Coming Home

On this cool morning, I’m sitting on my friends’ porch. The sound of birds and farm equipment during harvest soothe my soul. The blueberry fields across the road form lovely lines and in the distance the swathed grass seed awaits the combine. I hear the mourning doves and maybe some pigeons, along with a choir of other birds. Maisy hasn’t discovered that I’m here yet. She’s a happy Swiss Bernese Mountain Dog that I have enjoyed since she was just a puppy. Now she’s a very large one year old. Bumblebees enjoy the salvia in front of me. The long porch with white wooden rocking chairs feels so inviting. I feel incredibly blessed.
Just after sunrise this morning, I checked on Jackie and Ken. He’s settling in since arriving back home from the care facility yesterday. This wonderful couple is adapting so well already. She lovingly guides him and he manages to get up and around with the right equipment. Delighted at being reunited, they smile a lot, and their good humor and obvious love for each other touches my heart. Married almost as long as I’ve been alive, they have a wonderful partnership. I think she said they’ve lived in the same house for 50 years now. The only time they’d been apart, except for during COVID after his health crisis, was when he biked across the entire US, and another time when he biked from Canada to Mexico. This couple knows how to live! At the care facility, they were only allowed to see each other through a little window, and that felt like torture. Their obviously close friendship inspires me.
I hope Jerry and I continue to cultivate such a vibrant relationship that endures for decades. When we’re old, I hope we’ll care for one another joyfully, sharing our sorrows and challenges with grace and humor. Sometimes we do well at that. Sometimes we don’t. We’re human.
We already have plenty of physical limitations and conditions to overcome together. We grieve inwardly, and outwardly that grief shows up in various ways.  Sometimes I need to remember that anger is a dimension of grief, and if not expressed in healthy ways, it will show up in strange ways.  More on that in another blog. We’ve made it through a lot in these five years. I love Romans 8 where it talks about how nothing can separate us from His love, and how God causes all things to work together for those who love Him and are called according to His purpose. Somehow our love grows stronger as we endure various trials. Somehow, by God’s infinite grace, we grow closer to the LORD and as a result we learn about His Hesed. God’s steadfast, enduring devotion, His covenant love…we get to experience these things in our marriage. We get to experience hanging in there when things are challenging. We learn about loving each other when love doesn’t come naturally. We find a way to forgive each other when we fail miserably. We carry on and we forgive one another because He first forgave us, even when we were hostile to Him. He loves us with a steadfast love. Marriage is a wonderful classroom.  A living laboratory. A chance to fail, to grow, to persevere. To reach the end of ourselves, and allow Him to heal and transform the broken places that painful times reveal.
I call marriage the Beautiful Struggle.

Creating Space for What Matters Most

Sometimes we can get caught up in working towards a goal, and in the midst of learning and trying to accomplish something, we lose sight of how this may be impacting us and our relationships.

Recently I made a prayerful decision to let go of a goal, for whatever time God leads me to do so. God gave me guidance in a number of ways…all culminating in a moment when the blur and strain of various responsibilities, emotions and concerns I’d been carrying over the past few months came into focus.

God spoke to my heart in the grocery store, when a fairly simple task felt like a big challenge. The motorized cart I used to gather the groceries for Thanksgiving dinner was full (and I had a few groceries already setting around my feet) and I couldn’t seem to find the frozen turkeys. People pointed here and there as they guessed where the turkeys were kept, but none of their guesses were anything more than a wild goose chase. I wanted to finish and go pick up my mom from her appointment, but I needed to find the turkey first. For a moment, I felt like pulling over and crying. Instead, I prayed, “Please help me, God.”

Finally, I asked the woman at the deli where they kept the turkeys, and whether someone could help me get the turkey to the check-out stand in the front of the store. She pointed at a freezer “island” in the back of the store, and she paged someone to help me. Before the customer service woman arrived to help, a nice young man working in produce (his first day on the job) picked up the 20 lb. turkey I pointed to, and he gladly carried the turkey up to the check-out stand where I took my place in line.

I am thankful for how God spoke an important truth to my heart as I rode the motorized cart around the store, and finally got the turkey and other groceries loaded into my van. Like that cart, my life had gotten too full recently. Health issues and major life transitions of loved ones, the recent loss of a beloved family member, and various other concerns all weighed heavily on my heart.

As I prayed more about all of this, I sensed God showing me that He saw the impact of all that. He is always glad to be with us and treats our weaknesses tenderly. With all of these major life events going on in our extended family in recent months, I realized I really need to create some space for what matters most. To do that, I needed to be willing to put a personal goal on hold, and trust God with this decision and the eventual outcome.

When I shared this decision with a friend, she commented that in Psalm 46:10, “Cease striving and know that I am God,” the language means to release something, to let go and to relax. In releasing this desire to God, I felt such genuine peace. I slept better. I felt able to be more emotionally present again. Offering love and practical support to loved ones began to feel natural again. My own health benefited from this letting go as well. Living with multiple sclerosis is more challenging than I often acknowledge. I try to live in light of eternity, but being realistic about my limitations and my own needs helps.

Sometimes a goal or focus takes on a life of its own, and we begin to work with singular focus towards reaching that goal. But as it says in Ecclesiastes 4:6, “One hand full of rest is better than two fists full of labor and striving after the wind.” Christ calls us to learn the unforced rhythms of grace as we yoke up with Him and find our burdens lighter because of His power and strength.

When God calls us to do something, we apply ourselves and put our heart into this task. Yet, when God leads me to let go of that same goal or task (even for a time or season), I want to obey without hesitation. When love motivates me to set something aside, I can trust God’s timing, His heart and His leading.