August 31, 2010

• {My hands are holding you}

  
  
  As Shayne left yesterday Emma dropped down and wrapped her arms around both his legs and hung on tight…
  
  “Come on, baby.” I said as I reached over and tapped her on the head. “Daddy’s gotta go…”
  
  Though I was kinda feeling inside that I’d like to get down and join her, if I could have.
  
  Instead I stayed up.
  stayed calm.
  smiled.
  Atleast those were the things I was telling myself to do.
  
  Feeling this floodgate of emotion right outside my heart’s door, but choosing to ignore it’s knock.
  
  and not saying this as if it’s the cue for everyone to go, “aw. poor Amber….”
  because reality is – which my emotions distort, but reality still the same –
  my life isn’t really as bad as all that.
  my hard isn’t as hard as others.
  I’m very aware of that.
  But.. aware too. It’s still mine.

  It seems within minutes of Shayne leaving Emma had fallen off the piano bench and hit her head, crying loudly. Ben was about to join her over frustration with his math. And Kate was uncharacteristically smacking at her keyboard.. which took me a minute to see, wasn’t working.
  
  I was sitting on the phone for the 3rd time that afternoon with tech support from the kids school. Trying to get the textbooks they forgot to send us. And as I heard the tears and frustration and angry smacking from behind me – combined with the overly pleasant recorded female voice saying, “Your call is very important to us. Please hold and one of our representatives will be with you shortly.”
  
  suddenly… kinda felt that flood of emotions crack the door just a bit -
  
  I clicked the phone off.
  Turned and tried to give comfort, instruction, correction.
  None of which I seemed to do very well.
  Then, sent the kids outside for “recess.”
  As I took one of my own..
  laying my head down on the desk and whispering prayers to the Lord for extra grace…
  
  I thought of these things I had read just that day::
  
  “…the prevalent idea that movies and music and TV have the greatest influence on our kids’ lives just doesn’t hold up under research. It may feel better to identify Hollywood, MTV, and today’s culture as the main source of our problem, but the fact remains that we as parents have the greatest influence and opportunity to instill our values and faith within our children. Sure, the culture is a powerful enemy, and it is true that this influence has distorted their perception of Christianity, truth, and reality. But would our young people be where they are today if parents were models of Christlikeness – relationally connecting with their kids, engaging in a concerted effort to reveal who God really is, and leading them to respond as a true follower of Christ?” {The Last Christian Generation, Josh McDowell}
  
  and,
  
  “It may be true that she is being too sensitive and too dramatic. But if you tell her that, it won’t help and it could hurt. I was too sensitive and too dramatic just last week. Or was it this morning? Their stuff may be minuscule in the scope of life, but it is their stuff. To respect her life-stage is to love her.”  {on loving those teenage girls, from chatting at the sky – read full post here}

   
  
  How very much I want to be everything I need and should be to my kids…
  
  the understanding listener to Kate.
  the enthusiastic motivator to Ben.
  the spontaneous play mate to Emma.
  
  But. as I sat there yesterday…
  I felt totally inadequate to understand.motivate.have fun.
  Empty of any kind of anything to offer.
  “Their stuff may be minuscule in the scope of life, but it is their stuff.”
  Yes. I know.
  but.there.are.days.
  days I can’t seem to get past my own stuff!
  
  Thing is. even after my little recess time of laying it out before God -
  the kids were now back in, life rolled on as normal.
  I still wasn’t necessarily feeling super naturally inspired and lifted.
  the computer still wouldn’t work.
  the math problems hadn’t changed.
  and the 4 yr old seemed bent on getting hurt.
  
  So.. we all just sorta cried and fussed and slapped at the keyboard occasionally and muddled our way through.
  
  Later, when I went up to my room for something, the radio was playing and this song caught my attention.
  I stood looking out the window as I listened -
  
  “Why are you striving these days
  Why are you trying to earn grace
  Why are you crying
  Let me lift up your face
  Just don’t turn away
  
  Why are you looking for love
  Why are you still searching as if I’m not enough
  To where will you go child
  Tell me where will you run
  To where will you run
  
  And I’ll be by your side
  Wherever you fall
  In the dead of night
  Whenever you call
  And please don’t fight
  These hands that are holding you
  My hands are holding you…”

  
  
  It struck me that in spite of those muddled through kind of days..
  when things don’t seem to get any better.
  become instantly easier.
  or miraculously change.
  
  He’s still holding me.
  
  Just because He doesn’t always sweep in and save the day the way I might outline in my mind –
  to allow the computer to work. the math genius cells to fall upon me. or little ones to learn better coordination.
  
  He’s still holding me.
  
  To be held by Him isn’t about having everything go my way…
  but resting in the truth that the way He is choosing to take me is the very best way for me.
  
  And not in a self pity whoa is me, “oh, here we go again” kind of attitude.
  but in a quiet assurance that what He allows to happen is because
  He loves me THAT much.
  thinks of me THAT much.
  is THAT concerned.
  THAT caring.
  
  And that’s why I can make it through life.
  
  through the day to day stuff.
  the hard stuff.
  the computers breaking,
  emotions flooding,
  and math that makes your eyes cross.
  
  Not because I pray a prayer and everything is suddenly better.
  Not because my circumstances are what I want or like.
  And not because I’m holding tight to Him…
  especially not that last one -

  To be held by Him is not the same as me holding onto Him.
  because unlike me – He never is fickle.emotional.stressed. or tired.
  He never turns loose. –

  if I were trying to make it through from relying on my grip on Him I’d never make it – -
  I turn loose way too quickly and much too often.
  
  no. I make it through…
  because *HE* never lets go of me!
  
  
  
  “The eternal God is your refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms.” {deaut.33.27}

   
  
  
  
  ¸.·´¸.·¨) ¸.·¨)
  (¸.·´ (¸.·´ (¸.·¨¯`♥ amber  
  

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