Love Stories: God and Me, Part IV

There was still the matter of the vow.

I hadn't made it lightly. And I had made it to God - a God of whose love I was no longer certain.

The months after the hospital passed under a cover of grace, grace I recognize in the looking back, seeing now the fear that stalked me then.

Pete's and my friendship deepened; I sought God with him, co-teaching a Sunday School class for the teens at our church. My pursuit of Him was rote, something I knew to do, something I'd always done.

I tried not to think about my friend, about the outstanding question of his return to me. I tried not to hope - for his return, for the return of my health, for anything at all. After several years of unresolved health issues I knew this: God was sovereign, and He would do what He wanted, regardless of my desire.

...

God told Pete to ask Him for me.

Not in the "ask Me so that I have the place to tell you no" sense. In the "ask Me for a sign and I will give it to you" sense.

So Pete obeyed and asked and fell in love with me.

I was not in love with him. But I knew I was no longer in love with my friend either. That wasn't something I shared with anyone. Not even with God. The inside jokes I'd shared with Him earlier in my story were over, the ready trust, the easy surrender, the passion behind my vow, the vow that kept me from returning Pete's love. The vow that depended on God's work in the heart of my friend.

Work that wasn't happening.

...

Christmas came. Questions about our friendship had arisen for both Pete and me. His family didn't know what to do with our relationship. They counseled him strongly against it; he shared his heart with his dad. His dad prayed.

My parents couldn't understand why I was still holding out for my friend's return. I explained the vow I had to keep. I told Dad that I'd shared the vow with him, that he hadn't said anything, that because of it, I was bound to it, for the sake of keeping the vow to the Lord.

My dad stared. "I never heard you. And if I had, there is no way I would have said you should keep it."

Humbling words. Frightening words. Freeing words.

...

I spent the New Year at a bed and breakfast retreat Pete had given me for Christmas. I intended to pull out my Bible and repeat the last year's New Year retreat - Genesis through Job seeking and discovering God. Pete figured if I found Him, he'd never see me again.

My heart wasn't in it. After my dad's words to me releasing me from my vow, I couldn't open my Bible. I was scared to find myself that alone with God. But He was pursuing me. He was so close, I felt if I turned and looked, I would see Him.

I ran.

I rented a movie. Hit two rental places looking for a VCR on which to watch the movie. The one in my room was broken. I bought one.

I didn't make it back to the bed and breakfast to hook the thing up and turn on the movie before He caught me in the dark of my car, so present, so real I couldn't escape Him.

"What do you want?" I remember asking Him, a little annoyed, a little afraid, gutsy enough to be the one to speak first, take the bull by the horns.

He didn't say anything. Not yet. I could feel Him looking at me, the pointed kind of look that says, "are you actually serious, asking Me that? You know."

I tried leaving Him in the car. Went inside. Set up the VCR. Put the movie in.

Turned it off.

"What do you want?"

It was Him this time, asking me.

...

Pete and I were married in October, 2005.

I had been freed from my first vow to make a new one, but I'd not been freed from my fear. I clutched Pete almost wildly to myself, waiting for the ball to drop, waiting for the inevitable loss that I was sure must come if I loved anything or anyone too much.

God wanted all of me. After I'd admitted my love for Pete to Him, I dived for cover, and He let me go, for a time. Let me live. During my first year of marriage, He spoke still and small His "I love you," over and over and over.

I acknowledged. "Yeah, God. I know."

"I love you."

...

Piper was born in July, 2007. A year of "I love you" culminated in faith to cling to Him during her birth.

I was ready to move on with life. I figured it was time to start growing spiritually again. Trying to find God again. Trying to love Him again. Which meant laying down my life for Him. And figuring out what it meant to lay down my life. I wanted to get to the "life abundant" on the other side of that "nevertheless."

Somehow, I thought I might be able to manage it without letting Him into my heart again. Without being so vulnerable as I had been. Without facing the fear that held me captive.

Somehow I thought I could lay down my life for Him without Him.

...

Love Stories: God and Me, Part I
Love Stories: God and Me, Part II
Love Stories: God and Me, Part III


...

On Thursdays in February (because I never know quite what to post on Thursdays), I was writing out my love story. Not the one about my crushes or my first love or even my love for Pete - though those stories all play a part. Bonnie Gray at Faith Barista and Holley Gerth at (in)Courage challenged us to write out our God love stories, and I had one to share.

It's been on hold for a couple of weeks, and here we are in March with what should have been the final post - but I discovered this morning that it won't be the final post. There is too much more that I cannot share today.

Thanks for your patience. More to come next Thursday.






(Image © Informal Moments Photography)

Piper's Pipings

Piper is talking now. BOY she is talking now. I can finally start my toddler talks collection!

...

Her Monday night babysitter asked Pete about her increased use of "verbal aggression." We looked at each other and laughed.

"Scat; get out of here!" is a frequently-used expression around here. Our cats are very bad. (Well, cat, now. Nanook squeezed out of the garage during the week we were away. I think she is happier as an outdoor cat now. We are seeking a replacement - perhaps a puppy? Mia wouldn't know the difference...)

...

Yesterday, I was out (yes, out - I went shopping with the two yesterday and enjoyed most of it immensely!), and got stuck for two cycles at a left-turn light (seriously, they fall asleep at the wheel here at the first sign of warmth!). When the light turned green for a third time, I honked my horn and the driver in front of me finally moved. I wasn't too put out, since B was sleeping, but as I turned, I heard a little annoyed voice behind my seat on repeat:

"Stupid car. Stupid car. Stupid car."

Yeah, we think the drivers down here are baaaaad...

...

Last night at dinner, Piper decided she didn't want to eat her sausage. Instead of a simple "no," she opted for a re-route with a shocked "Oh my GWRACIOUS!!!" She topped off the effect with her hands over her mouth in feigned horror.

I think my mom might get the credit for that one.


This morning, I was puttering in my office when Piper came tearing down the hall with one of her two stuffed Minnies to grab her scarf and coat from the doorknob where they were hanging temporarily.

"We gotta find Mickey - and fast!" (Mickey went to work with Pete this morning, having been left overnight in the car.)

"We gotta rescue him!"

...

My favorite of the week came last evening while we were waiting to pick Pete up from work:

"Shweetie," Piper said from the back seat, "I'm gonna help you..."

Oh how sweet, I thought. Then she finished her ramble.

"Shweetie, I'm gonna help you find a mouse!"

Say WHAAAA?








(Image © Informal Moments Photography)

Something About Good

I've had so much time to think recently, and not so much time to process my thinking, to bring my scattered thoughts to real. But something is coming clear, something about inadequacy, my own God-gifted inadequacy.

The only solid thing that comes to me is this: that God has been very good to me and I have not deserved His goodness.

It is something about having a child whose high needs I can never fully meet. Something about her needing God too - for life, for help, for love, for discipline. It something about a place to begin teaching her of His care for her.



It is something about letting go, and about holding on, an almost-wish that these young, small days would last longer because I cannot get close enough to the smiles, the cooing, the giggles, the uncertainty, the pleas for time with Mama that will just never be enough.



This something is about a really big God. A really, really big God whose wrath is overpower, whose wrath will one day drive those who hate Him to curse His name without repentance. It is something about being held by this God, something about a strong love, eyes that burn like fire, a King on a white horse, a Gospel and a testimony that draws my eyes upward, outward, into Him who is Spirit and not like me.

Have I made Him too small in my need to justify myself, my life, my inadequacy?


It is my inadequacy that teaches me to embrace His power. It is my empty that begs His full. It is my dust that requires His glory.

I see so well where I have failed and where I must not fail. I try so hard to perfect myself, to be unbroken, to do the right thing every time. It is too much for me. I will never be enough. Not for this loving of my children, not for this serving of my powerful God. I can never cover all my bases.

If not for Christ, I would be destroyed. This something I cannot quite describe is at once terrible and comforting. It goes beyond all I have ever known, lives in a realm I cannot finger or photograph, draws me from the daily into the eternal and helps me trust a Person who provided for my redemption from this body of sin.

The uncontrollable pain I own in child-bearing, the transition and change in life that sends me spinning out of my comfort zone, the unrequited longing I know for my husband, time slipping through my fingers like so much sand - these are the gifts of His goodness to me, the painful, beautiful etchings of life under Adam redeemed in Jesus.


I cannot pretend to understand.

I can only be overwhelmed. Only offer up my thanks, wordless thanks that is more than emotion, that draws all of me up into Him, that bows me down before Him, and the eyes of my heart wonder beyond the dim reflection at the mystery that will be no more one day when I behold Him.

I can only taste this goodness that I will never be enough to earn.

...

Shared in the blog carnival hosted at Bridget Chumbley's One Word at a Time today.





(Images © Informal Moments Photography)

Wordless

The article deadline was encroaching, and I didn't have an article.

My topic was "worship." For someone who spent years engaging the word while working in music ministry with my dad, I was coming up short on ideas.

This one was supposed to be an easy write.

I began with a Sunday School definition of worship, something that involved singing, music, and praising God truthfully from the heart. I looked for an illustration from my life, adjusted my approach to the topic accordingly, and sent in a draft.

It wasn't right.

I spent a day or two sighing over my dilemma. I didn't have energy to rewrite. I was fresh out of ideas anyway. I write too much poetry, and often leave the concrete behind, which makes for too-vague writing. But I had volunteered to write the article, and I knew that it would be good for me -- and for my writing -- to see it through.

I'm at Ungrind today. Click on over for the rest of the story.

...

MOVING UPDATE: Thank you all for your prayers and sweet comments over the weekend. They are being felt.

We moved most of our stuff over to our new house on Friday and Saturday, thinking that someone would be there to install the sink and finish the wiring that was supposed to be done already. Any minute, I was sure they would show.

By Saturday evening, we decided to call someone to take a look at the water situation, and we discovered that the city had turned the water off completely.

Instead of trying to deal with two kids and two houses and meals and baths, we decided it would be best for me to take the kids to my parents' house in VA. Pete drove us up on Sunday and drove back Sunday night to see to things this week until the house is ready for us to come home and live. This way I have a little more support, and Pete will not be so torn between his priorities at work and for the move.

I may be a bit spotty on the blog this week until we get home to our regular schedule.

Again, Transition

Like labor,
the pains have been coming,
squeezing, stretching, opening
one, two, five
hours and minutes apart

and we are a little nearer to
new.

Today it comes
and I am breathing through
again

this hardest part, the beginning
of change,
the first pangs, then

the new.

I'm at twenty-some moves for my lifetime now. I've lost count and I don't have time this morning to figure it out. The Interwebs are moving first, with the phone. Then the piano. Then we hope to get the bedroom and the living room moved over so we can rest at our new house tonight.

There are some positives to having Piper prefer to sleep with us still, to having Bredon in an easily movable basket.

You all are awesome. Thank you for the comments and notes and prayers and encouragement reminding me of His love, revealing Him. How much more does my heavenly Father care for me than for the sparrows?

I don't know. But I think it is my time to learn.

We're moving today. We are almost through.

I'll be back when I can.





(Image © Informal Moments Photography)