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April 19, 2013 by Karin 2 Comments

Fear, Faith, and the Good Fight

The water heater broke that day.

I remember the water running across the garage floor, flooding plastic toys that were waiting for the little one growing in my swollen belly.

The water flowed endlessly, but I couldn’t seem to pay much attention to it.  The day was a sweltering, early one in Las Vegas that morning.

It wasn’t the leaking water that woke us. It was the 7 am phone call.

Did you see it?

Have you heard?

Both towers!  The planes flew right into them!

There’s another one – the Pentagon.

And a 4th… they are looking for it….

I startled from a deep, pregnant sleep.  Shocked.

Repeated the words to my husband.

 Bin Laden

That’s all he said.  He knew.

The rest of the day… burst water heater, blazing Las Vegas sun… all a blur.  I remember rubbing the swollen life inside me while I watched the news…. stories over and over… smoke, terror, fear.

The eeriness of the empty skies in the city that day.  The only day, in a city full of life and air traffic… everything sat silent.

What kind of place are we bringing you into?

I wrapped arms around myself in a thin attempt to protect this new life given to us.

faith

We had 5 more little ones over the years.  With each story passing along news tickers and told by animated reporters, I wondered the same.

What kind of place have we brought you into?

Monday.  Scrolling through pages in the screen I glimpsed a message from a friend.

Two bombs have exploded at the Boston Marathon.

My mind raced to my dear girlfriend.

That’s where she is!

He’s running that race.

My friend, having just lost both parents to the vicious villain of cancer.  Only three months apart.  Sometimes it all seems too much.

She was there… cheering on her boyfriend.

What’s her number?

I lost her number…

My contact list, incomplete after being swallowed into the cyber world.  Incomplete.  My list was just incomplete without this sister I’ve had for 25 years.

Scrambling with sudden dread, I grabbed the remote and scenes of chaos flashed before us on the screen.  Smoke, terror, fear.  My warrior grew silent.  The all too familiar scene required no words.

This time, the moment of panic to find out more as I worried for my friend, brought the scenes to life in front of my children.  Eyes wide, they watched.  The scenes, the stories gruesome.  The voice of the reporter cracked in the familiar tone that took me back to September 11.

I turned it off.  Sometimes it all seems too much.

A message flashed.

I’ve talked to her.  They are ok.  Here is her number.

A wave of relief fell across me… followed by a wave of dread.  How many killed?  Hurt?  How much more?

The eyes from young faces peered at me questioningly.  These little ones…. they feed from our love, they feed from our tempers, they feed from our joy, they feed from our fear.  I do not want to feed my children fear.

Let’s pray.

I whispered as a I took small, young hands in mine.  They nodded in silence and bowed their tender, trusting heads.  We prayed for love.  We prayed for healing.  We prayed for peace and protection.  We prayed over and over for the Father’s arms to wrap around the people of a city attacked by the evil serpent of terror.  We prayed.

prayers of saints

Sometimes prayer rattles like a check list, as if we have forgotten we are talking to the very One who loves us the most.  It shouldn’t, but sometimes it does.  This time we felt it.  The Holy Arms wrapping around and a blanket of peace fell across the room.  The glimmer of worry vanished from the young eyes and they went back to the carrying on of kids.

I texted with my girlfriend that day.  Over and over the words strung together and revealed a disbelief of the reality before her eyes.

Her runner.  He had, at the last moment, moved forward in the wave of runners. This put him ahead of schedule by 20 minutes.

Her runner.  He finished the race.  They moved from the victory line in celebration… 20 minutes before the bombs exploded.

Sometimes it all just seems too much.

She wrote of chaos and fear.  Sheer horror and crying.  Running and little kids scared to death because they didn’t understand as they saw horror on the faces of adults.  She saw a  mother and her children crying because their dad was running the race and they couldn’t find him.

Broke me right there.

She wrote.

Drawn into the place through her rapidly strung words.

Oh God, that breaks me right here.

I looked at the faces of my children.

We do that, don’t we?  We put ourselves into these places of fear and dread… we imagine.

What if.

Bedtime came.

Weary children, warm beds.

My oldest daughter tucked tight under soft blankets.

Mom, will you pray with me?

I really want to pray.

And she prayed.  The most beautiful words flowed from this child as she prayed for family, friends, new babies, fighters of cancer, and a city fear-filled and mourning.  She prayed words that drifted like incense to the very feet of our Father.

A smiled crossed her sleepy face.

Goodnight mama.  I love you.

Sweet slumbers took my precious girl.

Faith.  She prayed the worries and wonders and why’s straight to the Source.  She released it all and fell to dreams.

The faith of a child.

May my prayer be set before you like incense; may the lifting up of my hands be like the evening sacrifice. (Psalm 141:2)

Prayers.  Our prayers.  The prayers of the saints are incense for our God.  You know what He will do with the prayers of the faithful?  He will build bombs.  Bombs to right the world.  To wipe every tear, to heal every wound.  Fear will have no place to hold foot.

…Each one had a harp and they were holding golden bowls full of incense, which are the prayers of the saints.  (Revelation 5:8) 

…He was given much incense to offer, with the prayers of all the saints, on the golden altar before the throne.  The smoke of the incense, together with the prayers of the saints, went up before God from the angel’s hand.  Then the angel took the censer, filled it with fire from the altar, and hurled it on the earth; and there came peals of thunder, rumblings, flashes of lightning and an earthquake.  (Revelation 8:3-5)

Faith.

In this battlefield of earth, where we wonder why…

We fight the good fight.

The good fight… we fight together…

To let go of fear, embrace the faith of a child, and fight the good fight… finish the race.

run the race

We provide the shrapnel of love that the justice serving God will use…

to turn the earth off its head… and back to holy ground.

 

Hebrew 12:1

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.

Karin Madden

 

Filed Under: Community, Faith, God's Promises, Hope, Perseverance Tagged With: faith of a child, prayer as incense, the good fight

February 14, 2013 by Karin Leave a Comment

When You Wonder If You Are Where You Should Be

I didn’t want to be there.

Not on that day, anyway.

The day after the Superbowl.  I live in a house of football fanatics.  It was a late night for warrior, mama and 5 of the six pack.

I tried to get out of it.  No luck.

So, there I was.

I was the parent of the day.  Not in the sense that I am awesome.  Not even close.  Parent of the day means running, making copies, cleaning bathrooms, supervising little ones, and being available for general mom duties while wonderful tutors instruct groups of home school kids.

The morning had been filled with standard duties and a broken heater.

Finally, a moment of peace.

I sat down and took one bite of a sandwich.  It would be hours before I would eat again.

Her small voice startled me.

Um, my teacher asked me to come get you.

She said she feels dizzy.

Have you ever had a moment in which clarity rang like a crystal bell?  For a moment, you know exactly what is happening, even if it does not appear clear to anyone else.  You see the train lights in the tunnel and the feeling of urgency grabs you and propels you into action.  You don’t even know why you sense this urgency, but it completely overtakes you.

Logically, I know dizziness can have all sorts of causes.

It wasn’t logic that brought me to toss my sandwich on the table and run down the hall.  It was the train lights and the sense of dread.

I bolted through her door where eight pairs of young eyes stared.

I’m just not feeling so well.

I’ve never felt this way before.

I pulled up a chair and planted myself next to this dear soul who teaches our little ones as if they are her own.

Rubbing her back and checking her pulse, I asked a few standard questions.

What did you eat?

Have you been sick?

Do you have pain anywhere else?

She shook her head no.

The moments following this rushed like the oncoming train.

It was here, in this place, on this day, that I sensed His presence greater than the lights roaring towards us.

where we should be

Her husband’s voice over the phone.

I don’t live far away.

I can take her to the hospital.

It was then that the urgency overwhelmed.  As if His voice echoed from the heavens.  I answered her husband’s concerns.

I’m going to call 911.

I believe she may be having a stroke.

Please come here and you can go with her.

Time sped.  Mothers of young children flocked.  The moments flowed as if choreographed by God’s own hands.

No sense of panic.  Calm voices prayed with our little ones as they watched a miracle unfold.

Her body grew weak, the ambulance arrived, and soon after so did her husband.

I kissed her head and promised her prayer… and they took her away.

It was nearing the end of the day.  The kind of day when you feel like you are floating… being propelled by the One great force.  An odd peace prevailed.

We gathered outside.  A bitter cold day.  A small group of moms.

Just moms.  A circle formed.  Then, words to the heavens.

We prayed.  And prayed.

It’s not often that prayer takes me to this place.  This place where I think if I open my eyes I’ll see His face.

There is no such thing as “just moms.”

A mighty force when we hold to each other and come to Him.  It blew my mind.

It was true.  She did have a stroke.

I’ve worked with hundreds of precious souls, blind-sided by strokes.

I’ve seen the results… the pain… the suffering… the fear and frustration.

I prayed for the bleeding to stop… before I knew it was a stroke.

You know what?

The bleeding stopped.  It stopped just in time.

She shared her faith with many in the hospital on that day.

We were all where we needed to be that day.

She recovered quickly.  One week later I hugged her neck in the same classroom.

She was new again.

Aren’t we all made new again every time we realize His presence?

Aren’t we always where we should be when we are moving in His will?

We are all a part of this story.  This eternal story.

The story… is so much bigger than just one story.

 

John 11:4

When he heard this, Jesus said, “This sickness will not end in death.  No, it is for God’s glory so that God’s Son may be glorified through it.”

 

 

Filed Under: Community, Faith, Mercy, Together Tagged With: God's choreography, right place right time

January 25, 2013 by Karin 4 Comments

It’s Not My Problem… Or Is It?

It’s not my problem.

How many times have I heard that phrase or thought those words?  How many times have I muttered,

It’s not my problem.

We are inundated every week… sometimes every day… with problems, problems, problems.

We face problems of our spouses, our kids, our friends, our parents, our brothers, our sisters, our neighbors, our neighbors’ brothers and sisters, our kids’ friends, our parents’ kids (oh, that’s us… yes we have our own problems, too!), our friends’ spouses and kids, and on and on and on.  You get the picture.  Problems are all around us, all of the time.  Never mind problems facing our country, other countries… our world.  It becomes very easy, and much less painful, to say…

It’s not my problem.

My oldest walks in, fuming, following an interaction with a friend.  He burns with a young temper, blurred eyes, and heavy heart.  He tells of the woes of another.  Angry, he spouts,

It’s not my problem!

A friend on the phone.  Frustrated, angry, bone weary from burdens.

It’s not my problem.

Our minds at times are drenched with woes, heartache, worries, fears… just plain pain.

It’s not my problem.

Or, is it?

When one part of a body aches, suffers, or fails ~ does the rest of the body whisper,

It’s not my problem.

When a clot forms, an artery is blocked, a vessel bursts ~ does the brain insist,

It’s not my problem.

When the left half of the heart fails, congestion of the veins in the lungs cause fluid to build ~ do the lungs scream,

It’s not my problem.

What about a member of His body?  This body here on Earth walking through disaster, desperation, depression, denial, death.  What do we say to the maimed and wounded parts of His body?

It’s not my problem.

Or is it?

problems

I came across wise words…

Christians are Christ’s body, the organism through which He works.  Every addition to that body enables Him to do more.  If you want to help those outside you must add your own little cell to the body of Christ who alone can help them.  Cutting off a man’s fingers would be an odd way of getting him to do more work.

CS Lewis 

Maybe it is our problem.  No maybe about it.  It is our problem.

To strengthen our body… His body… we must add ourselves to it.  In service.  In support.  In sacrifice.

A listening ear often gives the wound… and the wounded… time to heal.  We bind ourselves together, sometimes even when we don’t really want to, we bind together to heal the break.  Allowing Him to heal the break into a renewed strength.

My little one, eyes searching mine with worry,

Maybe we can help?

Shouldn’t we help?

We would want help.

Yes, we can.  Yes, we should.  Yes, we would… we would want someone to see us, hear us, help us.

We need others, even when it’s not their problem.  Or is it?

Proverbs 24:10-12

If you falter in times of trouble, how small is your strength!  Rescue those being led away to death; hold back those staggering toward slaughter.  If you say, “But we knew nothing about this,” does not he who weighs the heart perceive it?  Does not he who guards your life know it?  Will he not repay each person according to what he has done?

Karin signature

Filed Under: Brothers and Sisters, Community, Compassion, Faith, Friendship, Mercy, Together Tagged With: problems, the body of Christ

January 16, 2013 by Karin 2 Comments

When You Don’t Like Someone

I didn’t like her when I met her.

I don’t even like to say that.  It seems so, well, mean.  I suppose a better word would be judgmental.

I did think she was pretty, even cool looking.  Like someone I could hang out with.  Not that I perceive myself that way… I just thought she appeared fairly laid back.  I am fairly laid back.  My dad has even joked that I am so laid back I may fall over.  But… that was before the six pack.  Is anyone ever relaxed again after kids enter the picture?  Compared to others, we may be relaxed.  Compared to our former selves, well, completely relaxed is a notion I see in the rearview.  There are six little ones carrying pieces of my heart.  Who can relax when a heart is spread wide and worn on the sleeve?

Comparison.  It can inflate the ego… falsely.  It can deflate a soul… foolishly.

comparison

Then, she told me about herself.

And she told me about herself.

And I learned just a bit more about herself… herself… herself.

Got it.  She’s great.  She knows it.  I am definitely not cool enough to hang out with her.

So, I decided.  I didn’t like her.

I tried for just a little while longer to like her.  Honestly, I barely tried, and not for very long.

After all, if she liked herself so much, she probably didn’t need me to like her, too.

So, that was it.  I decided that she was not for me.  I really did not know her, but I am a good judge of character, and I knew she was a little too full of herself.  Not for me.

Compared.  Judged.  Stamped with a big, fat

No.

Little did I know.

Here I was teaching my own young ones

accept, don’t judge, don’t compare

you just don’t know the whole story

Did I practice what I preached?

Not this time.

And, then, God.

He always shows up to show me where I am wrong, wrong, wrong.

And I am… grateful.

He, and she, caught me off guard one day.  One day, she showed up, just to help, just to serve.  She wanted nothing in return.

Oh.

The chilled corner of this heart chipped… and began to melt.

Could I be wrong?

Could it really be that there was something about her… that threatened me?

Made me feel… not quite good enough?

Did I compare myself… to her?  

Did I fall short… in my own eyes.

That human response we want to outgrow when we outgrow our training bras… there it was.

Jealousy.

She drove away; I hung my head in shame.

I’m sorry, God.

I’d like to dress it up and eloquently name the feeling, but I just felt like a… jerk.

I’m not a fan of the moments that He points out the worst in me.  That whole discipline thing.

Here  it is.  That chipped and chilled corner of this heart… warmed.

I actually liked her.  In fact, I appreciated her.  Even more, I saw this woman with her own insecurities.  She carried an imaginary, giant cut-out of her “perfect” self to hide behind… to hide her own feelings.  The I’m-not-good-enough-so-I’m-gonna-talk-myself-up method.

Just one of many methods we use to defend, to measure up, to fit in.

We compare ourselves, and we miss the opportunity.

We miss the chance to see each other, and ourselves, as we are.

He has perfectly equipped me to be me; He has perfectly equipped you to be you.

He is perfectly able to (painfully) press out our imperfections (plenty of those here).

I wonder, when I fall short, if maybe it’s because I’m trying to be like someone else?

Trying to be like someone else, and missing the chance to be a better… me.

Lesson learned… again.

 

Romans 14:13

Therefore let us stop passing judgement on one another.  Instead, make up your mind not to put any stumbling block or obstacle in your brother’s way. 

Karin signature

Filed Under: A Day in the Life, Community, Faith, Friendship Tagged With: comparison, jealousy, judgement

October 29, 2012 by Karin Leave a Comment

Missed Mercy (#29)

PROMISE #29 ~ MERCY

I just rocked my sleepy, sniffly baby back to sleep.

Her blue eyes glistened, peering into mama’s face… and then closed to sweet slumber.

A memory.  Recent.

Blue eyes.  A pair of blue eyes, only briefly noticed…

The photographer’s shutter furiously snapping.  I stood in contorted positions in the attempt to appear… natural.  Feeling awkward on the city street, a glance tossed over my shoulder.

A man.  Gruff, appearing older than his unrecognizable years… under the gray, worn stubble, weathered skin.

He stumbled in our direction… blue eyes.  The blue glazed by years, pain, alcohol, homelessness.

what’s that do?

His gruff, garbled voice questioned, pointing to the white circular disk above my head.

It makes light.

The photographer answered uneasily.

But, it’s a cloudy day.

He murmured, intrigued by the scene before him.

That’s why we need the light.

He gazed for a moment, gathered his tattered clothes closely to him, and slid away.

Camera calmed its clicking.  I collected my bag and returned to my busy day.

He left my mind for a while… then, the blue eyes.  They pierced my thoughts.

I did nothing.  

All this talk of love, and hope, and grace, and hands, and feet… and mercy…

And I did.  Nothing.

I remembered the money in my pocket.

Why didn’t I give him the money?

Would it have made a difference?

Would he have spent it on food?  More alcohol? 

Does it matter?  

All the thoughts of showing love to this body of Christ… and nothing… when a broken body part slips quietly away.

He had wanted to know what we were doing.  Making light.  Reflecting light.  Being light.

My light had dimmed… for a moment.  The moment a soul needed light on his cloudiest day.

His eyes, just as blue a baby-eye to his mama, many years ago.

What happens when the eyes fade, the body breaks, the soul dims… searching for light?

A confession to God, to me, to you.  I hid His light.  Cloaked mercy behind my own discomfort, uncertainty, fear.

What good is it to shine spotlights across oceans, to distant lands so desperately in need of light…

when we dim the light on our own streets?

This light… made to be far-reaching… and near.  At the same time.

My remorse of my inaction, an offering, a prayer that I would shine His light brighter the next time.

A prayer for the man with the faded blue in his eyes. That God would show mercy to the grown baby of another mother…

even when I didn’t.

 

PROMISE #29 ~ God is merciful.

 

Titus 3:4-6

But when the kindness and love of God our Savior appeared, he saved us, not because of righteous things we had done, but because of his mercy.  He saved us through the washing of rebirth and renewal by the Holy Spirit, whom he poured out on us generously through Jesus Christ our Savior,

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Filed Under: Community, Compassion, Faith, God's Promises, Mercy Tagged With: compassion, faith, God's promises, mercy for the broken

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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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