Faith Archives - Page 12 of 28

March 18, 2013 by Karin Leave a Comment

When Your Day Is a Bust, and You Are One of the Lucky Ones

It’s been one of those days.

I thought these days would become more infrequent as the kids get older.

I screamed so much that my throat hurts… and I feel like I deserve it.

Why, at the end of the day, is it so hard for us to forgive ourselves?

So much for the one good year goal. All the days gone by in achieving the goal… washed away by tears of children today.

Great job, Mom.

One of those days.

It’s St. Patrick’s Day.

We celebrate that one around here. The stealthy leprechaun visits and leaves a trail of treasure hunt. The end of the rainbow brings a pot of overflowing craft supplies… and overflowing joy from little ones.

Then, the downward slide.

Projects, procrastination, perpetual whining.

The volcano of mama erupts. Not once… but over and over.

I never knew it would be so hard… to hold my tongue.

I never knew I would fail at it so frequently.

I never knew I would hurt the hearts of little ones… for whom I would throw myself into a fiery volcano.

But it is hard, and I do hurt them. And they forgive me. And I forgive them. But… I am not so quick to forgive… myself.

Maybe they won’t remember…

This day of Irish celebration… a bust.

I read something the other day. Something about feeding His sheep. The words drew me in… they reminded me of what it’s really like out there.

I, called to feed His sheep… spent the day feeding my woes.

With my full pantry.

With my full house.

With my full closets.

With my full belly.

With my full arms.

With my full heart.

Poor, poor me.

We feel quite helpless sometimes.

We watch the terror enveloping our world.

We watch our economy like a growing snowball… plummeting down the steep mountainside.

We watch as people suffer, and starve, and die.

We feel the pinch to our own purses.

We feel the tug at our hearts.

We feel the fear and the frustration.

We watch it all happen… and we feel pretty helpless.

Don’t you sometimes have the urge… to do something? Just anything… that matters?

When you feel like the day is a bust, and the world is busted… don’t you just want to do something?

We did. Today.

The day was a bit of a bust (in mama’s mind). Things just didn’t go the way they were planned.

Then, the moment. A moment of peace. Eyes went to a face on the screen.

A pretty little face. A little girl in a white dress with a big fluffy pink bow crowning her shiny dark locks.

She has been waiting 228 days. Almost. One. Year.

For months and months she has waited for someone… anyone… to pick her.

She needed a sponsor.

Our eyes… captured by hers.

Her birthday… the same as my oldest baby’s.

We are the lucky ones.

It is St. Patricks’s Day.

I yelled too much. Kids whined too much. We planned too much.

We. Have. Too. Much.

When He called us to spread our luck… which we know is the nickname for blessing… we listened.

I can’t wait to write her!

Oh, she’s so sweet.

I think she will be so excited to hear she has a sponsor on St. Patrick’s Day!

My own little one gleefully exclaimed as she pranced around the room.

We are the lucky ones.

We just forget sometimes.

Our new friend across the oceans just reminded us. She is the blessing. She just doesn’t know it.

Her name, of course… is Irish.

Not an Irish name.

Her name. is. I.R.I.S.H.

She is the one waiting at the end of our rainbow today.

John 21:17

The third time he said to him, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” Peter was hurt because Jesus asked him the third time, “Do you love me?” He said, “Lord, you know all things; you know that I love you.” Jesus said, “Feed my sheep.

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March 14, 2013 by Karin 10 Comments

When You Want to See the Real Picture

I got another one in the mail.

This time I rolled my eyes and tossed it in the overflowing basket.

I’ll look at it later.

Maybe there will something inspiring in there.

You know what frustrates me?

Parent magazines.

Then there are the Sports Illustrated Swim Suit issues. Or any swim suit issue for that matter. They bring the swim suit issues of any woman to light.

The real culprit is… Photoshop.

I have a friend who happened to share a beach with models for a swim suit photo shoot one day.

The pictures are touched up!

He couldn’t believe it. Snapping pictures of his own, he sent a few for us to see.

Look! That’s how they really look.

That’s not what they look like in the magazine!

No kidding.

The thing about this is… the women are beautiful. What is there to touch up?

Then, the parent magazines. You know the ones.

The mother with her pearly smile and gorgeous shiny locks. She is dressed impeccably (even in sweats). Her loving gaze falls upon a perfectly dressed, perfectly behaved, perfectly beautiful child. No messes to be seen, no food on her clothes, no spinach in her teeth, no wrinkles on her brow. The precious little one shows no signs of tears, sticky fingers, smeared food, or shrieking defiance.

Then. The bullet points. The many valuable tips on how you can get your life to look… Just. Like. That.

Pretty amusing… and frustrating.

The problem with this is that I can’t count the number of times I have tried to re-create a magazine moment.

Baking cookies. Riding bikes. Playing hide-n-seek. Strolling in the park. Throwing the football.

I want the moment to shine like the glossy page I see in front of me.

But, it doesn’t.

Water, or juice, or milk spills on the glossy page as it gets ripped from the magazine and torn to shreds by bickering siblings.

It’s. Not. Real.

The glossy pages are touched up. Photoshop. Lives in magazines… are photoshopped.

We see it. For a minute, we believe it. We think it might just be real.

Maybe what we see with our eyes is more deceiving than what we can’t see.

Mommy, it’s hard when I can’t see Him.

My blue-eyed baby boy muses. It’s prayer time. Just before covers are tucked and lights are dimmed.

It’s hard to talk to Him when I can’t see Him.

I smile, knowing there’s nothing more true than these thoughts from my six-year-old.

It is hard, sweetie.

It’s called faith.

We can’t see Him with our eyes.

But, He lets us see Him in other ways.

We just have to pay attention.

His gaze goes to the ceiling.

Yea. I know He’s here.

It’s still hard. And, kinda weird.

I laugh. It does seem kind of weird.

You know what’s even more weird. The magazine pictures. The pictures of perfection.

We can see it. We almost believe it. But, we know it’s not real.

We do this. I do this.

We photoshop our lives.

The photos of smiling, glass-clinking party-goers.

Behind the photo, what we don’t see… they had a horrible fight and she is wearing inches of make-up to cover her tear-stained face. The drinks are just enough to numb the pain of being in the crowd.

The perfectly shaped model.

Behind the photo she is only 18-years-old… and starving herself so that she can even slightly resemble the editor’s clicks on her photo.

The lovely fireplace mantel showcasing the latest in home decor.

The photo ignores the disaster behind the photographer, who is a mom slowly going mad in the mess. She points the lens at 12 square inches of clean space, trying to capture a moment of order and beauty in front of her.

It’s okay to have beautiful pictures. They bring peace. They bring order to our frazzled minds and drive us toward the beautiful light and perfection we know exists, but will never completely realize on this earth.

(these beauties are real. no Photoshop. just an iPhone and flowers. but… you should see the mess behind them)

Our stories of brokenness and messes are what show God’s redemption. There is no need for redemption… when there is perfection. There is no perfection… not here.

I don’t want a photoshopped life. I do like order, cleanliness, well-behaved kids, peace. But, I don’t want the picture perfect. It’s not real.

We need to show the broken and messy parts of ourselves.

Someone desperately needs to hear it… and see it.

We can inspire with beauty, with photos, with our attempts to make it all good.

Don’t forget to show the real picture.

It is what binds us together. Our brokenness.

The torn pieces of the photograph.

When they come together… the real picture.

The real picture… is a masterpiece.

Colossians 2:17

(Freedom From Human Regulations Through Life With Christ)

These are a shadow of the things that were to come; the reality, however, is found in Christ.

March 6, 2013 by Karin 2 Comments

And Then There Was Life

It’s only Tuesday.

I keep thinking it’s Thursday.

Not that it really makes much difference.

I just lose track.

It’s only been two days.

My life friend lost her mother. Her mother was a second mom to me in college.

It’s only been 3 months.

Her dear daddy passed. Just 3 months before her mom.

It’s been almost a year.

Our third musketeer went home to Him. She was too young… and her kids are just… kids.

Then there’s the little one my family loves so much… my 3-year-old’s bestie. Her headaches are back. Her little body fights. We don’t know if it’s congestion, or the shunt.

Then there’s the anniversary of her mama’s passing. Almost a year ago. Her family fights on. Her new mommy warms her new mother arms with little ones.

Then there’s the family who just lost their daddy. He was too young. His children may not even remember him. His wife… I can hardly bear the thought. It’s just too much.

Story after story after story.

Then the news. The mess out there. The fighting and bickering… and we are on the same side. I think.

Sometimes it’s just too much.

My dear friend… she can barely muster the will to go to her own mom’s funeral. It’s all just. too. much.

And we feel lost… and alone… and broken… and afraid… and just plain exhausted.

Then I read the most beautiful story about sheep. A story about what sheep do… and how the shepherd comes for the neglected ones. He comes for the broken, lost, and abandoned ones. He cares for them and releases them. These little sheep love him the most. But, he loves them all the same.

He brought us light. He saw that it was good. Sometimes we get lost in the shadows.

He brought us love. Sometimes we accept it. Sometimes we are just too busy to notice… or too blind to see it… or too hurting to feel it.

The morning my friend’s mother passed into the Ages, her two young daughters were baptized. They didn’t know their Nanny had passed. The baptism was scheduled weeks before. There are no coincidences. Only God’s timing. Even when it hurts.

When the girls heard of their grandmother passing… the words of their daddy,

the morning your names are written in the book of the Lamb…

is the morning your Nanny passes into His arms.

There are no coincidences.

He brought us light.

He came here. He died here. He rose again here.

He brought us life.

Sometimes it’s all just too much.

But, just when it feels like it’s all just too much… He brings us life.

He brings us a new life.

When we feel like we can’t take one more step… he picks us up…

and breathes life.

Romans 6:3-4

Or don’t you know that all of us who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were therefore buried with him through baptism into death in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life.

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.

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.”

February 1, 2013 by Karin 2 Comments

Just When We Think We Are Good To Go

Who knew it would hurt so much?

I mean it’s been almost a year and I feel like a thick scab has been ripped from an unsuspecting wound.

Who knew grief would haunt you when you least expect it?

I didn’t know. I thought I was good to go.

I don’t think so much about her suffering. I think more about the days before the word cancer ever entered our conversations. I think about who she was. Not this victim who needed treatments, radiation, chemotherapy, meals for her family, get well cards, and wigs. I think about her radiance before a vicious disease tried to claim her.

She gave a speech once. She knew what her prognosis was at this time. She said that she was a survivor. She was surviving the attack of the vicious enemy. She would survive the attack… even when it took her last breath.

I remember the priest at her funeral telling us that she wanted answers for the suffering.

Don’t we all want answers for the suffering?

Don’t we all want to throttle the suffering until it can no longer take one more victim?

The priest spoke words I will never forget. He told her that Jesus’ story is about the suffering. His very purpose was to come here, to claim us, through His suffering. The culmination of His earthly story, the story that rattles us and tears the human skin from our souls, is His story of suffering.

She walked this suffering, bearing her cross. She was gracious, and beautiful, and loving, and kind. Her humor split my sides. She did not understand her suffering, but she bore it.

Face to face with death, how does a soul bear it?

I thought I had made it through. The memory of birthdays, Christmas cards, texts, phone calls. It’s been almost a year. I expected the anniversary of her home-going to hit. The same day as my little one’s birthday. My plan… focus on the birth. The birth of my baby. My friend’s birth into perfection.

I didn’t think the wound would ooze tonight.

But, here it is. Bleeding. All over a screen.

Life is good. Life goes on. She would want that. Then, this shot of pain… right through the heart.

Checking old text messages. Listening to old voicemail. Just her voice… one more time.

Grace like rain. The wound torn open to wash clean again with grace. Just when I think I’m good to go. He reminds me of grace.

We are not good to go here. We are far from good. We are covered in grace. Just like rain.

She would tell me this.

It will always be ok.

All because of His grace.

This grace raining over me. Me raining all over this keyboard. His grace all over… all of it.

This reign of grace.

There will be no more suffering… no more victims… all because of grace.

Romans 5:21

so that, just as sin reigned in death, so also grace might reign through righteousness to bring eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.

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When You Want to See the Real Picture

And Then There Was Life

When You Wonder If You Are Where You Should Be

Just When We Think We Are Good To Go

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