My naked heart

I have been waiting to post this a long long time. Longer than a year. Longer than a decade. I wrote it nearly a year ago in readiness so there’s a little P.S. at the end. Much has unfolded and the time is right at last. It is for anyone who wasn’t already aware, has felt surprised, or is simply interested in reading some of my own backstory regarding our Cal being at Shalom House. I know that I know that I KNOW other’s hearts are breaking as mine was for so long – I pray with all my heart that you’ll find encouragement and hope in this rather long post – long even by my standards 🙂

I wrote the text below in November 2018 when I went to share at the church that has been the biggest part of our lives, and where all our kids grew up and were thoroughly prayed for. (Darlington Christian Fellowship or DUC 🙂 ) If we’ve already met face to face, you’ll already know some of this, but this is the first time I’ll have shared so widely- as it’s not been only my story to tell but very much interwoven with others lives as well. We would each have our own account of prayers, sorrows and realised miracles to tell…

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I cannot imagine that anyone local by now has not heard of Shalom House, or know what their work is (a discipleship house [rehab] for those with life controlling issues – including drugs & alcohol), but may come as a surprise to learn our eldest son Cal became a resident there in April of 2018.

I’ve had a few puzzled looks, and a few surprised responses, and often a look that says in a two second expression “I didn’t know, I love you, this is good but things must have been really hard for him/you to get to this place” – and all of that is true. So if you read this and don’t yet know how to file this news in your brain – let it be in the one marked “JOY”, as it is in mine. The long night has gone, the morning has come, and all that remains for me is joy.

If any two people asked me on the same day anytime in the last decade or more – “How’s Cal?” – they may have received two entirely different responses depending on relationship to our family, time available, how I was managing in that moment and a range of other factors. One might have been given a cheery “Oh his work is really busy and he and Lachy did an amazing job of renovating our bathroom for Christmas and the little boys are growing up so fast…” truthful, cheery – but diversionary… and someone else might have been answered with a sad shake of the head and no words at all.

There are simply not enough words to go around the love and longing, the hope and fear let alone the interminable WAITING involved in loving someone in the setting as it was.

Most people are aware he became a dad at the age of 16… and also that this dear little boy only lived for 22 days. We were all loved and carried in prayer through that season but few were aware of the difficulties of the years that followed. Even before the age of 16 there were a number of events in his life that were life altering to him… and very very difficult to know how best to handle as his parents. Those things are not our story – they are his to tell or not as he chooses. However, becoming such a young dad, and then a bereaved dad – majorly ramped up his inner turmoil. These things are not excuses – but they are reasons he started running from himself.

After Elijah died, Cal was introduced him to the alcohol and drug culture which also began to become a part of his life. Add to this the maddening setting of an employer who enabled this and the freedom that came through driving at 17 and the escalation began.

Cal only lived in the family home till he was 18, so I have to say that Izzy has borne the frontline burden of all that took place, though as a dearly loved son there was never a day my heart wasn’t grieved or worried. Izzy has my undying love and respect for her efforts and conduct… She has carried her own intense grief – many griefs actually – I love and salute her with all that I am.

My worry for Cal was like white noise… the fridge humming in the corner that comes into consciousness for reasons – usually associated with trouble. Sometimes this ‘noise’ was soft and manageable – sometimes an unrelenting solid scream. There have been hundreds of nights I have gone to bed crying. Not necessarily with tears flowing, but in my heart they flowed long, loud and free. I’ve learned in these years that this was lamenting – which I used to wake in the morning feeling so guilty about. As though my worrying was a sin… I’d go to sleep crying out to God “How long oh Lord, how long!” and wake thinking “I’ve done it again! I wasn’t going to do that anymore. I was going to “think on the good deeds of the Lord in the watches of the night” and not worry and I’ve mucked it up again”. But eventually I learned that directing my tears to God was prayer… that it was also worship… if one third of the Psalms are laments then I was in OK company. 🙂 I was released from the burden of false guilt as I saw I was turning to the only Face and Place who could bring any change AND that even in the face of all I didn’t know – I knew and could trust in Him.

I also now see the Scriptures about not worrying as meant to be received as comfort for when we already are worrying – not as condemnation – as the enemy can twist it into being.

Throughout Cal’s life, God kept stepping in. This came in ways no mother could ever manufacture. Ways that showed both Cal of His presence and care (which he never denied) and showed me – that He heard and remembered all of my prayers. We were not forgotten.

When God speaks about remembering in the Scriptures – it means the remembrance comes with action. When we’re told that God ‘remembered’ the Hebrews in Egypt – He had never forgotten them and suddenly recalled them… it means it came time to act. And act He did for Cal.

• When he was 15 and on his way to TAFE early in the morning he noticed an African woman reading what looked to be a Bible on the train so he sat beside her and got chatting. The Bible was in Ethiopian and she ended up praying and prophesying over him as they travelled.
• Once at about 19 a lady at a house he was working on – who did not know him from a bar of soap – came and said she felt the Lord was telling her to pray for him – so she did!
• In recent times he’s worked with Christian tradesmen who’ve all encouraged and spoken into his life.
• Then there are the countless times his life has been spared in the accidents and incidents he’s been involved in.

God.

All.

Over.

God has taught me that our prayers are eternal. We speak them… He hears them… We might forget them… He does not…

Over the years God has grown me:

• In gratitude for soooooooooo many things. For all the learning that has come through all the hard things. For so much growth in grace toward others. For the foundation to come alongside others and encourage them. For God’s own grace to ME. And for the privilege of being Cal’s mum – INCLUDING all the hard stuff.

• In perseverance in prayer. In waiting. In hoping. In all of that combined.
  One conversation Rod and I had that was very significant for me was on the subject of hope – just a few months before Cal went into the program. Rod described hope as being all that remains when all else is gone. And I saw hope as something to hold in balance in one hand, with reality in the other – but sometimes the reality side makes you drop the hope ball. So learning to hold hope alongside reality was my heart’s desire.

• And growth in discerning ACTUAL faith from the fluffy misapplication of ‘promises’ and Scriptures. Faith in the Giver rather than the desired gift.

When I first became a mum, the following poem came to me from my Nanna – via my Mum or my sister. I have loved and prayerfully dwelt on it frequently over the 28 years since our eldest was born. While I do love it – I see a problem in it. And one line has always nagged at me – which I figured out some time ago. I think perhaps this one line, which I see to be incorrect, has been the most instructive part of the poem as I’ve puzzled on it over time. See if you can pick which line.

A MOTHERS TRUST

Beneath the blood-stained lintel I with my children stand;
A messenger of evil is passing through the land.
There is no other refuge from the destroyer’s face;
Beneath the blood-stained lintel shall be our hiding place.

The Lamb of God has suffered, our sins and griefs He bore;
By faith the blood is sprinkled above our dwelling’s door.
The foe who seeks to enter doth fear that sacred sign;
Tonight the blood-stained lintel shall shelter me and mine.

My Saviour, for my dear ones I claim Thy promise true.
The Lamb is “for the household”—the children’s Saviour too.
On earth the little children once felt Thy touch divine;
Beneath the blood-stained lintel Thy blessing give to mine.

O Thou who gave them, guard them, those wayward little feet,
The wilderness before them, the ills of life to meet.
My mother love is helpless, I trust them to Thy care!
Beneath the blood-stained lintel, oh, keep me ever there!

The faith I rest upon Thee Thou will not disappoint;
With wisdom, Lord, to train them, my shrinking heart anoint.
Without my children, Father, I cannot see Thy face;
I plead the blood-stained lintel, Thy covenant of grace.

Oh, wonderful Redeemer, Who suffered for our sake,
When o’er the guilty nations the judgment storm shall break,
With joy from that safe shelter may we then meet Thine eye,
Beneath the blood-stained lintel, my children, Lord, and I

(Ironside-Keaggy)

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If you count 6 lines from the bottom – you’ll see the offending line.

“Without my children, Father, I cannot see Thy face”.

The writer is making a bargain with God. Our children cannot be the basis on which we choose to trust or deny Him… it frequently is – but that is a deception.

Over time my prayers changed from:

• A heartfelt, but kinda glossy “Lord lead him in the way everlasting”
  to
• Guttural cries of “save him!” (Jesus has already done what is needed to save – Cal, like everyone had his own choices to enact)
  to
• The terrifying prayers of “please help him come to the end of himself – which truly is a terrifying thing for a mum to pray for her child;
  to
• “Please don’t let him kill himself or anyone else” – which in the drug and alcohol culture are realistic fears to hold;
  to
• Grieving his choices. Grieving his sin. Repenting on his behalf.
  … I was not trying to fulfil Scripture, but like I learned with lamenting, I was intrigued to remember this type of prayer was ‘standing in the gap’ – another Scriptural principle God had led me into.

So 18 months ago the 4 of us went along to a Shalom House information day. Hope alive.

Then no change. Hope crashes.

Well – no visible change – but it was still progress. Hope alive again.

And there WAS change – in that his effort to get himself sorted increased – but the self-control required for that, and the lack of the driving issues being confessed or healed, meant he’d see-saw all the more precariously between trying harder and its opposite.

Till one day Izzy drew the line she needed to – and left with the boys.

That was late March. This was needed and she had my total support – but it also meant the volume of my fears increased. I’ve seen before the depths and dangers his agony could lead him to the brink of.

Then one morning, nearly a year after the Shalom House info day, he made that call to Peter Lyndon James and after a hair raising drive (by me) and a nail biting session at Shalom, he entered the program.

I left rejoicing.

And for the first time in maybe 20 years, went to bed with no worry, white noise or inner tears.

Just peace. Amazing.

When we first saw him 3 weeks later – we could see the change all over him. He’d encountered God and had peace in his eyes for the first time – ever as an adult – and in the longest time since he was a little boy.

My heart has not stopped singing on his behalf ever since.

He was baptised a few months ago (as was our youngest, Taryn – her video testimony is here) and he’s growing in the Word of God daily.

Shalom might be a rehab. But its first name as a Discipleship House is far more accurate. The program challenges, changes and ministers. It is being used mightily and I am exceedingly grateful.

Potentially the single hardest and biggest thing I’ve learned along the way is this:

God wants us to desire Him MORE than the thing we’re praying for. Even when that thing is also in His will.

We as a family are still waiting for some other things to come to pass. But we’re ALL waiting for something aren’t we.

Here’s a song for those who wait for something deep.

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Today – 7/10/19

Walking this journey has been the most excruciating journey of my life – but conversely the joy of ‘now’ is mine in epic proportions. I had never cried so many tears as for this one… but my last tears for him were in April last year and my ‘innards and outwards’ have been dancing ever since. Repentance, restortion, redemption. Beautiful realities.

AND they were married two weeks ago.
😁💃💃💃👏🙏😁

If shame has any use at all – it is to propel us toward light… help… good… what’s so sad is that it usually does the opposite and darkness continues to preside.

We’re already watching and experiencing the ripples of his changed life… those ripples are touching people and deep pains in unexpected places.

Shame hasn’t won.
Light has.