The Biggest Surprise About Marriage

October 22, 2014October 22, 20141 Comment

I knew this information on an intellectual level but for some reason I chose to be in denial.

I was shocked the first time it happened; like I never saw it coming and then I cried and pretended like my marriage was over in response to the big surprise.

I cried. All balled up in the fetal position on my marital bed.

If you want to be married one day, if you are thinking about getting married one day, if you are engaged to the person of your dreams and are getting married on a certain-specific-pinterestified day or if maybe you are already doing this marriage thing: there is something that surprised me when I married my husband.

What I Discovered

I was surprised in those first few weeks of marriage when I discovered…

My husband is a sinner. (I say is and not was because he is in fact… still a sinner. I just checked. Really, he is a sinner.)

This truth seems simple enough. This truth is a basic foundation to the Christian life, we are all sinners. (Romans 3:23 For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.)

For those of you unfamiliar with the terminology of the Bible, (which was me just ten years ago so no judgement.. really, I just checked and still no judgement) to sin means to simply miss the mark; to go through life missing the mark in the middle of the bullseye of God’s perfect holiness.

It seemed like a simple truth. My husband is a sinner. My husband will not do life perfectly. My husband will miss the bullseye.

I am a sinner. (Again am and not was because I just checked and I currently am the worst of sinners.) I will not do life perfectly. I will miss the bullseye of God’s perfect holiness.

My husband being a sinner meant he would sin against me in those first few weeks of our new marriage.

Me being a sinner meant I would sin against him too.

Living together meant our sin would rub up against one another in that little apartment kitchen as we were putting away our new perfect dishes every morning, noon and night of those newlyweded days.

We would both miss the mark of that bullseye of God’s perfect holiness in that little kitchen as husband and wife and we would love each other imperfectly.

Why this basic Biblical truth about sinners was a surprise to me in my marriage still confuses me.

For some reason I believed “the gospel” would bless me, the worst of sinners, with a conflict free marriage. I really believed that Jesus would grant my husband and I, in a marriage of sinners, free from sin and conflict.

What I Was Missing

I would have spent a lot less time balled up in the fetal position on our marital bed if I had known I was missing what “the gospel” really had blessed two of the worst of sinners with in our covenantal marriage.

I was missing the piece that we are both forgiven sinners in our marriage together.

I was missing the piece that even though I fumed with anger about that water glass that sat there on the counter for days… there was abundant forgiveness for that forgotten glass and abundant forgiveness for my fuming anger.

I was missing the part of the gospel that says, “It is finished.” in John 19:30 It is finished for my husband and it is finished for me.

If you are unfamiliar with the words and the redemption story from scripture, I will tell you that from the beginning, in Genesis, the redemption story of God and His people is about God saying, “It is finished” for the worst of sinners. God is rescuing us from the truths we know at an intellectual level but fail to apply to our hearts. The truths we fail to apply to our husbands. The truths we fail to apply to ourselves.

Because of the gospel, none of us are ever granted a marriage free from sin or free from hurting. However, In Christ, we are all granted marriages full of abundant forgiveness for sinners.

“It is finished” for my husband the sinner. And that is where I have found freedom from the fetal position and the tears on my martial bed.

May “it is finished” be a theme for your marriage. May the gospel give you a marriage full of forgiveness instead of the surprises of sin in your first apartment putting away those perfect new dishes in that tiny apartment.

In Christ I am a sinner. My husband is a sinner.

It is finished for him and it is just the same finished for me.

What I Remember

October 5, 2014September 19, 20166 Comments

I remember coming home from school right before Easter and my mother sitting me down along with my two younger siblings in our formal living room.

“Mommy is sick.” Were the words I remember being said.

That was about all I can remember of that moment. Those words, that room and the blurry shape of my mother. I was seven when she told me she was sick for the first time.

I began to notice some small changes. My grandma would come to stay with us often and my mother would go for treatment about every three weeks to University of Cincinnati hospital.

I remember the meals.

I remember the hospital room.

I remember being allowed to spend the night with my mom at the hospital and we would play rummy until I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer.

I can remember when she lost her hair. I was eight then and she had a pixie cut right before she lost it all. My mom was a frequent volunteer in all my elementary classes and one week she came with her pixie cut and the next she came with her shoulder length wig. I remember not thinking anything of it until someone asked me how her hair grew so fast. I remember getting upset with her because at eight I didn’t really understand what “mommy is sick” really meant.

At eight you think mommy is sick will end with “mommy will get better.” When I was sick as a child there seemed to always be a way to heal me. At eight I thought mommy would heal.

I remember the sick going away and coming back again.

I remember never feeling like she was sick. Visibly she was sick. Her hair was gone, one of her breasts had been removed and I remember her wincing at the visible and painful canker sores in her mouth from chemo.

But I remember she never missed a beat for us. She was not lying around when I got home from school even if she could barely peel herself off the couch as the bus came up Thistledown Road. She never bought a halloween costume from the store, she was present in our schools, in our scout troops and I’m pretty sure she took on being the cheerleading coach one year.

image via indulgy.com

I remember feeling angry when I wasn’t eight anymore and the reality of “mommy is sick” was able to sink in deep into the corners of my heart.

I remember coming home from a sleepover one weekend to find her upstairs in her bed after the sick had spread to her brain. There were scrambled eggs all over her from where she had tried to feed herself but her brain could not help her move the fork from her hand to her mouth.

I remember sitting there with her in the four-poster king-sized bed after the eggs were cleaned up and I tried to help her clip coupons. I remember crying when she couldn’t tell me which one to clip so then she tried to point but because her hand eye coordination was so impaired it made it difficult for her to communicate and she wasn’t being understood.

I remember her being frustrated and I remember trying to be patient. I remember I felt so guilty for going to that sleepover. I should have stayed home and soaked up every last minute I had sitting with her in that four-poster bed.

I remember the day my sister and I got off that bus that came up Thistledown Road and my mother wasn’t there waiting for us. I remember running frantically from door to door and window to window with my sister. We both knew.

I remember my dad telling me she wasn’t going to make it. I was fourteen and I looked out the passenger window of our Chrysler minivan and said, “I know.” I remember trying to hold myself together because I felt the need to be strong for everybody else.

I remember sitting by her bedside in ICU and talking to her while she was in a coma. I remember trying to tell her about my dance competition without crying. I remember telling her I loved her and that was the last time I saw her.

I was at home when my dad told me my mom had exhaled her last breath. It was a school night, right before Easter, seven years after I sat on that couch and heard, “mommy was sick.” I remember leaving my house that night to spend the night with friends and I remember going to school the next day like nothing had happened at all.

These are pieces of what I can remember from my childhood with a mother battling breast cancer. These are just pieces of a story that I hope my children cannot grow up to tell of their own childhood thirty years from now. We have come a long way in breast cancer research since 1991 but there isn’t a cure for breast cancer yet. So for now I can only hope, pray for a cure, and share the pieces of my story to raise awareness.

Breast cancer not only takes our mothers, our sisters, our wives and our daughters but it leaves us here with broken stories. As I sit here typing my memories I hear those deep down corners of my heart screaming, “this is not the way it’s supposed to be!”

It’s not supposed to be this way – and hopefully it’s not for someone else in their story.

Lord, bring a cure quickly. For our mothers, our sisters, our wives and our daughters.

Raise Awareness. #october

The Journey Of Letting Go

September 21, 2014September 22, 2014Leave a comment

I took a moment today to put down the broom and sit with you on the floor to read a book. Normally, while your brothers are quiet after lunch I take a moment to sweep and put dishes away; today I took a moment and I sat with you right there on the crumb filled floor.

In between the turns of the chunky pages I touched my nose to your bald head and breathed in what is still lingering of your baby smell.

The plates and crumbs waited as your brothers played quietly and I chose to sit with you another moment, for another breath and another book.

After you went down for your nap I took a moment to observe your biggest brother’s praying mantis and listened to him rattle off everything he knows about bugs. He looks taller standing there now but when he crouches over the patio table to view his favorite bug I get caught up in how quickly his legs have become as long as the table is tall.

I took a moment to leave the wrinkle free shirts in the dryer and line up cars with your middle brother. When you really listen to him talk about his cars you can hear the depth of his imagination and the song of his heart.

I made sure I had a moment today to push your youngest brother on the swing but then I decided to sit on the swing and fold him up in my lap. It was just a moment because it wasn’t long before you were trying to taste fall foliage by shoving baby handfuls into your mouth.

But a moment was all it took to experience this blink of an eye called motherhood in technicolor. To feel it, hear it, smell it.

I’ve been thinking about the moments I had with my mom, your grandma. I remember her reading to me, joking with me and folding me up in her lap.

Our house was always clean and things were put away but my mother remembered to stop and take in the moments. She knew it was important to stop and experience motherhood in technicolor.

I remember the technicolor moments with her. Not the half listening, half sweeping, half uploading moments.

I remember in technicolor the moments she took to breath every moment of me in… like it might be her last.

There is never a guarantee we will get all the moments we wish we could have had. Suddenly those moments can vanish and in the blink of an eye in this phase of motherhood…with you tucked in my lap…the moments will be over.

This is a journey of letting go. Little by little and moment by moment one of us will have to let go sooner than we had hoped. We belong not to one another but to One calling us to something greater.

So while we have one another here in this kitchen I promise to try to remember to live these moments of motherhood in technicolor. To stop sweeping through my task to read you a book and breathe you in on this journey of letting go.

Psalms 39:4
“LORD, make me to know my end And what is the extent of my days; Let me know how transient I am.”

Unraveled Marriage

September 10, 2014September 10, 20142 Comments

that, in reference to your former manner of life, you lay aside the old self, which is being corrupted in with deceitful desires and that you be renewed in the spirit of your mind, and put on the new self, which in the likeness of God has been created in righteousness and holiness of the truth.

Just two weeks ago I brought two different running shoes for my long morning run. It was a complete mistake and I had no idea I had grabbed my old left running shoe and my new right running shoe. When I arrived at the trail I laced up anyway and tried to run. 8 miles was the goal that day.

It didn’t feel right running with those two different shoes that morning. My left foot began to ache sooner than my right and as I tried to push through the aches just began to creep up my leg… my shin, my knee… I knew it wouldn’t be long before my hip would begin to twinge so around the two and a half mile mark I decided to turn around.

I walked back and for two and a half miles I thought about how ridiculous it is to try to run in two different shoes. Not only does it look funny it also feels strange and after awhile you begin to feel physical discomfort when you wear the old and the new at the same time.

On my long walk back I thought about Hebrews 12:1

let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.

If you don’t get rid off all of the old… you can’t run. You can’t persevere.

I thought about 2 Corinthians 5:17

If anyone is in Christ he is a new creation. The old is gone and the new has come.

The old has to go away for you to walk in the new way God is calling you to.

It seems as silly as my mismatched shoes for me to think about hanging onto my old self as I walk in the new. But I still struggle with my old patterns and my old ways. I still have so much unraveling to do. There are so many layers to me and I feel like daily, as I read God’s Word, God is saying, “Hey you, put that off, that is the old way you used to think about that, use my Words and walk in them.”

When the old gets tangled up in the new it feels funny. I feel confused, sometimes isolated and off balance. Just like in my two different running shoes, if I try to walk with Christ with some old and some new after awhile it will begin to affect me emotionally, spiritually and physically.

Recently I have been thinking about an unraveled marriage. What would it look like for me to recognize and put off my old patterns and transform them with the Words and Power of the gospel? Could we run with more perseverance towards Christ? Could we feel more comfortable and in step? Would we feel less achy and less off balance?

I think yes. But I think we have some unraveling to do as husbands and wives.

When you come into marriage you bring so many unknown patterns with you. Learned patterns from your own family, learned patterns from your friends, learned patterns from your favorite books and movies.

When I am hurting, it is my natural tendency to stonewall or shut down, cold shoulder, give a cold but bitter “nothing” if my husband asks me what is wrong.

I live with the old pattern tangled up in what I know is true from the Word of God.

If someone sins against you, talk about it. (Matthew 18)

“Come now, let us reason together,” says the LORD. “Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool. (Isaiah 1:18)

There is a burr in my side to be like the popular Disney Ice Princess and “Let It Go”. Let the old fall away from the new. And feel free, one with the wind and sky.

As a wife, I love my husband and I want to treat him the way God treats him. I don’t want to have old patterns I have brought from learned ways of the world and have them tangled up in the way God has designed marriage in the words of scripture. It looks as silly as those shoes and it feels uncomfortable and unsatisfying. You can’t run. You can’t persevere.

Unraveling is not as easy as switching out your shoes or singing a ballad on the top on an ice mountain. Unraveling hurts. It hurts our pride to say we are doing it wrong, it hurts and takes work to pray and hear and apply God’s designs for living.

Unraveling doesn’t happen once in a lifetime.

Unraveling doesn’t happen once a week after a convicting sermon on Sunday morning.

Unraveling doesn’t even happen once a day.

Unraveling happens on the long hard miles of everyday life with your husbands, wives, kids, neighbors and coworkers. I hope you remember to untangle the old from the new. I hope you remember both of your new shoes.

They Can Hear You

July 24, 2014June 22, 201612 Comments

We have kids. A few of them. Four to be exact and we had them all right in a row. Our three sons came first within three years of one another and then our daughter is our youngest. Our oldest will begin kindergarten in a few weeks which means for the last few months I have had the opportunity to take all four of my small children out into the world with me wherever I go.

If you have young kids, or have encountered anyone with young children, or even if you’ve read my blog before, you will not be surprised to hear the comments I have received when I venture out into the big world with my small family.

You have your hands full.

Do you know what causes that to happen?

Wow. Are they all yours?

Three boys, bless your heart.

You got your girl. (This is a new one.)

And recently my favorite, Wow, you are either crazy or very unlucky.

Now, I am not saying all of these comments are said with ill will or evil intent. Sometimes my four small children hanging off the Kroger shopping cart is quite a miraculous thing to see. Not everyone is out and about with all their children and I understand that when you see us you don’t know what to say. So one of the above comes out… (hopefully not the last one.)

For the last year I have processed these phrases I hear when I am out only thinking about how the words made me feel. It wasn’t until today that this has changed.

A kind man passed us by in the parking lot and said one of the above phrases. He was kind. He was applauding all my efforts. He was not intending evil but my four year old commented, “I heard that.”

He heard it.

For all these years it has slipped my mind that my children are hearing these phrases with their functioning ears and active minds.

They can hear the comments, see the looks and interpret the phrases. This has completely changed the way I think about hearing “you’ve got your hands full” when I am out in the world with my young family.

They can hear you. My kids can hear you.

What broke my heart in that moment was the sadness in my little one’s voice, “I heard that” was said with sorrow. He wanted me to know he can hear the words too. He is standing right there.

He is not a circus act. He is a person, a person created by the Most High God and perfectly placed in our young family at just the right time and that Most High God perfectly placed just the right amount of months…and days…and years in between all four of my young kids.

My children are not accessories in the stroller or shopping cart, they are people and they can hear you.

I began to imagine what it has been like for them to hear the uncomfortable phrases for all these years. Especially when someone calls me unlucky to have them or comments something implying that my boys were just unsuccessful attempts for my prize daughter. They probably have felt hurt, mistreated and unwanted when we are out in this big, big world.

I know my husband has his hands full with me but no one would say that aloud to him when I am standing right by his side. Any person would avoid saying, “is she yours?” It’s just bad manners.

Why in our culture have we deemed it acceptable to say things about children we would never say about adults?

My kids can hear what you are saying. I want you to know. You comment is ringing in their ears.

As a mom, I fight to teach my kids that they are important and loved by the Most High God. I fight to teach them they were brought into the world for a purpose, to glorify God and enjoy Him forever. I fight to teach them they are precious to me because they are precious to God. Their existence is not unimportant or invisible to God.

God sees my kids hanging off the cart. God always sees them and He knows my kids by their names. God sees them as important. God knows all four of my kids so intimately that He knows the numbers of hairs on each of their heads.

So if you know they can hear you and you know God does not think of them as a handful, or a curse, or an unsuccessful attempt to have a daughter does this change how you might respond to us when you see us in the aisles of your grocery store?

Knowing they can hear you changes the way I think about “this way we have learned to talk about children” in our culture that is just bad manners.

I would like to share some encouraging comments I have received in hopes that we can redress these awkward encounters with the truth about children. I hope we can fight to redress the awkward comments to reflect how God views having lots of young kids hanging off shopping carts.

Next time try one of these instead…

Look at all your beautiful children.

The Lord has truly blessed you.

I bet those boys love their little sister.

What nice boys and girls you have, I’m sure it’s not easy for them to tag along on errands with mom.

Pslam 127:3-5 Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord, the fruit of the womb a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior are the children of one’s youth. Blessed is the man who fills his quiver with them! He shall not be put to shame when he speaks with his enemies in the gate.

They can hear you. I hope this might help you think about how you are talking about them.

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