A Walk with God

Maybe it is typical of human nature, when you are not experiencing joyful, peaceful fellowship with God, to wrack your brain trying to figure out what you have done wrong.  It's typical of me, anyway.  For weeks now, I have pleaded with God, "What happened?  Show me what went wrong; what I need to change?  What did I do, God?  What didn't I do??"  Maybe I'm not praying enough (can you believe I could still fall for that old trap?), so I tried to pray more and my prayers were such an effort.  Gone was that natural, easy interchange I had been having with God for these past months.  What happened to His love, joy and peace I felt flowing through me, making loving and giving to others so easy?  Even in this frustrating time, though, I have recognized a difference in me.  Maybe I haven't felt peace and joy, but I have felt trust.  I have been able to believe that God loves me and is with me, working all things out for my good.  I have doubted myself, but I haven't doubted God.  Now that is nothing short of a miracle!  It is something God has accomplished in my life that I can hold onto.  And I do.  It has gotten me through some difficult weeks and helped me to believe that what I experienced was REAL.

Then it dawned on me the other day, with the help of my friend Cori, that all this focus on what I had done wrong was ridiculous.  How thick is my skull and what will it take for God to get this message thru to me?!  It's not about me, remember??  It's not about what I do or don't do!  "HE who began a good work in me will be faithful to complete it."  It doesn't say "Kim's" good work.  Been there, done that, and yet I still keep trying to buy a ticket to go back for another visit.  Thank God it isn't about what I have done (wrong or right).  So back I go - just rest in Him, trust Him, focus on Him.  Everything else is HIS job.  Good deal.

It's been awhile since I've written.  I guess I haven't had much to say - no, that's not true, I just haven't felt like saying it.  I looked back at my blog and saw that it has been about 2 weeks since I wrote about my struggle with PMS.  I kept waiting for things to get better; for my joy to return.  It hasn't.  As suddenly as I found myself lifted up to the mountaintop, I was plunged back down to the valley.  I'm still sore from the fall.  It is much easier to write about the mountaintop experiences.  They make everyone feel good and give us hope. I guess I have hated to even admit where I am right now because I didn't want to discourage others who have been encouraged by what I've shared in the past.  But we can't live on the mountaintop all the time if we are to grow.   It seems there is much more to learn in the valley, anyway, and, though it has been painful, God has continued to work in my heart in so many ways.  Anyway, it is important for me to remember my entire journey and not just the fun part. 

One morning recently I woke up with the thought, "Satan knows exactly how to defeat me and that's just what he is doing."  I don't normally wake up with such thoughts and I felt sure it must be from God.  I needed my eyes opened to my enemy's lies so that I am not deceived by them.  The most vulnerable areas of my life are my marriage, my family and my physical health.  I have been under attack in all of them.  Recognizing this was good.  But after years of my effort to overcome my problems, I have learned my lesson.  I am finally convinced that only God can deliver me.  I needed to surrender it all to God AGAIN and trust Him to work it out.  Surrender my hopes, dreams, frustrations, fears, doubts.  Just let go and trust myself to His gentle hands.  Easier said than done, for sure, and I've had to do it over and over, but it is also a great relief.  My shoulders are not strong enough to carry it all. 

As I surrendered, God showed me how I have been slowly turning back to others to meet my needs instead of Him.  It was such a subtle shift and I didn't even see it happening.  But it was then, as I took my eyes off myself and put them back onto Jesus, that I was blindsided by an insight that should have been obvious to me long ago - but wasn't.  I realized that, in my selfish "need" to be loved by my husband, I had never even thought that his need to be loved by me might be greater.  I was struck with the realization that he grew up in a home without any affection.  His mother never even said she loved him; I doubt she ever hugged him.  And she was his good parent; his father mostly ignored him.  And then he has spent his adult life with a woman who is often withdrawn and cold, many times rejecting his love.  I was shamed.  I'd like to say I turned over a new leaf at that moment but I'd be lying.  Anyway, that would be contrary to everything God has taught me.  All I could do was repent and ask God to change my heart.  Since then my husband has been at his most annoying.  Very funny, God.  But, hey, this is God's work and I'm done striving to be like Jesus - as if I ever could.  All I need to do is keep my eyes on Him and sit back and watch Him work.  Actually, it may not always be pleasant, but it sure is freeing.

Ashley feels the need these days to inform me that she "hates" me whenever things are not going her way.  Mother's Day was one of those times.  Last night was another.  I have been experiencing rejection from teenage daughters for about 7-8 years now, so you would think I would be used to it.  Though I try to tell myself that it doesn't mean anything; it's just an awful stage; they love me and they need my love; it still hurts.  Rejection is rejection, I suppose.  And I am more sensitive to it than some.  I've experienced a lot of it in my life - mostly from my own father.  I grow weary of being the scapegoat for everything wrong in my daughters' lives but there's two things that give me the strength to keep coming back for more - mother love and God's grace.

Something happens now and then that makes it all seem worthwhile, however, and yesterday was one of those times.  Caroline has been home from college for a week now.  She has been my constant companion, helping me with household chores, cooking, running errands with me, and at times just being together.  It was such a beautiful day, I asked her to join me outside for a bit.  As we sat in the yard, we talked about friends.  She told me that, now that she is older, she doesn't feel the need to always be going somewhere, but is content to just stay home more.  She said she has some friends to go out with when she wants, but that she doesn't need to go out to be with a friend because she has one right here.  Smart-aleck that I am, I replied, "You mean Ginger?" (our dog, whom Caroline hates).  

"No, you, Mom."  I held back tears as I told her how much that meant to me.  She said, "You always told me that you were my best friend but I never understood that until now.  You were right."    I was right???  Let me go tell Ashley this.  I need to document it somewhere anyway.  What greater gift could my daughter give me!  There's no harder job on earth than motherhood but what a precious reward when you graduate from just mother, to mother AND friend.   I'm learning to count my blessings instead of my complaints.  And, to me, this is a BIG one!

I have been asking God to heal me from PMS but so far He has not chosen to do so.  He does, however, seem to be answering my prayers to keep the monster at bay.  By His grace, with much prayer, I have been able to overcome my struggles with issues such as depression, anger, critical thoughts, self-pity and resentment.  I have felt very blah this past week though - just kind of empty.  I'm achy all over and have no energy or motivation.  I don't want to be with or talk to anyone; I just want to be alone.  For the past four days, it has felt like my period would start any minute.  That drives me crazy.  The day has finally arrived, to my relief - now at least I know I am over the hump.  I'd like to just go back to bed and stay there all day.  But I can't.  I'm a mom.  There are no vacation days or sick days from motherhood.  So I'll have to stumble through and hope I can keep my big mouth shut.  Only by His grace. 

The thought of continuing to spend my life in this monthly struggle is discouraging to me.  It's like a cloud that returns over and over again to hover above me, taking all the sunshine out of life and turning my world from vibrant colors to grays.   I suppose it would be unrealistic of me to think that life can always be blue skies.   And even in the midst of it, I feel like God is speaking to me and I'm learning.  I don't want to make the mistake I have made so many, many times of thinking that God does not walk with me through the dark times.  So I'm making a choice to believe He is with me, holding my hand and working all things for my good, even PMS. 

Mother's Day is almost here.  Time to be showered with gifts, cards and pampering.  Time for our families to stop the demands on us for a day and appreciate all we do for them.  After all, we deserve it, right?  We are giving to and caring for them all year long.  They should be grateful. 

But then, where did I get the idea that my family owes me gratitude?  Is appreciation something I can demand?  Well, I'll admit, I've certainly tried at times and I can say for sure it doesn't work.  I can demand all I want and they either appreciate me or they don't.  Maybe it is time for me to stop thinking about what I deserve and instead focus on all that God has blessed me with that I do not deserve at all.

So I'm going to do something different this Mother's Day.  My mother is not here to appreciate and thank.  But God has put other women (all wonderful mothers) in my life for whom I can be grateful.  I'm going to let each of them know how much they mean to me.  Also, I have a loving supportive husband, who gave me 5 beautiful children - and I can express my gratitude to him, as well. 

But here's another thought.  There are five people in my life, without whom I would never have had the priviledge of being called MOTHER.  That is a gift.  Many women can't have children; others struggle with sick children; then there are those who are grieving for lost children - such as those poor VA TECH mothers.  I am very blessed among women.  I think my children are awesome.  Each one of them has their own unique personality and their own unique relationship with me.  And I treasure every one of them.  So this year I am going to let each of them know that I celebrate the gift they have given me of motherhood.

Mothers are a great gift and it is right that we honor and appreciate them.   But for me this year, as God continues to humble me in every area of my life, I need to take my eyes off myself.  I need to take the opportunity of Mother's Day to remember not what I give, not what I'm owed, but what I have.  And give thanks. 

Today is my Mom's birthday.  She would have been 71.  I lit a candle on "her" table and sang Happy Birthday to her as is my tradition.  Remembering her birthday this year is joy and sadness for me at the same time.  I'm grateful for the mother God gave me and for the 36 years that she was here for me.  I'm sad that she can't be here now to share my life and see her grandchildren grow up into the lovely people she knew they would become.  It seems to me that at this point in life, the relationship between mother and daughter could be the most enjoyable.  I have grown up some from my arrogant youth; I have raised my own children long enough to appreciate what a difficult task it is and be uninclined to be critical of any of my mother's mistakes; God has humbled me and I have softened.  I've also learned what my mom always tried to teach me - to lighten up and enjoy life and to take care of me because I matter too.  Mom would be happy about that.  And how wonderful it would be to have her here to enjoy life with.  But then, Mom is in a better place now and I wouldn't want to change that.

I will have to content myself with the many wonderful memories of her.  I remember her beautiful voice; she could sing like an angel and I have no doubt she has a prominent place now in God's heavenly choir!  One of my favorite songs to hear her sing was "Sentimental Journey", especially when she sang it with her sisters - they were terrific.  There was nothing more soothing to me than laying my head in her lap while she caressed my hair and sang to me. 

I will also never forget my mom's unconditional love, which was evident on so many occasions but never more than the time I had the bright idea to run off to Texas with some boy I'd just met and thought I was in love with - I was 19.  When I came back a month later with my heart broken and my tail between my legs, Mom never said a single word that sounded remotely like "I told you so".  She just took me in her arms and welcomed me home.  Having such a critical father, I needed that kind of love very much and it has had a powerful healing effect on my life.

When I was a young mother, Mom was always worried that I never took time for myself or did anything for myself.  I was so busy taking care of my family and trying to be perfect, I had no time for that.  I thought my resources would never run out (boy, was I wrong!).  So whenever Mom came to visit, she always made a point of pampering me - whether it was taking me out to eat, shopping, going to the movies, babysitting for me so Phil and I could go out, or just trying to lighten my load by doing housework and cooking for me.  It took losing her to finally understand her point and realize that, since she wasn't around to take care of me anymore, it was time I started taking care of myself - for myself and for my family.

That was my mom - a beautiful, vibrant woman who loved life and lived it to its fullest.  She was the most giving person I know - always sharing whatever she had with everyone.  She used to tell Sherri and me that she was spending our inheritance on us while she lived and she did - what a special way to pass your wealth onto your children.  She was so positive and determined to be happy no matter what her circumstances.  She was a successful businesswoman and a hard worker - whatever she wanted, or needed, she went after it with 110%.  She was fiercely loyal and devoted to her family and friends and made every effort to be there when one of us needed her.  And everywhere she went in her many travels, Mom made lifelong friends; everyone loved her because it was obvious that she loved people and made each one feel special.   I don't think I had any idea how many lives she had impacted until the day of her funeral.  I was overwhelmed by the huge crowd that attended and all the strangers who approached me with stories of how she had touched their lives.  People came from all over the country.  I was so very proud to be her daughter. 

So, for these reasons and many more, I honor my mother.  And I thank God for giving me the mother who was just right for me and for all He has taught me through her love and her life.   I will miss her until the day I die.  But she lives on....in me, in Sherri, in her grandchildren, in the hearts of all of us who love her, and just possibly, in the spit-fire spirit of a little great-niece named ELEANOR.

It's like this huge, horrible monster that comes along and swallows me whole.   One day I am fine, the next I am trapped and helpless inside this beast.  I can still see, but not very clearly; everything is pretty distorted.  I feel out of  control as it wreaks havoc on my life and my relationships; raging with anger, relentless criticisms, self-pity, and resentment.  I get confused as I fall prey to its lies about myself and others.  Depression and despair fall over me like a heavy wet blanket and I feel like I will suffocate under its weight.  When the monster finally slinks away, I am left defeated and discouraged, full of self-hate and sometimes lingering anger towards others who have lost all compassion for me in this struggle; who, in their desire to stay as far away from the monster as possible, also have stayed far from me in my time of need.  No one can hear me crying for help in there. 

I call my monster PMS and that is my life once every month (at least).  Some months it is blessedly brief, just 2 or 3 days; other months it can be as long as a week or even two.  Those are the months that cause me to lose hope.  To some people, I'm sure this description would sound like a cop-out.  That doesn't really matter because this is my journal and I understand exactly; as I'm sure any other woman with PMS would as well.  No worry of me giving myself a pass or being too easy on myself.  No, that's one thing I have NEVER been guilty of; quite the opposite.  I'm a perfectionist, after all.   The monks would be proud by how thoroughly I have beat myself up over this time and again.

I remember years ago, when, as a young mother, PMS began to rule my life.  I spent 2 full weeks every month absolutely devoured by this monster and 2 full weeks afterward, depressed over the wake of disaster it left behind.  There was no such thing as a "good time" of the month for me.    It was in this desperate state that I attended a prayer meeting at my church one night.  They invited people to come up for prayer with the deacons and their wives.  As I was standing in line thinking that I didn't want to have to tell one of the deacons my very personal, female problem, our pastor suddenly interrupted the service.  He said, "Let's change this - let's have all the deacon's wives to go to one side and the deacons to go to the other side.  The women can go for prayer with the women; men with the men."   It was one of those moments I felt like God had shifted the earth for me!  When my turn came, I shared with a group of women, many of whom were my close friends (Sharon was one of them) and they understood my dilemna.  God healed me that night.  I was set free from the struggle that had consumed my life, and for years it was not a problem.  Eventually, though, it came back.  I can't remember when, but I know for the past 8 years, it has been a constant fight.

I've tried everything.  Diet, exercise, herbs, progesterone cream, alcohol, anything I could learn of that might help.  Many of them have been helpful.  Certainly when I am taking care of my body, it makes a difference.  But still, it has been a demon I am always battling.  Through this past month of God's healing and revelations in my life, I have experienced more joy and peace than I've had in many years.  I breezed through my period last month like it was nothing.  No PMS at all. 

I guess I was expecting that from now on I would just merrily float through life always full of joy and peace.  If I bring every need to God, He will meet it, right?  That was my hope and that's what I have been doing.  Then, when I started feeling a little irritable on Saturday, I prayed for God to change my heart.  I kept praying and it did seem to help but it didn't go away completely.  Yesterday, I woke up feeling blue and discontent.  I just wanted to be left alone and this was our family day.  I went into my bathroom and cried and pleaded with God.  I was beginning to be suspicious that the ole monster was coming back.  I struggled with the fear that I had not changed at all; that my family would be disappointed in me once again, thinking that it was just another one of my phases that didn't last.   I wondered how could I continue to share with others what great things God is doing in my life when it seems I'm still in bondage to my flesh.  If I were honest about where I am now, the hope I had offered others might seem meaningless.  

God did bring some relief to me and I was able to enjoy some pleasant time with my family later in the day, enjoying the beautiful weather outside and then playing cards last night.   Today, however, I woke up even more depressed and without will to face the day.  Again I prayed and rebuked my Enemy's attacks and lies.  I realized that, as Jesus did, I could ask for God to deliver me but I must accept that it may not be His will.  I made a decision to trust God even if I have to walk in darkness again.   I thought about the times when one of my children has come to me with a wound.  I have to clean the wound even though I know it will cause them more pain.  I don't like to do this, but I know it is necessary in order for the wound to heal properly, so I steel myself against their cries.  My kids let me do this because they trust me; they know I want only what is good for them.   So I decided to try really hard to sit still and let God clean my wound even though it really hurts and I would much rather He just magically made it disappear (maybe with a nice Barney bandaid or something?). 

I've spent enough years fighting Him.  I'll try something different this time.  I'll trust Him.  And I'll submit. I don't have to panic and assume that, because I hurt, He has left me.  I will choose to believe He is still right here with me, taking care of me as He always has.  When life gets hard for my kids, they run to me, not away from me, because they know I am always here for them.  It's time for me to learn that my Father isn't just here for me in the good times either, but He is always here for me.  It just keeps coming back to that trust thing, doesn't it? 

I spent two hours on the phone with my wonderful friend Sharon today.  She has been by my side through these long years of seeking God, giving up on God, grief, depression, despair, loneliness.  Though often I have not felt God's presence in my darkness, I have known that Sharon was right there with me, sharing my pain.  Our journeys have been amazingly similar in spite of the 400 mile difference between us.  Countless times over the years, I have told her of my feelings or my experiences to find that she was going thru the same thing.  I know God put her there for me so I would not give up hope. 

So, as God has begun to transform my life and my heart, it was so important to me that Sharon be right there with me, experiencing all the joy that I have been experiencing.  The small amount of contact we have had over the past month has led me to believe that she was feeling left behind; that she was fearing God would not do in her life what He is doing in my life.  Such a deceit of the devil.  Haven't I felt that way many times myself when I have seen God do something beautiful in another person's life? 

Of course, that goes right back to where this journal all started - the fear that we women tend to carry in our hearts that we are not good enough, not worthy, not loveable, even to God who created us.  I'm no different from any other woman in that regard which is why it took so many years of pain and heartache for God to be able to reach me.  But He has FINALLY reached me alright and sometimes (like now) my heart is so full of His love that I can hardly believe it.  And I want to share it.  I want every woman I know to see what He has shown me - how much He loves each of us.  I can hardly believe this is me - the doubter - saying this.

Even while Sharon rejoiced for me, I could hear the doubt in her voice that God would reveal Himself to her.  We talked about our struggle to trust in God's love, as well as our difficulty trusting in the love of our husbands even though they have proven their love and devotion time and again over the years.  As we talked, though, Sharon kept saying that God was speaking to her on almost a daily basis.  I said, "yes, me too."   That's not the kind of conversation we have had in a very long time, if ever.   We have spent years consoling each other over God's silence and the spiritual emptiness of our lives.  I think, even as we spoke, she began realizing that God was revealing Himself to her and trying to show her His love for her.  I sensed her heart lightening more and more as we shared.  By the time we hung up, I think we both could see that she wasn't being left behind AT ALL.  God is very much alive and at work in her heart.  Shortly after our phone call, she started emailing me with revelations God was giving her and lies He was dispelling for her.

I just know that God is doing a great work in Sharon's heart to heal her from her wounds and convince her of His love for her.  I'm so excited that my friend who has held my hand thru the long, dry, empty desert is now entering with me into the cool, green pastures.  At the risk of sounding like one of those religious people, PRAISE GOD!