slice of life – Page 5

Me? Captivating?

For a solo parent, escaping for 4 days is a luxury. I entered the Ransomed Heart lottery for a spot at a very popular women’s retreat in the mountains of Colorado, never expecting to receive one of the highly coveted allotted slots. But God whispered my name in an email…You have been selected to become CAPTIVATING.

On those rare occasions when I do sneak off for more than an afternoon, I look for the quietest place I can find, the goal being to get alone with God, to listen for His voice. On the 2 hour drive to Buena Vista, Colorado, I prepared to still my heart by singing hymns up the alphabet even as I wept over a fresh blow to my heart…All to Jesus I Surrender, Blessed Assurance, Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing, Down at the Cross.

Despite knowing that over 350 women from all over the world would also be attending, I still managed to convince myself I would keep pretty much to myself and focus on letting God heal raw emotions accompanying me on this trip. I reasoned at the end of 4 days I would have processed…or buried…my pain and painted on a dutiful-Christian smile to disguise whatever lingered after I ran out of time to deal with the remainder. I wasn’t in a position to give support to anyone else and in my sadness, I couldn’t bear the thought of exchanging simple pleasantries with strangers. So, I vowed in my heart to remain subdued and anonymous. In a crowd of this magnitude no one would notice. I had come with baggage of more than the Samsonite variety. I desperately wanted to empty the load and be rid of it. Little did I realize that unpacking would take a form completely foreign to me including danger, extreme adrenaline rushes, some nasty bruises, even a cracked rib.

I carted my belongings into a cabin with 10 bunk beds, praying silently that no one snored. As if they read my mind, one woman mentioned she packed ear plugs in case we encountered a snorer in our midst. A second woman boasted she brought Benadryl for the same reason. Risking humor I chimed in dryly, “I brought my .38 snub nose.” Nervous giggles followed.

Hurrying to follow the dinner bell, I joined in superficial, polite conversation over a meal served family style in a mess hall imitating a small turn-of-the-century frontier town. Within an hour I found myself seated in an auditorium where I positioned myself near the front to soak in whatever the speaker had come to bless me with.

“Your heart was created to mirror God’s. You were created in His image,” she began.

God created man in His own image, in the image of God, He created him; male & female He created them…” Genesis 1:27

“Great,” I thought, “we are going to zoom in on the heart in the first 30 seconds.” I had hoped to slide into the message gently. Stasi Eldredge posed a question stealing breath from me in the form of an audible gasp, “What is it that makes your heart come alive?” Regaining my composure, my private response echoed through my soul, “Nothing. My heart doesn’t feel alive nor do I want it to. Love is too painful. I’m keeping my heart locked up from here on out. But thanks for asking.” Apathy was the fig leaf disguising my anger and pain. I forced a yawn and tried to tune out the speaker.

Moments later, a film trailer from Lion, Witch & the Wardrobe jolted me out of my dreary inattentiveness… “Some journeys take us far from home…some adventures take us to our destiny”.

Then came another clip and quote from the movie Braveheart, “Every man dies. Not every man truly lives.”

Already God was rattling my armor-encased heart. He didn’t bring me here to let me hide behind fallen autumn debris. He wasn’t about to allow me to waste these 4 days. In an auditorium of 350 women with 350 different stories in a dozen dialects and languages, God had plans specifically for me…to take me on an adventure which would lead me to my destiny. {To be continued…}

Waiting…again

Strength will rise as we wait upon the Lord…

Stillness does not come easy for me. I find myself in another season of waiting, this time for a phone call from my physician. My mind is full of jumbled thoughts. In the grips of apprehension escape to find time alone with the Lord becomes a priority.

Less than a quarter mile north of Roosevelt National Forest on Hwy 34 E lies a piece of real estate heaven called Dripping Springs Inn. Without question the entire Estes Park, CO, area is extraordinarily scenic. Yet something about this particular mountain retreat calls my heart to return again and again when solitude is beckoning.

Dripping Springs is a quaint collection of small cottages and a B & B snuggled up to the Big Thompson River. Arriving at the break of dawn, this place is as sleepy as I am.

I’ve been coming here for years and it has never appeared more inviting. Only a few short steps down a concrete stairway and I am immersed in woods. A small walking trail outlined by rocks on each side follows the river.

Fire pits encircled by outdoor chairs dot the landscape and my mind’s eye envisions last night’s guests warming themselves in the cool mountain evening as they swapped life stories. Small canopies will partner with ample aspen and prolific pine trees to offer shade in the afternoon. Further on down the trail a wheel barrow rests against an old shed.

Backing up to the river, a wooden platform with its tall, white wrought iron arch conjures up images of a blissful bride and groom exchanging vows.

At last my eyes land on my favorite spot in this idyllic hideaway…an oversized hammock dangling between two aspen. Over the years God has cradled me here as I penned numerous private thoughts, praying countless prayers for wisdom on various issues confounding my senses. Here, too Scripture has often come alive for me as I incline my ear to hear from the Lord.

I sprawl into the swaying paradise and begin to sing praises in competition with raucous waves . The Thompson is raging with waters higher than I have observed in 20 years. As the river races furiously downstream, mud and silt paint the surface a copper hue crowned with white foam. Swirling, crashing into boulders at a frantic pace, water bounces into the air and explodes like liquid fireworks. The sight brought laughter and feeble attempts to photograph the elusive spray.

I wondered audibly, “God, why is wisdom so often this elusive to me?” In the midst of the river’s thunderous roar I heard His silent reply, “Wisdom danced with me before waves were ever formed, before the foundations of earth were laid. Wisdom is mine to give and it’s plentiful but it is not for those who utter a casual request. Wisdom belongs to those who earnestly seek me.”

Recently I spoke to a group of single women about the necessity of waiting on God. Today I groan over how long I’ve gone without a purposeful retreat alone with my Lord, to quietly wait on Him, seek Him, and hear from Him.

The morning sun peeks down the canyon walls and smiles on my face as I read God’s Word,

“You make me glad by your deeds, oh Lord. I sing for joy at the work of your hands.” Psalm 92:4

“Let the rivers clap their hands, let the mountains sing together for JOY” Psalm 98:8

“Praise the Lord, O my soul, all my inmost being praise his holy name. Praise the Lord, O my soul and forget not his benefits. Who forgives all your sins and heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit and crowns you with love and compassion, who satisfies your desires with good things that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.” Psalm 103:1-5

Reaching into a folder for paper to jot down my thoughts I came across notes from my earlier talk to the singles… “my two least favorite words paired together? ‘Waiting patiently’. I’m not good at it, never have been.”

Jesus beckons me to wait on God. All through his earthly journey He exemplified the importance of withdrawing for time alone with the Father. Christ’s final act of obedience before his arrest leading to his crucifixion involved a time of waiting in the Garden. Friends had accompanied him but ultimately He waited alone while they slumbered. It was in the waiting, seeking, praying, that He mounted up strength to face his destiny at Calvary. To have approached the Cross without a time of waiting before God, would have meant to forgo the strength required to endure eminent suffering.

Christ’s example compels me. His invitation is not to be missed. He says, “Come to the Garden of waiting and find strength for whatever lies ahead.”

None of us know what tomorrow holds. If we have been a follower of Christ for any length of time we know that this path we walk is not always smooth. Yet in moments alone with Him, earnestly seeking, expectantly waiting, Christ re-emerges as the sole longing of our hearts. In the process, He speaks and our path supernaturally becomes level again.

“The path of the righteous is level. O upright one, you make the way of the righteous smooth. Yes Lord, walking in your ways, we wait for you. Your name and renown are the desires of our hearts. My soul yearns for you in the night; in the morning my spirit longs for you.” Isaiah 26:8-9

Choice?

No newlywed couple using two forms of birth control expects to get pregnant. To say I was surprised that a rabbit died 3 months into my marriage would be an understatement. I was still adjusting to my new life as an Army officer’s wife living over a thousand miles from my family. I certainly wasn’t ready to start a family of my own.

Yet there I was, sitting in a doctor’s office being given two stunning pieces of news. First, I was definitely pregnant. Second, the physician was recommending an immediate abortion. Two weeks earlier I had been in this same military medical facility undergoing testing to determine the cause of severe respiratory distress. Not even suspecting I was pregnant, I had submitted my body to x-rays. Subsequently upon being diagnosed with pneumonia, I had been treated with several medications that would prove detrimental to the brain of a developing fetus. The doctor said the combination of those two things would render my pregnancy “unviable”. If by some slim chance the pregnancy went full term, I was told I would, in all likelihood, deliver a tissue mass with no central nervous system. The doctor matter-of-factly suggested this whole situation could be “taken care of” within the week.

Pro-choice advocates would tell me how fortunate I was that I could make a decision to end my pregnancy and simply move on with my life. But as Tim Tebow’s mother, Pam so eloquently shared at www.focusonthefamily.com , the decision about this pregnancy had already been made. As a survivor of violent crime years earlier, {see “Breaking In, Breaking Through” on this blog, August 2009} I had previously been faced with the decision whether or not to end a life, even one conceived in a violent forceful manner. It was a painful situation in which I realized that circumstances of a conception do not mitigate the facts…a pre-born baby is a future human being. In those moments of darkness I fully embraced the concept of choosing life.

My son will soon turn 23. This child whom 3 different doctors ultimately declared I would not carry to term entered this world just as the God who created him had intended and he is living with passion. He is engaged to be married this summer and visions of future grandbabies…though probably years down the road…are already stirring in my head.

As I listened to Pam Tebow elaborate on her story, her words resonated in my spirit and I was deeply touched by her convictions. We live in a culture of convenience and instant gratification, glorifying our personal rights at the expense of innocent children…over 46 million of them in America since Roe v. Wade in 1973. To trust an “unseen” Creator in the face of such dire circumstances seems simple-minded, naive, even foolish given our circumstances.

I think Mrs. Tebow would agree with me when I say emphatically, those are labels I can live with.

I consider myself immensely blessed to have two beautiful sons…one by birth, one by adoption…neither of them merely by choice but by God’s grace.