blog ~ faith ~ family ~ heartlife
Have you ever tried to bring a toddler out of a tantrum or heavy duty sulk? A tantrum is usually pretty noisy and the sulk follows on – but some personalities head straight for the sulk. The further ‘in’ they are, the more futile an exercise it is to talk them out. They’re too invested and the coaxing ends pretty badly. Either in a frustrated parent or a win for the sulk – both of which can compound over time if it’s a pattern.
Continue reading “The Long Sulk”
I made a friend when without having met her before, I picked her up as she was walking in the rain on a wintry day 21 years ago. She wasn’t quite a total stranger – I recognised her as a new mum at our current school, and obviously she recognised me as well so she hopped in the car and directed me to her home which she was about halfway through the journey toward.
Continue reading “Moving towards”
I’m aware of how strange some of this sounds even though the memories are precious to me…
I grew up in a home where I heard the Bible read aloud almost every day… where we went to church and learned memory verses… camps where we had “sword drills” (finding a specific place in the Bible as fast as possible and raising it in the air to see who’d be first), with parents who honoured it and its Author with their hearts, souls and lives.
Continue reading “Surrendering”
A friendly young voice called out while serving at the register beside me “Hello Mrs McEwan! How are you?” I looked across seeing a hint of familiarity but having to admit (with a smile and a ‘hello’ first) that I couldn’t recognise him. He told me his name and a heap of context whizzed through my mind as I looked at this tall and smiling young man that I hadn’t seen since being about 3 feet tall. He had to serve another customer so I thanked him for saying hello, told him it made me so happy that he had – and asked him to say ‘hey’ to his mum for me.
Continue reading “A walking prayer”
Once upon a time, about 15 years ago, lived a tribe of small children in a rambling home on a hill where the summers scorched and the winters wore but come sunshine or sleet, grey days or golden, the children would play.
Continue reading “An Unconventional Story”
In the last few days I’ve been thinking rather a lot on WHY I was such a snot to my parents at around age 16. I’d have thought that by the 6th kid in our family to be almost 16 – that I’d have thought through all my own teenage ‘stuff’ by now but it’s not so.
Continue reading “On Growing Up”
Some situations make you feel like you’re in a paper bag that you SHOULD be able to break out of, but can’t.
Continue reading “Perseverance?!”
I realised some years ago that for a variety of compounding reasons, I’d held a bunch of false expectations of God, which had led to anger, disappointment and confusion. I never quit believing in His reality, but some junk existed in my head which needed sorting.
I have never felt that God picks this one or that one, rubs His hands together and says, “right-o then – I’ll pluck off someone you love – I’ll wreck your marriage – I’ll take your baby – I’ll crash your car – you can handle it! This’ll be good for you”
…BUT…
I did realise that I had an expectation that doing life with God, would mean things didn’t hurt sooooooooooooo much.
Through a certain set of circumstances, eight years ago the ‘cruise ship’ of my faith got stripped away to a bare raft that for a while consisted almost solely of: God is real, He loves me, He is kind. One day I asked God “what ARE your promises?” as I felt like so much I had picked up over the years actually was not promised at all! – just a bunch of verses taken and applied out of context with hope or desire for control.
This stripping occurred when our tiny little grandson was born at 23 weeks and only lived for 22 days. Some of you reading this will remember that time. Our whole family was so thoroughly loved and supported but nevertheless it was the hardest year of our lives. After little Elijah died his precious mum came to live with us for a while as these two young parents (16 & 17) needed to be together to grieve. The pressure, the sorrow, the agony, the complexity – and myself still hormonal from the birth of our own little girl (then 3 months old), meant I was clinging by a thread. I would get the kids to school each morning, keep my determination until I parked back in our carport and then rest my head on the steering wheel…and sob.
There was a song I listened to daily… it somehow scoured my soul and gave me solace at the same time. Scoured my soul because it was so raw… Brought solace for the very same reason… there was no fluffing about with the truth of pain in this song. (First comment below for the link). I would have my cry, listen to my song and pull it together before coming back inside where Izzy was, and who did not need to see MY struggle right under her nose as she had quite enough of her own.
So this was the context where I felt my faith be stripped to the minimum. A little way down the track I told God I knew I had stripped away too much of Him and would He please ‘put back in’, ‘restore’ and ‘increase’ Himself to me – but only what really belonged. I was sick of fluff and padding. Fairy floss faith that dissolved on contact. The raft had taken me through the storm of that time but I also knew God to be so much more.
Then one day I had a super special time with Tarri. She’d had her immunisations and was as miserable as it’s possible to be. Temperature, local reactions and just sad, sad, sad. I had her sitting on the kitchen bench with my arms around her saying over and over “I know, I know” when…
…in that moment… God’s presence was right THERE with US. It was as though we were held in His feather soft wings and He’d come to show me He’d done the same as I was doing for Tarri – for me… for us… all this time… that just like my arms enveloped Miss Tarri, His encircled me… us… and while Tarri was too little to understand my words AND that she still felt miserable her little being was benefiting from my presence and comfort. The worse thing, the unbearable thing for Tarri (or for me) would have been to remove the presence of the Comforter and removing that presense would be the only way to know the difference between the pain with or without the comforter. Either way was going to hurt. But His presence meant He wept with us, just as I was moved to tears for this little bundle of misery in MY arms.
Yes I had still hurt, but yes, He’d been there all along comforting and whispering “I know, I know”. Sometimes life throws us things which are immeasurably painful… immeasurably difficult… all of our experiences will be different but most, if not all of us, will be find ourselves at some point in time, at (or over) the edge of our endurance.
This is when we can know and understand some of the paradoxes in the Bible as truth…
“Blessed are those that mourn for they shall be comforted” – the blessing is not the mourning – the blessing is in recognising His comfort within the mourning.
“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted” – He never said our hearts wouldn’t be broken, He said He’d be close at hand WHEN we are brokenhearted.
There is no pass out of the pains and sorrows of this life – but there is the reality and promise of his presence. And the reality and promise that when we seek Him with our spare time after we finish on FB or watching movies, that He will be able to be found by us. Actually no… I am busted… it doesn’t say that at all… it says that when we seek Him with our WHOLE HEART, He will be found.
Christians are always banging on about how Christianity is not a religion, it’s a relationship. Well – in fact it is a religion BUT at it’s core, if it’s not a relationship, it’s not real. There is no Priest or Pastor or mentor or formula who can make this happen… it really is between us and Him directly.
It’s a growing thing… but growing needs a beginning.
And I know I need His arms around me.
(Written and shared with Izzy’s blessing xx )
Someone posted in another group a few days ago, an excellent question about balancing age privileges/freedoms for kids so here’s some thoughts of mine.
Continue reading “Age appropriate privileges”
Once upon a time, before I was a mother, I used to sew and design clothes for a number of ladies. One of the most valuable lessons I learned from this period of my life is that most women (I never sewed for any men) have parts of ourselves we want to hide or disguise and/or other parts to flatter and promote.
Continue reading “Appearance and assumption”