karin madden

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What is good?

It’s been a good day… a good Friday.  There was laughter, sunshine, pink petals painted by child’s eyes…

All six happy today… and mama… and dad.  The good life.  Family, friends… full stomachs, full hearts… full days.

My dear friend in my thoughts.  A good wife, a good mother, a good sister and daughter… a good friend… the kind of good that can’t be duplicated.  None of us duplicated.

So much that is not good… paraded before our eyes… we parents, desperate to shield our little ones from the not good.

I’ve wondered why it’s called this?  Good Friday.  The suffering of Christ certainly was not “good.”  History shows it’s roots in remembrance… Gottes Freitag… a day taken by Christ’s followers to remember His sacrifice.  His suffering to bring us good.

The good yet to come… the hope for us all…

The beauty is in the small hands, crafting the crosses with love… remembering the cost… for our good.

Our wandering human eyes are drawn to the not so good… longing for more images of the good.  It amazes me still ~ the child’s eye… it sees the good first…

The child bounding down stairs… to exclaim the good… not seen so clearly by the “seasoned” eye…

God has taken mama home!  She doesn’t hurt anymore

The child exclaiming with sheer wonder

It will be perfect there… when we are all there, someday 

The child comforting the mom… with calm certainty

It’s all okay you know… she’s all better now 

The small child wiping the tears of the mother

It’s okay… be happy

Seeing the good – in the not good.  The gift of the innocent eye.  My efforts to shield these young eyes… ironically, these eyes see what I do not… the clear vision they share with me ~ the clarity seen through their faith ~ these little ones ~ seeing the unseen… show me the good.  The beauty in the ugly, the healing in the pain… the good in the bad.

A good day… what is good?  Good is in the joy… good is in the love… good is in the hope…

the gift of forever

the undeserved gift of a forever… with Him… with all of these little ones.

John 10:11

I am the good shepherd.  The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.


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When it’s hard

When it’s hard to follow…

It’s easy to be a Redskin fan in a room of Redskin fans…

It’s easy to be a mom-of-many in a room of other moms-of-many…

It’s easy to have a strong opinion about (fill in the blank) around others with the same strong opinion…

 

It’s easy to be a believer… in a room of other believers… on Easter morning.

What about when it’s hard?

 

What about when it’s a room of Cowboys fans?

What about when it’s a room of moms-who-think-you’re-nuts-for-having-many?

What about when you’re the only one with your strong opinion about…?

 

What about when you’re in a room of kinda-believers… or doubters… or non-believers…

or even with just one friend, but you don’t want to appear as though you are too much of a follower…?

How could I cover my faith?  Throw a thin veil over the truth… this veil distorting my belief…

how could I deny? 

I didn’t outright deny, of course… not like the Peter I heard about this morning…

No, I am certainly a believer!  I proudly proclaim this… slightly anonymously… generally in safe places… and usually to those whom I am sure… also believe.

 

I wear a cross… hoping it will speak for itself… so I don’t have to…

What a chicken.  Cowardly… perhaps that’s how Peter appeared…

perhaps that’s what I am…

This is what I must overcome.

I listen to my little ones… they pray with complete confidence… they proclaim the truth… easily it rolls off their tongues… proudly they share it with anyone… anywhere… anytime.

No question in their minds that it is the truth.

I know the real reason for Easter, Mama…

It isn’t the eggs and the candy… or even the Easter bunny… 

It’s the day Jesus rose from the dead.

That’s it.  The truth.  His greatest sacrifice.  He died.  For us… for me.

He rose from the dead.  The one reason we hope.

I believe.  I teach my children to believe.  I pray for strength when it’s hard.

I thank God for His sacrifice.  I thank God for hope…

Philippians 1:20

I eagerly expect and hope that I will in no way be ashamed, but will have sufficient courage so that now as always Christ will be exalted in my body, whether by life or by death.


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the color of a day

Clear.  The morning starts with the clear sunlight peeking through the shades.  (I also saw the clear moonlight ~ three times ~ sniffly small one needing mommy’s comforting arms).  The sunlight beckons with warm, enveloping arms… the “to do” list drops a diluting tint into the clear…

many things to get done today

Church day… have to get ready… all of us.  The sniffly infant squirming in request of a nap.  Sigh.  The team splits… Dad will take part of the pack and Mom will stay behind.  A whisper in my ear… get ready anyway… I shrug it away.  My baby won’t wake in time and needs healing sleep.  The whirl of clothes, shoes, breakfast, and out the door they go… then, the waking whimpers… you’ve got to be kidding me…

get ready anyway

It registers ~ the whisper I had disregarded ~  the unexpected wake-up, and now I am in overdrive.  I can make it there!  More whirl of clothes, shoes, no breakfast, and out the door we go… we make it in time… for the first words… from the clear water.  The holy words drop to alter the hue once again.

The message ~ one that is meant for me… that message that makes you look around in wonder – why are the rest of you here?  I know He’s talking right to me.  Amazing still how personal are His words to us.  The message of planks in eyes… seeing the specks of dust in others.  The plank in my eye is just fine, thank you.  Not really… Another drop, dilutes again…

Get yourself right, before fixing the rest

That, the painfully difficult part.  I had asked for the refinement, but do I really want it?  Yes, but wishing that it didn’t force me to bare my heart.  Painful.  The good words… the God words… they encourage… encourage a cleansing.  The “getting right” to “get closer.”

Homeward bound to the beckoning “to do” list.  The good words stick for a while… then, the drops dilute further… frustrations of all colors from little (and big) souls… anger, apologies, tears, laughter, joy, sharp words, words of encouragement… the spectrum of a day.  The color, a kaleidoscope… the mommy, longing for the clear.  Isn’t clear the preferred path for a day?  Then, I think of the kaleidoscope… the word itself stemming from the Greek kalos, meaning beautiful.  Beautiful.  

the beautiful color of the day

I had longed for clear… thinking clear was the path toward beauty.  The swirling colors of the day before me… they paint the day, this day for us all… mom, dad, and a six pack… the beauty of the swirling colors in our hearts… each color tints this day… each for its own purpose.  Renewal, refinement, reflection…

The colors of the day bring me to the bathing of my conscience… in the clear water… longing not for a clear day, but a clear conscience with God.

1 Peter 3:21

and this water symbolizes baptism that now saves you also—not the removal of dirt from the body but the pledge of a clear conscience toward God. It saves you by the resurrection of Jesus Christ

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Lucky

You are so lucky!  I hear my kids exclaim during a heated game of (fill in the blank).  You are so lucky… I am so lucky… oh, what luck.

how did I get so lucky?

I always believed in luck.  The luck of the draw, the lucky break, the lucky girl…

and, then, sometimes… not so lucky.  The times that things didn’t quite work out, the outcome was not exactly what I had hoped, the luck had run out.

A gathering of friends… mothers… contemplating this…

does everything happen for a reason?

Is it luck, good fortune, misfortune… perhaps just a misstep… just a blink in the vast plan?  What is the purpose in these, seemingly, insignificant moments?  Do they add up to a greater plan… pieces of an intricate mosaic?  The puzzle of life and the 20,333 pieces that complete it…

it isn’t luck at all…

It has a different name.  A name I had heard for years… but had not not been aware of.  In all my years of marveling at the luck that swirled around… I hadn’t seen it clearly… as it’s true name… blessing.

The blessings of life… a husband, children, love, health, home…

Then, those moments, that make you wonder why you are so unlucky… where is the blessing in these moments?

I see it… the blessing is in the rebirth.  The shedding of skin, to reveal raw faith in need of refining… a character in need of growing.  A mother in need of believing… believing that all the moments are purposed for the great plan… for the molding of these jars of clay.

I look at the small, green plant ~ a representation of so many things to so many people ~ the three petals… I see the three – the Father, the Son, the Holy Spirit… this symbol of “luck” ~ a reminder of the blessings in all things… I didn’t get so lucky…

I was blessed

James 1:2-4

Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance.  Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.

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My Friend

My friend.

I think of my beautiful friend… her green eyes… her dark hair… her perfectly beautiful smile.  I see her face before me.  I can hear her voice… her laugh… the funny voices we would use with each other.  I can see her throw her head back and execute the perfect ‘Snoopy cry’… that cry he bellowed from the depth of his doggy heart.  She made me laugh.  My friend for twenty years.  Twenty years…
I didn’t know when I met her… she was already at middle age… middle age at 20 years old…

her green eyes

They sparkle at me from photos… photos that span over twenty years of a friendship.

I think of the countless memories… the memories flood back to me now.  Things that I had forgotten to remember… in the hurry of life.

I think of the phone call… her voice thick with fear… the diagnosis… a nightmare.  The pink ribbons.  The pink ribbons a banner for so many.  The pink ribbon so personal now.

I think of her fight… for years she fought.  Her husband, her babies… they all fought.

These last years, these fighting for life years… this is when we talked the most about God.

She didn’t complain… she showed amazing grace in these fighting years.  I smile remembering that she and I complained so much more during other times in the twenty years… the times that there was much less to complain about.

I prayed and prayed… we all prayed and prayed…

I remember her words…

it will always be okay

the good news, the bad news, even when I die…

it will always be okay

I think of the faces of her husband, her daughter, her son, her sister, her dear daddy… the faces she had loved.  The amazing grace in these faces… strength given only by God.

I have wondered why… I have felt the pain of her absence ~ like a punch in the stomach…  I have heard them say, those whom she loved so dearly,

We will see her again

I have never been more sure of that truth… the God truth… we will see her again…

I gaze out my window, the blur of tears clearing my sight… to see the little red cherries… a gift from her.

The little ornament dangling in the sunlight… the red and green sparkling in the sunlight…
her green eyes… His red blood 

Shed for us.

We will see her again.

I placed my hand on her last earthly bed… I whispered… I will see you again…

it will always be okay

John 16:22

So with you: Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy. 

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Meet Karin

Hi! My name is Karin Madden. Writer. Warrior wife. Mom of six pack. Homeschooler. German-blooded southerner. Welcome to the place where I explore what it means to grow stronger - spirit, soul, and body. I write to inspire and encourage - to remind you we are not alone. By being bold with grace and speaking truth in love, we can become who we are meant to be. I'm glad you are here.

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