He is Building a House

Once a facebook friend posed the question: If you were a house, what would you look like? In the midst of a day with my actual house begging to be cleaned, I fiddled around on my phone for half an hour, searching for a house that matched my personality (We’ve all been there, right?).

This is what I came up with:

I am obsessed with the color yellow. I love vulnerability, and windows, and new life, and life in process, and I value beauty...and tend to find it in unlikely places. It was easy to find a house that made me feel known.

However, I am actually not this house. I’ve realized that recently.

Our landlord is selling our current rental and we have to be out in January. Something moved us, call it faith or insanity, to believe we could celebrate Christmas in a new place. Instead the process has been one let down after another, with the Lord whispering, “Can you still believe?” Last weekend we were at a conference and I firmly believed, but in the quiet moments, back home in my mundane life, I’m not so sure. I ebb and flow in faith and fear, stability and shame, feeling like I don’t want to be productive in my life, but hidden in a closet with chocolate and chips because somehow junk food makes uncertainty a bit more more manageable.

I’ve been a Christian for awhile now, in various seasons of shifting and unknowns, and it doesn't get easier. Like, shouldn’t I know how to do this by now? Yesterday I found myself asking God, “What do you want me to do?” Because that’s the thing, what caused harvest in the last season won’t work in another. God is teaching us reliance, not formula. Still, I like a good formula.

Should I worship?

Should I war in prayer?

Should I fast?

While all of these things are well-meaning, nothing trumps waiting on the Lord in expectation. This is where our strength comes from (Isaiah 40;31). But, I have to say, waiting is the worst! I am so over waiting in my life.

Sunday morning I was reading the Bible because when God isn’t speaking clearly or showing up, that’s where I start. Our life scripture is Isaiah 54:13, “All of your children will be taught by the Lord, and great will be their peace," but I had never actually read the verse before it (or, at least it had never held meaning).

Tossed with tempest is how I would describe these last two months. Not comforted. Terrified? It’s almost foretelling though, as I wait for a house, that God is making me into a house. Before He began teaching me, shaping me, culturing grace in my life, I imagine this is a little more what I looked like as a house:

But now, He is laying a firm foundation of brilliant color, of priceless value, raising up impenetrable walls, repairing the gates of my life that once swung to and fro on a squeaky hinge into crystal. He is making me into a house to case His presence, to carry and reveal His glory, and the very seasons that have tossed me are the ones that secure my foundation. 

When I read this scripture, I let go, again, knowing that so much of what happens in the natural is currency in the supernatural, it’s painful process and toiling and uncertainty laid at the feet of an unseen God that builds up our spirits, and makes an impossible testimony. Over and over in Isaiah God is called Redeemer. My life is a mess right now, figuratively and literally. But, He is Redeemer, and I am learning to look at this mess, to look at myself as a house being redone by a master craftsman, and some of His best work is done when I wait well.

Now, I have to say, because God tells me this so often, He isn’t surprised by my humanity, by the days I resurrect a ten foot wall around my heart and say, “No! You cannot work on this part of my house today because it hurts and I can’t go there with you.” He tells me so often, “There is grace to be human.”

Yet, when we let Him work, when we choose not to distract ourselves, and just sit at His feet, this is the better thing (Luke 10:41-42).

Sometimes I want to say to God, “I’m just a simple girl. I don’t need to be made of rubies and gemstones! A nice brick house will do.” Still, when I’m feeling brave, when I’m at the altar in extravagant worship, I find myself praying really big prayers, “Use me. Build my character. Break the mold of what I think ministry looks like. Teach me to love like you. I’ll do whatever it takes!” Then, suddenly my life takes a very uncomfortable shape, unpredictable, messy (did I mention my life is messy?), tempest-like, and I’m waiting on the Lord, again.

There used to be a vacant lot across the street from my house, and one day a big truck dropped off lumber and brick in the center of it. As days passed, men showed up and began piecing it together, measuring, sanding, sawing, and laying a foundation. It was literally out my living room window, and every day I would watch the men work and God would speak to my spirit, “I am building something.” I thought He was speaking to me about revival or a personal ministry, but now I realize He is building me. In the mess, in the waiting, in the quiet trust, I am becoming like Christ, built upon Christ, Himself. I am the neediest fixer-upper there ever was, but He has a vision for my life, and He will not stop until the work is completed...and I will never stop waiting on Him. 

It's Okay to Feel (permission granted from a feeler)

I always carried a shame for being the sensitive one.

From a young age I was drawn to babies, animals and dolls alike. New life made me cry.

Death also made me cry. 

The first time I learned of the Holocaust, I wept to the point of exhaustion and breathlessness. This pattern of feeling deeply continued on in my life, but I never grew into it. Instead, I was medicated. I always assumed there was something wrong with me, that a PG-13 movie peak scene was sometimes too much, like that time I was 16, on a date to see Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers. A horse was shot with a bow and arrow in an opening scene, and I fled the theater in tears. I could not return to my seat, but I had abandoned my popcorn and purse in my mad dash so that the nice guy who had accompanied me asked management for a flashlight to crawl on his hands and knees and retrieve my belongings from our row. No, he never asked me out again….and I wouldn’t have either 😜

And, so over the years, not able to restrain my emotions like I wished that I could, I just kept them to myself, crying in private. Or, I tried to make it seem cute that baby commercials and Christmas and stories made me cry, even if internally I felt like a giant loser. Thankfully, I've grown in my identity as a child of God, and not been medicated for a over decade now, I’m learning to become more comfortable with who I am. Just two days ago I happened upon the shirt that I wore when I met my husband for the first time. I held it in my arms, smelled it, pulled it on, and then I cried. I remembered how it felt to see him 10 years ago, to sneak lightening fast peeks at the color of his eyes, and how that first hug bound me to him for life. I could not imagine a life not having access to those bear hugs! When he came home from work, I was wearing the shirt and he said, “Did it bring up some good memories?” I nodded, and casually admitted I shed some tears. Years ago I would have told no one.

I am in a season of engaging my emotions responsibly. I’ve read books (including the Highly Sensitive Person, which recommended I visually return to the birth canal and comfort myself. Didn't quite finish that book 😅), and I've listened to numerous podcasts. I’m beginning to discover that there is nothing wrong with me.

However, I have a confession. When one of my daughters cries, I am convinced there is something very wrong with them. I have THREE daughters and that means there are very many tears shed in my house, daily. Sometimes one of them will cry over spilled milk, and the other two will cry because the first one cried. Suddenly I am every authority figure in my life that ever said, “You are the sensitive one” and I am telling them, inadvertently, “You are too sensitive!” I have tried to hone in my frustration with the exuberant amount of emotions that cycle around this place, but mostly I am telling the three little girls to suck it up. Literally no life lessons in that. Paul approached me weeks ago and said the Lord had convicted him to be gentler on our girls as they process their emotions, and right then, I knew the Lord was speaking to me, too. I’ve been practicing being okay with their emotions, even as I learn to be okay with mine.

Two days ago Sonora was laying around doing nothing and I asked her to help me fold laundry. She started to cry, and said, “Can’t you see I just need rest?” Yes, I was frustrated. Why does a 7 year old still in her pajamas at 11 am need rest?  I felt the Lord nudging me to engage her. “Why do you feel like you need rest?” She starts to sob, “I just need time with my mommmy!!"

 I held onto her as she cried, but really, I was confused. I had sat with her that morning and done schoolwork, and we baked breakfast muffins together. I couldn’t figure out at what point in my day she had been abandoned. In fact, that entire morning she had been my shadow while the other children played! So, I held her, fighting those feelings that she was being totally irrational. “I sat with you this morning. Do you remember that? We made muffins together...” She cries, “I know!” Then it occurred to me, as a highly emotional person myself, that maybe she didn’t understand why she felt sad. I understand this as someone who has had shame attached to my emotions, avoiding them. So I asked her, “Do you want to ask Jesus what’s going on?”

I could be extra-spiritual here and tell you we went through inner-healing and everything was swell, but she sobbed louder, “I don’t want to talk to Jesus!” Alrighty, then.

I realized that even though she was resistant to talking with Jesus, I could still talk to Him, and model His love and care for her. I closed my eyes and waited, then said, “This isn’t about having time with me or needing rest, is it?”  I waited for her to answer. I waited and waited while she cried on my shoulder, and everything that needed to be done around the house became further pushed behind. Then, she spoke, “I’m really scared we won’t find a house to live in. I don’t want things to change. I want things to be normal, like the last two years. I want Christmas in this house. I want my birthday in this house.” And, on and on she went with a list of things that been building for weeks.

First of all, her process enlightened me to a personality trait of hers: she doesn’t like change. She likes stability. She likes order. She likes her things in place. She’s my “clean” child. To be honest, I’m more like her in my nature, but over the years, I’ve learned to cultivate trust in God, even when I don’t know the future. Our house has been alive with chatter over the changes coming, the BIG changes that are going to be so fun: Christmas in a NEW house, NEW bedrooms, and all the while she has bottled up her own frustrations and here they were in a mess we had to piece together. After I helped her realize where her emotions had stemmed from, I told her that it’ s perfectly okay to be sad, to be scared, to have doubt, and to be frustrated….as long as she voices these things so we can process them together. I reminded her of several testimonies of God’s goodness and faithfulness in our lives so that I did not leave her in hopelessness, but simply gave her permission to feel. Then we hugged, and she skipped off a different child, alive with passion for life. Then I repented for all the times I’ve told my girls their emotions are too much for me, thus teaching them their emotions are too much for them so they avoid feeling or attach shame.

I want to teach my girls that’s it’s okay to feel. I want to continue teaching myself to feel responsibly, so that I can in turn teach my children how to do this.

I was reading the story of Joseph to the children days ago, and while I’ve read the story many times and been encouraged, a new element stood out to me.

Genesis 42:24 “And he {Joseph} turned himself away from them and wept.”

Genesis 43:30 “Now his heart yearned for his brother, so Joseph made haste and sought somewhere to weep. And he went into his chamber and wept there.”

Genesis 45:2 “Then Joseph could not restrain himself before all who stood by him and he cried out, “Make everyone go out from me!”...And he wept aloud, and the Egyptians and the house of the Pharaoh heard it.”

Genesis 45: 14 “Then he fell on his brother Benjamin’s neck and wept, and Benjamin wept on his neck. Moreover he kissed all of his brother and wept over them.”

Genesis 46:29 “So Joseph made ready his chariot and went up to Goshen to meet his father Israel; and he presented himself to him, and fell on his neck and wept on his neck a good while.”

Joseph’s humanity was highlighted to me again, and again. He wept.

Jesus wept. (the shortest scripture in the Bible, as you may know)

I wanted to put this together mainly to encourage parents with emotional children to not push their emotions aside, but really press into to why they are crying, whether it stems from that very moment, or something that triggered them days ago. Teach them to notice their emotions, acknowledge them, and find a place of resolution, whether it is a simple cry, or there is forgiveness that needs to be lent, or a good cuddle from dad. More than anything, and I speak as someone very much in process, be careful to tame your frustration. Sometimes the tears are a simple tantrum, but sometimes they are a gift from God, a key to your child’s heart. Use discernment, and don’t be afraid to engage them in their process of growing in emotional maturity. Join them on the journey. As the inventor of emotions Himself, God will not abandon us in our pursuit! 

Love and Pain

It was more than a year ago today that my heart stopped. I can’t say that this physically occurred, but emotionally, something happened that stifled me. Over the course of the year, I became pregnant, grew a baby, made new friends, my husband began a new job, and I would call it a normal year in the life of the Krismanits family. It was hard. It was beautiful. It was completely mundane most days.

But, I was bound on the inside like nothing I had ever experienced. Paul would encourage me to pray, to seek God, to take time for myself, but nothing worked. Finally, with the guidance of a Christian counselor, Holy Spirit revealed the moment that had “broken” me so-to-speak, and not surprisingly, it was the moment I heard my grandpa had stage 4 cancer.

A couple of saints I know 😉😉

I don’t have time to tell you about my life, to tell you how lonely I felt sometimes, the child of a man who walked away, or how unseen I felt as the quiet kid. That being said, God graciously put two people in my life that never failed to see me, or love even the hidden places in my heart that I didn’t think mattered. Those two people were my grandparents, and I have always loved them with all of my heart. So, when I learned that my grandfather could die, I did the only thing I knew to survive: I stopped feeling.

Now, I didn’t realize right away this is what happened. I just found myself becoming grouchy with everyone that tried to do good to me, like my husband, or my children, in their simple ways they live their life constantly vying for my affection and attention. It felt unnatural to be pulled on over and over and over and over and over. Can’t they see I have nothing to give them? Of course, this triggered me in my relationship with God, how He called me to move away from my family. Can’t He see I need to be there for everyone? I need to be there for my grandpa? Then, this triggered me with my husband. Can’t he do anything besides ministry? Does he think its fun that our life is so chaotic, that I can’t even catch a break to grieve because I’m so concerned about how we will pay our bills? Then, there were my friends, meaningful in their pursuit of my heart, but downright annoying, “You know, God loves you. He can pull you out of this funk.” Hmm. As far as I was concerned, all of His grand plans for my life got me into this funk. I was telling God, “You know, I’ll follow you anywhere, and do anything you call me to do. But, I’M GOING TO NEED MY FAMILY NOT TO DIE OF CANCER. K?” Have you ever bargained with God? My definitions of love get a little fuzzy when I realize God is not very concerned with my comfort level or agenda. Over time, this bitter way of doing life became frustrating, but also inescapable. I went to several counseling sessions, but nothing helped. No roots were exposed. If anything, they heard my circumstance and validated all my emotional flailing with, “Yeah, that’s hard. Set boundaries so the people making your life hard can no longer make your life hard.” Well, I’m married and gave birth to the people making my life hard, sooo…..

Anyway, it turns out, the Counselor I needed was Jesus. He’s really good at counseling. My breakthrough came instantly in the form of a story that Heidi Baker told. Someone asked her to pray for them that they could love like her, such selfless love. She said, “Okay, I’ll pray for you. But, be prepared, you’re going to hurt every day of your life.” Then, I broke.

Oh, so I’m not feeling because I’ve shut down love in my life. OH! 

I wish I had a formula for how this broke open my heart, but all I did was let God love me, again. I sobbed for what felt like forever, and then, repented to my husband and children and friends for being a very hard to love version of myself, lest anyone try to make me feel something I didn’t want to feel. I changed for the better.

God wasn’t finished with me yet, though. I still had to look at my grandpa, and let myself be loved, in all of my pain, in all of my doubt, in all of my humanity that looks so ugly and feels so uncomfortable. 

God was so gracious when I visited my family last month. The last several trips I had been to visit my grandpa, he was very ill. On this last trip, even though the Cancer had continued to spread, he was trying a different treatment option that left him feeling better than the last. Now for some backstory: For most of my life he has owned a Kawasaki Mule (basically a really cool golf cart) that I have spent hours with him riding around his property. Then, as I had children, he has carted them around. It is legacy, now, those hours of winding through the cow pasture. When he first got sick, I became afraid that we’d never get to ride again. This last trip though, he pitched the idea. “Who wants to go for a ride?” And, he took off out the door with my brood of children chasing after him. The trail was overgrown, like sometimes the past can become when our pain begs us to ignore it, but we trudged on taking back our legacy, our favorite pastime. My heart was so happy, so overwhelmed with gratitude that I would get this opportunity to ride the Mule again, until I looked at Poppy and he was crying. I was reminded again how pain and love go so hand in hand, how without the thief of Cancer, I would have never cried next to my grandpa, that hour mule ride a new relic in my heart. I was learning to process pain and love, together.

{Little Sonora, Fifi, and Poppy on the mule}

{Phoenix gets to cash in on his first mule ride on this last trip}

And, still, God was not done with me. I had to come back to Texas and began life again, with sick kids and fallen behind schooling, and messy house, and husband in a new job, and me, learning to thrive and be well in my heart, again. Another set of grandparents, two that I have hardly known, the adoptive parents of my birth father, had been in contact with me. They were growing older, and wanted to send me all the remaining items they had of my dad’s childhood.

Part of my special connection with my grandpa came as a result of my dad not being there. I have always longed to know him though, to know what parts of me were in him. When he died, there was so much expectancy and hope in my heart that died with him. It sharpened my faith to believe I would see him again, but it was painful. So, this last week the grandparents that I’ve never known packed up a small box of all of the remaining history of my father, and sent it to me.

I had no idea that little white box would open up all of my wounds, challenging me to be loved in the process of immense pain. The temptation is to avoid it, but to avoid pain means to avoid love. So, deep breaths for me, digging through the remnants of my past. I can remember asking my mom why my other grandparents never contacted me and she would say, “You just represent pain to them.” A failed adoption, a broken man they loved as a son, who abandoned his child to drugs and alcohol. I represent pain, and so they avoided me in a self-protective way that to me, always seemed like rejection. And, I do that same thing with God and others, closing up my heart so I can't be hurt. This box broke my heart. I read through the message spoken at my father’s funeral by friends who knew him best, and realized that though our lives were lead apart from one another, we were not so different. Here is an excerpt:

Even though this was like looking in a mirror for me, I decided that I’m breaking the cycle. I won’t numb myself with drugs, or media (my drug of choice). I won’t shut out my children to keep from hurting them with my humanity. I won’t leave my husband because I’m afraid I’m not good enough. I won’t victimize myself because life hurts. I won’t keep myself from love to avoid pain. I am going to feel all the messy parts of life so I can love deeply and with all of my heart, so I can receive love. 

Sometimes when I’m hurting I will just imagine Jesus on the cross. I will imagine how bloody love is, how we think of love as a packaged-in-plastic red heart, but love is SOFT as flesh, it is vulnerable, it hurts like hell, yet, the propensity to experience it is what sets us free. Jesus paid the highest price for us to experience love, in all of its goodness, in all of its perfection, but without pain, without the cross, love is living behind a veil. I think of Mary who had the greatest privilege of birthing Jesus, knowing Jesus in such an intimate way, how she held this babe in her arms, her destiny and his being prophesied:

33 The child’s father and mother marveled at what was said about him.34 Then Simeon blessed them and said to Mary, his mother: “This child is destined to cause the falling and rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be spoken against, 35 so that the thoughts of many hearts will be revealed. And a sword will pierce your own soul too.” Luke 2:34-35

I want to be brave like Mary, embracing love with the inevitable promise of pain. She was knelt at the cross at his brutal death, not missing a moment of her soul being pierced, as she loved him so. I know a lot of believers who think after the resurrection, life gets easy, but I haven't seen much evidence of this. Instead, I see redemption, which only comes as a result of God's goodness meeting our mess. 

Will you let Him see your mess? 

{Stephen, circa 1986}

This man, I don’t even know him. But, one day I will. For now, I’m just going to cry a lot, cry at what might have been, but also, what is still to come because at the very end of his life, he accepted that no matter the mess he made of his life, God loved him anyway. I'm going to cry because my grandpa was rushed to the hospital this morning, cry for the billionth time because grief over cancer is like being dragged through the mud behind a wagon. It hurts, and so I soften my heart before God. He loves me. He loves you, too. And, if you want to experience the reckless love of God, you’re going to feel the weight of your humanity, the weight of the cross, the promise of death being broken in its entirety, and love conquering all. Then, you have to believe it without all of your heart, that death is done for, and new life has come (even when the three days leading up to resurrection feels like forever). That is the gospel, and you don’t just receive it like a cushy Jesus moving into your heart as the salvation prayer implies. No, you live it. And, it’s the hardest, most beautiful process you’ll ever embrace. 

Compartmentalize

Like every crazy-busy Christian mother, I have encountered the never-ending mountain in my day of making time to spend with Jesus. I’ve read the books portraying a sweet mother in the early morn with her coffee and Bible, and wished with all of my heart that was me. I’ve written schedule upon schedule, penciling God into my day, and found that in those seasons when my intentions are at their highest, my children are at their worst. Now, maybe it’s Satan prowling like a lion and devouring my quiet half hour with the Lord, or maybe I’m just a really busy mother.

Two years ago I was feeling overwhelmed by my life with little [needy] people, and wrote yet another schedule. This time I was trying to create an hour in my day to write, and at least thirty minutes a day to read my Bible…you know, if I didn’t brush my teeth or eat a balanced diet, which I barely do, anyway. Schedule, schedule, schedule. Spend time with my kids was a high priority, as well as keeping the dishes caught up on, and doing at least one load of laundry a day. I knew Jesus was jealous for me, but I also knew He gave me a house full of children to care for. Time and time again the wisdom coming from the church was, “Well, you’re just going to have to make time,” which left me with a cloak of guilt as I poured my coffee at 7:30 after being kept up by a nursing, wiggling toddler in my bed all night. And, let’s not forget how it feels to see the mom on Facebook with a snapshot of her highlighted Bible (#timewithJesus) while you were still deep in your pillow.

Oh, I have had it out with God over this.

 “You gave me all these children, told me to homeschool them, and I am a mess of a person! I'm not a morning person! I AM NOT A DISCIPLINED PERSON.” 

And, over the years, after having more children, my rant has not changed, but I’ve realized that while I’m not a disciplined person, I am an in process person, and God knows this about me. And, He knows this about you, too!

Here is where I have landed:

Two years ago I was writing another schedule, trying with all my heart to make time for myself, and make time for Jesus. I felt guilty that I gave myself an hour, and I gave Jesus thirty minutes. I heard the word, “Compartmentalize.” I was like, “What does that mean?” I had a vision of a schedule, and there were blocks of time squared out and color-coded, kind of like Google calendar. I saw all the things I usually schedule, like laundry and schooling, and yes, my twice-a-week shower. I heard Him say, “I’m in every box. You don’t need to give me one.” So, that revelation radically changed how I approached spending time with Jesus. I began to wake up and acknowledge Him, do the dishes and open my spirit to what He was speaking, drive to HEB and make sure He knew how much I resented the parking situation at 4:30. And, there He was, in every box.

I began to see my day outside of schedules, which is just not my thing, to a series of choices that I made from the time I woke up to the time I settled down for the night. I found myself standing in front of the stack of dishes thinking, “What I really should be doing is sitting on the floor with my kids.” And, Jesus would say, “Then, do that.” I found that surveying all the things that had to be done and choosing something felt right. I felt good about myself when I made good decisions….and then I continued to make them. Now, sometimes I do put on Magic School Bus for the kids because it’s 10:00 and I choose to take a shower….and at 11:00 I’m still in the bathroom like, “Crap, they’re still watching TV, and I’m hiding from them.” So, I survey what needs to be done. The TV needs to be turned off. That’s my first choice. I need to make them lunch. That’s my second choice. Now, here’s the harder choice to make: Sit at the table with them and eat lunch, or fix my lunch and disappear to my room for 20 minutes? Ah, choices are powerful!! You know what I’ve found? Either choice I make, I’m still a good mom. If I choose to eat in my room, I just need to choose to see them at a later time.

Now, back to spending time with Jesus and how that fits in. Here’s what works for me:

1) Listen to Seeds Family Worship.

I absolutely love Seeds Family Worship. If you aren’t familiar with them, they are a family that puts scripture to really fun, easy to memorize music. It’s so different from sitting at the table reading my Bible, but it reminds me who God is, and who I am to Him.Their albums are on Spotify and Youtube. 

2) Tape a list of my identity somewhere I see it every day.

If you’ve been to my house, you’ve seen my “Father’s Love Letter” taped to my cabinets. I also have a list of “Who I am in Christ” on my other cabinet. Is it tacky to have tattered paper taped to my cabinets? Sure. But, it kind of goes with my style, if you haven’t already figured that out. Do I read them everyday? No. But I read them about 3 times a week, and it’s just another way I stay plugged into scripture and what God says about me.

3). Stay in the same scripture.

I struggled with guilt for a long time about reading my Bible daily. I read it to check off my list, not to connect with God. In the last year, what I have found works for me is to have one scripture that I go back to every day. One scripture that speaks to me (2-3 verses) and I try to read it over again once a day. What that does is 1) helps me to memorize it, and 2) helps me to see different angles. I love how rich scripture is, how as you read it, layer upon layer exposes itself. When I read the same scripture everyday for a week, it helps me to uncover those layers. Different words stand out to me each day. Usually I’ll circle any words that have significance and then if I have time to journal in the week (which is my favorite thing to do with God), I will go back to my familiar scripture and just write what I feel like God was trying to show me. Some of the most significant words or phrases to me are “If” or “Then,” or “Not only that”.

4) Write letters to yourself.

I started doing this at Bethel, and it is my favorite way to hear from God. This does require some discipline, but seriously, we’re talking like 30 minutes once a month. I steal away to a quiet room, or my car, and I ask Jesus to write a letter to me. Sometimes He speaks so fast and so detailed, my hand can’t keep up. I tell him, “You’re gonna have to slow down!!!” It’s so funny that when I’m doing the dishes, this doesn’t happen. But, when it comes time to write myself a letter, the words come pouring into my spirit! I have all kinds of letters stashed around, in my journal, in my Bible, in books on my nightstand. I probably should value them more since they are words from Jesus, but it’s kind of fun finding them at random. So, try it out!

5) Read a book.

I know, you’re a mom, and you don’t have time to read the Bible, how do you have time to read a book?? Well, to me, the Bible requires a quieting of my spirit, which is half the battle in a crazy house. I usually read one book a month. Jonathan Welton, an expert Bible teacher, says that reading books to help you understand the Bible is as important as reading the Bible. Personally, I love stories. I love people. Sometimes being a busy mom disconnects me from people in a big way, a painful way, but I accept that my season here is brief and my calling immense, so I read people’s stories. I love fiction, but more than anything, I love a good missionary or revivalist story. I eat up revival history. I highly recommend God’s Generals series. I guarantee they will change their life. I’m on my third read-through. I love The Heavenly Man. WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE. All of Heidi Baker’s books. I just read Godrunner by Will Hart. It was so fun to read his journey. I love Darren Wilson’s books. Brian Simmons. I love equipping books by Beni and Bill Johnson, Kris Vallotton, and oh my goodness, Steve and Wendi Backlund have changed our lives!! However, my favorite books are stories of people who, against all odds, live out the message of their lives.

It’s okay if it takes you 6 months to read one book. Just have one by your bed….just in case you get the flu or something and have some time on your hands (not funny, I know).

God has not thrown you to the wolves by giving you a pile of children and asking for your time. No, He’s given you the gift of the Holy Spirit so in the middle of a rigid schedule (I envy you, Type A people!) or just a wad of time that you’re trying to piece together into something productive one choice at a time, He’s there. And, pursuing Him and knowing Him is the greatest choice any of us can make with our days.  

Hope in Glory (Commentary on Romans 5:1-5)

Do you have a scripture that you could just live in?

This is mine...this week, anyway. 

Romans 5: 1-5

“Therefore, having been justified by faith, we have PEACE with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom also we have ACCESS BY FAITH into this GRACE in which we stand, and REJOICE IN HOPE of the GLORY OF GOD.

And, not only that, but we also GLORY in tribulations, knowing that tribulation produces perseverance; and perseverance, character, and character, hope.

Now hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out in our hearts by the Holy Spirit who was given to us.”

Hmm. I could just stay there. Several days ago I read the verse, “Hope does not disappoint,” and cried. Isn’t that liberating? Sometimes I feel afraid to hope- desiring something good and to my favor- because I think of how painful it will be if what I am hoping for doesn’t come to fruition. How good is God to give us permission to hope without risk?

Today when I read this same scripture over again, I was stuck on REJOICE IN HOPE of the GLORY OF GOD. Bill Johnson says to rejoice is to “Be joyful. Then, do it again.” In what? The Glory of God.

Oh, The Glory of God. Essentially, God’s glory is the essence of who He is. In Exodus 33:18-19, Moses asks to see God’s glory, and God responds, “I will cause my Goodness to pass before you.”

We rejoice in anticipation of God’s goodness. That is something to rejoice about!

“And, not only that, but we also GLORY in tribulations.” Romans 5:3

Suddenly glory goes from this brilliant essence of God to a verb. We glory in tribulation. How does one glory? Well, with a quick Google of Greek, the term alternates with exalt or boast. So similar to God’s Glory being the very reason for his exaltation, we experience His glory and release the essence of who He is when we exalt Him. We rejoice in the hope of the glory of God because we can experience His glory. That’s how we give Him glory. Glory can be complicated because it’s essentially as mysterious and completely concrete as God is. Just know 1) God’s glory is His essence, 2) You bring God glory when you operate out of His essence, AKA, He created you for a purpose. In tribulation we express who God is by allowing Him to work patience and character and hope within us. 

We all know that tribulation produces patience and perseverance. Been there, done that. Right? But, what stood out to me is that:

“...perseverance produces CHARACTER, and CHARACTER, HOPE.” Romans 5:4

How does character produce hope?

And, why is hope the goal, here? Isn’t character the crown of a decent human being? Shouldn’t that be the final frontier….not hope?

Back to Google and Greek. Character is interchangeable here with experience. Perseverance produces experience. What is so valuable about experience? Well, we build a history with God. We learn He is faithful. Character here is referring to trusting God, and as we began to trust God unwavering, a seed of hope is planted within us, a hope of glory. Hope of His goodness being displayed in the most unlikely of circumstances.

 Earlier in the week I cried at the idea that hope would not disappoint me, but now I understand that this sort of indestructible hope comes at a price. We can't switch it on like faith. Real hope, cultivated hope, comes as a result of trusting God in trial.

“Now hope does not disappoint, because the LOVE of God has been poured out in our hearts by the Holy Spirit who was given to us.” Romans 5:5

When perseverance has produced character, and character, hope, we will not be disappointed. We'll have hope in what we dared to believe all along as we walked through the wilderness- we are loved by God. We rejoice in the hope of His glory. 

This is why we cannot help but glory in trial. This is why character produces hope. This is why He shares His glory with us, and once we taste it, hope digs a deep soil bed in our hearts, and we won’t be disappointed.  

Let Your Light Shine (Isaiah 58 Commentary)

“Then your light will break forth like the dawn,

and your healing will quickly appear;

then your righteousness will go before you,

and the glory of the Lord will be your rear guard.” Isaiah 58:8

Yesterday evening I was feeling pretty overwhelmed by life. This week was HARD. I was sick, Paul got less work than was expected, our van needed MORE repairs, and then I woke up with a clogged duct (good times…😐). I could feel myself slipping into hopelessness about our situation, and the only reason I stayed somewhat sane was because my husband kept reminding me, "This is just a battle for our peace. We have to stay FOCUSED." 

So, after I put the baby to sleep last night I sat in my rocking chair and waited for the Lord to speak to me. Anything. As I closed my eyes and rocked I had a vision of the scene in the Lord of the Rings where you, as the viewer, become totally convinced that there is no longer hope for the good guys and their deaths are imminent and evil will now rule Middle Earth. The cinematography is incredible because the scene is almost completely dark, shadowy, and consumed by death. Then, on the mountain, LIGHT BREAKS, and Gandalf charges down the mountain as a sliver of fluorescent light follows him, and the scene changes.

When I saw this in the spirit, I thought to myself, “Well, it’s about time, Jesus!” You know, because this week about killed me…haha. Then, I went to bed.

This morning as I worshiped I saw this picture again of the light breaking into the battle and changing the nature of it, and I heard the phrase, “Your light will break forth.” I knew that was a scripture, so I entered it into my Bible app and was brought to Isaiah 58. Immediately what stood out to me was the light breaking was NOT God. It was MY light that was breaking forth. Your light. Not God’s light. It made me think of how many times we ask God for His light to break through, while we patiently, sometimes desperately wait, but the breakthrough God is wanting to do is INTERNAL.

 I think it’s important to notice the IF’s and THEN’s in scripture so we can gather some context. So, I read the beginning of Isaiah 58 and put simply, PERFORMANCE will never cause our light to break forth. Other translations refer to the light as salvation. Performance will never earn us salvation. IF we will do away with performance and serve Him in authenticity, caring for the things He cares for, THEN, our light will break forth.

His righteousness goes before us, the goodness of His glory is our rear guard, and all we have to do is let our light shine!

“THEN you will call, and the Lord will answer;
you will cry for help, and he will say: Here am I.” Isaiah 58:9 (emphasis mine)

So many times- and I am so guilty of this- we think that the battle is between God and the devil. Good and evil. But, no, that battle has already been fought and won! Hallelujah!

The REAL battle is between what is happening in my head and what the truth of God says about my situation. That is the battle of breakthrough. That is the path to peace.

“If you do away with the yoke of oppression...THEN, your light will rise in the darkness, and your night will become like noonday.” Isaiah 58:9-10 (emphasis mine)

     If you want your light to break forth, and your healing to appear swiftly, breaking the yoke of oppression is really the place to start, that is, FIND FREEDOM. The good news is, it's easily accessed in Christ. 

“The Lord will guide you always;
he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land
and will strengthen your frame.
You will be like a well-watered garden,
like a spring whose waters never fail.
12 Your people will rebuild the ancient ruins
and will raise up the age-old foundations;
you will be called Repairer of Broken Walls,
Restorer of Streets with Dwellings.” Isaiah 58:11-12

This morning John spoke on Nehemiah and how those of us in Kerrville have a mandate to restore our city. When I got home, I actually read to the end of Isaiah 58 and verse 11-12 stood out to me. It’s a THEN promise: If we will do all He says (surrender our lives to Him, consecrate our hearts, BREAK THE YOKE OF OPPRESSION, GIVE TO OTHERS, trust Him to have our needs met, be strengthened in Him to name a few), THEN we will be the ones to repair the broken walls of our city, and restore the streets!

How prophetic is it that the dwelling place God wants to repair before the cities are restored is ME. It's YOU. We are the dwelling place He wants!!  Healthy people make healthy cities!!

“If you keep your feet from breaking the Sabbath
and from doing as you please on my holy day,
if you call the Sabbath a delight
and the Lord’s holy day honorable,
and if you honor it by not going your own way
and not doing as you please or speaking idle words,
14then you will find your joy in the Lord,
and I will cause you to ride in triumph on the heights of the land
and to feast on the inheritance of your father Jacob.”
For the mouth of the Lord has spoken. Isaiah 58:13-14

I believe the Sabbath has different implications in the new covenant, but the standard of rest and obedience remain the same. IF we will honor the Lord with our lives, THEN we will find joy and triumph on the heights of the land (yeah!)and feast on our eternal inheritance.

Thank you God that we have everything, everything, everything- by your mercy and grace- to live bright lives, full of breakthrough. Our darkness will shine like the day, we’ll rebuild our city, bring freedom to the captives, experience joy and the fullness of our inheritance when we depart from oppression and religion, submit our lives to you, and love the way you love.

(Yeah!!!)

The Evolution of Motherhood

 Last week a friend of mine with two kids asked me how I do it with five kids. Suddenly the question sent me into a spiral of remembrance, to a time when I had just two kids.

And, yes, it was very hard. There were the obvious hard parts of parenting, like coordinating nap times, and taking two young children with the social skills of monkeys into public by myself, and cleaning up underneath the high chair five hundred times a day, and wondering if I’d ever know what it felt like to sleep again. Yes, all of that was quite difficult, but it didn’t last forever. My toddler and baby grew into a sweet, respectful, helpful seven and nine year old, and babies and toddlers were gradually thrown into the mix. And slowly, over time, it wasn’t so hard anymore.

Now some of that can be attributed to having older kids to distract the younger one. Yes, that is an absolute lifesaver!! As I am typing, my nine year old is building Lego's with the four year old, and has been off in imaginary Legoland for going on two hours. My seven year old is reading to the two year old. My baby is happily kicking at a mobile. It’s quite peaceful in the house in this particular moment, and it was just as peaceful 10 minutes ago when I realized my two year old had poked her thumb through the aluminum cover of more applesauce cups than she had committed to eat. And, also 20 minutes ago when I caught her coloring on the wall with a marker. And, also 45 minutes ago when she pulled her sister’s hair and I took her hand, and told her that we do not pull hair in this house. Our whole morning has been blissfully peaceful, even with crumbs scattered on the tile floor.

So, even though my season has shifted, I have also shifted as a person. I have evolved into someone who let’s a lot more go than I used to. What used to warrant wood spoon spankings now calls for a simple correction. What used to make me gag now makes me laugh. What used to make me scream now makes me breathe long slow breaths behind a closed door. What used to make me cry makes me pray. And, on and on the journey of evolution has brought me to someone who laughs a lot more than I cry, and I believe I can pinpoint to several keys that have lead me into peaceful parenting.

# 1: Enjoy your children.

Relish in them. The dancing and singing, and endless stories. The sweetest little request to read a book while you are in the middle of making dinner. The arms extended into the sky, bouncing at your side, expectant to be held. Just do it. Read to them, hold them, play bingo (and win. Mwahaha!), gawk over the most extravagant Lego jet that has ever been built in the history of Lego jets. Get on your knees to see them better. One of my favorite authors describes raising children as sprinkling gold dust on them, one kind act at a time, one controlled temper at a time, one kiss at a time, one book read at a time. Our culture wants to tell us that we can give them chunks of gold every now and then: a trip to Disney, a big allowance, dance lessons, a cell phone- whatever- and it will supplement gold dust, the every day ways we show love. But, it’s a lie. Not that there isn’t value in all the things we do to bless our children in big ways, but good parenting is the every day tending to their hearts.

Whenever parenting a particular child starts feeling overwhelming or difficult, I make it a point to enjoy them, doing something they like to do. I listen, if they need that. I speak into their hearts, if they need that. For some reason, in my early parenting days, I felt like parenting was a job. I was a boss. I was a a slave driver some days. Now I know that even though it is work, it’s not a job. I’m not a boss, I’m a parent. Kind of like a shepherd. I’m the embodiment of daily boundaries: “Yes you may do this. No you may not do that.” I set the tone of my home, and if it starts feeling chaotic, everything around me bows to my number one responsibility, making sure my children feel and recognize genuine love.

# 2: It’s not a crisis.

Now, before you think I’ve figured everything out, allow me to tell on myself. Poop used to be a crisis. If a 2 year old pooped in their undies after I asked them not to poop in their undies, I would wrestle them beneath a cold shower. “Mommy said not to poop in your undies. That is a NO-NO.” Those memories practically scar me!! I don’t know how my children turned out decent. I’m not sure why I thought potty-training was a crisis, but now, very little in my home is a crisis.

Potty-training is whatever. Poop on the floor is hilarious. Marker on the walls is a trademark of being a two year old. No, it isn’t allowed. Yes, I correct it. But it really isn’t a big deal. One of the best things Paul and I ever did was give permission to the two year old to be a two year old, and a four year old to be a four year old, and so on. Sometimes I will feel myself getting frustrated and Paul will say, “Honey, she’s four.” It’s okay to act your age in our house. You’re safe to freak out if someone rips your picture. You’re safe to scream at a sibling who broke your toy. You’re safe to melt into a puddle of grief if Daddy turns your show off.

Yes, there is correction. Yes, there is discipline if frustration turns to vengeance. But there is so much grace to be human. Parents spend so much time wanting kids to be good, well-mannered, predictable in social-settings…robots. I’ve found that enlisting theory # 1 (enjoying them), while treating them like multi-faceted, ever-changing, emotional humans that they actually are makes them really great kids. Treating explosive, annoying, or messy moments like they aren’t crises first helps you keep a level-head, but second, teaches your kids by example how to respond. And, just like the gold dust of every day goodness accumulates slowly, so does a graceful character.

Also, do you know what diffuses tantrums the quickest in our house? Hugs. Long, firm hugs. 

# 3: Correct Childhood foolishness, discipline rebellion.

This piece of wisdom saved me as a young mother grasping at a million different parenting theories. This. Just let me add, start training early. Start correcting early. Discipline consistently and kindly, and according to what works for each individual child. See, I told you parenting was work! I hear the dividends are through the roof though, so don’t give up sowing...in due time, you’ll reap a harvest of goodness.

How Pain Can Make You Better

Sometimes I will be running on complete auto-pilot, disciplining children, preparing dinner, throwing together a last minute homeschool lesson, all the while my children are in constant chatter mode: story-telling, asking questions, or just lamenting how much I make them play outside [not nearly enough]. If you’re a parent, you know the train of “Uh-huh...yeah...really?...Awesome...” that can ensue from your lips when you have absolutely no idea what you are condoning. Recently, though, I was making lunch and my son was complaining, and to be completely honest, I was a little angry myself. I was tossing pots around, huffing every time I couldn’t find the spice I needed, in the background my son's bitter reel of whining.

We had been planning our family camp with church for weeks. The children’s pastors were all over that process, but being a part of the leadership team, we had known about the venture months prior and been prepping our children for the LIFE-CHANGING opportunity ahead of us: camping, glow-in-the-dark-tag, our bestest friends in the world, an hour outside town with no cell signal, and plenty to explore. We were counting down to the January date.

In the meantime, our hearts were hurting because we had received news in October that my grandpa had stage 4 Cancer. We halted our life in Texas to be with family in North Carolina for 21 days. Then, back to Texas for the holiday season, continued celebration leading up to December 25^th! Then, we found out our beloved Mimi, Paul’s grandma, had taken a turn for the worse. Her Cancer had been maintained for many years giving her allowance to attend birthday parties, travel, host holidays, and enjoy her great-grandchildren. We were blessed with getting to know her since moving to Texas over two years ago. But, the week before Christmas, she was quite ill. Celebrations were canceled. Christmas Eve was spent at the hospital, an uncomfortable dichotomy: not where you want to be a couple hours before Santa drops in, but exactly where your heart needs to be when someone you love has reached their end. Then, a week before family camp, her suffering increasing day by day, she graduated to Heaven.

And, her funeral was the weekend of family camp.

So, as I was banging plates together making lunch that day, my heart shattered in a thousand pieces for a thousand different reasons, my son was in the same place. He was going off, “It’s not fair that Mimi died. It’s not fair that we have to miss family camp. Why does everyone we know die?” His last comment was an exaggeration, but sometimes it feels like, as a Krismanits, we say goodbye more than we’d like. On auto-pilot I flipped around and slammed my fist on the table, “You know what, Jake? Your pain can make you bitter, or it can make you better! You get to decide!” When I said it, tears welled up in my eyes because I have hated learning this lesson in my life. This choice has been so ingrained in me that even on auto-pilot it came spilling out as timely wisdom.

I haven’t written lately because my heart feels so numb due to cancer and loss and disappointment. One of my goals as a parent, in this season especially, is to help my children deal with disappointment well. Life is full of disappointments, and most internalize it into victimization, which leads down dangerous roads of self-pity, required retribution, and a stream of excuses for our bad behaviors, which are seemingly justified, because hey, pain sucks.

It doesn’t have to be like that, though. Our pain can make us sturdy in conflict, a pillar in trial, and a flicker of light in the darkness. Not hardened. Oh, please, don’t let pain harden your heart. Instead, it softens us to the point of feeling, so later, we can empathize with others. It tries our beliefs about good and evil, hope and faith, and we have the opportunity to make choices about who we will become in the midst of agonizing adversity. Now, that’s power, not victim-hood. Hardening happens when we have ineffective skills for dealing with pain: We internalize it. We ignore it. We avoid it. Or, maybe we blame ourselves for it, resulting in shame.

I’m not a therapist, but I have grieved, before. I told my husband recently, “We’re like grief experts!” He said, “I don’t really want to be that…” Well, yeah, I wanted a neatly-tied testimony, too.

Since it didn’t happen, I’ll give you what I got instead. I've edited to add that I've never lost a child. These tips extend within my experience. How to let your pain make you better:

1) It’s okay to feel so deeply you think you’ll die. Just don't. 

I’ll never forget the first holiday we had without Paul’s parents. They were killed in a car accident one month before Christmas. I had plans for an extravagant holiday. I had decided I didn’t want to forget them, I wanted to remember by carrying on their traditions and telling their stories. But, no matter how much I tried to cultivate joy in my heart, I was hurting. I can remember showering and crying so torrentially, I thought my lungs would catch fire. What was happening to me? I was trying to choose joy!

Here me out: Joy is not the absence of pain. In fact, per Inside Out (an excellent grief resource), joy cannot exist outside of sadness. So, to choose joy, you actually have to let yourself feel. This is the absolute WORST part of grief. It hurts. This is the time when it is tempting to just skip along and pretend you don’t want to die…..but, don’t go there. Let your lungs burn and your heart ache. How much? As long as it takes. It will happen less and less as time goes on, even if the pain remains the same in those intermittent breakdown sessions. If you need to break down, break down. But, when it’s over, come back to life with a tissue in your back pocket.

2) Life, it’s beautiful.

When Paul’s parents died, I had a five week old baby. I felt robbed of my time with her because I needed to grieve, not take care of a baby. Death was too big for me! I couldn't handle LIFE, especially new life! Over time though, taking care of a baby begin to soften my heart. I began to smile at her cooing and kicking. When she learned to crawl, even if my heart was still in a residual state of pain, her newness was bringing me back to life.

In early October, I found out I was pregnant with my fifth child. I was not disappointed, but I was a little shaken! Two days later I learned my grandpa’s diagnosis. Suddenly the little life inside of me became a lifeline of joy, healing, grace, and invitation to celebrate something in the midst of my pain.

 

You may not have a new baby as you experience pain, but there is newness all around us! Plants! Sunshine! Children at play! Find a reason to hope, again. Hope heals.

3) Get Angry.

Anger is a stage of grief. It can send fire through your veins at the injustice you have experienced. You need retribution. You need closure. I know how this feels. When Paul’s parents died I dreamed of suing the trucker who hit them [Ha! We’ll be rich! Something good will come from this!]. But, no. We didn’t sue or seek any sort of retribution.

We forgave. The anger stage is the perfect time to practice forgiveness. It diffuses those feelings of injustice with a simple admittance that life just sucks sometimes, and people aren’t perfect. There is a higher form of retribution where we look within ourselves as to what needs to be rearranged- Bitterness? Hatred? Rage? Revenge?

Don’t get me wrong, these emotions are incredibly real. Many times, they are justified. The problem is, they are absolutely fruitless. They don’t grow you into a soft human being. They harden the heart. So, what to do?

Well, I mentioned forgiveness. That’s a start. [But, these emotions!! They need a place to go!]

For me, I decided that instead of being consumed with how much cancer needed to GO TO HELL AND F*** itself, that I would soften my heart towards those suffering. Cancer and car wrecks and early death can’t make me a bitter person. The more pain and disappointment I experience, the more I will just love the hell out of people. I want to be one that walks into uncertainty with conviction that death has lost its sting. That’s my revenge against pain and suffering. I won’t throw a fit, but I will fight. Not because I’m bitter or vengeful, but because I’m hopeful, because I believe against all odds that life is worth fighting for. That’s anger with purpose.

4) Find your crew.

I honestly do no know how to survive grief without community. In every season I’ve been broken down by grief or disappointment, I’ve been surrounded with an incredible community that handled my heart carefully.

I hope I’m not creating the illusion with a 5-step grief system that this is easy. Heck, no! Grief sucks. As your entire life is being rearranged and you’re sorting through various negative emotions, nothing feels better than having a friend call and remind you that your life is falling apart and everything is really as hard as you imagine...but, you won’t be stuck forever. That’s called empathy.

Whenever my friends are in grief, I consider it a personal responsibility to let them know it’s okay to be really sad around me. I don’t need to be entertained. I don’t need a show. If they say something angry or out of frustration, I don’t instantly hold it against their character. I know how to do this because my friends have done the same for me. Then, eventually, gently, they’ll remind me that the sun is out. Do I need some sunshine? Do I need a superfluous reason to drink?

You seriously need friends to grieve well. As a christian, I am personally privy to the church. Our church has been an incredible source of non-partial love and strength for us. But, I’m not so close-minded to believe that good friends exist only there. If you have a community, don’t be afraid to lean on them. Their sanity [let’s hope your friends are at least a little sane] will carry you through the tumultuous waves of grief.

5) Find your truth.

In the midst of grief and pain, unfairness and darkness and the death are all-consuming. They are the reality.

But, reality and truth are not the same thing. For me, the truth among a heart-wrenching reality is the God-Factor. When I experience pain, I use it as an opportunity to step deeper into my faith.

Some people go the opposite direction. Pain strikes, and they go backwards. Reality interprets their truth. It makes logical sense to do this, but then, they are completely stranded in their heart-wrenching reality, which truth has now confirmed.

This is my experience: Truth has the power to take you above your reality.

Not where it doesn’t hurt. Yes, it still hurts. If grief and pain are like a tumultuous sea, truth can act as a lifeline. The reality seems, you’re drowning. But, the truth is, you’re going to make it out alive. Truth will pull you aboard if you let it.

The truth of becoming better instead of bitter is Biblical.

Psalm 71:20

“Even though you’ve let us sink down with trials and troubles, I know you will revive us again, lifting us from the dust of death. Give us even more greatness than before. Turn and comfort us once more.”

Psalm 66:12

“Our enemies have prevailed against us. We’ve passed through fire and flood, yet in the end you always bring us out better than we were before, saturated with your goodness.”

Grief will viciously, unapologetically, confront your truth. Personally, I take the opportunity in my deepest place of pain to be grateful I get to wrestle with what I believe, and then solidify it. I was meeting with someone recently who saw their continued hardship as an assault from God. Personally, I have come to a place where I don’t believe God kills people or causes cancer. He may receive people, but He doesn’t kill people.

Now, do I understand why some experience a miracle, and others don't? No.

Do I understand why at 29 years old, I am in the minority for those my age who have experienced a deep grief? Nope, I don’t.

BUT, I have resolved myself to believe that A) It wasn’t God’s plan to bring destruction, and B) It was His plan to make me a better person. I don’t fully understand that dichotomy, but it has been my lifeline.

Sometimes in grief, God can feel unbearably far away. I don’t understand this phenomenon. That’s why truth is so important, because you can grab on and it pulls you to the source: Jesus. I can say after walking through grief seasons before that even when His voice and presence is fuzzy in the process, it comes through loud and clear as your heart begins to soften. Hold on, you’ll hear Him speak again.

There it is, a brief window into my journey of grief. Now, some quickfire words of wisdom before I am tempted to craft a dissertation:

* Grief looks different for everyone.

* Grief can come in many forms, not just loss of a person. Sometimes we lose jobs. Sometimes we move across the country. Sometimes our beloved dog dies. Sometimes we grieve because of a totally failed expectation {think current presidential season}. Grief is a part of the human condition.

* Grief is a gift. Surrendering to the tumult and pain can bring enormous healing.

* Don’t bypass grief.

* Don’t stay in grief indefinitely.

* Don’t be afraid of other people’s grief [a lesson I am STILL learning].

* Grief may transform you into a version of yourself you don’t recognize. That’s okay. Just don’t camp there if it isn’t healthy. What isn’t healthy? Addiction, Control, prolonged depression, manipulative behavior...if you’re stuck, get some professional help. You may need to take medicine for a season.

I hope this helps someone who is wrestling with grief and/or pain of disappointment. I hope it brings hope and healing that you will feel the sunshine again. That was how I knew after Paul's parents died that I had survived grief: I realized the sun was shining. 

It will shine for you, too. Just give it time.