Power Outage

It was fun at first.

We had good reason to believe it would happen, too.

Dire warnings brought our attention to the impending storm, and the clouds did not disappoint.
Thick, wet, heavy, and unrelenting, the snow has been pouring down and weighing everything full.
Trees droop, shrubs bend low, and dried summer stalks bend to the earth.

In an instant, right between a goodnight kiss and a pat on the bottom to send our youngest farm chick off to bed, we were plunged into darkness.

Although we did not know the moment the darkness would come, we were not unprepared.
Just days earlier Weekend Farmer Husband had received a brand new flashlight and batteries are fresh.
Fueled and ready, our generator stood in place, waiting to serve.
The box of emergency candles and matches is easily accessible.
And, which of us hasn't used the flashlight function on our iPhones a million times before?
There was no shortage of light and life giving power.

But, we were without the total comforts and the crutches to which we have become accustomed.
Not all the lights could be used, the television, iHomes, wireless connection, and the many luxuries of our first world life were temporarily halted.

How long was it an adventure? A fun, candle-light, temporary, forced withholding?
Not long, I'm afraid.
I think it was maybe 15 minutes before my older children in particular were looking for movies on their laptop hard drives.
The adventure and the adrenaline quickly faded, and the mild complaining and self soothing behaviors set in.

This morning, the snow still weighs heavy, but power was restored in the night.
We're back to normal and all systems are literally humming away.

It got me thinking.
I knew when I entered into the observance of Lent that there would be times like this.  Times of testing and quiet and even darkness.  I prepared as much as I could by surrounding myself with friends, accountability partners, good books, good sleep, good times of prayer and scripture reading.
But when the lights went out and stayed out for awhile I was soon more vulnerable than I'd like.

Depression and lethargy demanded attention and quite certainly slowed me.
Frustration and lack of patience made an appearance.
Fuzzy thinking, lack of purpose, you name it- it all came calling.

And all the accountability, good books, good sleep, and good prayer "haven't helped".
I am not walking in darkness, but I am walking in repentance.
Sometimes God's kindness helps us walk longer in places than we are accustomed, and without all our comforts, so that when the morning comes, restoration is all that more powerful and complete.

So, I wait.
I'm not in the dark literally or spiritually.
I know this is a light and temporary suffering, and it's of my own choosing!

And, even though I was "prepared", I'm certainly not in any position to help myself.

Today's Lenten reading was in part from the Psalms.
On the fragile page, marked by years of reading and marking, the 28th Psalm reminded me to turn to the Lord for mercy, help, and refuge.

The storm will pass.
Snow which has been threatening is lovely.
And I will not be in the dark for long.

"Blessed be the Lord!
for he has heard the voice of my pleas for mercy.
The Lord is my strength and my shield;
in him my heart trusts, and I am helped;
my heart exults,
and with my song I give thanks to him.

The Lord is the strength of his people;
he is the saving refuge of his anointed.
Oh, save your people and bless your heritage!
Be their shepherd and carry them forever."

Psalm 28:6-9

Belief that Changes Every Day

Confession.

My family and I are sharply sarcastic.  The mental acuity and social attentiveness required to appropriately time delivery, melded with reference appeals to and amuses us.

 (I know. This is a dangerous habit and the responsibility to accurately “read” the situations we’re in is ours.  And, sometimes we’re brilliant.  Other times, we wound.  All for another post…perhaps.)

So when we say, “I think I’m going to have a heart attack and die from that surprise!” the sarcasm meter is redlining, and we mean just the opposite.

That phrase played over and over and over in my thinking yesterday, and even though I prayed it wouldn’t have cause to, it was expected. 

Because yesterday I went against my nature.  I purposed to do battle with my flesh.  And there’s nothing my flesh likes more than to rise up and demand its perceived needs be met or its discomforts assuaged.

My broken, weary, downcast, discouraged, and self-righteous heart purposed to make its faltering but repentant journey towards resurrection.  Each Lenten step was to be an exercise in yielding my unbelief to the hope that God will produce belief.

To be clear, I’m not referencing that kind of belief that wrestles with assurance. I am His.  Undoubtedly.  Assuredly.  Completely.  All my days are secure in the completed work of Christ, helped by the Holy Spirit, and held together by God.

It's belief that changes my every day, that changes how I love my neighbor, how I serve my family, and particularly how I help my beloved. This is what rises up to challenge the day. 

Yesterday’s practices were pure hearted, born of sincerity and held up by the promises of Scripture, the discipline of prayer, and gritty obedience.  The battle raged.  Flesh cried loud and required much.

Are you surprised?  I wasn’t.  Back to the sarcastic comment.  No heart attacks here. 

Change a few words. 

My heart was under attack.

I’ve got my armor on today.  Early morning scriptures and prayer have set my course and like the psalmist, I will:

“Put my hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God.”

Psalm 46:5b

Mug Shot

Black and white, silent, empty. Elements like these alone might not so quickly capture my attention if I were not so quick to look for them.  Like the ketchup bottle still on the counter, the open cupboard door, the myriad of stocking caps flung far and wide throughout our home that aren’t routinely placed back in their bin, or any one of the signs of disorderly and reduced life, this vessel with its dirty rim frays the slim nerve that remains.

Clenched jaw, balled fists, and a resigned sigh indicates my posture.  Physically perfect invitations for the tormenting mental and emotional loop to begin.  The frustrated, negative, martyred track begins its play and a quest for “responses” or “strategies” resumes.

I realize it’s just one item; a small thing really, requiring almost no real estate and in a way, it’s symmetrical high contrast pattern adds to the collected lived in charm of the room.  But, in my spirit it’s just one of an infinite number of items and actions that have worn me down.

Irritated and put out, my emotions and self-talk pick up steam and my thoughts are righteous, justified, and condemning. Because not only has it been decades of this careless behavior of one thing adding to the sum of a myriad of things, it's grown markedly worse in recent months.

Significant trauma with its unanticipated and uninvited habit crashed into our lives and it targeted my beloved, sought to crush him, reduced him to unrecognizable lows, and left him (us) barely alive with a fragment of a marriage, devastated finances, and chronic symptoms that make costly and regular withdrawals from “for better or worse”.

 So this small inanimate ceramic token, benignly left in an irregular spot before the dawn broke, served as a weary marker of all the “strategies” the day will need to include.  I know it’s just a cup.  But, I also know that it’s a contextual foreshadowing of the fractured days we now live.

But God.

In my mind, these words appearing multiple times in the Holy Scriptures, are my only hope for today; for every day.  So, I repent.

Today I begin a 40-day journey of repentance and emptying of self. 

God doesn’t need my observance of Lent to work Easter in my life, but I need it to take me from my “buts”; all the things that should be different, the patterns that need change, the grim hardness of my heart that all too frequently marks my days and harms my neighbor and my own soul.

But God.

Forty days of practice, feeble attempts, and frail resolve to rotate my inward looking eyeballs (which the world and my pride tell me are perfectly reasonable given the hand I’ve been given), and instead look to Jesus, who makes all things new.

But God.

There’s no possible way that I’ll accomplish this.

But God.

Broken easily, beset with failures, a long history of guilty mug shots, and deeply wounded I cannot fathom that my resolve to, instead of flaring with irritation for every violation of our agreed upon roles, strategies, and commitments, give myself over to prayer will hold.

But God.

I confess, the irritation preceded the praying.  My flesh had the first say on the day.

But God, my Father, in His deep love for me, intervened.  Holy Spirit counsel drew my attention, pricked my heart, and enabled me to pray.

But God, instead of giving me over to my natural self, gave me a greater portion of Himself. 

Now, don’t get me wrong.  It wasn’t a hyper spiritual event filled with sudden transformative cinema worthy change. But it was the quiet and proper outcome of my scripture reading earlier.

“Repent and believe the good news!” Mark 1:15b

Father, I repent.  Hardheartedness, despair, weariness, lack of belief.

Lord, I believe; help my unbelief.

Is it any wonder that I struggled with the technical details of getting this post up?  Goodness- it's been better than 2 years!  

These two years have been filled with hardship, illness, derailing life events, and all the difficulties of unimaginable circumstances.  Wave after wave crashing on the shoreline of our lives.

If you're reading here, thank you.  You are so welcome.

These posts, for however long they last, are part of my Lenten journey.  I'm joining my online friend Edie who wrote a rich devotional series for this season, and rather than giving something up, I'm trying to discipline myself to practice the things that most consistently draw me to Christ.  

Scripture, intentional study, and writing do just this.

I'm so lucky to have a "real life friend" to keep me accountable and check in on  me.

Would you like a friend too? If you'd like, feel free to comment here, come back and read again, and we can check in on each other while we journey to the cross, and then, the miracle of the eternal risen Christ!

Less

Funny thing this Monday habit.  All week long I think about what I might write.  Content spins, turns, sorts in my head.  Stories weave and moments stand out as "possibilities".  Most of it is probably too personal for my comfort and won't ever give shape to words here.  And then, when in the quiet space of the afternoon I'm free to be here...nothing.

Like the flattening wind outside, something in the day has pushed all thoughts away and no words rush in to fill.

Compulsion to have something of merit - something of substance - causes me to push at keys.  Still nothing.

It's not writer's block.  And, it's not that I have nothing to say.  Certainly any of you who know me in real life bear witness to the flow of words.

No, it's different.  It's quiet.  And it's welcome.

Busy. Difficult. Challenging. These have been the markers on the path of late.  Threats push from the outside in - will the barn hold?  Work for Weekend Farmer Husband - the income kind - has made a deep crease even deeper between his eyes.  Children have had difficulty, (and parents), adjusting to new medicines that help with chronic conditions.  Just when we make one tiny step forward on lingering expenses, another bill arrives. Sweet friends are facing heartbreaking struggles and offering prayers and providing meals don't seem like enough. All these and more clamor, and quiet is elusive.

Yesterday was loud celebration.  Easter "Alleluias" rang boldly in sweet fellowship and joyous praise.  And the day was rich with feasting - food, family, new friends, lingering fellowship.  No more messy Lent with it's struggles and self filled with shortcomings.  Only a neat napkin folded and left behind in the tomb, purposeful, silently shouting "He is not here!"

Purposefully making less of myself here, on Facebook, Pinterest - all the online places that compete with my attention that likely should be elsewhere, I had a noisy rebellious struggle.  With myself, that is.  With time - the gift of a day.  With craving recognition, wanting an identity here.  With my willingness (frightening) to feed my family scraps and pretend that I might thrive in a virtual world with plans, dreams, accolades that noisily make more of me.

It is not magic that on Resurrection Sunday, sitting amongst the saints I'm stunned by quiet. I realize I'm right upon "re-entry". My lenten practice of less is lifted by the turn of a calendar page.  In the storm of our spring with so many demands and trouble enough of its own, I've been hoping - praying - that the practice of less of me will make way for more of Him.  And, I wanted it to be obvious.  Loud even.  The answer like the struggle.

Not even a whisper.  I'm jealous of Moses - while he hid in the cleft of the rock the breath of God made sound.

Just quiet.

And, it's not uncomfortable.  If I try to describe it, I have to use the word "full".

Really, this many words to finally uncover it?  If the quiet is Him, then the lesser is me.  It is my voice that is no longer clamoring.

So, come Monday.  Even if I've "nothing to say", I'll be here.  Being quiet here gives voice to thanks.  Giving thanks gives weight to contentment.  Contentment, currently hard fought and bought at great price, brings me to the cross where He made all things new and I am daily restored by His good grace gifts.




-The post "Exceedingly Abundantly" on my Dad's CaringBridge Site shares good news of a stellar stem cell count and gives yet another reason to chronicle thanks for God's tender care in his life.
-"Play Instant" on Netflix for the times when the youngers and the momma need a break.
-Liberty to worship freely and proclaim the Risen Lord!
-Deep green grass blowing in the wide open wind.
-Privilege of spending extra time with a "new" family from church.  What a blessing hospitality is.
-Yum! Savory leftovers, making supper easy tonight.
Weekend Farmer Husband's regular Monday morning call with Firstborn Son - staying connecting, urging him on.
-Four brand new mewing kittens in the barn - so cute.
-Eastery finery - girls in dresses, boys all tucked in.  No, I didn't get a photo.
-Playroom sounds - a tiny space carved out of our home for girls to play house, babies, blocks, and build friendship.
-Constant friend who takes my kids to a park for a "rare" treat. (Playground equipment makes me jittery... weird, I know.)
-Safe return to MI for snowbird Gramma.
-Looking forward to a spontaneous visit from a far away brother, sister, and their family later this week.
-Fresh flowers throughout the house.  Lovely gifts from Weekend Farmer Husband and a new friend.

Meeting you here on Monday

At first I was a little lost.  I have grown so accustomed to my habits of using, (and yes, wasting), my time at the computer that I had to regularly stop and evaluate the pattern of my activity and decisions.  Now, it's not easy, but it's normal to stem the impulse to log in to Facebook, or visit whatever blog I might fancy at the moment.

And, in the newness of this pattern there's a stirring.  Our home is stirring - projects long rejected in favor of something else are getting done.  That must be why I'm so willing to share photos of under my kitchen sink with you...

This space.  Everyday activity happening here - actually there's almost an alarming frequency with which we run the dishwasher, reach for a rag, pull out a fresh garbage liner - the kitchen is almost always open, and it's most often in need of systems analysis and improvement.

It's been so easy to ignore - because I'd rather chase somebody else's idea for how to deal with chaos under the sink than get into my own.  I  do research on the internet instead of preparing the proper dissertation on the condition of my home.  I claim to be an eager student of this at home role, but in recent months have spent more time studying others instead of doing my homework.

So, the first obvious sign of change in this Lenten practice has been a clearing of my mind, a cleaning of my heart, and real practical household work getting done. I've been adapting the 40 Bags in 40 Days project my friend Sara has encouraged and instead of filling a bag, I've set specific tasks to be accomplished.

My camera has been begging for greater understanding.  I think my mad photography skillz are improving, but I've so much to learn.  I thought I'd start with reading the manual.  I'll only say that this was not a natural move for me.  Perhaps you'll get a chuckle when you study the picture below and I tell you that of the two manuals that came with the camera, I saved only one. Who needs two?  And now. (four years later), my hasty dismissal is coming home to roost.  Slow down, Laura, slow down.

ahem - I neither read nor speak Spanish!!!!

As we settle into the new normal of Firstborn son being absent from our every day I've turned to recipes, cooking, and the family table as a way of making connection and coming together.  When we linger we tell stories, laugh, lean into the comfort of each other's presence, and are renewed.  

Handiwork has kept us focused while we do school work.  Our library basket has overflowed with books.  And, there's been sweet fellowship around bowls of fragrant hot popcorn and piles of pets, people, and blankets on the couch while watching movies.

Seed catalogs arrive daily, and we overflow at the prospect of redeeming this farm again this season.  And for this moment, we don't worry about pests, disease, blight, drought.  We just anticipate with joy the fullness of the harvest.

And, as is my habit and delight, the harvest of thanksgiving and gifts this week has yielded its abundance.

February's Gifts:  46-55

• My father, breaking fast, struggling with the problem of pain, and finding comfort in God's Holy Word.
• Firstborn son's safe arrival.
• A medical emergency, Firstborn son available to help, serve, comfort.
• Bright foliage on new houseplant.
• A note on the counter, for my eyes only, from Weekend Farmer Husband.
• Teenage girls, gathered together to enjoy Downton Abbey
• Skype and real time video chats with loved ones far away
• Homemade Chai Tea- creamy, spicy, comforting, warming.
• Sunday afternoon nap.
• Friends who know my interests and care for my heart