repost from 2.18.11

“…Love never fails…”

I Corinthians 13:8

Something horrible happened to me the other day, and it was my fault.

Like I do with lots of people every Sunday, I introduced myself to a woman who stood waiting near the front. Nothing remarkable about her. Brownish hair, smallish frame, an ordinary woman on an ordinary day in the midst of ordinariness.

She looked at me a little odd.

I chattered on about the weather, the cold, how long had she been going to Solid Rock? Ordinary stuff.

Her lip started to quiver just a tad- no drama, just a barely perceptible hint of hurt. Her eyes filled.

Worried, but still basically clueless, I asked for her name and told her mine, holding out my hand, being all nice… and normal.

That’s when she finally fell apart.

And that’s when I finally saw her.

Just two weeks before, this ordinary woman had taken extraordinary risk and opened her hidden hurts to me. Real hurts about bad things. Pain unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. Raw suffering.

I’d taken her into my arms and prayed for her… walked away with the promise to pray some more. Then trotted off into my ordinary world with ordinary pressures and promptly forgot.

How could I do that? What does that say about me? Don’t I care?

Over and over I’ve berated myself for that day. Hoping to hear the Father excuse me. Wanting Him to cover my callousness with nice words like, “How can you expect to remember everyone you meet? With all these people crowding this place, no one can be friends with every one. At least you try.”

But all I hear is the echo of her loneliness.

The truth is I don’t really love her. Not enough.

If it had been my sister pouring her story into my lap, I’d have hung on every word…prayed every day… searched for words from the Word to bring her hope and courage and truth.

Instead I forgot. I moved on. Another troubled soul in a world of wounded women. Ordinary.

The truth is my love is really thin. Meager. Miserly. Sometimes it doesn’t last longer than an after-church conversation and a quick prayer.

I say I love. I want to love. I even feel love.

But…love doesn’t forget the sorrows of a woman weeping in my arms.

Love doesn’t just step over someone’s wreckage and move seamlessly into ordinary. Not real love. Not Jesus love. Not the kind of love that hung on a Cross and bled for that woman.

And so today, instead of berating, I confess it. Out loud. With all of you listening in, I admit that I am a failed lover. My heart is still, after all these years of listening, not even close to being like His.

And there’s not a thing I can do about it. I know full well that I can’t make it a goal or cross it off a list or drum it up or name it and claim it and call it my own.

But He can. And now that I know what He knows, I can let Him. Because He has this crazy way of making me like Himself just when I get a glimpse of who I really am.

Its called love… wild, beautiful, stick-to-it, passionate love that changes me into someone who actually, really, honestly loves back. And who never forgets again.

From my heart,

Diane

Is He teaching you something similar?

When I was watching my body swell with the miracle of my firstborn three decades or so ago, I knew I wanted to do some things differently with my children than my own mother had.

Something inside of me needed to prove to all the watching world that I was not my mom. That I was me. And that in being me I could be a better mother than mine had been.

(my granddaughter Scarlet and I)

I was wrong.

Because, you see, in rejecting so much of my mom I  gave my children just me. And I wasn’t enough for them. I didn’t have all that they needed. And I made so many mistakes in the process of trying to prove something that wasn’t right.

And to be honest with you, I hurt my mom by failing to value who she was.

The truth I see now is that my mom is an amazing woman. Her own mother was nice and sweet and gentle and not very involved in her life. They didn’t talk about important things, she never said no or be careful or maybe you shouldn’t go there or do that. And that messed my mom up a bit.

(my mom and Scarlet)

And so my mom determined to raise us differently. She talked to me. Told me things I didn’t want to hear, warning her head-in-the-clouds daughter that life is not a fairy tale and I’d better watch out.

And she did stuff with us. She was the den mother and the chaperone and the driver of the car on trips to the beach. Everybody hung out at our house because she always had homemade cookies and enough food to feed the crowd. And she was fun.

And now you’re wondering what in the world I would reject about that?

I know.

I would saved all of us a whole lot of trouble if I’d simply made a few adjustments to allow myself to be me while still listening to mom.

My mother and I are friends now. Two women on polar opposite ends of the personality spectrum, we work hard to get along, to value each other, to give each other space to be who we are. It’s not always easy and it doesn’t always work as well as we’d like, but we’re trying.

I’ve put together a list of things I have discovered in this process of becoming friends with my mother that I hope will help you with yours.

(my granddaughter Sunday and daughter-in-law Tammy)

I realize that there are some really mean and hurtful mothers out there who have caused immense pain. And I know that some of you will never be able to actually call your mom your friend.

But we can all try, can’t we?

And we can all take responsibility for our own responses.

You can be gracious and lovely and strong and nice back. No one can take that away from you.

And so with Mother’s Day just behind us and my mom visiting this week, here are…

SIX WAYS TO FIX WHAT IS BROKEN BETWEEN YOU AND YOUR MOM:

1.    Accept her

This is what I failed to do for a long time. Instead of loving who she was, I poked and critiqued and compared.

What arrogance!

And what a waste.

When I finally began to let her be who she is, I began to see how great she really is and has been all along. She is incredibly organized and disciplined and smart and giving and open and fun. I really like her- imagine that!

2.    Forgive her

Holding a grudge against your mother is pointless and harmful and unwise and unproductive. You saw her at her worst. And your kids will see enough of you in their lifetimes to figure out everything wrong with you too. Set yourself free from all that pain she caused you before you end up dumping it all over your own children.

3.    Learn from her mistakes

Be honest with yourself about what she did wrong. Then choose differently. You don’t have to make a show about it like I did all those years ago. In fact, I’m inviting my daughters a little further into my story to allow them to build on my mistakes. There are things I’d do differently if I had a chance and I’m talking about some of those things with my girls.

A little humbling? Yeah, but amazingly liberating at the same time.

4.    Be grateful

It’s so easy to criticize your mom. To take potshots at her way of doing everything from laundry to love. What if instead we decided to start listing every memory we have that we’re grateful for? What if we stopped comparing her to The Perfect Mom and chose to value her instead?

5.    Show it

Every mother lives with a certain amount of shame. We remember every time we yelled, or were cross, or didn’t do enough. Some mothers harden up to put that pain into an untouchable vault, denying any wrongdoing ever. Others get all needy, sucking their children of every last vestige of affirmation available.

When my children point out something they value about me I hold those words close inside and relish every syllable. Its not thanks we need so much as recognition of who we are as women. And it’s my own children who have uncovered this need. They are generous with their words to me. And it’s making me see that I’ve been stingy with my mom.

6.    Know when to speak up

Sometimes a mother has hurt her children so deeply that it becomes impossible to overlook those flaws.  And sometimes a mother continues to hurt her adult children with her unedited words or unaccounted for actions. That’s when we’ve got to gather every last vestige of courage, risk the relationship, and obey the Scriptural injunction in Ephesians 4:25 to “Speak the truth in love”. The actual Greek wording is something like “Speak! Speak! that truth in a loving way.”

My advice to any daughter considering such a step would be to seek out godly counsel before going there. We’re such emotionally intense creatures- especially when it comes to relationships, that we would be wise to allow someone else to weigh in on our plan. After all, mothers get their hearts hurt too and most of the bad stuff can really be overlooked.

May this One who craves connection with us clear the way for you to have close and loving connection with your own mothers and daughters and sons in the year to come.

And may He give you the courage to do the hard work of learning how.

From my heart,

Diane

P.S. Thanks, Mom, for allowing me to be who I am. Love, Di

 It’s just past Mother’s Day. 

You’ve smiled and said your thanks and all is well.

But somewhere lurking just beneath the surface of your smile is that nagging wondering if all is really as well as you want it to be. And maybe it is— maybe everything is good between you and your kids or you and your mom.

But for a lot of moms it’s not.

Words were said. Awful words.

Or maybe worse— no words, just the sullen silence of rejection.

For the past few days we’ve been talking about fixing those broken places between us. Or at least trying to.

Trying God’s way, with the wisdom promised in His Word. Searching for how, begging for the strength to do it well, for the grace to push past all the pain and all the excuses and just do the right thing.

Today I just want to add a few words about fixing things with your grown sons.

Men are such a different breed. They look and smell and talk and think like aliens from Mars or Venus or wherever they’re supposed to have originated.

I know, I have two of them!

John Mark is my firstborn. I heaped all my perfectionist angst all over that poor guy from the moment he was born. Every ounce of my idealistic nature got aimed at John Mark. Before he was born I had it down— knew exactly what to do and how to do it. I would raise the perfect man.

Only I didn’t factor in all my own faults and flaws. And all the stuff I didn’t know. Or my blind spots or prejudices of just plain wrongness about things I was so sure I was right about.

I am so sorry John Mark. And so amazed that you love me still!

Matthew is my baby. Born with two sisters and nearly 12 years between them, my boys grew up with two different versions of me. The way-too-uptight version and the way-too-loosey-goosey version.

Except for a few years of horrific temper tantrums when he was really young, Matt has been just so easy to spoil.

He asks nice. With a smile and a hug and I-love-you-Mom, you’re-the-best.

How in the world do I say “no” to that?

Sometimes I have expected less than I should have and then doubted him and nagged and suggested and basically pestered my will on him. Enough to drive a guy crazy.

I am so sorry Matthew. And so amazed that you love me still!

But I’ve learned some things with all these mistakes I’ve made and all this grace my men have given back to me. And so I offer you…

FIVE WAYS TO FIX WHAT IS BROKEN…

between you and your son

1.  Respect him (Proverbs 21:9, Ephesians 5:33 for wives, but so wise for moms)

Men crave respect. They need it, thirst for it, feel broken without it. Your boy who grew into a man needs your respect. As his mother you hold incredible power over his vision of his value. If you respect him— you who know his history and his flaws and weaknesses, then he must be a man. Right?

Mothers have an opportunity to be the first to view their sons through the lenses of honor. But if you keep doubting him, keep nagging and poking and laughing at his less-than-perfect attempts at manhood, then you’ll hurt him deeply, Mom. Be very, very careful.

2.  Admire him (Proverbs 23:24,25)

Respect and admiration are not the same thing. Respect has to do with how you talk to him… how you treat him, how you respond. Admiration has to do with what you say. To admire someone is to notice him. To take a good long look at who he has become and then to pick out all the good parts and trumpet your discoveries loud and wide.

Admiration means doing your homework. Because somewhere between boyhood and manhood he took on some qualities and gifts and abilities that you might not know about.

What is he good at? What do other people think about him? Why do his friends like him? How about his kids?

Have you told him what you see? A lot?

3.  Ask his advice (Proverbs 26:12)

Your son knows some stuff that will and could and should help you live your life better. The ultimate show of respect and admiration from a mom is to ask for his advice. When you do that you are recognizing that he is a man now. A man worth listening to.

You don’t have to know it all anymore, moms. (And I’m preaching to me here…)

4.  Don’t need him (Genesis 2:24, Proverbs 25:6,7)

There is this weird tendency with us moms to think that after all we did for our children, they owe us.

WRONG.

And especially wrong for our sons. We raised our boys to be warriors and now they’re off fighting the battles in front of them. Earning a living, caring for a family, paying off debts, wrangling with customers and critics and who-knows-what-else-because-they’re-probably-not-going-to-tell-you!

Let’s challenge each other to be the one person in their circle of relationships that doesn’t need anything from them. Not a birthday card, not a phone call, not time or attention. If you get those things, great! But set your sons free to fight their battles like men, unencumbered by a needy mother.

5.  Don’t ever come between him and his wife (Genesis 2:24, Ephesians 4:29-32)

Which means…DO NOT EVER CRITICISE HER!!!

Ever.

Do not infer, do not hint, do not smirk, do not sympathize. She is perfect and you love her. No matter what.

Now that’s easy for me to say. I happen to have the only honestly perfect daughter-in-law around. I loved her from the moment she poked her head out of the tent at my fortieth birthday party-camping trip.

And she loves me. I hear it and feel it and know it.

I wish everyone had a daughter-in-law like Tammy. And even as I write, I’m praying for whoever happens to be Matthew’s wife someday… please, please, please like me!

It might be a good idea for you to go over last weeks post with your son in mind.

Do you need to apologize? Most relationships need some clearing of the air to set things right again.

Relationships with our sons are not nearly so complicated as with our daughters. But they still take work. And a determination to do things well and wisely.

May you listen to what the Father is telling you and chose the way of redemption,

From my heart,

Diane

If you’ve got a story of God bringing your son back… or a story of a son who has graced you as mine have me, please tell us. These are the kinds of stories that give us hope.

Next Thursday… Redeeming What is Broken Between You And Your Mom

 The clock is ticking towards the Day of the Mother.

It’s supposed to be good. It’s supposed to be fun. It’s supposed to be a feel-good day to celebrate and be celebrated. All about flowers and Hallmark commercials and breakfast in bed and love, love, love.

But for many among us it’s a day of dread. Of obligation and angst and walking on eggshells. A day to protect yourself in a stiff layer of don’t-go-there carefulness lest someone says the wrong thing and all hell breaks loose.

It doesn’t have to be that way.

Remember what I wrote yesterday? One of God’s names is Ga’al, Redeemer. He is the One who wins people back to Himself by pursuing and loving and paying the price to bring them close to His heart again.

And He uses people— broken, messed up, redeemed people to His job.

It’s crazy, I know, but that’s the way He decided to do redemption. Instead of writing His love in the sky, He chose to write it in words… and then He gave those words to us… and now He wants to use us to do those words for people.

For our daughters, for our sons, for our own mothers.

Are you willing? All excuses cast aside? Ready to be used by the Redeemer to win back something that belongs to you? To do what it takes to restore a relationship broken by sin and failure and regret and just plain yuckiness?

SIX WAYS TO FIX WHAT IS BROKEN…

between you and your daughter 

1.  Listen to her (James 1:19)

I mean really listen. Listen to hear her heart, to understand what she’s saying— and what she’s not. Do not listen with the intent to defend yourself or attack her!

2.  Apologize to her (I Peter 5:6,7; Ephesians 4:30-32)

I know, I know, there are a million reasons you did what you did or said what you said. None-the-less, you hurt her. She needs to hear you say it, to know that you’re honestly sorry, that if you had it to do over again you’d do it differently.

And she won’t trust you until she hears it said— and said well. A full on apology involves these words, “I am sorry for______________, I know I hurt you. I was wrong. Please forgive me. I love you.”

Leave out the excuses, the explanations, the history, the “but you…” and just take humble responsibility for the wrong done.

3.  Accept her (Romans 12:3-16)

Every woman I know longs to feel accepted by her mother. And most of us don’t. All those years of training and correcting and disciplining your daughter have an end point. By the time she’s moving on and married and all grown up a great big switch needs to be pulled. And past that point mothers should not, ought never, must not critic or compare or hint at the slightest bit of disappointment with who her daughter is… or how she does life differently than you do.

4.  Approve of her (Ephesians 5:29)

This is different than acceptance. This is about finding the beauty in your daughter and holding it up for all the world to see. A mother who notices and relishes her daughter’s beauty is… beautiful! And rare.

This kind of approval is proactive. It is obvious and honest. It involves a mother who purposely sets aside her own hopes for her daughter and allows herself to relish who she really is. Out loud. A lot.

5.  Enjoy her (do we really need a Scripture verse for this one?!)

You’ve worked so hard. All those late nights worrying. All those trips to the mall and the doctor and the school. The gymnastics and the horseback riding lessons and the awkward learning to be a woman stuff— now she’s grown and you get to just enjoy her! She’s not your responsibility to tuck in and fix and polish up anymore. Throw a party! Have fun!

6.  Give to her (Luke 6:38)

Most mothers I know never stop giving to their children, even when they’re all old and wrinkled and creaky. But rarely does a mother ask her daughter how best to help her. Instead, we assume we know our role and sometimes we’re wrong. In fact, we’re usually wrong. The simple solution is to ask. Straight up: “How can I best be of help to you at this stage of your life?”

Then do what she says. And do it well. And keep asking. And don’t stop asking and helping her until you’re just so old and wrinkled and creaky that you honestly can’t anymore.

Just six simple possibilities.

Six wholly Scriptural ways of restoring relationships.

Six fully female approaches into the heart of your daughter.

Will you count the cost, take up your cross, and follow the way of Jesus? The way of redemption? Will you be like Him with your daughter?

Remember what I wrote at the beginning of this post?

“He is the One who wins people back to Himself by pursuing and loving and paying the price to bring them close to His heart again.”

May He work wonders as you follow in His ways,

From my heart,

Diane

Today… look up those verses, girls! They’re rich with wisdom we need.

Coming next week… Redeeming What is Broken Between You and Your Son and Redeeming What is Broken Between You and Your Mom

 FIXING WHAT’S BROKEN…

between you and your daughter… and between you and your son … and between you and your mom

Mother’s Day is just hours away… a day to celebrate your mother, a time to honor her.

And a day to be honored by your daughters and your sons.  A day to celebrate who you are and what you’ve done and what you’re doing still.

Or not.

Because for so many of you, Mother’s Day is a day to grieve what you didn’t have and wish you did and still want…

With your own mother.

With your daughter.

With your son.

And I’ve sat with you and I’ve heard your stories and I’ve shared mine.  We’ve cried some real tears together over all that wishing and wanting and deep down longing and the hurt that goes with it. The pain that won’t go away with an aspirin or two or a formula or book.

And it’s always there.

Those who have been hurt by a mother or disappointed by a daughter or rejected by a son… they live with chronic pain.

Aching, throbbing, why-won’t-this-go-away questions that may never be answered in a way that makes sense of the wrongness of it all.

But my dear women, there is wisdom for this in the Scriptures. God knows all about broken relationships And He is the master restorer.. in fact He calls Himself the Redeemer!

Do you know what that means?

“Redemption involves winning back, buying back, or repurchasing something that belongs to you…”[1]

Jesus is our Redeemer, He brought you back when you’d drifted far from Him, and He can bring back that one you love and have lost and want to love again.

He is all about connection. He made us for that very purpose- that we would be so closely connected to Him that we would walk in step with His heart.

And He knows what it’s like to lose that connection. To have it broken by sin and willfulness and neglect and not caring.

He knows it hurts.

Gosh He knows…

Because He’s felt it with you.  That hurt, the tears, the distance.

The only difference is that it’s never His fault… though He sure does take an awful lot of blame.

And truth be told, it’s usually at least somewhat our fault when things go wrong with our children— when they grow up and reject who we are.

And there’s usually at least a little bit wrong on our part when we can’t get along with our mothers.

Maybe not all our fault, maybe not as much as we get thrown our way, but no doubt about it, we’ve done our share to wreck the relationship.

I know that’s hard to swallow. As a mom, you’ve poured yourself into your kids. Your body swelled and stretched and bore the pain. You gave more than you knew you had. You loved that baby girl. You agonized over your son.

And now they tell you that you did it all wrong?

How dare they?

Right?

Or not…

And didn’t you deserve a mom who would be there for you? Wasn’t she supposed to protect you and make life wonderful— all warm cookies and fuzzy memories? Shouldn’t she love you and accept you and be proud of who you’ve become?

Yes! Of course yes.

And you have every right to be mad. You would have done it differently. You would have known better. And so should she…

Or not…

I don’t know your dilemma. I don’t live with your pain. But I do know about mine.

And I’ve found answers… or at least hope for answers… in the Words of God. And so can you.

The Scriptures are full of fractured relationships, stories of lives torn apart by regrets. Pictures of people who did what they shouldn’t have done. Raw, real stuff with the ways of God woven into the stories to bring some semblance of redemption, of buying back what should have been theirs in the first place.

There’s good stuff there, girls. Wisdom for how to fix the brokenness.

But here’s the reality: you have to do it His way.

Will you decide right now that it’s worth it? Will you chose to do what He says, whatever He says, to restore that fissure between—

you and your mom…

or

you and your daughter…

or

you and your boy?

Will you get your heart ready for Mother’s Day?

From my heart,

Diane

Coming Saturday… Redeeming What is Broken Between You and Your Daughter

And next week… Redeeming What is Broken Between You and Your Son and

Redeeming What is Broken Between You and Your Mom 

This morning I woke up with tight shoulders, jaw clenched, an anxious knot in my gut…

worried.

Tossing my hair in a pony tail, I fed the dog, started the water for my tea, lit a candle, gathered my Bible and books, cuddled into my big chair and…

worried.

Stirring milk and sugar into my steaming mug, I reached for the yellow pad of paper that serves as my journal/planner/thought catcher and…

worried.

I scribbled down all angst about being too busy…

and not having time to do the important things…

and when will I ever accomplish what I want when I have to clean the basement… and the garage is a mess…

 and I’m clean out of veggies…

 and how in the world can I eat a plant-based diet…

 when I don’t even have time to go buy the plants we’re supposed to eat?

No wonder I woke up

 worried.

By now you’re laughing at me… I can hear it… or maybe that’s my Father chuckling way off where I’ve been ignoring Him in the midst of my fussing.

Because all I have to worry about is not worry-worthy.

No catastrophes, no fearful awfulness invading my world.

Unlike so many women I care about, I’m not awaiting tests to determine if something terrible is wrong. The bills are paid on time. My husband still loves me despite my glaring deficiencies…

John Mark and Tammy and Jude and Moses and Sunday and Rebekah and Steve and Brook and Elizabeth and Duke and Scarlet and Matthew are all learning and growing and tucked into the Father.

And yet… I am worried.

And my Father knows all about that. With gentleness He pries my eyes from my worries to the pages of His Word.

Romans 12 is His feeding for me today:

“And so dear brothers and sisters, I plead with you to give your bodies to God.

Let them be a living and holy sacrifice— the kind He will accept.

When you think of what He has done for you, is this too much to ask? 

Don’t copy the behavior and customs of this world,

 but let God transform you into a new person by changing the way you think.

Then you will know what God wants you to do,

and you will know how good and pleasing and perfect His will really is.”

Bingo!

Lights flashing! Load rolling off my uptight back!

God wants to change the way I think.

To take this roiling, messy, time wasting worry away from me and show me what to do.

Something good and pleasing and perfect in every way.

And He does. He did.

Speaking in tones so calm and firm and sure and just a little bit stern,

I hear His Voice over all my worry and I listen to His way for my day.

So simple. So right.

Why didn’t I think of that?

I smile and sip my tea and the rain outside seems soft and good, my day lined up all pleasing and perfect in every way.

His way.

From my heart,

Diane

P.S. How about you? Have you heard His words to you today? Have you listened? Can you tell us how He’s met you in the midst of your worry and shown you His way? Your story just might be His way of transforming us by changing the way we think…

…and all the people in that region begged Jesus to go away and leave them alone…

Luke 8:37

…the crowds received Jesus with open arms because they had been waiting for Him.

Luke 8:40

I sat before the fire this morning with a cup of steaming tea in one hand and my Bible in my lap. Groggy from sleeping too late, restless and needing real rest, I felt all unsettled inside.

The words caught me.

The story of a whole town pressuring Jesus to leave after He’d done good— rid a crazy man of his demons.

Why weren’t they okay with that?

And then right up against that question, rose the story of a whole town pressing in around Jesus for help and healing.

How did they know?

On one side of the lake an immense crowd gathered to beg Jesus to go away. To leave them alone.

On the other side of that same lake, equally insistent crowds waited with open arms to invite Him right into the midst of their stories.

Why?

Why would one person push Him away and another pull Him close?

And aren’t I just a little spiritually bi-polar too?

On some things down right rigid in my strict adherence to His Word…

and on others clearly disobedient and mostly unapologetic.

Why do I ramp up the intensity of my words in order to get my own way… when I well know that what God relishes in a woman is a gentle and quiet spirit?

Why do I lay awake at night worrying about my kids… when He has so clearly stated that He loves them with a greater love than I could ever grasp?

And why can’t I help myself? Why don’t I stop?

Fully awake now, I scoot forward, lay aside my tea and sniff around these stories. What I find gives me much more than a caffeine jolt.

The ones who wanted Him away were afraid. Not of the stark naked, demon filled, manic man who broke through chains and dominated the countryside. They were used to him. Had it under control.

What scared them witless was Jesus’ undeniable power to bankrupt their undercover pig operation. Here was a kosher Jewish town making a killing on hogs.

They had a secret that Jesus knew about and they thought by pushing Him out of the picture they could keep stockpiling all that lovely stash without the whole world knowing.

And maybe I have secrets too. Secret pride. Secret fears. Secret things that feel safe to me. And I don’t want Jesus to have anything to do with my hog business.

Mmh.

Then there’s the other guys. They welcomed Jesus. Held open their arms and fairly wrestled Him into their lives.

A leader fell flat on his face before Jesus, blithefully ignorant of what everyone else might think. His daughter was dying and by golly this guy was going to do everything in his power to get the help he needed to save her.

He was desperate.

A woman grabbed onto the tassle at the bottom of His robe and held on for dear life, stopping Jesus’ journey through the crowds. Nothing and nobody was going to stop her from getting from Him what she wanted more than life itself. Weak and weary and tired of the isolation of illness, this woman would go down in history for her insistence that Jesus help her.

She was sick of being sick. 

I think there’s a treasure to be unburied in these side-by-side stories.

Something about fear and faith. And how you can’t have both. One cancels out the other.

Faith overrides fear and fear deletes faith.

I chew on this all day. Keep coming back to the stories. What am I missing?

I don’t want to be a bi-polar believer.

Moving from crisis to crisis, one season all good and peace-filled and other’s centered…

Too soon swinging to anxious, overwrought, ready to burst into tears because life is hard and how come that happened and why me?

Jeez.

And while I am praying and seeking and wondering, words jump out at me:

Faith.

Peace.

Believe.

Trust.

I know those words. And I know something else—

that the life I long for cannot be had as long as I insist on holding God to my way…

and

the life I long for is mine for the taking if I’ll only refuse the fear by fully entrusting every single teeny tiny facet of my life to Him.

Everything.  Everyone.  Fully.

And so I get up to face my day with three treasures tucked into my heart, stored in my mind, settled into my soul…

1.  It’s usually when I’m up against death and desperation- really scary stuff— that I come begging for Him.

2.  Not until I get sick and tired of being sick and tired will I live the life I long for.

3.  Fear is what gets in the way of what I really want.

These are three things I cannot afford to keep forgetting, and neither can you. But I’ll need the help of other women who want what I want.

Women who’ve declared themselves all His.

Women who are daring to trust Him even when they’re really not crazy about all that desperation and dying talk.

Women who are willing to call me out when I start hiding hogs again.

Women like you…

From my heart,

Diane

PS:  Can you write us some stories of times you fell on your face in full on faith that only He could fix those broken places?  We need to hear your songs of deliverance to help build up our own wobbly faith.