faith Archives - karin madden

November 19, 2013 by Karin 21 Comments

The One Word I Want To Leave With My Children

Four plus decades. That’s what I am today.

On this birthday I will pack up a crew of six and prepare for the cross-country journey – back to the place this life’s story began.

The same house, the same streets, the same small red church that marks the turn.

We’ll load up our six pack, and my warrior and I will travel to the place it all started.

This time I am taking two small items I plan to use to capture memories in motion. A video and a voice recorder.

My parents, they have a million stories – about war-torn youth, Nazi evil, and the ravages of cruel governments. They have stories about siblings, and families, and grandparents. They have stories about all the people I never knew… or have only met a handful of times. These stories are the roots of us. I suppose at some point in time we all want to see our roots…

I listened to them when I was just a kid, but who really pays attention then?

And, now, I hope the memories return to a fading mind.

I want to capture every word. Wrap the words in writing and pass them on to my own little ones.

We really shouldn’t ever forget where we come from. No matter how pretty, or heart-wrenching, the picture.

It’s our stories that bring Him glory – in the end. Our stories are His story – from the very beginning. Even when we don’t see.

Their story will come… I will take the gray shades of life and etch them into black and white. The words will never cover a life, but they will leave a map.

A map for my own to follow – tracing back… in order to move forward. Never forgetting.

But, today… well, it’s my day. It’s my birthday.

And sometimes the details don’t really matter all that much. Sometimes there is just one thing you want to leave behind.

Sometimes it only takes a few words to cover a lifetime of things we wish we could do… or undo.

Sometimes it’s just one word that we want to burn into their hearts.

Sometimes the words we write… are the words we need to read.

This… this is what I want to leave with my children.

A Letter To My Children

I want to tell you it’s ok.

It’s ok if you forget. It’s ok if you don’t understand. It’s ok that you said what you said that time.

I want to tell you that I know.
I know how much you love me.
I know how frustrated you were sometimes, and that you wondered if anyone- especially mom -understood.
I know that you didn’t mean what you said that time. Or the other time, either.

I want you to see that I have felt the same way.
I have thought the same thoughts.
I have made the same mistakes.
I have wished my youth away… and then wished I could go back.

I wish I could go back.
I wish I could go back and listen to my parents all over again.
I wish I had paid better attention.
I wish I had asked more questions… and listened to the answers.

I remember some of the stories and wish I could listen to them again.
I remember the places we went.
I remember the meals Mom cooked.

I wish I could remember more.
I wish I knew where those places were.
I wish I knew the recipe for that one meal… and the other ones, too.
I wish I could sit in Mom’s lap, and listen to Dad’s stories.

I know what you are thinking.

You wish you could go back, too.
Stop.

Here is what I want you to remember.
This is what I want you to know.

I love you no matter what has happened.
I love you no matter what words and deeds you have thrown out there.
I love you even if you don’t come home enough.
I love you even when you are too busy.

I love you and it’s all ok.

This. This is what matters.

Believe.

No matter what people say to you.
No matter what they say about you.
No matter if they call you delusional, or gullible, or foolish, or wrong.

They will, you know.
They will make you doubt.
They will make you wonder.
They will tell you that God is a fake.

They are wrong.
Know this.
I have heard His voice.
He hears mine every time I place your names in His hand.

He hears you.

Believe.

Stick with the ones who believe with you.
You need each other.

Be kind to everyone.
Even when they are not kind to you.
You represent Him.
It’s a big job. He is a big God.

He can handle your doubt.
Your anger.
Your fear.
Your questions.
Your mistakes. Even the ones you make again and again.
He has you in the palm of His hand.

Believe.
I do.

So, when you begin to regret, and wish, and want to go back.
Stop.
Go Forward.

Time here is brief.
Make the most of it.
We, my babies, have forever.

Love ~ to infinity and back,

Mom

John 14:1-3

Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me. My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.

November 6, 2013 by Karin Leave a Comment

Someone Is Always Watching

31 days of Good Deeds

(click here for the series)

~ Day 25 ~

The couple walked through the same door.

They sat in the same seats.

It was like this. Every Sunday. Year after year.

The words washed over them like a soothing rainfall. The peace transcended all understanding. All the world faded from focus.

It was like this week after week.

Until this one day.

Somewhere between the mesmerizing melodies and the words of wisdom, they looked over and saw them.

His face buried in his hands while she gently rubbed his shaking shoulders. He wept without shame. He wept out of frustration and fear. He wept with his faith in the fray. He wept and they watched.

This place of peace and comfort suddenly became a vision of raw, heart-wrenching reality.

What happens when things aren’t so good?

Where is He when we show up week after week and there is no answer?

How long do we have to wait? It’s just too much…

They watched as she soothed this strong man in his weakest moment. This weakest moment… right in the middle of a room full of people.

And he wept without shame. Sometimes we get to the breaking point, and it just doesn’t matter who’s watching anymore.

She rubbed his shoulders in circular rhythm, as though she wanted to wipe it all away. She wondered when the worry would end. It had been years now. No job. No income. No help in sight.

These times can break us. These times without income, without provision, without hope.

It just doesn’t matter who is watching anymore. And, we break. Right in the middle of a crowded room. And, no one seems to notice.

But, Someone does. Someone is watching. His plans have the most unsuspected twists and turns. And He opens eyes. He opens unsuspecting eyes and whispers His words,

Help them.

Sometimes the best kind of worship is seeing His children through His eyes.

But blessed are your eyes because they see, and your ears because they hear. (Matthew 13:16)

She left with her arm around his broad shoulders. Depleted accounts, disintegrating energy, dashed hopes. It had just been too long. Where would their help come from?

And, He whispered,

Help them.

The couple looked into each other’s eyes. The whispers sometimes come so clearly that we wonder why the whole room doesn’t hear. They both heard. They smiled into each other’s eyes. Yes. Where does our help come from? The Maker of heaven and earth… the One who whispers.

Time passed and again the couple entered the room through the same doors. Sat in the same seats. The words and music cleansed their week-wearied worn souls, and they breathed the holy breath of a Spirit filled room. That’s when they saw them again.

Arms lifted in praise, tears streaming down beaming cheeks.

Their help did come. The Maker of heaven and earth has hands and feet all over this planet.

The couple smiled to themselves when they heard of unsuspected provision showing up in a mailbox. They smiled to themselves when they heard of answered prayers and a new job. They smiled to themselves as they looked down at their own hands. Palms up.

The hands in their own laps suddenly looked very much like part of a larger Body.

They smiled as song took the collective Body to a crescendo of praise…

I lift up my eyes to the hills –

where does my help come from?

My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.

These hands open, all around us…

Someone is always watching.

Matthew 6:3-4

But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.

April 15, 2013 by Karin 4 Comments

When It’s Hard to Let Go

It finally arrived.

Spring.

I found myself piled under clothes ranging from baby to big.

The boys, completely uninterested, roamed as mama went to work sorting, saving, discarding.

The girls, completely interested, protected prized possessions from mama’s rapid fire selection process. It takes more than just a little time to sort clothes for six.

Oh, mama, not that one.

I like that one.

A tear trickled down my sweet girl’s cheek.

Please don’t give that away.

I don’t want to let it go.

She held what looked like a Barbie-sized shirt to her chest and sighed heavily.

It’s too small for you.

We’ll save it for your little sisters.

I smiled, knowing that feeling of I-don’t-wanna-let-go.

You know, sweetie, sometimes we have to let go off something.

Many times we get something better in place of it.

My mind went to the bag of treasures from my sister-in-law. One of the gifts of a large family. Hand-me-downs.

Then, I heard my own voice…

My words must echo Yours.

Don’t you have those times when what you say to your children… is just exactly what God is saying to you?

I smiled to myself.

I get it. Yup, I heard you.

It’s hard to let go. Of things… of places… of people.

It’s hard.

I cling to the things… the things that remind me of babies new in my arms.

I cling to the things… the things that bring me back to a time gone by.

I cling to the things… the things that trigger a memory. Afraid that the memory will be lost if I don’t hang on tight.

I cling to places… wrapped in fear that if I loosen my grip, the place will fade away from my thoughts. Or worse… I will be the one forgotten in that place.

I cling to people. My children… husband… parents… family… friends.

Will it all fade away if I don’t hold on?

If I loosen my grip, even just a little, will I just end up empty-handed? Or worse… broken-hearted?

I pulled out a sweet surprise for my little one. A treasure just a little too small for her older sister.

This one is for you.

Do you like it?

She squealed with excitement.

Mama, I love that one!

Is it mine, now?

Oh, you were right! I let go of one of my favorites, and look!

I got another one! And I love it!

It’s not complicated, this letting go. It’s simple, really. Stretch one finger at a time. Open the hand. Palms up. Let go.

It’s not complicated. But, it’s not easy.

It’s not easy when it comes to the things that trigger memories.

It’s not easy when it comes to the places that feel so comfortable.

It’s not easy when it comes to people. Especially people.

It is so very hard to let go of people.

I lost my entire contact list on my phone last week. Not a tragedy. But, definitely a pain. Inconvenient… and startling. My dependence on this little device for contact with just about every one I know.

My oldest boy chuckled.

First world problems.

No doubt about that. The remedy was fairly simple. A few emails, postings, and contacts came rolling back in.

But what about the ones I missed?

Would I get those back?

Along with the contacts went the text messages. A series of strung together words between friends and family. I saved so many. Me. Having a hard time letting go.

There was one in particular. My dear friend. She passed on to peace in His arms a year ago. I saved her words. Every. Last. One.

Gone.

I felt the tightening of my throat… waited for the tears. The words came flooding back.

Sometimes you have to let go.

Sometimes letting go is the only way to receive something new.

This something new is a new realization. Heaven. That places that waits for someday. It exists right now. Now, I know that seems so simple. I just never thought about the Heaven that is now. It’s a place we talk about. The final destination somewhere in the future. The truth is… Heaven is very present. Today. She is there… today. I don’t need thin words and typed texts. I need the truth. The truth is freedom.

Letting go.

The contacts I lost? The numbers came rolling back in. The something new? Connections I didn’t have in the first place. People I had lost along the way.

The truth? The freedom in this truth?

None of this is mine. I hold tightly to everything that is temporary. The things and the places in this temporary season. The people, well, there is an eternal promise.

My dear friend gave me words to hold on to before she went.

It will always be ok.

And it will. I will not be easy. It will not be painless. But, it will always be ok.

We have to let go over and over again. Letting go… opens our hands to receive over and over again.

Let go. Give. And wait…

We can not out-give God.

In the end… the new beginning… it will always be ok.

1 John 2:24-25

See that what you have heard from the beginning remains in you. If it does, you also will remain in the Son and in the Father. And this is what he promised us – even eternal life.

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.

The One Word I Want To Leave With My Children

A Letter To My Children

When It’s Hard to Let Go

When You Want to See the Real Picture

And Then There Was Life

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