Trust Archives - karin madden

April 6, 2016 by Karin 2 Comments

When You Need To Hear – Do Not Be Afraid

I started this last November. You know sometimes it takes us a while to put the pieces together. And sometimes the pieces don’t make any sense. For a very long time. Sometimes the pieces keep breaking and some of them get lost. Then new pieces show up and the puzzle has lost some of its meaning. And sometimes the puzzle makes you want to throw it across the room. But, sometimes, if we wait long enough, the puzzle starts to make a little bit of sense.

One piece at a time.

Please stick with the puzzle.

Here’s where the jigsaw began many months ago…

I keep looking across the room at them.

Most of the time they don’t see me looking.

Tomorrow is my birthday. The thought that I am sliding into middle age doesn’t sit long. Mostly I think of her. Forty-five years ago tonight she was on the verge of meeting her first and only girl child. The baby of the family. She was younger than I am now, but not by much. I think of the time I lay beneath her beating heart – waiting to enter this wild world. Eyes fully open.

She’s been gone from here for six months, but I see her face every day. Sometimes in the faces of my children. Sometimes behind my closed eyes. And sometimes, more often with each passing year, in the mirror.

I watch the headlines flashing across the screen and I’m almost grateful she isn’t here to see it.

The terror of it all.

She saw enough of it.

I see the faces of the refugees. Tear-stained mothers. Wide-eyed children with vacuous gazes. All swallowed by masses.

Mingled into the masses slithers the terror. The cowards hiding and sliding through the crowds. The very beasts we’ve been fighting for so very long now. The terror that has taken my babies’ daddy from them time and time again – until the absence becomes normal.

The terror didn’t just begin, you know. It began a very long time ago. The truth is the terror began when the enemy fell to earth and his hatred fueled a thousand generations of vulnerable souls. Our battle is with powers and principalities after all.

But let’s make no mistake. These powers entice and utilize the willing souls of terrorists who swarm in very real human flesh.

Then I think of her again. Terror is nothing new. I suppose my parents must have thought the end was near when they were just teenagers. Bombs rained and bullets flew through the formative years of their youth. The age I learned to drive down southern country roads, they learned to navigate a war-torn country. All lost to smoke and fire.

She told me the story over and over again. A story heard a thousand times becomes a sort of lullaby. The thrumming of a heartbeat quietly ticking – not knowing when the jolt will come.

The jolt keeps coming. Again and again. Wringing hands and clenched fists. Explosions. Chaos. Tears upon tears…

Spewing anger leaking through media madness we call “social.” I read the scrolling upon scrolling. More venom than baby pictures these days. I showed up in this social place for those baby pictures. Now the baby pictures of innocent faces are clouded by anger and hatred and fear. Isn’t this why He tells us again and again,

Do not be afraid.

Yea, but that’s easier said than done.

I wish I could tell you my opinion. But the truth is I have too many, and not one solution. Not yet.

I keep thinking of them. The war that surrounded them when they were the age of these faces watching me from across the room.

We have all these glorious, well-meaning, sometimes educated, sometimes fly-by-the-seat-of-our-pants thoughts. We throw them into the wild, wild world. Mostly hoping something will right this madness. Hoping something will change. Praying Someone is listening.

And for the love of God and all things good, we are tired. And sick of it all.

But that sounds too much like complaining. Or quitting. And, friends, we just can. not. quit. The stories don’t get any prettier and our babies grow up. And sometimes we forget what the point of all this is.

I’ve wrestled with even spilling thoughts in this place. It’s personal here. Something I want to leave with my kids. And this year has left me numb and tired and wondering what do I actually want to leave with my kids?

Through the spinning and reeling and frustration of the seasons we face – and I thought things would get easier as we age – I wonder what on this gloriously beautiful and chaotically ugly earth do I want to leave here? Because, you know, we can’t leave here without leaving a mark. We all leave a mark.

The moving and upheaval and changes have about done me in this time. It’s what military wives do. It seems we can take the madness on ourselves, but we can’t stomach it for our babies. It all becomes too much sometimes. And we think we might just have reached the limit.

Like a desperate sparrow clamoring for reassurance from fresh air and skies – because I hate to admit the Heavenly answers just don’t come fast enough sometimes – I flew into a wild-eyed soliloquy. The target – my unsuspecting warrior. Sometimes they just don’t know when the sparrow has encountered the hurricane.

I’m done! I just can’t take it anymore! I’m so sick of it all going wrong.

Well, and sometimes the answers from Heaven are just waiting for you to get real.

You know… we just need to go to 30,000 feet.

Pause. Wait a minute. There’s a profound truth here. Let me just. breathe. for. one. minute. He continued,

We’re being sucked into the details. The messed up and mostly distracting details of this world.

We just need to get to 30,000 feet and look down for a few minutes.

Oh God, why can’t we just get it? We need to see from YOUR eyes. The big picture. The view from a distance that reminds us we are all crawling around here like ants on a computer screen. We just don’t know. We don’t know how this story will unfold. BUT. How many times do You have to tell us…

Do not be afraid.

My warrior called me. Another trip away from the souls he loves most. Because the earthly battles will not wane – not any time soon.

Do you know what He tells us again and again? Do you know?

Do not be afraid.

I grinned from behind sleepy eyes,

Yea, it’s like He knows, huh?

It’s not easy, my friend. I know. It’s excruciating sometimes. Like madness might finally take hold, and the mask just has to cover it all. Because, you know, appearances and all.

But, it is real. He is real. The countless ways are almost too much for the simple words etched here. He keeps showing up. He keeps answering. He keeps promising. And He does not lie. He has no need for our approval or belief. He IS anyway.

His plan IS.

His story IS.

His love IS.

No matter what or who we are.

Sometimes the sparrow has to spin through the hurricane again and again until it sees the Light is still there. No matter the darkness it encounters. The Light breaks through the storm and reminds us,

Do not be afraid.

Matthew 10:27-33

“Whatever I tell you in the dark, speak in the light; and what you hear in the ear, preach on the housetops. And do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. But rather fear Him who is able to destroy both soul and body in hell. Are not two sparrows sold for a copper coin? And not one of them falls to the ground apart from your Father’s will. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Do not fear therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows.
“Therefore whoever confesses Me before men, him I will also confess before My Father who is in heaven. But whoever denies Me before men, him I will also deny before My Father who is in heaven.

October 8, 2014 by Karin 2 Comments

The Monsters We Can’t See

Her brown eyes met mine with the look only a child can muster. She searched my face and whispered,

It’s like a monster. And it’s hungry.

We walk the same floors day in and day out and we think we know everything there is to know about them. But, even these little ones have thoughts hidden from us. Thoughts they think are wrong, or strange, or different. Thoughts they become too ashamed to mutter – even to mom.

Their young faces are like open books. But you know what they say – never judge a book by its cover.

The look on her face uncertain. A hint of worry.

I took her face into my hands,

Tell me what it’s like. Tell me what is in your mind.

I couldn’t take my eyes off this face I have watched grow breathtakingly beautiful with time. I noticed things here and there. I saw, but I really didn’t know the ways a mind can become enslaved. Sometimes the worst demons are the ones we don’t see.

The flood gates opened as she poured the details of every obsessive worry, every compulsive act. My mind went to the light jokes we toss around about our OCD ways, but the joke of it is lost in the reality. It’s no joke.

She described in detail every little thing I had noticed along the way, and too many things I had never seen.

I squeezed her to my chest and stroked her hair,

I’m going to take you to see a lady doctor this week. You know, when you have allergies, you go to an allergist. When you need help, you ask for help.

You are not OCD. You have it, and you will tell it to go away. And we will ask for help.

The relief on her face broke through the clouds beginning to shadow her trusting child eyes. In a moment, she seemed older,

Oh thank you, Mom. Thank you for noticing. I thought I would have this forever. And it’s exhausting.

Suddenly aware of the monsters trying to grip her life. And sometimes we just need one soul to tell us it’s ok to ask for help. Someone to whisper,

Shame is the monster. Silence is the monster. Secrecy is the monster.

Sometimes we have to pry our eyes open, and then pry open the eyes looking into ours. Eyes pried open is the only way to see the sun rising at dawn. And sometimes is really is darkest just before the dawn. The encroaching light whispering,

Wake up.

The sun peers through, warming these souls chilled by uncertainty.

There is nothing new under the sun – and nothing to hide from the Light.

It’s in the light of truth where we can finally see the monster for what it is… a lie.

You want to know the secret about secrets? It’s this. The secrecy is what will eat you alive. The secret itself has no power over you. Once you whisper the truth –

you are free.

Ephesians 5:8-10

For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light (for the fruit of the light consists in all goodness, righteousness and truth) and find out what pleases the Lord.

June 6, 2014 by Karin 8 Comments

When The Storms Gather

Here I am.

I’m not really even sure I want to be here, but I knew something was missing when I stopped showing up in this place.

It all just gets to be too much sometimes. Sometimes we have to stop and slide into the shadows. Sometimes we have to hide, or wait – I’m not certain which one is the right word. Are we hiding? Or maybe we just sense in our spirits it’s time to stop and… wait.

Sometimes when we stop, even for a moment, we find that another moment comes along – and passes. And before we know it time keeps going and going, and we wonder how we ended up this far down the road.

The phone rang. I saw his name on the caller ID and I knew a little bit how the conversation would go. His voice has become gravelled with time. In his voice I can still hear the voice that welcomed me into the world. I can still hear the voice I remember from all the days that have slipped into memory – the one who whispered warnings or laughed at the dinner table. The one who snapped for silence after a long day’s work. The voice who told me I could even when I thought I couldn’t. The one I really didn’t know very well – until I became a parent myself.

I answered though I knew the news would likely not be good. These conversations go this way when there’s only one of the pair who can remember anymore. This is what happens when the memories start slipping away, and there is only one left trying to keep them alive.

It’s getting very hard. I don’t know what to do.

And the voice is 3000 miles away. And I feel – helpless. And here I am.

The phone again. And the caller ID. Sometimes you know it’s your voice that needs to speak truth to lift a falling soul. But, sometimes all we need to be is the ear on the other end of the line. No words. No words can come in to bridge the gap between broken and whole. Just an ear to funnel the flowing words until they come out the other side – and, then, we can see. The breath of air on the other side becomes suddenly clear. And all we have to do is… listen.

I listened to her voice break time and again. The ebb and flow of an aching heart racing to the shore, and just as quickly retreating to this sea of confusion and chaos and questions. And sometimes we find ourselves drowning in it.

The words swirled around us, until they gathered in the storm cloud over our heads – and fell. Feeling like hail, until the relief of releasing every last fear and ache became a soothing rain – washing it all away. Sometimes we just have to be the umbrella in the storm. We let the downpour ricochet off our backs while we cover this soul seeking a break from the stinging rain.

It’s so hard. I don’t know what to do.

The pain and the words sometimes pelt us, but if we stand still long enough – we’ll see the sun break through the clouds.

The voice is 3000 miles away. And I hug the phone tighter. And here I am.

The phone. He walked into the other room and I drifted behind him. You can just tell, can’t you? When that voice you know so well changes its tone, and the light-hearted rhythm becomes a chilled whisper. I could see my warrior’s shoulders drop, and with it – my heart. I drew a deep breath and braced for the storm.

And if I never hear that diagnosis again – it’ll be too soon.

Cancer.

His eyes met mine, and sometimes you need no words.

I sank to my knees and prayed. It’s all I know to do anymore.

That voice on the phone – 3000 miles away. And here I am.

And sometimes God feels a million miles away.

The storm clouds gather around our craning necks, but here we are. Instead of standing our ground in the sand too soft to hold the weight of all of this – we kneel on the Rock.

It’s here on this Rock – under the gathering storms 3000 miles, and sometimes 3 feet, from these voices we love – we can hear the still small whisper,

Here I AM.

Revelation 3:20

Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him, and he with me.

May 1, 2014 by Karin 2 Comments

The Only Way To Grow A Garden

He keeps jumping around me. He won’t stop asking for the Coke. But c’mon, it’s 9 pm. He knows better.

I only allow a little bit of the caffeinated poison, and only early in the day. And only when I’m feeling a little bit more gracious.

I remember wanting that stuff as a kid. My mom would only get it on holidays. Only one holiday, as I recall. It was a New Year’s Eve treat. That’s it.

He’s up late and he’s growing up fast. And they all said it would happen, but I didn’t really listen. I was too busy trying to figure out how to grow this little guy. How to start a garden and build it to flourishing.

I was too busy trying to live on no sleep, no sanity, and no idea what the next stage would bring. I was too busy trying to figure out the rules to this game. No one gives us the perfect gardening book when we plant the first seed. We have to learn by shoving our hands right into the dirt. We dig in and get our head into the task; but, really, it’s the heart that goes first.

I can still see his face the moment he breathed his first breath. I see the bow of his lips and the blue of his eyes. I looked into his face as his heart beat rapidly against my sweat-soaked chest. Our hearts beating separately for the first time. I remember looking into his expectant eyes as motherhood grabbed hold of my soul,

I’ll show you how to live.

The rules we grow up with – they root in our minds and plant themselves firmly in our plans.

It’s where we learn how we are going to do this whole thing. We have nothing else to go on. Just the patterns set before us and the familiar footsteps in the garden. We follow the steps and know they’ll take us somewhere we know by heart.

We follow the places our own moms and dads have gone. We follow because we trust they knew what they were doing. We keep tiptoeing along and watch the garden of our youth grow into a forest.

The forest out there sometimes overwhelms us and we wonder if mom and dad actually had any idea, or is it just us who have not one clue. I’m pretty sure we all get lost in the weeds here and there.

Some of us get tangled up and choked in the weeds for a good long time.

Then, one day, a Gardener comes along and cuts the thorny and wilting places from us. We breathe deep and find we are free.

We run past the places we grew up and high-five a few lifted hands along the way. We run and think we just might have an idea what this whole thing is about.

Then. We become parents.

Now we find ourselves tending our own garden and we see all the mistakes our parents made – the same ones we find pouring from our own lips, the things we judged with our I-am-so-going-to-do-better-than-that attitude, and the know-it-all smirk fades from our sun-parched lips.

We never knew gardening was so… hard.

Ours are now the footsteps being traced and followed and watched and studied and criticized and analyzed.

Ours are the steps these young trusting ones put more stock in than the sun itself. They just trust.

And we wonder if we have what it takes.

We keep walking. We keep weeding. We keep pruning and nourishing and trimming and watering. We keep on trying.

And if we have figured anything out, we know the only way to garden… the only way to grow something right… no matter what our footsteps may have looked like…

The only way to grow our garden well – is on our knees.

Matthew 13:31-32

He told them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed, which a man took and planted in his field. Though it is the smallest of all seeds, yet when it grows, it is the largest of garden plants and becomes a tree, so that the birds come and perch in its branches.”

February 13, 2014 by Karin 8 Comments

When We Can’t See Through The Fog

I always look out that window.

It faces the mountains to the west. The snow-covered ones off in the distance. It’s a relief to see snow in a dry desert place.

I needed to see those mountains this morning. I lifted my eyes to the mountains. It’s madness in a house sometimes. A beautiful, wild rumpus. And sometimes I go to that window to breathe. Where does my help come from?

Blinds open. And – cloud cover. No mountains in sight.

Where does my help come from now? When I can’t see the mountains.

What do we do when we are under the cover of clouds and we so badly need to lift our eyes up to the majesty of a mountain top?

The fog rolls across the cookie cutter Spanish tile roofs like a swell of ocean washing the carefully constructed castles of our own making. Nothing to see here today. Just fog.

I want to give you a carefully crafted and profound answer. I want to tell you that the secret is in the fog. I want to show you 5 easy steps to your way out of the hazy unknown. To tell you that the mountain top is still there – you just can’t see it.

But, I don’t have the easy answer. I can’t see through the fog either. The chilly haze obscures everything – for all of us – at some point.

I do know the mountain is still there. I know the spectacular cliffs are just beyond the low-lying clouds. I know this. Because I have seen them. The vision of the rugged earth rising to 11,916 feet in altitude is burned in my mind.

I know the mountains are there because I have seen them again and again. Just not today.

I remember what my little blue-eyed baby boy said as he nestled his sleepy head into the soft cloud of his pillow,

Mama, it’s hard to believe when I can’t see Him.

I smiled in the darkness, lit only by the faint blue of an F-16 night-light,

It is, baby. It is hard to believe in the dark.

We have to remember in the dark what we know to be true in the light.

Yea, it’s hard to believe what we can’t see. But what if we have seen? We just forgot a little bit. What if the only way we remember is by closing our eyes. We can see what we know is there in our mind’s eye. In the eye of our hearts.

And, that is the answer, I think. To all of the questions. The secret isn’t in the fog – it’s behind the fog. Time and wind and sun will move the haze along its way once again to reveal what is really there. What has really always been there. Who has always been there. Whether we have seen Him… or not.

We have to remember in the dark what we know to be true in the light.

And the Son slowly burns off the fog until we can lift our eyes to the mountains again.

To the Maker of heaven and earth.

Ephesians 1:18-19

I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in the saints, and his incomparably great power for us who believe.

When You Need To Hear – Do Not Be Afraid

The Monsters We Can’t See

When The Storms Gather

The Only Way To Grow A Garden

When We Can’t See Through The Fog

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