had reached a point in my faith where I wasn’t running toward anything, I wasn’t even walking.  I was at a standstill.  Nothing was happening.  I wasn’t growing or developing.  When I spent some time reflecting on it, I knew that if I wanted to grow in my relationship with God,  I needed to trust Him more. Let Him in a little bit closer.  And that freaked me out.  I wasn’t running towards God.  If anything I was running from Him.  Around that time, I wrote this.

 

I am running from you.

I used to stand & fight.
Ready & watching because of the rage
But underneath the fury was fear
And now there is just quiet
People think the swift run towards a goal
But a new pace is found
when there are things you’re running from
And I know if I wait a while
in this silence, you’ll speak
I know you’ll ask me to know you;
might ask me to trust
For now I’m going to run
singing loudly, fingers in ears.
For now I’m going to run with the quiet & my fear.

 

Whenever my husband is in conversation with someone, & it emerges that they are a runner he always asks (cheekily), ‘So, what are you running from?’ 

 

What was I running from?

Intimacy.  That word  . . .  I used to find it so awkward & uncomfortable - actually it repulsed me.  Intimacy.   When I think about what that word means in the ideal sense – it is a closeness with a person that is genuine and shared.  A mutual trust and surrender.  It cannot be forcefully given or taken.  That’s my understanding of it, anyway.  It should be this beautiful thing.  But in my mind it wasn’t.  Once, I couldn’t hear that word without negative connotations springing to mind.   The whole idea of surrendering myself to someone else did not sit comfortably with me.  I had my reasons.  But that didn’t help my predicament. 

 

I really wanted to grow, to be more mature in my faith – to know God on a deeper level.  But I knew that if I wanted to do that, then I also needed to learn to trust Him more.  & that was my problem.  For years I battled – wanting our relationship to grow, not wanting to totally let go or surrender.  At one point I may have recklessly stated, ‘Just do what it takes,’ & then instantly regretted that fleeting moment of insanity.  I sat stubbornly in that place for a long time. 

 

Sometimes when my small, wild baby is having a tantrum, she kicks and writhes, and holds herself stiff, then throws herself back.  She is in crazy fighting, attack mode.  She will not allow me near.  Finally, exhausted, she relents & in that moment of surrender, she allows herself to be swept up in my arms & drawn close as I comfort her.  I wanted that too.  I knew it must be good.  But I just couldn’t let down my defences.

 

We all respond to painful experiences differently.  Keeping myself ‘safe’ was my priority.  And keeping myself safe meant keeping everyone at a comfortable distance, including God.  That actually works, in a dysfunctional kind of way,  IF you can maintain control & if you’re happy with superficial, shallow relationships.  The ‘problem’ is that we are made for intimacy with God.  Right back at the start of the Story, the Bible talks about how God walked in the garden where Adam & Eve lived.  That’s not a God who is distant & removed. When He made us, He made us for relationship with Him, & He wanted us to want to know Him too. 

 

I longed for a closer relationship with God, & in my head I knew He wanted more of me, to KNOW me.  But in my heart, I didn’t really believe that.  I felt like I was just a number to Him.   At the risk of sounding irreverent;  that He just wanted another adoring fan. & I didn’t trust Him.  I longed for Him, but it was too overwhelming. . . I was ok though.  I had my kids & my husband.  They brought meaning to my life that I’d never known before.  As long as I didn’t think about it too much, I was ok. 

I remember attending a wedding.  The couple made their vows.  They spoke of ‘completing one another’.  Last year, a friend shared about how she could not function without her husband, her life would be over if anything ever happened to him.  I see people who put their whole lives into their kids.  We need to find some meaning.  We long to be loved and known intimately.  We are looking in the wrong place.  People will always let us down.  They can never always be our everything.  Sooner or later we find that out.  And then what? 

 

Last year I was faced with losing someone close to me, someone I ‘needed’.  It brought me to a crisis point.  What was life without this person?  It forced me to re-evaluate my intimacy with God.  Forced me to confront that uncomfortable concept.   Could He be everything to me?  All I needed?  Could I allow myself to be ‘known’ by Him?  What was the alternative? It forced me to evaluate why I was holding back, what I was fearful of.  I had to do some digging to get beneath those layers of what I was supposed to believe as a good Christian, to find out what I truly believed as Meg.  

 

Like most people, important human relationships had shaped how I saw God & myself in relation to Him.  I was His child in the sense that I was one of many children, I was just a number, insignificant, ‘unspecial’ and unseen.  It took a special lady’s gentle guidance & a terrifying toddler step of faith to accept that ‘You . . . have loved them even as You love Me’ (John 17 vs 23b).  The idea that God loves me as He loves His Son.  A Son who was His beloved, with Whom He was ‘well pleased’.  Valued, unique, special, and SEEN.  And known.  Outrageous!  Preposterous!!  True.

Many years ago, a wonderful & wise man told me that I needed to experience a ‘paradigm shift’.  At the time, I couldn’t even remotely grasp what he meant (it would have been helpful to know what those words meant!)  When I took that terrifying toddler step, I experienced that ‘paradigm shift’ & it blew me away.  It has brought a freedom that I could never have hoped to have experienced.  It is an ongoing process.  I gabble away to God every day, yet sometimes when I think of Who I am talking to, it is almost unbearable, I am overcome with awe & fear.  I withdraw, unable to continue. 

It’s a process, this letting go & surrendering.  I’m running the race.  Sometimes not very quickly.  Sometimes I’m just kinda jogging on the spot.  But I AM a runner and I’m running to Him. 

 

a break up letter

Dear Facebook, 

I'm breaking up with you. . . Well kind of. It's not that I don't like you. Actually, I really do.  Well, I did . . . In the beginning.  ACTUALLY, if I'm being completely honest in the beginning it was just plain awkward.  There, I said it.  But it was. I mean,  I only hooked up with you in the first place because some friends told me about you, how great you were, sooo much cooler than MySpace & they were from the States & so they HAD to be right, didn't they?

And I have to say, at first it was kinda weird & slightly uncomfortable because apparently not many people here in NZ knew about you, well none of my friends anyway.  It took a while for people to get used to you, I guess.  But a couple of months in & BAM, suddenly I had friend requests coming in thick & fast.  I accepted close friends,  I reconnected with old friends . . . & connected with friends I barely knew, & some I may or may not say 'hi' to when passing in the street, & some who I definitely did not know & most definitely would not say 'hi' to when passing in the street.  It was great.  All these friends.  Aah, they were good times. 

I loved to visit with you & find a new message on my wall from a friend or family member.  I felt so loved. The opportunity to upload photos & let friends & family see what was happening in my life was just wonderful.  I was a little unsure of the whole 'status update' thing at first.  What could I say, to the whole wide world that was so important anyway?  But it didn't take too long to get the hang of it & judging by the updates from friends, we were all catching on pretty quickly.  It was great scrolling through friends' photos - seeing how they'd changed over the years, the adventures they'd been on, the partners they'd chosen, the children they'd produced.  I don't know why, but it took me a while to get the hang of 'liking' updates or photos. But I must admit, it was wonderful to experience the convenience of simply clicking a button to show my appreciation or approval, rather than having to think up a meaningful comment to communicate the same.  'Selfies' were a revelation & I have to admit, one I grew weary with rather quickly.  I'm not trying to criticise, it's just . . . Well, enough said on that topic. 

Look, don't get me wrong, it was mostly wonderful.  Really. I truly loved being connected to others in the way you allowed, during a time in my life when I was physically disconnected because of distance & the general business of life as a young mama.  It's just that somewhere along the line it all changed.  I'm sorry to say, things kinda soured for me.  I didn't realise at the time but I can pretty much tell you the exact day it all went downhill for me - the day my third baby was born & I took my husband's old phone in my hot little hand for my very own & suddenly I had access to you ALL. THE. TIME.  At a stage in my life where I was alone for more reasons than I care to explain, it was a comfort to know you were there just a click away & I could lose myself in you. 

When I was with you, sometimes it was like no one else was around.  It was just me & you (& the other 1 billion + users).  & at the time i needed that comfort.  Sure,  sometimes I was meant to be using my time in other ways,  & yeah, there were times when we were together that I could have been connecting with those around me & I chose you. It's just that you were so. darn. convenient. And easy. & you took me to another place.  I could switch off when I was with you. I didn't have to think.  & that was SO great. 

And then it wasn't.  I wish I was one of those people who could take or leave you.  I'm sorry, I know that sounds harsh.  But you know what I mean, right?  The ones who hang with you for a bit or check in here & there.  But me, with my OCD tendencies & you, & your alluring nature, well, it was all or nothing.  Ok, it was all.  This is the hard part Facebook,  because  I really do like you.  You're great.  No really, it's not you, it's me.  And I'm sorry, but I just can't do this anymore.  It's not goodbye, I promise.  Just . . . from now on, let's leave it at a working relationship, shall we?  Please don't think of me as using you . . . More, just utilizing your strengths.  Ok?

Kind regards,

Me.

an unwanted visitor

Recently I had an unwanted visitor show up. You may know her, Depression's neurotic cousin?  One minute I was merrily going about my business, the next - there she was in all her full glory, & bringing with her an instantly recognisable tight ball of worry in my stomach & a sense of dread & impending doom. 

Oh, how I hate her.  Loud & obnoxious, she has no social graces.  Where Depression settles in quietly, like an old familiar friend, even comforting at first (deceptively so), she is desperate to make her presence known like an overbearing, opinionated relative, all 'Look at me!  Look at me!!'  And while Depression sits lethargic & unfeeling,  she is a constant state of restlessness and agitation - all OCD and ADHD & some Tourette's thrown in for good measure.  & I'm not talking about the mildly inconvenient fluttering of the eyelids or the slightly distracting twitch of the nose.  No, I'm talking about full-blown 'copropraxia' and 'coprolalia' which render their victim helpless against obscene gestures & a torrent of offensive language. And the incessant chatter!! 'Are you really going to eat that?  Salmonella poisoning!! You'll wish you were dead!', 'you're taking the kids for a swim in the SEA? They don't even know how to swim, they could end up drowning!!'  The unsubtle stage whispers, 'that rash - hello?  Meningitis?' & 'everything's going a little TOO well if you ask me.'

Like the irritating relative, she is notoriously hard to get rid of.  Worse,  you actually find yourself being caught up in the wild perplexity, the sense of foreboding, the apprehension, anguish & distress.  And there's NOTHING YOU CAN DO!!!!! . . .

Actually there is something you can do.  Well some THINGS I have learned to do.  Now I'm no expert,  well, I kind of am,  having spent a significant amount of time with her in the past, but I've learned a few ways to distance myself from that impetuous, headstrong witch. 
Distraction.  When she's screaming in your ear about all the perils of swimming in the ocean, or keeps nagging about how the meat in that chicken pie tasted more like fish & 'the food poisoning is going to hit any moment now', you need to find something to distract you & her.  The last time she showed up, I was on holiday.  It was amazing how going for a walk in unfamiliar surroundings or forcing myself to play in the ocean (the ocean!!) with my kids brought a wonderful sense of calm & stillness inside.
Talk to someone.  If you are really successful at pretending you have all your proverbial 'shit together' then this may be an incredibly hard step to take.  I wouldn't know, I've never even been able to pretend that I have my act together so talking to a trusted friend isn't as hard as I once thought it might be.  Take a risk,  they might surprise you with empathy & the offer of prayer.
And finally, talk back.  My mum taught me this one when I was 14.  Counter the thinly veiled lies with the plain, solid truth.  Any time you feel the familiar twinges & niggles, use your sternest teacher voice & repeat after me,

2 Timothy 1:7 - 'For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.'

1 John 4 v 18a - 'There is no fear in love.  But perfect love drives out fear . . . '

Isaiah 26:3 - 'You will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast, because they trust in you.'

Philippians 4:6-7 - 'Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.'

There is power in those words that will silence THE loudest, THE most obnoxious. I promise.

known

This morning as we all rose & began preparing ourselves for the day, it was quickly apparent that Bruno had woken up feeling a little 'fragile'.  As we had breakfast, said goodbye to Dad,  & began to get dressed for kindy there were several grumpy moments.  Finally, in a huff Bruno stormed off to his bedroom, where his little whimpers soon turned into deep sobs & wails of, 'Where's my daddy?  I want my daddy. I WANT MY DADDY!'  I did my best to comfort him (while still in a mad rush to get to kindy on time) but I knew that only a cuddle with his daddy would really give him what he needed.  I can empathize - I remember times when I was little where I just wanted 'my mummy'.  No-one else would do, & although I might allow another adult to settle me,  in my heart I didn't feel truly comforted until I was back in my mother's arms.

A few days ago, I was having coffee with a close friend & sharing about something difficult I experienced, with my family, during my teenage years & early 20's.  It was something I hadn't thought about for quite some time & in the days following, I found myself thinking not only about what I had shared with my friend, but the many other incidents surrounding this 'situation'.  Experiences that (at the time) I didn't think your average, nice Christian kid, in your average, nice Christian family, would usually encounter.  How could I ever explain to someone what its like to see your parents & siblings being hurt in that way?   All the bizarre experiences, the difficulties, & dramas that we went through, as individual family members, during this time?  'No-one will ever know',  I thought, 'maybe if they've been through it too.  But its still different. No-one really knows what its like to be me & stand where I've stood.'  It had been so long since I'd thought about that period of my life,  but it stirred up an old, familiar sadness.  'No one will ever know'. 

When I was 17, I fell in love with this guy - he was my first love.  I knew, without a doubt, that he was 'the one' & I wanted to be with him for always.  When he broke up with me a year later my little 18 year old heart was broken.  I felt unloveable, rejected.  I actually grieved like someone had died.  During that time I found myself thinking, 'I'm alone in this.  No one will ever understand.  No one will ever know.'

I know I'm not unique in having these thoughts & feelings.  We all go through times of darkness and pain. The difficulty is in the isolation we can experience during that time.  The realization that no other person completely understands exactly what I am experiencing.  My first name means 'God is watching'.  At times, it is easy to imagine that He is indeed watching, but from afar, distant & unfeeling. My Bible suggests otherwise.

Psalm 147 v 3 - He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.

Psalm 34 v 18 - The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.

Psalm 56 v 8 (The Msg) - You've kept track of my every toss & turn through the sleepless nights, each tear entered in Your ledger, each ache written in Your book.

This morning, like Bruno I woke up feeling 'fragile'; sad for no particular reason. In my life, I have experienced both difficulty and pain, and wonderful moments of joy & peace.  I live a life of purpose and know that I am so blessed, and I am (mostly) content.  But underneath all of that, I experience this longing.  Just below the surface,  it remains.   I have this recurring dream where this old guy gives me a hug.  Now, in reality, I'm not big on the hugging thing, but in my dream, it is a wonderful thing.  In his embrace, I feel known & loved and I never want him to let go.  After having this same dream several times, I began to realize that the 'old guy' was really a glimpse of my longing for God.  This morning, as I heard Bruno cry, my heart echoed his sobs of, 'Where's my daddy?  I want my daddy!'  Sometimes, when I feel like I am all alone in this, my greatest longing is to be known & loved, in my Father's embrace.  Like my dreams, that last mere moments, I can only grasp fleetingly the love & fulfillment to be found in Him.  But as I long for my Father, I have hope that one day I will see Him face to face & understand fully what it is to be truly known.

Psalm 73 vs 25-26 - Whom have I in heaven but You? And earth has nothing I desire besides You.
My flesh and my heart may fail,but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.

1 Corinthians 13 v 12 - For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part: then I shall know fully, even as I am FULLY KNOWN. 

The following youtube clip is Brooke Fraser singing 'C.S. Lewis Song'

watching and waiting . . .

It was 4 o'clock in the morning & I could hear the rain falling outside.  I'd been awake for hours - unable to sleep because of the unrest inside me.  I crept out from underneath my mosquito net & knelt down on the dusty, wooden floorboards.  What was I doing here? I'd come to Tonga, thinking I would be able to give so much.  Instead I was so broken & empty inside, there was nothing to give.  Like I had done so many times before, I cried out to God.  'I need You.  Please help me.  Please take this burden away.  Take this darkness from me.' & then I fell silent, waiting.  I wanted to be whole, I wanted to be a free & happy person.  I knew this was something bigger than I was capable of fixing.  And so, like I felt  I'd been doing for so long, I waited.

We are all waiting for something.  Constrained by the limits of time, we spend our lives waiting.  Every day we find ourselves waiting for a red light to turn green,  stuck in a long queue at the supermarket,  looking forward to the time when our toddler no longer needs to be in nappies.  All trivial stuff.  But what about the bigger things? The young lady waiting to see if the invasive & painful surgeries, chemotherapy & radiation treatments have been successful,  a couple, trying to conceive, anxiously waiting & hoping that this will be the month, an elderly couple having lived a long, hard life, tired now, just waiting . . .

I have learned that there is nothing quite like sharing the company of a couple of busy preschoolers all day, to make me realize I really am not a very patient person.  I seem to be endlessly waiting for them - and on them! However, I know that in order for them to learn, sometimes I have to allow them to work things out for themselves & then practice over and over and over and over . . . .  & sometimes that takes a LOT of patience! But we expect that, right? They are just little people after all.

Waiting for God is a whole other story. The way I see it He's God Almighty.  All-knowing, all-present, & most importantly all-powerful God!  He can do anything.  At the snap of His fingers . . . He doesn't even have to snap His fingers & its done.  And I'm His child, right?  So, its not unreasonable to suggest that any kind, loving parent would give their kid what they need . . .  is it?   I'm not even talking about wants  - I mean, I get that if I ask Him to let me win the Lotto, or to randomly be given some flashy new car when the one I have is just fine, that maybe He's not going to give it to me.  But what about when we come to God in genuine need  - asking for healing from an illness, some kind of intervention in a marriage that is going under,  help when we don't even know how we will pay the bills this week . . .and instead of seeing Him answer the way any good parent should, we find silence and are left waiting. 

In those times of waiting, I think we have three choices.  Firstly, we can throw our hands up in frustration & disgust & walk away.  In this instance I have found myself overcome by a sense of hopelessness & dismay and anger towards God. 'I'm nothing to Him. He doesn't care about me.  He's sitting there in His lofty heights & has forgotten I even exist.'
We can try to force His hand, attempting to manipulate Him into making a move.  'Come on, can't You see I need this?  Don't You love me? If You really loved me, You'd do something!' 
There is a third option.  And that's to keep on waiting.  When you are waiting for something that you NEED, that can actually be a very difficult, even painful experience.  Why would we keep waiting?  Why should we keep trusting?  What is there to hold onto when we all we can do is wait?

His promises. 

Isaiah 30 v 18  - Yet the Lord longs to be gracious to you; therefore He will rise up to show you compassion. For the Lord is a God of justice. Blessed are all who wait for Him!

Psalm 40 v 1 - I waited patiently for the Lord; He turned to me and heard my cry.

Isaiah 64 v 4 - Since ancient times no one has heard, no ear has perceived, no eye has seen any God besides you, who acts on behalf of those who wait for Him.

It can be hard waiting, especially when we can't see how things will work out, when we are hurting, when we have been waiting for so long. But when we remember Who He is, a God of love & compassion who listens to His children, we can wait knowing that He won't let us down.  Even though our circumstances would suggest otherwise, we can rest in Him, knowing that He will be faithful to come through.

Habakkuk 3 v 16b - 17  -  . . . Yet I will wait patiently . . . though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Saviour.

Psalm 5 v 3 - In the morning, Lord, you hear my voice; in the morning I lay my requests before you and wait expectantly.

Micah 7 v 7 - But as for me, I watch in hope for the Lord, I wait for God my Saviour; MY GOD WILL HEAR ME.

As I knelt on the floor in the darkness, I wondered if God even heard my cry, if He would ever take away the hurting.  I opened my Bible & stumbled on this glimmer of hope - Psalm 118 v 5 - In my anguish I cried to the Lord, and He answered by setting me free. It has been a long & difficult journey but He has been faithful to me, bringing healing & lifting me out of the darkness.  And I believe that He is a kind & loving parent who longs to give His kids what we need, in His time.

Ecclesiastes 3 v 11 - He has made all things beautiful in His time.



Recently I heard international speaker, Joel Holm speak on 'Waiting for God' which has helped me further my understanding on the subject & helped shape my ideas, expressed here.  If you want to learn more from this awesome guy here's a link to his own blog. www.starthope.com

in the eye of the beholder . . .

I remember once, as a little kid, being snuggled up in bed next to my mum. I listened to the long, slow, even breaths in & out as she slept. I moved away from her a little, propped myself up on my elbows and watched her with curiosity.  I studied her face – the line of her eyebrows, her round, jubey nose, her lips slightly parted, the shape of her cheeks, her chin.  I remember squinting my eyes, trying to view her, not as my mum who i had known my whole life, but as a stranger would see her, just some random lady.  I had always seen her as beautiful but i found myself asking, ‘what does she really LOOK like?’ and ‘is she really pretty?’

Earlier this year i started gaining weight rapidly & in an effort to counter that, i joined a weight loss program.  I had checked with the doctor what my healthy weight range was, & set myself a realistic weight-loss goal.  I was sharing my progress with my mother-in-law when she asked me, ‘so, why are you trying to lose weight anyway?’  I thought about it for a few seconds & then replied that i wanted to be fit and healthy for my kids, & that i wanted to make an effort to look attractive for my husband.  That was the truth. Partly.  What i didn’t share with her was the other part.  The part about my life-long desire to be slim. Deliciously slim. Maybe even a little bit skinny. 

As long as i can remember i have struggled with my appearance – feeling overweight & unattractive.  I have spent a considerable amount of time either trying to lose weight or feeling guilty because i wasn’t trying to lose weight.  I have at times, loathed my appearance & felt angry at God for making all these beautiful people . . . & then making me. At best, i have tried to accept that i am just not that attractive, & tried  to get on with the more important aspects of life.  I would worry that the readers of this blog might think i’m a tad self-obsessed or slightly neurotic  (i don’t completely disagree) except that, i have a sneaking suspicion i’m not the only female to feel this way. And don’t get me wrong. In my opinion, there is nothing wrong with trying to maintain a healthy body weight, or making an effort to look attractive. 

But i believe that this is more than that. There is this sick, distorted perspective of beauty which finds me gazing at the underweight models in magazines, & the tiny, toned, bronzed bodies of singers on t.v. & longing to look like them.  Where i stand on the scales & in dismay, exclaim to my husband that i have only lost 200 grams instead of a kilogram.  Or looking at old photos & instead of thinking ‘i was having such a great time there’ or ‘what a wonderful memory’ i find myself thinking ‘yuck, look how fat I was there’ or ‘what was I thinking, wearing those unflattering shorts?’.  And from the discussions i have had with many girl friends, i know i’m not unique in holding this unbalanced perspective.  It is rampant among we women.  Bred into us from an early age.  And yes, we are bombarded with messages from the media that tell us if we just diet a little more, try this treatment or buy that product maybe we can be beautiful too.  But i don’t believe the worst culprits in all of this are the media.

Research is revealing an alarming rate of girls with an unhealthy perception of body image. I recently watched a documentary where a random group of girls between the age of about 8-9 to 12 years were shown three photos of themselves. Two had been distorted so that the girl looked thinner or heavier than the third, accurate picture.  They were asked to identify which photo was the ‘real’ them & which they felt they should look like.  An overwhelming amount of girls felt the photo that showed them as larger was the genuine thing, & almost all of them said that they most preferred the underweight version of themselves.  The researchers expected media & peers to be the most significant influences in the way girls viewed themselves.  However, during conversation, after the ‘experiment’, the subject of how their mothers’ viewed themselves, arose.   One girl after another shared how their mother would stand in front of the mirror & make remarks like, ‘I’m just a fat pig’. . . ‘I need to lose some weight – my bum is huge’.  . . ‘I hate my big stomach’.  At the conclusion of the experiment, the findings were shared with the mothers.  Firstly they were alarmed to think that their young girls felt that way about themselves, and secondly they admitted that they had indeed made those negative comments in front of their daughters, on a regular basis.  This in turn, was having a significant impact on the girls' self-image.

I am ashamed to admit the amount of time I have spent discussing my weight & desire to be thinner with friends, my sisters & mother & my husband, in my daughter’s hearing.  I began writing this blog in February this year, but abandoned it because of my ongoing struggle & because I wasn’t in a position where I had overcome my own shortcomings in this area.  I do know that if there is anything I can do to avoid my daughter having these same struggles I have had – the constant guilt, self-loathing, dissatisfaction then I will do my best to change but I really believe it requires an overhaul in my thinking. I love Bugsy so much.  I know that she is beautiful & that she will always be beautiful.  But I also know that in coming years she is going to be assailed with messages from the media & sadly, from her peers that will seek to tell her otherwise.  To impart in her a healthy view of self, I believe,  is my duty to her.  So, I have a lot of work to do. 

I have a few ideas about where to start.  And i know i can't do it in my own strength.

Romans 12 v 2 Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.

 . . . and i would so value the imput of others who have been here & experienced transformation in this area.  Be gentle with me.  

I studied my mum’s face as she slept & asked myself, ‘is she really beautiful?’.  I don’t know how long i stared at her but finally i gave up, slumped down & snuggled in next to her.  She was my mum, she loved me & i loved her.  Of course she was beautiful. 

I know in all of this i have only really talked about physical beauty. In my head, i know that real beauty is much more than that.  Maybe choosing to focus on true beauty is a good place to start. 

I read this story once as a little girl.   

The villagers had worked hard preparing the ground, sowing the seeds, tending the crops.  Finally it was harvest time.  Every able bodied adult, men & women, helped with the harvest.  The children played in the fields nearby.  As the long day of toiling under the hot sun drew to a close, the villagers wearily began to make their way back to their homes to rest before another day out in the fields. Hearing a small child’s wail, one of the village women rushed to the little girl, upset at becoming separated from her mother. 

‘What is your mother’s name?’ she asked. But the little girl could not tell her. No one nearby knew who the girl belonged to. When asked to describe her mother, the child only replied, ‘She is the most beautiful woman in the whole village’.  The most beautiful woman in the village was called but when she saw the lady, the little girl shook her head.  So another beautiful woman was called but again, she was not the child’s mother.  Yet another attractive woman was called, and another, and another but none knew the little girl.  Only the most plain women were left.  Each was brought before the child but still she shook her head.  The village elders were puzzled and by now the child was very distressed.  ‘Is there any other mother here in the village?’  they inquired.  Some of the villagers looked at one another, uncomfortably.  Yes, there was one but . . .  suddenly they heard frantic calls & looked to see a woman running towards the little girl.  ‘My baby, my baby,’ she cried.  ‘Mama,’ the child wailed.  As they embraced, the village elders stared in confusion.  This woman was overweight and old, toothless, with a large nose & bushy eyebrows.  The little girl turned & beaming joyously, announced, ‘Thank you for finding my mama, the most beautiful woman in the village’.

Proverbs 31 v 30 Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised.

Psalm 45 v 11 Let the king be enthralled by your beauty; honor him, for he is your lord.