Faith

No more drama, no more pain

I daren’t rest my fingertips on the keys for fear of what I will type, yet I can do nothing but type for fear that my rising emotions will simply overwhelm me. I find writing cathartic yet insanely frustrating as my head tries to disentangle the jumbled thoughts, words and sentences spilling out of my heart.

Last week I messed up. Yep, the smiley, happy-go-lucky, girl-who-has-got-everything-sorted spat her dummy out and once again engaged her mouth before her brain.  It wasn’t the first, second or even third time, more likely the hundred thousandth since I became a follower of Jesus. Being a Christian doesn’t make you perfect, it doesn’t make you better than anyone else, if anything, the constant pruning and shaping only serves to highlight how very imperfect we are in comparison to a perfect God. Yet all too often my faith is either flung in my face by people thinking that my stance on life is because of a ‘holier than thou’ attitude, or they remind me that I should know better, because, well that’s not a Christian thing to say/do now is it?

No, it wasn’t. Yes, I messed up. Yes, I got angry and frustrated, and rather than bite my lip, my bruised heart screamed that it couldn’t take anymore and I screamed with it. I threw my toys out of the pram, I threw a tantrum that would make most children stop and stare. I sent the words flying through the air like daggers, and then I hung up the phone.

Why? Because hurt people hurt people.

There are no excuses for bad behaviour, Christian or not, and I have wrestled with my conscience and apologised for my outburst. I don’t like drama, other than a Friday night movie with my husband, but somehow drama always seems to find me and after several months of smooth sailing I find myself being battered on the rocks once again.

2016 was a year of soul-searching, stock taking, and stripping back for me, and I am learning more and more about what I need. I have realised that I ache for a simple, inclusive, family focused life, and have strong opinions on how to keep it that way. I long to include, but I won’t waste time trying to accommodate agendas that could jeopardise my walk with Jesus or my fledgling family.

Family is at the core of who I am, being a wife and a mother is undoubtedly the greatest joy I have ever known. A self-confessed optimist and romanticist, I love to love and I long to embrace. But, to quote R’n’B queen Mary J.Blige,  I dream of a day where there is no more drama, no more pain. I desperately want to wash off the words that have stuck like glue, I want to feel accepted despite my belief, not excluded because of it. Rather than celebrate our uniqueness, different paths can create islands separated by oceans of tears. Our strong wills can build impenetrable walls that keep changing tides out and challenging emotions in.

I am all for saying embrace difference, embrace life, embrace love, but sometimes this all-in, exposed and vulnerable love has a cost. Are we willing to pay the price? Sometimes love looks like holding hands into the future, and sometimes it looks like forgiveness and moving on.

No more drama, no more pain.

I daren’t rest my fingertips on the keys for fear of what I will type, yet I know that I can do nothing but type in order to open the floodgates and calm the storm raging inside my heart. So I will write and write, and pour and pour, and cry, and rest, and write some more.

And I know that my God will hear my cries and He will whisper; Don’t worry my girl, I have got this, I have got them and I have got you, and tomorrow is a brand new day.

R

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Faith

Love isn’t pretty

I am writing this blog from the foot of my son’s bed. He has a particularly bad case of chicken pox and is having a very fitful restless nights sleep. I try to sleep myself but am so aware of his every move, moan or murmur that I flit in and out of consciousness so that I am immediately present when he needs me. He wants me close, wants company and asks for me to stroke his arms. I see the sore spots and I swoop in with virasoothe and piriton, gently massaging the angry areas and praying over his little body.

In amongst his suffering, struggling to ignore the itchy blistering skin across his body, my beautiful boy turns his feverish flushed face to me, and whispers “I love you Mommy”. As my heart bursts with sadness at his visible discomfort yet tender thoughts, I whisper “I love you too baby.”

You see love isn’t pretty. It isn’t instagrammed perfection, it isn’t neatly presented. Sometimes it is picking your way through the sore spots, sometimes it involves sleepless nights while we watch over each other and sometimes it is applying healing balm to open wounds.

The cross wasn’t pretty. It did not behold beauty, it displayed horror, it displayed suffering that no man should see nor experience.

Yet one man did, and in doing so He saved the world. And that is love.

Jesus saw our restless spirits, He saw our open wounds and aching hearts, and He took our sin upon His shoulders in order to take away our pain. As Jesus sits at the right hand of His Father God in Heaven He still sees us, He instructs the Holy Spirit Himself who sits at our bedside, watching us as we sleep, waiting to rush in and soothe us if only we invite Him in.

And the most beautiful thing we can do in return is to turn our own feverish flushed face to Jesus and whisper “I love you” out of our suffering. Because He whispered it over us before time began.

R

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Faith

On my knees…

Yes I know it has been a few weeks months since my last post but my heart has been so full I worried that when putting pen to paper (or fingers to keys) I might never be able to stop the out pour.

You see, my heart has been broken this year.

2016 did not start the way I expected to say the very least. Christmas came and went as an emotional blur as I was left reeling in the wake of revelations that my parents marriage had broken down. So too were others, who like me, didn’t see this split coming and we were left to pick up the pieces of broken promises and shattered dreams in the aftermath.

Relationship breakdowns hurt. A lot. And perhaps, naively, I never realised the impact of the separation of your parents, especially later in life. My parents had been married 20 years – what a feat in today’s society! Sure, their marriage had its nuances, but they both seemed blissfully happy and we were so proud of all they had achieved.

Then the bombshell came.

What can you say when one party isn’t happy any more? You can not argue with emotions and feelings. You simply have to nod and accept the decision then walk away to process the hurt privately. Having left home at the age of 18 and now being a happily married mom of two, a ‘grown up’ standing on my own two feet, surely the separation of my parents shouldn’t really affect me?

Oh but it did. The hurt, the anguish, the anger and the tears flowed thick and fast, surprising even me. I cried for the pain felt by my parents, I mourned the marriage that was sanctified by God yet had now been disregarded, and I sobbed for the separation already so apparent in our family unit.

I am blessed with an amazing husband who loves me completely, but if it wasn’t for the overwhelming, unshakeable love of God, the closeness of the Holy Spirit and the precious blood of Jesus covering me, I know I would not have been able to walk through the past few months. God has been my strength, my stay, my abba father who has kept my feet on the ground and my eyes looking up.

Humans are marvellous creations, we are created by a loving God to love, yet we are so very capable of inflicting the most terrible pain. It is because of our capacity and willingness to give and receive love, that we experience heartache, betrayal, disappointment and tragedy as such a physical pain. We are created by God who formed us in His own hands and not only knows us, but cares deeply about us. God cares when we are hurting and He wants to share in our suffering so that He can heal the heartache.

My story is still unfolding, I don’t know what the ending will be. But one thing God has prompted me on in all of this, is to get on my knees. To pray without ceasing, to lift up my parents, my sister and our wider family as we sail these stormy seas. I won’t let this family get dragged out in a rip tide, not on my watch, so I will continue to pray that God will restore relationships, heal broken hearts and soothe open wounds. I will keep praying, keep trusting, keep holding on to His anchor in the storm. And while I pray, I feel His love wash over me, His gentle correction as He guides my thoughts and actions and His peace takes up residence within my heart once again.

It is whilst on my knees that I discover who I really am, what I am made of, and more importantly, who He made me to be.

I don’t know if your story is similar, I don’t know if you are experiencing gut wrenching emotions that consume your mind and choke your voice, I don’t know if you lie awake at night wondering how to fix the mess that you find yourself in, or wrestle with anger at the injustice of what has happened. I don’t know if you are angry or afraid for your future, but I do know this; the God of heaven, the King of kings and Lord of lords sees you, He knows you, He loves you and He is fighting on your behalf but He needs you to engage. God has great plans for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, but you need to make the first step towards Him in order to move into victory.

My friend, can I encourage you to join me on my knees, pour out your heart to Him and let Him direct your words and your ways today.

R

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