Broken Jars

One of the worst mistakes I've made is hurting the people I care most about. I can't imagine a more broken feeling. The second mistake would have been to not sincerely apologize and ask for forgiveness from them and from God. The third would be to never accept grace from God and forgive myself despite the brokenness.

If you're familiar with my purple jars story, then you know that I regard each blessing from God as a purple jar sent on perfectly motioned waves from the horizon on the other side of the ocean to me on the shore. Each jar has a purpose and is always intended to bless my life with Goodness. I have loved each jar and I've tried to be obedient in taking care of every one, holding on to it and loving it as long as I need to, not coveting any one of them for too long, accepting the blessing for what it is, praising Him for it, then having faith he will send another. 

Sometimes, I get stupid. Lately, I've taken a jar that was meant to bless me and I've broken it. No one did it but me. My human brain can't imagine a fix. God will have work with it, but first I have to show Him what I've done. I have to painfully hand Him back that jar in pieces, and let Him heal it. He may not choose to put it back together, He may not give it back to me ever again, and needless to say, it may never be the same. The consequences are mine and the blessing's, and I pray for its healing. 

"For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing...The mind governed by the flesh is death, but the mind governed by the Spirit is life and peace.” ~Apostle Paul

I do seek a life of peace. I mess up, however, and turmoil makes his home in my heart. I am reminded by well meaning friends that no one is perfect, and if I were perfect, I wouldn't need Jesus. They remind me that Jesus came for exactly that reason-because everyone that exists in this world, including me, are flawed, selfish, sinful creatures, none of which are capable of living perfect lives. I'll be honest and say that although I know this is true, it's been little consolation knowing I messed up. I'm harder on myself than that and I struggle with my imperfections. Even though I know it's very impossible, I feel like I shouldn't have any imperfections at all. After all, if I love God, doesn't that mean I should never do godless, shameful things? I must not love Him enough. I must not be serious. And I’m a Christian. I am disappointed that I need grace daily. If I’m a Christian, why do I need grace? Isn’t that the idea? To live like Jesus, to live perfectly? Well, no, it’s not, but try explaining that to the people I hurt. Although I am transformed through Christ, that will never make me a perfect person. I am just like Paul who says, "I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do." 

I love my friends like family, and I care for them deeply. I pray and grieve for the ones I hurt and not a minute goes by that I'm not wishing I were a “better” person. Not a minute passes that I wish I didn't constantly ruin my witness in one way or another to those who matter to me most. Thanks be to God, my Forever Friend, to Jesus, the Ultimate Resistor of temptation, and to the Holy Spirit, who witnesses my shame, that they can do what I never can and love me more than I will ever deserve. While I can’t fix it, I pray about it and those involved. I know I cannot become a "better" person. That’s impossible to achieve. I am simply human, I am simply myself, a fallen person, with a mix of good and bad, unable to undo her own mistakes. I may not be able to become "better", but I can become stronger. A stronger person who makes better choices, owns up to her mistakes, doesn't think of herself higher than anyone else, remains humble in spirit, and asks for forgiveness for every broken jar. 

"So I find this law at work: Although I want to do good, evil is right there with me. For in my inner being I delight in God’s law; but I see another law at work in me, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within me. What a wretched (wo)man I am! Who will rescue me from this body that is subject to death? Thanks be to God, who delivers me through Jesus Christ our Lord!" Romans 7:21-25

Amen.

The Beginning of the Dream

Here's a portion of a letter I wrote to Compassion international some months after I had this talk with God. It chronicles the talk we had and the beginning of a huge dream. I'm not sure what's in store for me anymore, but when I read this, I remember how big the impact was for me. It's at my core.

",,,Then came November 29th. (2012)

I was on a prayer walk, asking for help on something troubling me pretty deeply. “Stay sanctified,” He said. “Sanctify yourself. I have more in store for you.” I was surprised. More, really? Lord, I thought this was it. This life as a photographer; I thought I was done. I dare not ask what it was or what it pertained to, but I did feel the motivation. He would reveal Himself to me and more would come if I stayed on the straight path. That was enough for me.

I felt His presence so close that I lifted up the people closest to me and my minister at church. I asked God to protect them and bless them. I had just completed a campaign to raise money to donate to Compassion, so I lifted up the children it would help as well. “Lord, please protect my kids.” Whoops. “I mean your kids. I’m sorry, God, I know they are your kids…” I immediately felt challenged on my thinking. Whose kids are they? Yes, they belong to God, but why did I feel like in that moment that they also belonged to me? Was it a slip of the tongue? God had me question my own rationale and my thoughts. I began to stumble. “You know, God. You’re kids. I mean, I know they’re your kids…I’m sorry I said my kids.” Why aren’t they mine? “Well, I know I should care more about them, Lord. I know they should mean more to me. I’m sorry, please forgive me.” Then He challenges me. “Once you can learn to love them as your own, you will see my glory.” Whoa. “Wait a minute, God. It was just a mistake; I didn’t mean it literally and I’m sorry. Can we back up...(this step is a lot bigger than I wanted this morning)” No, He didn’t. “Do you want to see my power?” He asks me. “Yes, you know I do, God. I want to more than anything.” “Go there,” He responds (retelling this makes it all seem like it was immediate back and forth, but please know there were a lot of hesitations, breathing, and praying in between each of these until the next whisper). Once the next whisper hit, my mind would go flying in a million directions, trying to reason His whisper away.

I heard Him say “Go there” and I tried to send where that was to the back of my mind and pretend I didn’t know. Maybe I could hide from Him the fact that I knew where He meant. Immediately I started backtracking, trying to forget what we were just discussing. To forget I knew where “there” was. “Go where? What do you mean?” He doesn’t answer. He knows that I know. “Umm, God? I can’t. I bring those places up to the front of my mind, away from their hiding place and submit. I can’t go there. I don’t have money to go there. I don’t have time. I have two small kids and do you remember who I’m married to? (God and I know Harvey doesn’t like change). Most of all, you know where I stand. I love you a lot and I want to see your glory. I would go if I could, but I just can’t.” For awhile, my mind just races. How does He expect me to get there? What does He want me to do there? Just visit? Work? What was my purpose for going? Seeing His glory excites me, but would it be worth it to risk losing time with my kids or having my husband upset with me? The money...

My heart goes soft. “God, I do want to do what you ask, but you know I don’t have the money or resources to do it.” A few seconds go by. “Apply,” He whispers. “Apply?” For a few seconds that seem like minutes, I genuinely don’t know what this whisper meant. What does He mean by this word? All the other whispers came and they hit me and I ran. This one piqued my curiosity and I genuinely, beyond the shadow of a doubt, have no idea what He meant with this word. It didn’t seem like the next step. What? A few seconds, maybe even a minute passes as I’m deep in thought, trying to put this word into our conversation.

I was innocently and utterly free of suspicion of the life change that was at my door. Then, to release my struggle and turn my world upside down, He opens up my mind and gives me the thought. Compassion International. That was the missing link. The doors to promise and beauty and hope fly wide open and I’m brought to my spiritual knees. He meant apply to work for Compassion International as a photographer. It would take care of the financial strain and I would be able to see these children I now know are mine. I bask in the dream for a few seconds and I enjoy the idea of the promise to see His power, of the happiness and joy that I would be blessed with. He knows my heart for the children and he knows I desire so much to see their faces and hold them in my hands, take my camera, snap their beautiful picture, and show it to the world. “I will praise you, O Lord, with all my heart. I will tell of all Your wonders-these children. It’s the Truth. It’s the true way to do what I do. It’s who I really am inside. I’ve been prepared all my life for this and I feel the tug, the pull, the unmistakable love I long to show. “Oh, dear God…,” I start, “…no.” I mean, wow! What a vision! Please take it away. It’s not what I need or deserve. It is amazing…and it’s so much bigger than me. It’s not what I was looking for 20 minutes go when I started this walk. I didn’t come here for that. Thank you, God, that’s an awesome vision and a great thought, but… “Apply!”, He cuts me off.

Wait. Wait just a minute. Seriously?! Do you have any idea what you just did to me? What in the world?!! Are you crazy? Why would you do that?! You know I’m not equipped to take this on. What on earth are you thinking? Do you have any idea what Harvey would do? Then doubt creeps in. Maybe He didn’t send me this. Maybe it was just me. Maybe Compassion International was my idea and now He actually wants me to do it? I get furious. “God. If this is my idea, please take it away immediately. I would be so mad! Don’t let me do that. If it is, I do not want it. It would wreck my life. What if this is my idea?!! I can’t justify it to Harvey if it is. I can’t even start it if it is.” I calm just enough to finally ask. “God, is it my idea? Please tell me.” “You’re not good enough,” He responds. I know what He means. I’m not even hurt by this. He totally knows me and I totally know what He means and He’s right. I’m not good inside enough. I would never consider giving my life to this myself. And I can’t bless myself to this abundant measure He’s talking about all alone. Wow. He’s so right. “Plus, you don’t even want to do it!” He reminds me. I guess if it was my idea, I would be doing it without hesitation. Ugh. Always right.

“Ok, I’m convinced this is not my idea, but what if it’s satan’s and I’m really talking to satan?” I ask Him. What bad things can happen? It has the potential to put a strain on my marriage. What if satan wants me to secretly do it so he can wreck my life? “What Good has come from the mouth of satan?” God asks me. Whoa. That was pretty direct. What this is is Goodness, not death. Nothing Good comes from the mouth of satan. This is not satan I’m talking to. I am humbled. Ok, God. I am Your servant. Tears streaming , I give up. I’ve learned through my redemption not to fight long with Him. He’s giving me his Truth, His answers, and I believe Him. This is what He wants me to do. I don’t realize it’s what people call a “calling” until later. But I relent. I give myself up. I finally say, “Ok. What do I do?” “Apply,” He whispers again. “Now?,” I ask. “YES. Right now? How long will you wait? When do you think is a good time? Now.” It sends me into another fury. Tears are just falling off my face now and I must look like a psycho pacing the sidewalk arguing with the air across the street from my house. My jaw is clenched and I’m so upset. I’m upset because even though I know the truth, I have to deny the feeling that this is made up and I’m doing this on my own. I’m upset because it’s not what I came here for and yet I have to act. I can’t deny this calling. I can’t deny what He said to me and what it did to my heart. I am so frustrated at the thought that I have to explain this life change I’m about to walk into my house and make to my husband who at this moment doesn’t have a clue that I’m painting our future. Right now. He said now.

I’m crying and upset, hurling frustrations at God and I ask, “What do I do when it gets hard, God? What do I do when I doubt the Truth again and I think this came from me? What do I do when people say I can’t do this? This is so much bigger than me.” He was waiting for this. “You come here and you visit me. This is bigger than you, Julizza. You can’t do it alone. That’s why you need me. Come back here and see me when it gets hard. I will be with you.” That makes too much sense. I huff into my house crying and I search for your website. I find a way to contact somebody after I see that you don’t even need a photographer. There’s no place to submit an application for “photographer”. And I need a sponsor number. I might need to sponsor a child through you in order to get one. Ok. I’ll do it if that’s what it takes. That would make a lot of sense. Tears still streaming, I bang out this letter to someone on the other side of this dream:

 

From: Julizza Holub [mailto:jholub@capturingcreations.com] 

Sent: Thursday, November 29, 2012 09:23 AM 

To: Compassion Int'l Information (GMC-USA SDS_SDR) 

Subject: Contact Us: Other 

Regarding: Other 

Are You A Sponsor: No 

Sponsor Number: none 

 Name: Julizza Holub 

Comments: 

Hi, my name is Julizza Holub and I am a professional portrait photographer. I have sponsored a child through a different organization and my heart is with children in poverty as I grew up the same way. This morning while on my jog, God put a calling in me to apply to your organization as a photographer. I am not needing or even wanting this opportunity, don't know what it would entail, and am scared out of my brain to tell you the truth. God has assured me it is not my idea to do this because I'm just not this good. He tells me I will see His power with you. So, I'm not sure if you need me or want me, but I am at your service. Here is my website. Thank you for taking the time to read this crazy email. http://www.capturingcreations.com 

End of message.

What a way to make an entrance, huh? Can you tell I’m running for this with everything I have? God must have had a good laugh at this and probably shook his head while covering his face with His hands. “What are you doing, Julizza? When will you know you were made for this?, He wonders.” He has more work to do.

He made it so it didn’t make it to the right person…try again. I’m thinking I acted, right? I’m at least trying. I get a response from a very sweet individual:

Dear Julizza, Thank you for contacting Compassion! I respect your obedience to the Lord in what He tells you to do. I was very impressed by your website and it is obvious God has gifted you in the field of photography. What a joy it is to use our gifts for his purposes! As impressed that I am, I am not the one that hires for Compassion. I advise you to go to our website at www.compassion.com and look at our employment opportunities. I encourage you to be patient and apply for the jobs that God is calling you to. I am forwarding this email to our Human Resources department. May the Lord lead you Julizza! Thank you for your partnership with Compassion. If you need further assistance, you may reply to this email or you may also contact us at 800-336-7676. We are available to serve you Monday - Friday, 7:00 am to 5:30 pm, MT. 
 Have a blessed day, Kimi 
Sponsor & Donor Relations 

I try the number several days in a row and I don’t receive a call back. Day after day, I’m sharing my story. It was such an overwhelming face-to-face contact with the Creator of the universe that I have to tell people. I tell my best friend, my spiritual parents, and a minister over the phone. A few days later, my husband and I go out on a dinner date and we sit in the parking lot while I tell my story. To my surprise, he jumps on board. He admits he’s scared of the change, but he’s going to support my dream nonetheless. An answered prayer!

I get so overwhelmed with work during the Christmas season and my dream nags at me. On December 18th, I sponsor Dari. Like so many others, I find it so rewarding, just as rewarding as Maranata from Rwanda. I love them both. Since then, I’ve watched the Compassion International photographer stories on the blog and through Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter. I take the time to ask for an email to an employment person and through these months, although I know of the promise before me, I sink into a depression. My father’s birthday in February hits me harder this year than any year before. This application along with Easter is part of my emerging from that depression. So although I’m embarrassed it has taken me since November 29th to compose this letter, I realize that the time needed to pass in order for my heart to soften, for me to feel what it’s like to not have this dream. His dream for me has become my dream. Everything I do for my own business feels like it’s not enough. I’m in a spiritual and professional limbo. I have this spiritual appetite that won’t be filled by anything other than this dream. So I’m giving it my all. I’ve told you more about me than even some of my closest friends know. I’m completely unveiled and I want you to see who I really am. I am a fallen, redeemed, purchased soul who is eager to put a smile on the Creator’s face with everything she does. I have two beautiful children-Rio is 7 and Lathan just turned 4. I have an amazing supportive husband who loves me more than anyone in this world does. We’re far from perfect, but we all love God together.

I’m sure an organization like yours receives letters like this all the time and if that’s true, how blessed are your ears! To witness God’s whispers incessantly on the hearts of His people is a beautiful thing and His calling on their lives is an unmistakable love story. In my story, I have learned that I am made for you and no other organization. He didn’t say anyone else. He said Compassion International. So it’s my life’s dream to be “there” and witness His power with you. I am praying you will have us soon."

Hope you enjoyed it and to me it feels like a dream that ever happened. Glad to share it with you.

Tears

What fortune lies beyond the stars
Those dazzling heights too vast to climb
I got so high to fall so far
But I found heaven as love swept low

My heart beating, my soul breathing
I found my life when I laid it down
Upward falling, spirit soaring
I touch the sky when my knees hit the ground

What treasure waits within Your scars
This gift of freedom gold can't buy
I bought the world and sold my heart
You traded heaven to have me again

My heart beating, my soul breathing
I found my life when I laid it down
Upward falling, spirit soaring
I touch the sky when my knees hit the ground

Find me here at Your feet again
Everything I am, reaching out, I surrender
Come sweep me up in Your love again
And my soul will dance
On the wings of forever

Upward falling, spirit soaring
I touch the sky
When my knees hit the ground

~Hillsong, Touch the Sky

I've been going to the gym a lot lately. Trying to build muscle and get in shape. I've pushed harder this time than I ever have before. I was feeling down about missing a few workouts lately and my friend encouraged me.

"Don't beat yourself up. You do know how muscles grow, don't you?" he asked.

"Ummm....no?" I responded, a bit ashamed that I had never really thought about that before.

"Well, while you're working out, you're tearing your muscles. That's why you're sore afterward, because of all of those microscopic tears. After you workout, your body repairs and replaces the damaged muscle fibers, fusing them together, and they become stronger. The thing is, this doesn't happen while you're lifting weights, as you might think. It happens while you rest. So don't worry too much about giving your body some rest."

Immediately, my mind is on God's design. My mind is blown. I've been torn. Torn in my relationships, business, learning, trials, life. The thing is, I can completely shy down from these tears, just like I would shy down from going to the gym to avoid the soreness afterward, but then that means I wouldn't get stronger. The design of God is always counterintuitive. Through our sin He strengthens us, through our trials He molds and shapes us, through our constant messing up, He transforms us. 

I recently wondered if on my holiest day I could ever come close to the love David had for God in his heart. It was this week and I was running. Then God revealed the secret. It's not on my holiest day that I match that love for God most, it's on my most torn up day. And he repairs and strengthens me. I pray I always look for the strength in the tears.

I touch the sky when my knees hit the ground.

Solitaire

As a young girl one day, I sat at the kitchen table, lining up my cards, determined to win. I had taken a liking to the game of solitaire and had learned to play from my Dad, who enjoyed playing and sitting in the same spot. I didn't really understand all of the ins and outs of the game, nor what made a move good or bad. I simply put the cards where they went and arranged them in their place. Black 4 on a red 5, red queen on a black king... draw three cards. Red 9, but no black 10. Draw three more.  If I got stuck, I'd sometimes "accidentally" draw two cards instead of three. Or start drawing by one. Many times, that's how I was able to win. I enjoyed the collection of all of the cards on their appropriate Ace stack at the end, but the building of the lines was the most fun. I loved to move an entire line of cards off their stack, connect it to the bottom of another, and reveal a fresh new opportunity below by flipping over the hidden card underneath.

I sat at the kitchen table that day and my Dad walked in and as he took the step down into the room from the dining area, he noticed me sitting there playing and said,  "Don't cheat at solitaire." I hardly looked up from what I was doing. He got something from the refrigerator and placed it on the cutting table between the window and the stove and started working with his back turned to me. "You're only cheating yourself." I looked up for a moment and saw him there, and sat perplexed for a minute. How did he know I was cheating? How does anyone know I'm cheating? I'm the only one that can know, right? I'm not playing against anyone, so I'm not hurting anyone. Is that still cheating? I'm playing by myself! How is that cheating? I'm helping myself. I don't get it. I give a quick mind nod at him like, "Ok, Dad, you never cheat and here you are reminding me how to be good again, so thanks for the tip, but I like how I'm doing things. I like winning,  it's really not a big deal, and I'm not hurting anyone." I roll my eyes in my head and decide he's just talking crazy again as I shake off the advice and go back to winning.

That was when I was 9 or 10 years old. I'm 36 now and I finally get it. 25 years of life had to pass by for me to even start to understand and now apply the wisdom from his words. Don't cheat at solitaire. You're only cheating yourself. His point was that cheating was not a solution to the game. When you cheat, you are going beyond the rules to an alternate reality and therefore, you're not winning the game you started. Once you cheat, the game is over and you're no longer learning how to become a better player, you're just winning a game that was over as soon as you committed the act. By doing so, you're cheating yourself out of a chance to taste a real victory earned by your own skill. No one can feel that victory like you can, nor can they feel that defeat when you cheat. Don't cheat at solitaire. You're only cheating yourself.

Life is a game of solitaire. And most profoundly, my relationship with God is a game of solitaire. There was a turning point in my relationship with Him where I could cheat and make it seem like things were good enough (start drawing by ones again), or I could put my thinking cap on and really explore and trust and get to know Him further (continue drawing by three). Let me tell you, the decision for this inherent cheater was not easy. My tendency to cheat and take the easier road beckoned me with a wonderful and light familiarity. I could have cheated. And I could have stayed empty. But I was tired of being tired. He said in His word that He could bear my burdens and I wanted to know if He could really. It sounded good. I knew my burdens were slowing me down and killing me. I wanted to get rid of them. So I started my journey of getting to know God through prayer jogs, prayer walks, praying at home, reading books, reading my Bible, putting myself in His shoes, listening to worship songs, paying attention to and believing their lyrics. I began telling Him everything. Yes, everything. Even the things I wanted to hide and stay ashamed of. I wanted to cheat, but then I would only be cheating myself out of a real relationship with Him that I could be proud of. It's what I wanted. The kind of relationship that caused the apostle Paul to be joyful in prison. It would be a real thing I could nurture and trust, instead of feeling like I could only come when I needed something.

Now six years have passed and I've pushed myself to let Him in. I am blessed to experience a relationship, confidence, and fullness I never thought possible in Him. I have become certain He lives and can hear me, which I just pretended to know before. Don't cheat at God. You're only cheating yourself out of something truly remarkable. And you may not feel the hurt and it may not sting you because cheating never does, but it will sting when you get to the end and realize what you lost by pretending. That's what motivated me. I didn't want to be someone who got to heaven and realized then that I wish I would have gotten to know Him more while on earth. I didn't want to regret that. I will still feel awe in heaven because there's no way to experience Him like that here, but I will regret less that I tried all I could to know him here. If I don't do this and I am a believer, what then is life about? This relationship shapes my experience here. If you're pretending you have a relationship with Him, you know you are. Only you and He know you're pretending. There is a better way. He promises it's good. And He's eager for you to know Him fully.

The same can be said about so many things, way too many for me to mention. Your friendships, relationships, and skills are all a game of solitaire. Only you know what you're putting into it. Only you know if you are capable of better or if you're cheating. Only you can choose not to cheat yourself out of the goodness that a job well done has to offer. With pure and loving pursuit, there is no guilt. Without guilt, there are no chains. Without chains, there is freedom. Don't cheat yourself out of freedom. That is something you most definitely want.  

Resurrection

Ahhh! It's that time again where everything that was seemingly dead is alive again...in spirit, appearance, color, and form. I love Easter and springtime! I look forward to it for a couple of reasons: the vibrant colors of spring, of course, and the resurrection of my own soul. I go back to the way I feel the rest of the year until January. I see signs already...the way the breeze feels, the things I'm willing to do, and in the way that I work. Jesus is risen and that fact really comforts someone like me.

It's Easter Sunday morning in my house and I have the duty of getting everyone up. I like to wake them up to Hillsong music...I think that will make a good memory for them one day, especially the little ones. I get going and leave the music to do its duty while I shower and get ready. I hear the kids playing around and know Rio will be getting herself prettied up while Lathan will wait around for someone else to take the time to wrestle with him in bed as they pass by him. It's a normal morning-the kind when I come to realize I've taken too long on getting myself ready yet I still have wet hair and no makeup, and Lathan still looks like he did thirty minutes ago when he first woke up. So naturally, I stop working on me and start working on him. I start on coercing him to go to his room for me to change him...and the fight begins. "No!" he yells. Crying, fighting, fussing ensues, and I have to start yelling over Hillsong that he's six years old, he shouldn't be fighting or fussing, and I don't want to deal with this all day. "Stop crying! I mean it! Stop!" I yell. Over and over. Ugh. It's like a bad dream and if you've ever dealt with a constant crier, I think maybe you know what this is like. I sure hope I'm not the only one! He finally calms down and I lay down the law. "You will not cry today. You will not act like this anymore. This is God's day. You are going to stop the crying." Well, I say it every Sunday. Yet, every Sunday is the same. We get to church and he cries when we are getting out of the car for some reason or another. He cries when we sit down in the pew for another reason. He fusses about something in the first part of worship. He fusses at the kid's offering. He fusses if there is children's hour because he doesn't want to go, or he fusses when there's not children's hour because he does want to go. He fusses when we have to leave the foyer after the sermon is over to go to bible class. He fusses when we leave the playground after bible class to go to lunch. He fusses when we leave the restaurant to go home. Can we say "transition-challenged" much? So maybe every Sunday isn't the same and he chooses which fussing points he'll have, but he sure makes it hard for us to prepare him to go on to the next step in many cases. So this Sunday I was determined to make it stop. I made him stop crying. Have you ever done such a thing? How do you make a child stop crying? It's ludicrous. Let's just say I strongly suggested he stopped until I was red in the face and made him cry more. Eventually, he decided to stop. And I was thankful he did.

We got to church and he started to fuss and I reminded him he would not be crying over every little thing today. I spoke some of his language and threatened him like a sailor sitting in the car in the church parking lot because it was EASTER and I've been looking forward to it, and I wasn't going to have any distractions on my own resurrection that day. I gave him the "mom" look. He stopped fussing. We walked into church and somehow I end up carrying him into the pew with me as we walked in late and made our way to the second row. At this point, I am drained. I don't know how this is going to end. I had hoped to worship, to resurrect with Christ that day, and be able to feel alive again, but after all I had done that morning, I couldn't imagine God could reach me anymore that day. Lathan lays down in the pew and Rio is there with bells on. I just love her spirit. I watch her and see her standing tall and singing and reading the words while I sit with Lathan and try to talk to his crushed spirit. "You've got to let me worship, bud," I tell him, with a big sigh. I'm pretty sure he didn't hear. I stand up and I sing. I don't know what he's doing behind me on the pew, but it involves his offering and dropping it on the floor. I worship some more. I'm trying. Then something. He stands up and he decides he wants to stand behind me. He stands up on the pew and puts his little arms around my neck and sways with me while we sing together. Rio and Harvey are next to us and I hear them too and finally, a peace begins to settle in. Shalom isn't far from me anymore and I so appreciate his little hands and hold them around my neck while his face rests next to mine on my shoulder. It's like he "got it". For the next few songs, he stands on the back of the pew in front of us while he holds on to me. He's gotten taller and his waist is at my cheek. He puts his right hand around my head and several times throughout the song, he combs my hair aside with his left hand and kisses my head. He looks on me with love as we sing together and he begins to lay on the love and tenderness as we worship. I lift my hands in worship as I finally reach Shalom, and he follows with both hands. I am so entirely grateful.

Part of the worship involved a video with images of the crucifixion-no bodies are seen, but you can hear Jesus breathing, and the actions. The whips lashing, the cross dragging, the hammer nailing, the people shouting. Imagery resounds strongly with Lathan and injustice is a huge issue in his heart. He cannot stand injustice. I've never seen anything quite like it and I feel sorry for him because the world is full of it. He can't stand it at school, in movies, or in books. He cries and lashes out when he witnesses injustice, especially in movies or when he feels it toward him. He doesn't want to witness dark motives at all, not even for entertainment. He pleads to leave the theater when the bad guys are scheming or when the movie plot gets to the point of no hope. He can't wait to see the good guys win. Literally. Fast-forward the movie. He cowers under the sound of whiplashes on the video and hides in my side. He can't help but react to the noises. "Ooh!" and a little whimper. Hides his face. He knows its about Jesus. The video ends and we stand to sing, but he demands my attention. "Do we have to die on the cross too?" he asks. I look down at him from standing and reply, "No, thank goodness we don't. Jesus did that for us. He died for our sins. Now he wants us to be good and love him so we can live with him in heaven." I throw in the "be good" part as an extra for him, as moms often do. A new video during the song shows three crosses, with two men beside Jesus and that sparks more questions. "Who are they? Who are the other two guys next to Jesus?" "They're bad guys," I respond. "I don't understand why Jesus had to die like the bad guy," he retorts. He's using his hands to talk now and he's yelling over the singing and I can tell he really want to understand and is becoming a bit frustrated with the situation surrounding Jesus, so I sit down and tell him what I know. "You're right. Jesus was a good guy. He wasn't a bad guy like the other two. But there were other mean people that wanted to kill Jesus and they wanted him to die like the bad guys.." I'm trying to talk over the singing, just loud enough for him to hear, and have to be in close to his face to do so. "You see, Jesus died for no reason, baby..." I say this and I brace myself. I had to deliver the bad news. The injustice. There's a good chance he's going to act out right there in the middle of some wonderful song in the second row of church and the visions of Harvey having to carry him out, legs flying, because he just can't calm down cross my mind..and it all my fault because I didn't sugar-coat it... He'll lash out, cry out, yell, fuss, do something because injustice...well, he just hates it. He thinks for a few seconds, which seem like they're a growing bubble about to pop, and then he looks at me and smiles. He says, "He did. He did die for a reason." He smiles again and looks at me, waiting for me to get it. HE waits on ME to get it. His smile is confident and joyful, like a father that's playing a practical joke and waiting for the punchline to be revealed. And all at once his sins and my sins come rushing forth, everything he knows he does wrong, and everything I know I've done wrong, that day and before that day, flash in the blink of an eye, they bond in my head, and they commune together only to fall, completely forgiven. His eight words pull out the gratefulness I was longing to feel in my heart and brings it home with that amazing smile and confidence in His God, which gives me confidence in our God. We are One together in that moment, both sinners, and I am truly amazed at the wisdom of this child to remind me, me, an adult, strong and faithful, of the reason for Jesus's death. Yes, he got me. I smile back and we hug. We both know Jesus died for us. I stand up and begin to sing...or whisper really. My breath is gone as I am filled with thankfulness of my own stone being rolled away. As I reflect on our conversation, I realize I meant to say, "He was killed for no reason," alluding to John 15:25 when Jesus points out the scripture Psalms 35:19 is being fulfilled, "But this is to fulfill what is written in they Law: 'They hated me without reason,'" but I was using it in the wrong context. He's right, of course. Jesus did die for a reason-for Lathan, for you, and for me. I am thankful and hold this interaction between me and my son in my heart as I am delivered from my own selfishness.

The sermon that day, like all the other Sundays, is a word from God, and it touches my heart. I amazingly finally get to feel my own resurrection happen and I mentally step into my new life. God had spoken to me through the mouth of a child as well as through the mouth of a spiritual mentor. Lathan doesn't fuss in church again. We leave there and go to my in-laws house, and he's beautiful while there. He doesn't fuss the rest of the day, even as we left the grandparents and we make our hour and a half drive home. He has an incident at 9pm with his father that night, but recovers quickly, puts on a laughing smile, and comes to hug me while I read in bed. I ask him about it and he tells me he doesn't want to talk about it. I get it.

Happy Easter from ours to yours.

Getting Out

It's March and I haven't written since September of last year. That time frame depicts the busiest season of work, October through December, followed by the toughest part of my year, January through March. The high followed by the low. The best times followed by the worst, and almost completely unrelated. 

I've been in business just long enough to realize that the last quarter is where I shine every year-I absolutely enjoy its busyness and promise of happy faces and clients. I'm at a spiritual and emotional high and energy abounds in ways I'll never understand due to doing what I'm made to do. Then comes Christmas in all of its glory and I enjoy the rest and time with my family. These are the best times and I look forward to them every year. Work excites me. It energizes me. January comes and things start to slow down to buckle in for the toughest part of winter in south Texas. Unfortunately, however, it's the time that my body and mind remember the hardest loss I've ever endured-the death of my father-and it pushes me to depletion. This year was harder than the years before it for reasons even I don't fully comprehend, but it's been a very hard couple of months to say the least on the spiritual front. Work is fine, but my heart and head is not. I've endured a lot of loss, depression, and rock-bottom moments to be honest. I've felt poured out and didn't have strength some days to face them alone.

Lathan, my six year old, came into my office and sat in my lap. 

"I need your help. There's something you should know," he said.

"What is it?" I asked.

"That movie," he added. "As I was playing and talking to myself, I kept thinking about it and I'm scared." It wasn't the first time he mentioned the movie. Days (or weeks ago), he witnessed a scary part in a children's movie watched with his sister. There was a part where a character had to walk into the darkness and there were witches waiting for her there. For the life of me, I can't figure out why a children's movie would feel the need to add this kind of element of surprise and fill children with fear, but I can't turn the clock back now for him. It was enough to rock his little being. I never knew it bothered him until days later.

"I can't figure out how to get out of it," he said. He wanted to stop thinking about it and he needed my help to do that. He didn't want to let it consume him and change his decisions. The first time I heard it bothered him, I was asking him to get his shoes from the front hallway. It was during the evening and the hallway was dimly lit. He simply couldn't. He said he needed me to come with him and told me why. His memory of the scene decides where he can walk in this house, how he plays, and whether or not he can fall asleep peacefully. He came to me because he admitted that as he played using his imagination, the movie kept creeping in...and he wanted to get out of it.

As a parent, I want to fix it. I give him tools like, "Think of something that makes you happy. What makes you happy?" 

"Power Rangers," he says laughingly. I laugh with him. I try to coach him into those happy places, assure him there is nothing to the movie, it's all made up, and there isn't anything dangerous in our home. He can play happily all he wants. But truthfully, honestly, I can't take the feeling or the fear away. I can't control his mind or heart. Although so many people would say he can, I have to say their solution of "just don't think about it" isn't actually controlling thoughts, it's more like avoiding them. Rerouting them. That certainly helps, but how do we obliterate them completely? 

Every year before my Dad's birthday, my mind is occupied with his death. The grief is simply overwhelming. I try and try to forget it, but my whole body remembers and I dream dreams beginning in January. My body remembers how I wept and it returns to that state for the time being until it resurrects itself slowly after his anniversaries pass. He passed the day after his birthday, so they are two events in a row that I cope with. I always know it's coming and I tried to prepare this year like I do every year, but the grief hit with a force bigger than the world this time. I was completely poured out. I wanted to get out of it. I did. But I couldn't. I just had to go through the grief and let it pass. I couldn't control how long it would take or how it would feel. I just controlled if I reached out for help or not. If I stayed in bed or got up. If I called that friend or didn't. If I let myself go and cried or tried to hold it in. If I left the house or stayed in. To be honest, everything felt like a dream except the actual hurt. That felt more real than anything. Thinking happy thoughts, trying not to think about him, and picking myself up off the floor just wasn't going to work. The exact same strategies I would present to Lathan wouldn't work for me. I doubt they would actually work for him.  He and I both needed help. God and a loved one that could usher us into peace. 

Lathan and I are cut from the same cloth, which is good and bad. Our emotions drive us and we are passionate about our feelings. We feel deeply and it consumes us. We're all heart, I guess I would admit. But you know hearts...they're unpredictable and chase things they shouldn't. They feel things they shouldn't. But, they also keep special things more dear, serve others bigger, and love deeply. That's me and my son. It doesn't surprise me he can't figure out how to get out because I'm the same way. I am careful with what I watch or listen to-even now as an adult. Images and words stick in my mind, and the feelings they invoke in my heart affect my decisions. Seems like an unhappy life, but it's extremely wonderful, actually. I don't experience every part of the world, which is a blessing, for obvious reasons. After all, it's not "the world", per se, I'm trying to experience in my lifetime anyway. Places are important to me, yes. But it's the people of this world I want to know and love.  It's the people that drive me. What I can do for them, pray for them, or help them with drive me. I don't always have much to give or even the strength to give a lot, but thankfully I've not been so foolish to believe that the help comes from me anyway. 

So where does it come from? It comes from God. My talent, my service, and my help all come from a Source that lives deep within my heart. Spiritual traumas may win some battles, and the Source may be squelched by me or the evil that entangles me periodically, but my prayer is that I always allow the Spirit to come back and eventually win throughout each season. I went through a huge spiritual transformation about four years ago, and as a result, I've been given a new name and purpose. I pray I am forever growing and getting stronger in the Spirit, despite the lows and spiritual tragedies I face with the help of humility. And that's the coaching point I have for Lathan. Humble yourself and realize that you can't fight your fears alone. There is a Greater Power that will come as soon as you call. He will tell you what to do and send the right people to help you. Always seek and always come back to the Goodness. 

"There's a battle going on in your heart, son....who's going to win? Jesus or the devil? Who's stronger?" I've asked. He always knows the right answers...those of us that are familiar with Jesus's story know how it ends eventually. But the battles still take place every day and we have the freedom to choose who the victor will be at that moment by our head. The Good victor enables us to get out of the nightmare we're in, in time...

I came across this article about a young girl who wrote to her future self, 10 years in advance. She passed away in January of this year unexpectedly. Her parents found the letter she wrote and shared it. It reminded me of the faith I had as a young girl and the positivity that seeped out of me as I thought about my future and what I would do. This part really moved me, but please visit the link and read the whole thing:

"Speaking of, how’s your relationship with GOD? Have you prayed, worshipped, read the bible, or gone to serve the lord recently? If not, get up and do so NOW! I don’t care what point in our life we’re in right now, do it! He was mocked, beaten, tortured, and crucified for you! A sinless man, who never did you or any other person any wrong!" ~12 Year old Taylor Smith to 22 year old Taylor (assuming her birthday was the date she wrote the letter).

I'm pretty certain I wrote several letters to myself as a child in the future but I lost them along the way. I do remember thinking about all the wonderful things I would accomplish as an adult because I had high expectations as a child. I believed I had purpose in Christ and I would do great things. The mind of a child is such a gorgeous thing and mine was no different. Rio, my nine year old daughter, reminds me of it daily. Her mind is beautiful. I crave the positivity and innocence I had that she possesses. I try with all my might to preserve what I remember and resurrect it to my current being. It's a goal of mine to keep my childlike positive mindset throughout my lifetime, despite the trials and ugliness I face as an adult. As the letter Taylor wrote states, "Stuff has happened, good and bad. That's just how life works, and you have to go with it." 

The Good Rope

I enjoy the ideation of holding on to God through the storms of life. I also love the imagery that God in His Holy Trinity is a strong foundation - like a rope made up of three parts braided together instead of one solid piece. I wish that holding on to this rope through the storms of life described me more often. Sometimes...well...most of the time, I don't. It's hard. My default tendency is to let go of the rope. It's my first primal reaction. More often than not, I allow the storm to consume me. I feel like somehow, some way, I will find peace if I just go ahead and lay down here in the comfort...of its turmoil. I close my eyes, feel its wind, and feel every hurt. I open my ears and focus in on its rushing sounds, searching for that peace. In sharing these storms with others, I have come to experience two types of people. What I need are people that will wake me, pick me up, and place my hand on the rope. What I don't need are people that will take me further away. The easiest person to find is the one that will offer you a lighter rope, an easier rope, a different rope. A rope for you to hold on to that seems life-saving to them - experiences, pleasures, even them. But sometimes. Sometimes. Sometimes you'll find a person that knows the strongest rope out there. The Good rope. They help you to find it. Lead you to it. They place your hands on it for your sake, not theirs. You may think they are always a certain type of person. You may think they have certain kinds of qualities. You may think they believe in certain things. But sometimes. Sometimes. They don't. And the Good rope is still the same.