He Will Hold Me Fast

It isn't always me holding on to Jesus.  In fact, it's usually him holding on to me.  This love he pursues me with is steadfast and sure.

Anything in me that is good is because of this love.  Certainly, I have lived through seasons of peace and joy, and, man, am I grateful for those.  I have also lived through hard seasons, filled with doubt and sadness and all of the things. I can't help being grateful for those also.  It is in those times I learn more about his strong, bold love that pursues me and holds on to me.

He held me fast...when friendships were hard and sometimes hurtful...

He held me fast...when I was so homesick I couldn't see straight...

He held me fast..when my dad died unexpectedly at the age of 49...

He held me fast...when I didn't know how to lead a group of people and felt utterly ill-equipped...

He held me fast...when we miscarried...

He held me fast...when postpartum depression nearly caved me in...

He held me fast...when the days felt so long with three little boys in my care...

He held me fast...when marriage has felt too difficult...

He held me fast...when life felt confusing and hurtful and out of sorts...

...and the list goes on...

I don't know what or where I would be if it were not for Jesus and his love.  He will, indeed, hold me fast.

Dear Twenty-Year-Old Jen,

Oh sweet girl, I know you’re having so much fun, falling in love whether you’re admitting it right now or not. I just want you to know that your life becomes a bonafide adventure. Here are some things I wish I could tell you....

Be open, be humble, be kind, be confident. There are things you think you know about living...boldly go with them.  At the same time, learn from ALL of the people in your path...take mental notes on ways you wanna live and ways you don't, and then let that shape your behavior.

Trust Mr. Wood with everything you have (you end up marrying him, by the way...).  He is wise, he is good, he will not ever lie to you.  Listen to him when he tells you there is something you don't have the money to do because he knows what he is talking about.  Respect him.  Tell him often that you do.

Oh, and keep wearing those cute little pearl earrings, or one day, when you're in your forties, you'll try to put in earrings and realize your holes have nearly closed up.  Bummer.

You are going to be the mama of boys.  Start watching superhero movies now to get a head start.  Boys are FUN, so fun...you have no idea right now what joy they are going to bring to your home.  Embrace it all...

You will eventually get the new siding and shutters on the old house you buy.  Just be patient.  You probably won't ever refinish the original wood floors, though...just deal with it.

Goodness, the people you will be able to know and love along the way.  There will be so many of them.  For a lot of years, your circle will be naturally formed by the people in the churches you work in...that's normal and fine.  However, somewhere around 2010, you and Mr. Wood will both enter the regular old workforce, and you will both meet so many new people and make so many new friends.  It will be so fun.  Life will become different and wild and more colorful, and you will love it!  Learn from all of these new people...hang with them, love them and be loved by them.

There will be JOY, such joy.  Not every day will be happy, but there will be a deep and abiding joy from the Father that will sustain you.  Lean in to that.  Draw strength from it on the happy days and the not-happy days.

Marriage is work.  Do.the.work.  Start with the work inside of you.  Don't be afraid of it.  Talk to someone if you can't figure it out yourselves.  Don't be scared to ask for help. 

There will be hurt.  People will hurt you deeply.  I'm sorry.  I really am.  I wish there was a "skip" card to play, but there just isn't.  I want you to know that you will live through it and come out on the other side.  It sounds cliche, but VERY beautiful things will be born out of it.  Keep living, keep breathing, keep loving...it's worth it.

PLEASE tell Mr. Wood to keep that track suit.  Your oldest son will be an old soul and he will want it some day.  

When you are 45, you will get a tattoo in Mr. Wood's handwriting, reminding you that you're enough.  It will be born out of your self-discovery when writing a "coming of age" letter to your niece.  When you tell Parida, the tattoo artist, that you are 45 and this is your first tattoo, she will excitedly reply "Hell yeah, bitch!".  Hahahhaha!!

Trust your gut.  It's one of the ways God will nudge you.  You will "just know" when something is right or wrong for your family.  Fully trust that.

Raising kids will be one of the most rewarding things you will ever do and also one of the most exhausting.  Keep at it.  Help them to be great boys, expose them to so many things, explain to them your expectations, be consistent so they can trust your word.  Take them to faraway places so they know the world doesn't revolve around them.  At the same time, teach them to deeply value the space they are in.  Be honest with them.  Apologize.  Show them grace.  Let them know early on that you will pay for their therapy that you will surely be the cause of.  Enjoy every season with them...it gets more and more fun.

Be real.  Be kind always.  Be life-giving.

If you just decide to be happy, you can be...

    

The year was 2013, and Ezra was 8 years old.  Nothing monumental was happening when he blurted out "if you just decide to be happy, you can be".  Wait, stop...can you repeat that, Buddy, so I can write it down?  I'm going to need that later.

I want to be careful to point out that there are life circumstances and mental health crises and emotional difficulties that can and do prevent us from simply DECIDING to be happy.  I would never wish to discount those situations which can sometimes be debilitating, or, at the very least, overwhelming, and those realities are not at all what I am referring to here.

And yet...on most of the days, we really do get to decide.  For me, it goes like this...am I stressed out by the dishes piling up because our kitchen faucet is broken or relieved that a new one is coming in the mail today and I think I know how to replace it?  Is fixing dinner again tonight something that will put me over the edge, or am I grateful for the meat in our freezer and the gadgets in my kitchen?  Are the piles in our dining room from cleaning out my classroom enough to make me paralyzed or am I grateful for a new season of life and ten years of memories in a few wooden boxes?  Are the cups and bowls left on the end tables in the living room making me crazy, or am I just so thankful that our three boys enjoy each other and gathered there to eat last night, laughing and having fun?  Is the brokenness and turmoil in the world robbing my hope and joy, or can I console myself with thoughts of simply loving the circle around me and bringing hope and grace to the folks I am privileged to encounter?  Are health issues for me and my loved ones driving me to fear the worst, or can I take a deep breath and give thanks for modern medicine and the opportunities available for healing and wellness?

There are moments when the pain is too great, the fear too much, to decide to be happy.  But on many, if not most, of the days, I get to decide.  Thank you, eight-year-old Ezra, for teaching me that happy is a choice and it's nearly always available to us all.

On disappointment....

I do not enjoy being disappointed...by people, by situations, by decisions that affect me. Does anyone? Even more than that, though, the thing I absolutely want none of is watching my boys deal with disappointment.

Oh sure, I know all of the right answers...the ones we say to them when they are disappointed...that this will build their character, that there is something better out there for them, that this wasn’t meant to be...but, even as I hear myself repeating these truths to my kids, I really wish I could change reality and give them what they were hoping for.

If I’m being honest, our three boys have not been dealt any major disappointments.  They haven't experienced any great loss, things come fairly easily to them, none of them have had any enemies to speak of.  And yet, there have been moments in each of their lives that have brought tears and even some despair.  

I.want.to.fix.it.  I want Jesus to take the wheel and re-navigate the situation to my boy’s benefit because I.want.it.fixed., thank you very much.

But what if the disappointment is the gift? What if getting the full scholarship would not have taken him to the places that watching God piece together the provision will take him? What if it’s in the dugout or on the bench where he will find the joy, the learning, the opportunity for the most important growth? What if getting a supporting role instead of the lead teaches him that it’s not all about being center stage? What if losing the game actually brings about more opportunities than winning would have? What if getting what he thought he wanted would have brought unnecessary pain or heartache? And then what if occasionally there really isn't any explanation except that life sucks sometimes because we live in a broken world?

This is where I land, time and again.  These boys were never really mine to control like pinballs in an arcade game.  They belong to the Father, and he sees their lives in ways I am incapable of seeing in. I trust him.  I have to, as I know no other way.

It will, indeed, all be ok...

Old Friends...

Music makes me think, it paints a picture in my head that sticks around for awhile.  Sometimes this sticking inspires me to change my behavior or thinking; other times it makes me remember earlier times with vivid clarity.

This song makes me remember, and the remembering causes me to be grateful.  The friends I have made in the last 30 years have brought joy and growth to my life in ways I can't even put into words and sentences.  And yet, there is something about those friends from childhood that cannot be replicated or recreated.

I could make my way around John and Judy's house on Holly Lane with a blindfold on.  I can still see in my mind the Tupperware pitcher of tea in the refrigerator.  If I concentrate really hard, I can hear the bug zapper on the back deck.  I could dial their landline phone number right now, from memory.  Down the stairs and on the left is the closet where the rock salt was kept.  Jill and I would sometimes eat a piece (that's so weird, why did we do that??).   No one else can reminisce with me about going to Lincoln Trail park on a Saturday and playing on the equipment while our parents cooked breakfast on a fire and drank coffee.  Her aunts and uncles and grandparents became mine.  [Side note:  now I live in her grandma's house, and the preciousness of this is not lost on me]

No one besides Nicole knows about the time our parents created chocolate syrup out of Nesquik and milk because the Hersheys syrup was all gone.  Only Mike and Lesli will laugh when we recall me telling Mike "you should feel the back of my teeth with your tongue" (don't ask!).  It was Nicole's living room at Golf Lakes where I watched Dirty Dancing for the first time and dreamed of one day having my own Patrick Swayze (oh yeah, Mr. Wood fits the bill!!).

Every Sunday afternoon, it was either on 7th Street or Michigan Avenue where Gretchen and I wrote a new original musical to perform for whatever parents we could sucker into watching.  The back bedroom of their giant two-story house was the location for the store Gretchen's older sister would create for us to come shopping in.  Only Gretchen could tell you what we ordered every Sunday night after church at the L&K.  I can still see in my mind Jack's mug in the downstairs bathroom that said "I hate it when it snows on my french toast".

These friends are not a part of my every day life these days, but I know they would be right here if I needed them, as would their parents.  There is something so very special about the folks who have known us and our people from way back.

"No one knows you like they know you and no one probably ever will...you can't make old friends...."

Keep doing the thing...

Have you ever grown tired of doing the thing you perceive to be the right thing? I sure have. Over my forty four years, I can recall moments and even seasons of wondering why I don’t just throw it all to hell and do whatever I want because it would seem to get more positive results in this life.

And yet, something binds my wandering heart to what I have come to believe is the best way to live...loving others over self, respecting authority even when authority isn’t being respectable, holding back thoughts I’d rather put out on billboards or Facebook, being the girl I was put on earth to be even when it doesn’t seem to be getting me ahead here on earth, believing the best of people....

Somewhere along the last 20 years, Mr. Wood and I latched on to Psalm 73 as an anthem for those “throw it all to hell” days.  It seems these thoughts I have aren’t new; rather, they were being wrestled  with by Asaph a really long time ago. So, any time I find myself overcome with envy or a “poor me” attitude, I literally run to this Psalm, and, when I enter the very presence of God, life makes sense again.

1-5 No doubt about it! God is good—
    good to good people, good to the good-hearted.
But I nearly missed it,
    missed seeing his goodness.
I was looking the other way,
    looking up to the people
At the top,
    envying the wicked who have it made,
Who have nothing to worry about,
    not a care in the whole wide world.

6-10 Pretentious with arrogance,
    they wear the latest fashions in violence,
Pampered and overfed,
    decked out in silk bows of silliness.
They jeer, using words to kill;
    they bully their way with words.
They’re full of hot air,
    loudmouths disturbing the peace.
People actually listen to them—can you believe it?
    Like thirsty puppies, they lap up their words.

11-14 What’s going on here? Is God out to lunch?
    Nobody’s tending the store.
The wicked get by with everything;
    they have it made, piling up riches.
I’ve been stupid to play by the rules;
    what has it gotten me?
A long run of bad luck, that’s what—
    a slap in the face every time I walk out the door.

15-20 If I’d have given in and talked like this,
    I would have betrayed your dear children.
Still, when I tried to figure it out,
    all I got was a splitting headache . . .
Until I entered the sanctuary of God.
    Then I saw the whole picture:
The slippery road you’ve put them on,
    with a final crash in a ditch of delusions.
In the blink of an eye, disaster!
    A blind curve in the dark, and—nightmare!
We wake up and rub our eyes. . . . Nothing.
    There’s nothing to them. And there never was.

21-24 When I was beleaguered and bitter,
    totally consumed by envy,
I was totally ignorant, a dumb ox
    in your very presence.
I’m still in your presence,
    but you’ve taken my hand.
You wisely and tenderly lead me,
    and then you bless me.

25-28 You’re all I want in heaven!
    You’re all I want on earth!
When my skin sags and my bones get brittle,
    God is rock-firm and faithful.
Look! Those who left you are falling apart!
    Deserters, they’ll never be heard from again.
But I’m in the very presence of God—
    oh, how refreshing it is!
I’ve made Lord God my home.
    God, I’m telling the world what you do!

On Momming...

The house is dark and quiet, as everyone is in bed except me...well, and Dexter, our dog.  With Mother’s Day arriving at the stroke of midnight, the profile pictures on Facebook are all migrating to mom pictures and it’s churning up my thoughts on being a mom.

I had no idea how to be a mom.  I remember making a little journal to keep track of Isaac’s feedings, pees, and poops, and I messed it all up by day 2 and thought he would likely be dead or dehydrated come morning.  Although I’ve spent so very many days with these boys, I have trouble vividly recalling a single day’s events from those early years.  The older moms said it a million times if they said it once...it will go SO fast...but you can’t really feel the quickness until you sit in the quiet, with the 17, almost 13, and newly 10 year olds all up in their beds.

And so, here I sit, wondering if we have said all of the things and played enough board games and knowing that we haven’t done it all right and we’ve taught them to limp in some ways and praying that the grace that sustains us will also sustain them.

I know very little for sure, but I know a few things.  We haven’t always fed them whole grains and enough fruits and vegetables.  We’ve let them have too much soda and more screen time than is healthy.  We’ve placed too much emphasis on the wrong kind of success at times.  We cuss in front of them and let them watch movies my mama still wouldn’t like....

...and just about the time I start to think that we have completely screwed them up, I think of the grace and love that have come right alongside of all of those things. I hope we’ve shown them how to love and how to extend grace.  And yet...I hope they show more grace and love to their own families than we’ve ever thought about showing.  I hope they spend their very lives discovering the limits of grace and love.  I hope God takes them to places nearby and far far away to make his name great. I hope we’ve shown them that they can do anything and go anywhere but that they can also stay right in the very spot they are in and that God’s name can be made great in both of those places and everywhere in between.

I had absolutely no idea how to be a mom.  Who DOES really know how to be a mom? And yet, here we are, nearly 18 years later, and I’m doing it.  It’s not much different from any of the other relationships we find ourselves in...love fiercely and selflessly and admit when you screw up, and you are well on your way.

So, I’m sorry, Isaac, that I messed up your pee and poop journal, and I’m sorry, Ezra and Simon, that I didn’t even bother to make a pee and poop journal for the two of you.  I hope I’ve managed to make up for it in some way.  I can’t wait to see how God uses you three to love his world, and, in fact, he already is, and it’s a joy to watch!  I’m the absolute luckiest to be your mama.  You make me cuss and laugh every.single.day.  Love, Mom