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January 31, 2014 by Karin 12 Comments

Why We Drill Holes In The Frozen Places

Sometimes I just have to write to feel my fingers dancing on the keyboard. I think it must be this way for all artists. And we are all artists.

I think about the gifts God gives us; the ones we have no idea are swimming just below the surface while we dance and skate across the top of the pond. We fly through the air and forget there are treasures swimming just below the frozen lid.

Sun over a frozen lake

Snow-covered mountains

My husband went ice fishing. Seems like a funny thing to do in Las Vegas… but Utah is not very far away. Utah with its snow-covered mountains and frozen lakes. It seems we are never very far from frozen places.

They drilled a hole through eight inches of ice to get to the liquid wonder where the fish dance a dance all their own. Makes me wonder how many inches of ice God must drill through to get the core of us… and, why do we keep re-freezing? The drilling is hard work.

Drilling the frozen places

Hole in the Ice

This got me to thinking about frozen lakes. I have never stepped foot onto a lake so thick in ice you could dance on it. I grew up in the South. One year when I was a kid, the lake we grew up on invited my dad and me for a swim on December 31. I’ve never seen a frozen lake. But, I know the frozen places…

The frozen parts – we all have them. We can step out and slip and slide in all directions not knowing where we may end up. We can skate in one direction and spin around to find ourselves somewhere else entirely. All the while, the thought tickles the back of our minds,

Will the ice break?

Will we fall into the frigid depths and sink to the unknown… a dark, murky nowhere kind of place?

Or is there something more?

Frozen Lake

One of the guys put on a life jacket while the others held a rope tied to his waist. He carefully tread onto the ice and found a spot to drill with the auger. The ice was thick enough. He called the rest of the crew out and they set up ice fishing shop. Chairs, fishing rods, and whatever else guys use when they go ice fishing…

The funny thing is, my warrior told me that the fish are slower in this murk beneath the frozen roof. They slowly drift to the lines and bump against them. No hurry. No excessive hunger it appears… just icy cruising until one gets curious enough to bite.

Three Fish

I wonder what we would find if we drilled beneath our frozen surfaces – the pieces slowly being drilled away by God. I wonder if the pace would be slower… if the dance would look a little bit different. I wonder if the treasure lies just beneath the surface.

And what about the fishing? We are all fishermen, that is… fishers of men, you know. How slowly and cautiously the fish swim around us when we are, well, frozen.

Who wants to swim to a line when the holder of the life line is chilly and cold?  Or, maybe, this holder won’t give a glimpse of what’s underneath the surface.

But, sometimes these frozen places feel just so safe.  It’s almost easier to sit frozen and still – easier than holding out a line, or a hand… or a heart.

Walking on Ice

We cast our lines through the small holes – the ones we’ve allowed God to drill. But, the rest… it’s all a slippery surface. Would knows where the icy patches are safe? Who knows what false move may cause the plunge?

Yea, and when the ice does crack, and we find ourselves submerged – down in the depths with the rest of the fish – we are told the best thing to do is… stay calm.

And maybe if we stay calm in these places where the fish slowly nudge, we may just survive.  Rise to the surface where the sun’s light blinds us all.

And here, we can breathe this deep breath of relief. We can see that the icy places are really not the safe places. They are really not the sturdy shield we have so carefully created.

When it all melts enough to bring us to this place where we have to remain calm… or sink… then, we can really become fishermen.

There’s not much that separates us from the fish swimming below the surface.  Just a sheet of ice.

Before we know it, the Son melts it all away. 

And, in the warmth, the fish begin to bite…

 

Matthew 4:19

“Come, follow me,” Jesus said, “and I will make you fishers of men.”

Karin Madden

Filed Under: Faith, Together, Trust Tagged With: fishers of men, ice fishing, the frozen places

December 10, 2013 by Karin 6 Comments

What To Do When The Guide Gets Lost

He looked up at me with those big blue innocent eyes.

We had travelled for weeks.  Traveling can do a number on your digestive system.  Especially when you are prone to allergies.  Especially when you are six.

He didn’t want to go alone.  They never do.  The bathroom still ranks in the top three for most popular mama dates.

We were visiting friends.  Friends we miss.  Friends who have captured and taken hostage pieces of our hearts.

We condensed ten years of life into two weeks.  It seemed more like 43 years of life, to tell you the truth.  That whole thing about uncovering your roots.

I primped in the mirror as he contemplated 6-year-old life.

Mama, you know what I am most afraid of?

Examining my wrinkles and tired eyes in the mirror, I murmured,

Hm, what’s that, sweetie?

His face formed that thoughtful look he gets when he purses his lips and the one darling dimple in his right cheek burrows and begs a mama kiss.

I’m afraid of when you and Daddy die.

Who will guide us?

My eyes blurred in the mirror.  Where do they come up with this stuff?  Who knows the depth of a human heart?  No matter the age.

Oh baby, don’t be afraid.

Do you trust me?

He nodded his blonde head vigorously, still perched on his throne.

To infinity and back, Mama.

I kneeled before him and took his soft young chin in my hand,

Well, you can trust God even more than that.

He’s the one guiding Mama and Daddy.

Even when we go, He will keep guiding all of you.

You will never… never… be alone.

He looked into my eyes with a seriousness beyond his young years.  He paused just to take it all in.

Then with a twinkle, he replied,

Ok, mommy.

His face went from contemplative stare to a childish grin.

I’m done.

His question caught me off guard.  I don’t know why I am ever surprised anymore.  Sometimes we find our deepest fears in our most vulnerable positions.  We find surprises and depth in the most ordinary of places.  Even the potty.

The next day was the end of this whirlwind tour.  We flew with the six pack for endless hours which seemed to multiply with each impatient shriek from the two-year-old.

Finally, home.  The for-now home.

Elated to be back in our own beds no matter the zip code.

There’s just something about Christmas time that brings all our memories and emotions to a volcanic crescendo.  Good… and not so good.

Another trip for my warrior left me solo with the littles for a short stretch of time.

The doing, and buying, and decorating, and preparing can just about do you in.  It can just about snuff out the joy… and gratitude.

The words of a new friend lingered in my thoughts… center and savor.  Amy spoke truth when she reminded me to center and savor this season.  The drive to perfection just gets in the way.  Perfection today could have just been called minimal madness.

And it got the best… rather, the worst, of me.  A complete mama-meltdown.  When in the world will I learn? How many years does it take to become that wise, calm, peaceful mother who looks knowingly across her room to see that the little things truly are the big things?  The tiny pieces of this puzzle are what make the whole tapestry beautiful.  Not a piece can be replaced.

But, me, I had a hissy fit.  A snarling, self-centered pity party.  Invites were sent to all my kids.  They were thrilled.

The tears flowed and doors slammed.  All me.  The prettiest pictures can’t avoid the truth of our natures.  Not so pretty.

Forgiving arms wrapped around mama’s neck.  Cheeks were dried and kisses lavished.

That whole guiding thing?  Don’t follow me today.  It’s a rocky road. 

Decorations resumed and moods improved.  It wasn’t until hours later that I found her note.  My little girl who watched the lava flow from her frazzled mom.

Dear Mom, I’m sorry your upset.  I just wanted to say, I love you.

Snowman Love

Just the right words

How in the world do they get it?  When a mother just breaks right down and loses her way.

How in the world do the stay on the path?  When mama gets lost in the woods.

How in the world do they know the words?  When mom spews anger from her mouth.

Unless, they have found the better guide.  The only Guide.  

The One who shows them just where to go… and what to say.  The One who whispers the truth when human words confuse the vocabulary.

Children.  They really get it so much more than we do.  God takes our best effort at mothering… at parenting… and turns it into something unimaginable.

A journey to His heart.

 

Deuteronomy 4:39

Acknowledge and take to heart this day that the Lord is God in heaven above and on the earth below. There is no other. 

Karin Madden

Filed Under: A Day in the Life, Faith, Family, Motherhood, Patience, Together, Trust Tagged With: mama meltdowns, motherhood, Patience, together, trusting God

October 26, 2013 by Karin 2 Comments

Create Many Ripples

31 days of Good Deeds 31 Days of Good Deeds

(click here for the series)

~ Day 20 ~

  “I alone cannot change the world, but I can cast a stone across the waters to create many ripples.”  ~ Mother Teresa

(if you are reading this in an email, click over to the blog to watch the 5 minute video)

Happy weekend, friends.

Hebrews 13:16

And do not forget to do good and to share with others, for with such sacrifices God is pleased.

Karin signature

Filed Under: Friendship, Perseverance, Together, Trust Tagged With: create ripples, obedience, sharing burden, together

August 11, 2013 by Karin 12 Comments

When You Are Feeling Stripped and Alone

Stripped in Las Vegas.

Ok, not literally.  Stripping does not have to be literal to leave you feeling naked.

I’ve been in this place before, though it has been many years.  I can barely remember.

The memories are returning and I am surprised that I forgot how it felt back then.  Like a mama holding new life… slowly a window opens to scenes from moments gone by with babies before.  How do we forget?  The memories pour into the window like a rogue rainfall… streaming sideways, soaking the sill and everything in its path.

We forget… until, suddenly, we remember.

I remember feeling the loneliness that comes with the solitude of mothering children far from family… far from friends… far from anything, and everything, that feels like home.

new paths

It is different this time.  There are… more children.  The change is not in the numbers.

The change is in their awareness of the same loneliness mama felt years ago, when just mama was enough to fill their young hearts.  When just mama was enough to keep the days full, the tummies full, the hours full, the arms full.  When daddy’s evening arrival brought booming shrieks and wild, flailing arms.  Thankfully, that has not changed with the years.  Daddy’s arrival floods those young hearts with joy… maybe even more than back then.

It is different this time.  There are hearts feeling this stripping for the first time.  Much younger than this mama ever experienced it.

My oldest son… those blue eyes gazing out the window.  The sun blinding.  The rays blurred by the silent tears rolling down his smooth young, freckled cheeks.

My arm on his shoulder wishing I could keep the weight of all this from bearing down.

Are you ok?

Are you sad?

The blinking of tears, nodding.  His jaw clenching in hopes of tightening a heart to this new place.

If you could be anywhere, doing anything, where would you be?

The hard choking of words from the boy growing up just too fast.

Um, I dunno, I guess I’d be hanging out with my friends.

That feeling.  I know that feeling.

There are many things a mother can bear and hold… but this.

I know this one.  There is nothing a mama can do to get around this one.  This one, this time… I have to teach him how to go through it.  Teach him to square his shoulders, cry without shame, pick his head up, and find joy.

This joy that does not come from friends spilling in the front door at all hours.  This joy that does not come from endless summer days spent swinging on hammocks engrossed in conversations that only 11-year-old boys can truly appreciate.

Show him how to find the joy that comes from seeking.

This joy doesn’t come from the ease of childhood we long to give our kids.

This joy doesn’t come from the cushion of security that comes from the familiar.  It comes from the hard step onto the path of uncomfortable.  The rocky road filled with obstacles.

rocky path

I recently read an obituary of a woman who knew she was dying.  She had this to say…

…And may you always remember that obstacles in the path are not obstacles, they ARE the path.

(Jane Catherine Lotter)

The obstacles… they are the path.

Stripped of family.  Stripped of friends.  Stripped of familiar routines.  Stripped of the go-to-girlfriends.  Stripped of waves from familiar passing faces.  Stripped of the moments when a look between friends is more than enough.  Stripped of walking through children’s bedrooms at night, without needing one single light to guide the way.

Stripped of the paths that are worn and smooth.

We had comfort back there.  We had a place where the seeking was easily met with the busyness of schedules.  We had a place where we grew to rely on our friends.  We had  a place where we knew everything by heart.  We had a place we left pieces of ourselves.

We had support and a good life.  Maybe… maybe, we grew too comfortable… and maybe we forgot, just a little bit, to find our comfort in God.

The journey to this new place was filled with schedules and the go. go. go. of moving.

Here, now, the moving is done.  We find ourselves in this place of sitting still.  It is in the stillness that you can find yourself feeling stripped.  Feeling naked without the clothing of the security blanket.  Still and alone.

This time is different.  The times that ring in my memory remind me of what was missing back then.  The joy I could not find in the stillness all those years ago.  The One I didn’t even know was there.  Not floating up high, but right… there.

shine the Light

He is still right… here.  Here in the stillness.

I held my boy’s chin in my hands, wishing I could take the sorrow.  Knowing that this way is better.  My dear sister reminded me…

They have to learn this sometime.

The places will change.  The faces will change.

Our hearts will break.  Our tears will fall.

The loneliness will come.  The solitude will appear.

But, He is here.

Just waiting.

I held his chin,

I know this is hard.  It will get better.  I know this.

We need friends.  God will give us friends.

We have to stay with Him.  And trust Him.

He only has good plans for us.  For you.

His head nodded slowly.  Just to know we are not alone… sometimes that is all we need.

We are not alone.  You see, my kids asked Him for friends before we even left home.  This day, this day of tears spilling and a young heart touching sorrow and solitude… this day, one showed up.

She texted,

I’ll be there in 5 minutes to get him.

This new friend, with an 11-year-old son, saw the sadness she had seen in her own children’s eyes just a few years ago.

My son, all smiles when he saw the face of his new friend.  Hours later, he came bounding back into the house.  Joy.

sunset over friends

My tears came later.

My warrior, a helpless look in his eyes shadowed by guilt,

Are you ok?

There is so much a mother can bear, but it is the heartache of her children that renders the mother heart… wounded.

I am ok, it’s so much harder when it’s one of my babies.

He nodded understanding.

We moms, we sneak grief into a closet and drop tears into plush carpet.  Only One sees them.  Only One wipes them away.

How am I going to learn more?

Who is going to teach me?

Whom am I going to depend on?

Whom am I going to go to?

Pleading heart behind the we-are-gonna-get-through-this and there’s-a-reason-for-this-place facade that slowly began to crumble.

Then, the whisper…

I am.

His words whispered to this still heart,

You have Me.

Maybe sometimes we have to strip off the worn, comfy, rubbed-bare silk we have clothed ourselves with through people, tasks, schedules, well-intentioned missions… just to get back to… Him.

Him.

Stripped.  Wholly naked… to become Holy clothed.

 

Luke 5:16

But Jesus often withdrew to lonely places and prayed.

Karin signature

 

Filed Under: A Day in the Life, Faith, Family, Friendship, Joy, Military, Motherhood, Trust Tagged With: alone and praying in a closet, stripped from the comfort zone

January 30, 2013 by Karin 2 Comments

When You Think Praying Is Like Buying a Lottery Ticket

It was 2:45 am.

That’s never a good time for the phone to ring.

It’s an emergency. 

Her panicked voiced whispered over the line.

A precious little girl.  My own 3-year-old’s best friend.  A brain tumor.  She’s only 3.

I don’t know how many times I’ve prayed for her.  Countless.  Add to that the countless times my little one has prayed for her bestie.

My sweet girl doesn’t understand of course.  She just knows to pray.

Please help her to feel better, God.

Her mother’s voice over the line.

We need to take her to the hospital.  She has spiked a fever.

We need help with the kids.

Fevers come and go in these growing bodies, but chemo and a shunt bring fevers to a new level of fear.

One of us will be right there.

I prayed that the words sounded calm and reassuring.

My warrior, bleary-eyed and solemn, dressed quickly, grabbed flight gear for the morning, and drove off into the freezing black night.

Now, I’ve prayed for many things in my life.  I’ve prayed for the important, the trivial, the self-serving, the self-sacrificing.  I’ve prayed most fervently for my children, my husband, my family and friends.  I’ve begged for miraculous cures that never came.  I’ve prayed for another’s change of heart, only to find my heart was the one needing change. I’ve prayed wordlessly.  I’ve prayed desperately.  I’ve prayed tear streaming sobs, and I’ve prayed worn tearless sorrow.  I’ve prayed praise and thanks and disbelief.  I have prayed.

praying

Then, a flicker in my thoughts,

Do You hear them?

How do you pick the ones You will answer?

Will this one matter?

Stunned, I wondered, what if my prayer is like buying a lottery ticket?

Will this one win?

I pray, most of the time, for His will.  But what if…

What if Your will is No?

What if Your will breaks these wounded hearts… again?

What if You don’t pick this one?

Why do I doubt Your good and perfect plan?

It was 3:30 am.  Only a few hours until the bustling of breakfast.  I picked it up… the Word He gives us.  I prayed the emergency… 911.

I prayed Psalm 91 aloud in the darkness of my bedroom, illuminated only by the light from my phone.

You will not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day… (Psalm 91:5)

I read the Psalm again and again, with each reading allowing the words to sink deeper and speak louder to my shivering soul.  I prayed it for our precious little friend, I prayed it for my warrior, I prayed it for my children… I prayed and prayed.  Then, the words…

“Because he loves me,” says the Lord, “I will rescue him; I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name.  He will call upon me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble, I will deliver him and honor him.  With long life will I satisfy him and show him my salvation.” (Psalm 91:14-16)

I prayed it out loud and His words shot through my dense human shield.

He hears.  He answers.  The answer may live here or in eternal heaven… but He answers.

He answers because. I. Love. Him.

It’s not about every prayer becoming the winning pick.  

It’s not a luck of the draw.

It’s not anything we can buy.

He picks me.  He picks you.

He picks us because He loves us.

I win.  We win.  Every time.

He met me right there on that dark, bitter cold night.  He soothed my fears and He answered.

The fever is due to a virus.  It’s not oncology related.

Her weary daddy answered the next morning.

We are going home in a little while.

It’s going to be another one of those days.

Another day of answered prayer.  This one pleasing our human wishes.  This one allowing our hearts rest and calm.

I don’t know when the next one will be needed.  We keep on praying.  Praying for His will.  Praying for His strength.  Praying for His peace that transcends all understanding.

We pray.

He answers.

It’s not a lottery ticket.

It’s a gift that pays out for all eternity.

He already paid the price.

 

Job 36: 5,7

“God is mighty, but does not despise men; he is mighty, and firm in his purpose.  He does not keep the wicked alive but gives the afflicted their rights.  He does not take his eyes off the righteous; he enthrones them with kings and exalts them forever.

Karin signature

 

 

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Filed Under: Faith, God's Promises, Mercy, Motherhood, Trust Tagged With: just pray, mercy, trust, what if

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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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