Archive | pensive RSS feed for this section

Why So Tense?

23 Jun

Bitter days? I’ve had a few.

Every so often I replay offenses in my life over and over again in my head. And in my heart. It’s like a puzzle or a riddle you just can’t figure out. Maybe if I mull it over one more time, I can fit the pieces together and reconcile it within myself. But I never will. It is an unsolvable riddle. It relies on others providing pieces to the puzzle that they cannot or are unwilling to give. They may honestly not know they are even holding those pieces at all.

The only relief I will find is if I let it go. Allow it to go unsolved, unresolved, unreconciled. Allow it to be what it was probably always meant to be. Humbling moments in time that taught me lessons about myself. The ugly parts that needed to change. And the parts of myself I can be proud of. Now, if only I can wrap my heart around that concept, I can let go of these things I hold onto.

Grudges? I’ve a had a few.

Just Being Human

21 Jun

Sorry it’s been awhile. I came down with the flu for about a week. Boy, was this the worst time to get sick!

We finally found a pentecostal/charismatic church. It’s 40 minutes away which is quite a bit when your last two churches were 10 and 2o minutes away but it gives Paul and I some good chat time. The church is doing a series on how to be a contagious Christian and what that means. The summary of this message was to pray more and talk less, love more and judge less. It was the prayer portion that really touched us.

At this point, Paul and I sort of don’t know what to pray. We pray for healing, both spiritual and physical. We pray for peace. We pray for courage. We pray for comfort. We pray for grace and mercy and all of the things we’ve learned to pray. But at this point our prayers seem to be simply going through the motions of praying and praying all the things we know are the right things to pray. We both discovered that what we are struggling with this at this time is bitterness and disappointment.

We feel like whiny Jobs, “God we know you are who you say you are. But why does life have to suck so bad right now? Gah!” I’m aware of the admonishment that Job received after saying such things, but sometimes you just gotta be human and shake your fist to the sky.

Deja Vu

3 Jun

In 2001, Paul lost his sister Kristi to a brain tumor after an 11-year long battle. As the tumor and its affects began to overtake her brain, her mental and physical abilities began to decline. Paul and his extended family are now forced to watch his mother go through the same thing at a much faster rate due to the aggressiveness of her brain cancer.

Last night, Paul’s mom was taken away by ambulance and admitted to the hospital. We found out that the tumor has now grown to 6 cm and is dislocating her brain. As we finished the admission process last night, we discussed medical care for Paul’s terminally ill mother. Much of the conversation was very similar to the conversations my brother and I had for my dad a little over a year ago.

I have no spiritual insight. I cannot see the beauty from the ashes quite yet. I know that I will. I will know we will eventually see the lessons to be learned and our character will grow. But at this moment taking comfort in God’s sovereignty doesn’t feel like enough. As Paul said last night, “God we know you’re great. We know you’re sovereign. But sometimes you seem like kind of a jerk.”

Perspective

27 May

A lot of people have mentioned to me that it’s pretty incredible that I uprooted my life to support my husband in moving out to Pennsylvania. This is odd to me because, quite frankly, Paul is my life. Our lives became one almost six years ago. His family is my family. His needs are my needs. This isn’t a “sacrifice” for me. This is merely me being his wife and that is the promise I made on our wedding day. For better or for worse.

I think that losing my dad opened my perspective to the need a child has for a parent at any age. I mourn that I didn’t spend much time with my dad in the last two years of his life. I don’t want Paul to have any regrets as to what he could have done or didn’t do. And I would never want to be the thing that stood in the way of his ability to be near his family during this hard time.

Of course, I’m hesistant to say what the doctors say is happening. I know that this brain cancer in my mother-in-law’s brain is a reality. But I now that God trumps reality. Actually, God is reality and His reality isn’t always what we see or feel here in our lives. Our prayer is, “God, we know you can heal her. If it is your will to heal her, we have no doubt that you can. But, we submit to your sovereignty. We just ask that if it is not your will to heal her of this tumor, that you take her home to be with you quickly so that she does not suffer.”

I hope and pray these are all healthy and Godly perspectives to have.

Winter in June

6 Jun

Christian recording artists Nichole Nordemann has this song called “Every Season” about seeing God in every season of your life. It really spoke to me a few years back when it came out and in my prayer time today, it just popped into my head. Specifically this lyric:

And everything in time and under heaven
Finally falls asleep
Wrapped in blankets white, all creation
Shivers underneath
And still I notice you
When branches crack
And in my breath on frosted glass
Even now in death, You open doors for life to enter
You are winter

I think that the past six months have been a time of winter in my life. With events as obvious as the death of my dad and something a little more subtle like the loss of a life without a child. Recently, we’ve had this massive transition in our church and transition can be a winter-like period as well. Some people have lost their jobs and the people still left at the church are mourning the loss of a friend or pastor who is moving on.

It’s so easy to sit back and see God pruning other people around you. “Oh yea, they’re being pruned.” “Oh man, would you look at that… the church is being pruned.” “I hope everyone embraces the pruning cause it’s such a healthy thing…” All of these things are easy to say, until you realize the God has been pruning you all along and He’s not done yet. Why hadn’t I noticed? Why did I think I was exempt from it all?

The real question is, can I still see God in all of it? Can I see God in the death of my dad? Can I see God in giving up my comfortable behavior in order to be the mom my son needs? Can I see God in change? Can I see God in death, whether physical or spiritual?

I pray that I can.

Will the Real Teresa Please Stand Up

30 Apr

So, I have begun my path on the road to recovery. To claw myself out of the depths of post-partum depression back to (hopefully) feeling like myself again. And as I say and think those words, I wonder, “What does that even mean?” The last time I remember feeling like myself was when I had no human being to rely on me to do that little task of sustaining their life. (I hope you’re sensing the tone, cause there is one).

Who will emerge when the dust of hormones settle? What are the parts of me that I will choose to leave behind because they no longer fit as my new role as “mommy”? What will I keep? What will I hold onto, refusing to let go, kicking and screaming as God continues to refine me? And why does this refining process have to be so freaking painful?!?! Why can’t refining be a comforting process that feels like getting a foot massage? Or as satisfying as eating toaster strudel? (which I’m officially off of, btw).


I knew that becoming a mom wouldn’t be a walk in a field of daisies along calm streams and toaster strudel waiting for me at the end of the path (*sigh*), but I didn’t expect the identity crisis.

Will the Real Teresa Please Stand Up

29 Apr

So, I have begun my path on the road to recovery. To claw myself out of the depths of post-partum depression back to (hopefully) feeling like myself again. And as I say and think those words, I wonder, “What does that even mean?” The last time I remember feeling like myself was when I had no human being to rely on me to do that little task of sustaining their life. (I hope you’re sensing the tone, cause there is one).

Who will emerge when the dust of hormones settle? What are the parts of me that I will choose to leave behind because they no longer fit as my new role as “mommy”? What will I keep? What will I hold onto, refusing to let go, kicking and screaming as God continues to refine me? And why does this refining process have to be so freaking painful?!?! Why can’t refining be a comforting process that feels like getting a foot massage? Or as satisfying as eating toaster strudel? (which I’m officially off of, btw).


I knew that becoming a mom wouldn’t be a walk in a field of daisies along calm streams and toaster strudel waiting for me at the end of the path (*sigh*), but I didn’t expect the identity crisis.