God is faithful even when life hurts

Last April we moved into our new house with a wood-burning fireplace in the living room. By the time we were settled enough to use it, it was too warm to think of building a fire. However, over these last few weeks that has changed. This past weekend we had incredibly frigid weather and my husband built a fire for us three days in a row. We loved the heat and warmth and coziness of it.

Today I was walking through the living room and noticed that the fireplace is no longer clean. Until recently, the brick inside the fireplace looked pretty much the same as the brick around the fireplace. It wasn’t marred. It was clean. Now, though, it has black soot in spots and has ashes in the bottom. It’s lost its pristine state. I didn’t notice those blemishes so much when it was burning bright with fire and warmth. I was too busy enjoying it.

Now I see them. I could say the fireplace is no longer as beautiful as it once was. But the fireplace got those marks from fulfilling its purpose, and is there anything more beautiful than that? After all, we didn’t plan for a wood-burning fireplace for it to just be an unused showpiece. We looked forward to the extra warmth it would bring our family on cold winter days and evenings. It couldn’t provide any of those things without getting dirty and scarred.

We are so much the same way! In a few months, I’m hitting a milestone birthday and turning 40. I haven’t lived through 40 years of life without scars and blemishes. Some of them you can see like the scar on my knee from a cut I had as a child. I’ve got freckles on my skin from being out in the sun. My abdomen has scars from numerous surgeries. I’ve also gotten unseen scars through the years. I hesitate to open myself up to new people, because I have scars reminding me of the pain the happens when trust is betrayed. I’ve got the scars left from losing loved ones to death, even when I know they are in a better place. And I have scars of fear for how my health is going to be each and every day.

I’m not pristine by any stretch of the imagination. But I don’t want to be scarred and blemished just for the sake of being scarred and blemished. Just like I didn’t throw dirt into my fireplace to make it dirty for no reason, so I don’t want to do that in life. I want my scars and blemishes to be used for my God-given purpose in life. I want to use them to honor Him. Those scars from my surgeries are times I can praise God that He brought me through safely and helped me recover each and every time in spite of the challenges that came my way as a result. They are reminders of His faithfulness and because I have them, I can better minister to those facing surgery or health issues. I can pray for them in more personal ways.

And those emotional scars of being betrayed by someone I thought was a friend serve to remind me that I have a Friend who will never betray me. Those scars of losing loved ones remind me how very precious life is. I still struggle with grief because my most recent loss was only three months ago. These last few years have been a season of loss for my family and those scars ache. But I remember lives lived fully. I remember God’s faithfulness, strength and peace even when my heart has been broken into pieces. Those scars allow me to minister to those dealing with loss more empathetically.

I want to live my life scarred and blemished but still praising God. He didn’t create me to sit on a shelf and not get messy. He could have made life without pain, but then how would we ever really know we needed Him? We appreciate the light so much more once we have been in the darkness. I want to be used up. Am I excited and wanting more hurt and hard times? Not especially. However, I know they will come. Life works that way. It is filled with highs and lows. But my scars remind me that no matter the high or the low, God is good and He is ever faithful. He holds me close and has scars of His own to prove how much He loves me.

I want to be burned up like my fireplace. I want to serve my purpose. I don’t want to be so afraid of getting dirty and scarred that I stop trying. I don’t want to let emotional scars keep me from making new friends. I don’t want to let physical scars keep me from trying new activities. I want to remember the lessons I’ve learned, share them as much as I can and know that through it all — every bump, bruise and cut — God is always faithful. He sees the beauty in my brokenness and in my scars.

Encouragement for hard times

For two nights in a row now, I’ve ended up sleeping on the couch half the night with my son who has been sick. The first night didn’t involve much sleeping because he was up sick every 20 or 30 minutes. Last night, he was no longer getting sick, but I couldn’t find a comfortable position and fall asleep until about 30 minutes before my alarm went off.

As I reclined last night, tossing and turning in my head (my body couldn’t move much because there was a little boy snuggled against it), I couldn’t help but think back to the same little guy’s first three months of life.

Remembering the past

For his first three months we spent every night on the couch. I had the recliner on my end to lean back in, but we were up most of the night. He had reflux and wasn’t a fan of sleeping. He’d nurse off and on. He’d cry. Then he’d eventually fall asleep on his Boppy beside me about two hours before his preschool-aged sister would wake up for the day.

They were long months. I remember once lying on the living room floor just to remember what it felt like to lie down. It sounds dramatic, but it was legitimate.

We’ve come a long way in almost six years. Those newborn days with my son were rough. Newborn days are exhausting in general. Some are more exhausting than others. My daughter, for example, settled into a routine after a couple of weeks and would at least let me sleep three hours or so at a time. 

Parenthood totally pushes you to your limits. It starts right off the bat in the newborn days and continues through each phase. Sometimes it’s easier and sometimes it’s incredibly difficult. We very much need encouragement for hard times.

That year with my newborn son, I ended up with shingles as a result of the strain. I also had numerous other sicknesses and major surgery when he was 8 months old. It was a difficult year, to say the least.

Applying it to life

The older I get, the more I realize life is like that. We encounter one event after another and wonder how we are ever going to survive it and have the strength to keep going. We think this will do us in.

I remember during those three months with my son that some nights, we would both just sit and cry together. He couldn’t be soothed, and I was beyond weary. I wasn’t sure I could keep going night after night, but I did because I had to. I had a little baby depending on me for his survival. And I made it. 

There have been many other situations I’ve faced that are just as wearisome, if not more so. Each time I’m left wondering if I’ll make it through. Each time, I do. I don’t, however, make it through on my own.

I’m not so strong by myself. Most of my closest encounters with God have come at times when I was at the very end of myself and unsure I could keep moving one foot in front of the other.

Because just like I didn’t abandon my son when he was a newborn who needed me or a sick 5-year-old who needed me, so has God never abandoned me. He’s been right there through the thick of it all, carrying me, loving me and giving me strength. Day by day and sometimes minute by minute. 

He will do the same for you. In fact, He longs to. Just like when my kids are sick and I long to be with them and help them, so He longs to be with and help us when we are struggling. We just have to ask Him. If my kids hid away quietly in their rooms suffering, I’d not know they needed me. But they trust me to take are of them. They trust that when they call out for me in need, I will answer.

How much more we can trust God to do the same! He never gets weary or complains to himself about the hard work. God just shows up, loves us and takes care of us. He will provide us the encouragement for hard times that we need. All we have to do is call out and He’ll come running to wrap His arms around us. He is so, so good!

One Sunday a couple of years ago, I ended up getting a sermon within a sermon. Both messages were awesome. One came from my pastor who was continuing his series about golden calves. The other came through a verse that was part of our Scripture reading for the day. It’s a verse that I hadn’t noticed before but it struck a chord with me on that day.

He tends his flock like a shepherd:
He gathers the lambs in his arms
and carries them close to his heart;
he gently leads those that have young.
— Isaiah 40:11 (NIV)

That last sentence sprang to my attention: “He gently leads those that have young.” I stopped and re-read it wondering if it said what I thought it did — what I needed it to. It does. Tired mama of small children, God sees you! He gently leads you, because He knows having young children isn’t easy. That was what I needed to hear as I was looking forward to a really difficult and busy week without much relief. God knew it. My pastor facilitated it. And my heart was renewed because of it.

I am not a fan of the line of thinking that nobody understands what I’m going through in life or how hard it is, because I have been down that path and found it to be a bunch of nonsense. Just after grad school, I spent my early 20s in a horrific, years-long flare of interstitial cystitis, a chronic painful bladder condition. I was laid up on the couch, inside more than out and trying one medical procedure and appointment after another to try and get my bladder into manageable condition again. I felt woeful. I felt sorry for myself. I felt like nobody else understood. And that line of thinking only made me feel worse. I have been down that path again in the years since when other hard times have inevitably come. In the last few years, though, I have seen how I’ve let that stinking thinking cloud my thoughts.

Life is hard. Everyone has a story and a struggle. We all have stuff we deal with. And maybe my stuff is different than yours. But that doesn’t mean we can’t relate to each other having a struggle. We all know what it’s like to have something turn our lives upside down. As mothers, we all know what it’s like to get up each day and try again to make it a good one and find that balance of getting things done and spending time with our children. We all know how sometimes just making it through the day is an accomplishment. We all know how sometimes we want to hide in the bathroom for five minutes of peace and quiet just to get away from the fray. We can relate. We are more alike than we are different.

And God knows that, too. He knows and understands us even better than we do ourselves. He’s been involved with mothers of young children since Eve first delivered Cain and Abel. If ever a young mother needed help, it was Eve. She was the first to do it. She had no sisterhood of mothers or even her own mother to talk to or learn from. But she had God and what more help can any mother ask for than that of our Divine Creator? He saw her needs. He has continued seeing the needs of mothers ever since. Years later this verse was penned to remind mothers of young children that God sees them and leads them.

I particularly like that this verse promises to lead us gently. The last thing I need in my life right now is more complication or even more forcefulness. I battle to make sure my children are listening to me. And to make sure they are taken care of, have clean clothes, food packed for lunches and homework done. When they were younger, the battles were certainly longer and more intense. Like during the toddler phase when they wanted their own way all the time no matter what. Or during the newborn phase when they decided sleep at night wasn’t a good idea. Or during the preschool phase when they wanted to test their limits.

And that’s just the abrasiveness I face with my children. There are lots of other things coming at me from work stuff, family relationships, finances, major life decisions and more. I don’t need more conflict. I don’t need a heavy hand. I need a soft place to fall. I need a gentle hand on my back guiding me the way I should go. That is just what God has promised in this verse and what He continues to do now — years and years after that verse was written. His Word stands strong and true even in 2018.

I am left feeling thankful and awed. He knew the struggle and had a response for me. I’m sure there are different ways to interpret this verse; that’s usually the case with Bible verses. All I know is what this verse said to me. It gave me a promise to hang on to. It gave me hope to know that God sees me. God understands. More importantly than other people understanding our plight (and trust me, others really do understand more than you might think), God understands our plight. He sees our hearts. I feel like every year I learn more about who I am and how I tick. These are all things He has known about me since I was in my mother’s womb.

I praise God for the promises in His Word. Self-pity gets me nowhere. Reassurance that God is always with me keeps me moving forward. Come, Lord, and continue to gently lead me.

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What I learned about God’s faithfulness in the nine years it took to sell my house

Seasons of waiting are hard. About 10 years ago, we were selling our house to move about an hour away to the bigger city where my husband’s office was. I was also pregnant with our first baby, so we had a bit of a deadline.

First we had our house for sale by owner and sold it. Then the buyer backed out. We decided to list with a realtor. We told the house again. And again the buyer backed out.

We were beyond discouraged. I especially struggled with it because I have anxiety issues and the added pregnancy hormones didn’t help. We even ended up in small claims court a few months later with one of the buyers over earnest money. It was ridiculous.

Of course, people criticized my home throughout the process, because that’s how selling a house, especially one built in 1960, works. I was discouraged and beaten down. I didn’t understand why God not only shut the door once, but twice and then slammed it shut extra hard for good effort. Why were we having to stay put and make my husband drive 75 minutes away (one way) each day while dealing with a newborn? It wasn’t fair!

Finding a new focus

As time went by, I realized that I needed to let it go. And I needed to change my thoughts, because they were starting to consume me. I worked to shift from thinking about how discouraging it was to make myself pray, “God, thank you for keeping us where we need to be.”

Soon I meant it, because that was the other thing. I really DID believe in my head that He had shut the door on our move for a purpose. My heart was just struggling to get there.

Eventually, it got better, but I still had a bit of real estate PTSD. As time passed, we decided to just stay put and not move out of town. My husband got to work from home more often, we had a second baby and I had some new health struggles. We also loved being in the same city with both sets of our parents. I really was grateful to still be in our house.

But, I still had that little voice in my head telling me that I’d just always live in that house. Going through getting my hopes up for moving again just didn’t seem worth it. I told my husband that I would live in that house until I died unless God dragged out of there by force. (I can be a bit dramatic…)

Moving forward

So at the beginning of 2015 when my husband suggested we go and talk with a local builder about possibly building a house in the school district where we wanted our kids to go, I laughed.

Just like Sarah with Abraham when he told her that she’d have a baby in her advanced years, I didn’t believe it. I told my husband I couldn’t get my hopes up and be disappointed again. Throughout the years, I had made peace with our house and I didn’t want that peace ruined again. I didn’t think I could handle more disappointment.

We talked with the builder. We ran numbers and, despite all my hesitation, we decided to move forward with selling our house. This time we weren’t looking to leave the city where we had grown up and both of our sets of parents live. Instead, we found a location closer to the interstate for my husband’s commute. We also liked the school district.

I did a lot of praying and talking with God. Finally, I had a peace and a glimmer of hope. I felt like God was confirming the move and promising me that I would one day live in that new house.

So, we organized our house and again put it up for sale by owner near the end of March 2015. A few people showed interest, but as time went by and life got more hectic, we listed with a realtor in May.

We signed a contract for six months, which would take us up until the beginning of December. I wasn’t all that worried, because God had promised me He was on it. However, I also wasn’t incredibly hopeful that our house would sell. I just made peace that no matter what happened, I’d leave it in God’s hands and be OK with it.

Waiting some more

In that entire time from March until December we had zero offers. Nada. None. We had some showings. We had open houses. And we had no interest. We decided to take a break for Christmas. We intended to put the house back on the market in the spring of 2016, but life got in the way. I had more health struggles. Life was just challenging. In the back of my head, I remembered God’s promise, but I didn’t fully believe it any more. 

Then came 2017 and as the months passed, my husband pushed me into listing the house again. As I prayed about it, God reminded me that when He makes promises, He doesn’t break them, so I needed to move forward in faith.

We made a few more changes and updates. We rented a storage unit and moved out some furniture. I knew from the beginning that we needed a realtor and I had one in mind who had followed up with us time and again. So when we were ready, I called him.

Moving forward — again

We got the house on the market in July. At the end of August, I had surgery with a specialist about five hours from our home. We left the house ready to show. Sure enough, the day after my surgery, just after we checked out of the hospital and headed to our hotel, our realtor called with an offer.

Overwhelmed, we ran the numbers. It was a good offer. We accepted it, but also accepted that the buyer wanted possession at closing in 30 days. We weren’t sure how that would happen since I couldn’t lift anything heavier than a gallon of milk for a couple of months, but we trusted it would work out.

I felt peace about it all. The buyer’s last name was Buckles, which was the name of our dog who passed away in the middle of the house selling business back in May of 2016. I knew God gave me that as an extra sign we were doing the right thing.

With help from our family and friends we got packed and moved out within a month. Most of our stuff went to storage. Some went with us to my parents’ house. We lived with them for six months before being able to move into our new home in April of 2018.

Reflecting on the process

It was a nine-year process to get to this house. This house certainly isn’t what I thought I’d have when we started the process. It wasn’t where I thought we’d live. I hadn’t dreamed of living here. And yet, it is perfect. It isn’t a mansion, but I don’t need a mansion. I call it my dream home, because it is.

Our new home is better than anything I had imagined. It fits our family and needs well. The location is terrific. And the school system is a bonus we didn’t even need because our daughter got into an excellent school through the local university that allowed our son to go there as well when he started kindergarten. 

It was a long wait, and I wasn’t good at being patient. I’d love to say I knew all along when God kept closing the doors that He had something better in store. My head knew it, but my heart didn’t feel it. I felt discouraged and downtrodden so often throughout the entire process. More than once I was ready to give up and not dare hope or dream for more. I didn’t see where I was going.

Had I been an Israelite wandering through the desert for 40 years with Moses, I’d have been on the Committee of Complaints and Doubts.

But, you know what? God showed up. God knew exactly where He was leading us. He knew what would be best for our family before we could even begin to think of it. He knew.

I’m left in my new house in awe, praising and trusting God! And I’m left marveling at His gifts, which are truly beyond what I deserve. I am thankful for His grace and mercy.

God’s faithfulness and goodness

I share this long story because I want to encourage you if you are in a season of waiting where you’ve been praying, waiting and spinning your wheels. Even when we know waiting is God’s will, it can be so very hard.

I have another much, much more serious situation that I’m waiting for an answer to. It’s been going on since the beginning of 2015, and so far we don’t have an answer, but I trust God has a plan. He always does even when we can’t see it. He has a plan even when we whine and grouse because it doesn’t look like we thought it would. 

My friend, if you are in a season of waiting right now, know that God hasn’t forgotten you. He isn’t hanging you out to dry or leaving you flailing in the wind. God is with you and He is working in ways you can’t even imagine. He does have plans for you and hope for your future (see Jeremiah 29:11). Our Father has plans for your good and not your decimation. He is there, my friend. Just keep hanging on and watching for Him. 

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I grew up with a mom who loves music. She still does. As a kid, I’d hear her singing around the house all the time. She never played an instrument, but her love of music translated into my life and I learned to play three instruments. I competed with two of them throughout middle and high school and continued into college as well. While I don’t get to play instruments nearly so much these days, I still love music.

Music makes such an impact on my life that I am careful what I listen to. A few years ago, I switched to listening to a Christian radio station, and I feel it’s so important that I include that as one of my 10 ways to start living a life filled with grace. (You can get all 10 ways in a handy tip sheet by signing up for the Families with Grace email list!) I am always listening to music and the music I’m listening to influences so much of our lives, including the way we speak to one another in our family. Who can yell at someone over something small when music is blaring about how much God loves us?

Last Friday afternoon, I was reminded, yet again, of the power of music. I was driving to pick up my children from school. It had been a long week. My husband was out of town for a few days, which is very rare for us, I had a few nights in a row of minimal sleep and I was just not feeling great emotionally with some other things going on as well. Add in that I’m also still working through grief over losing my uncle a couple of weeks ago, and it was a perfect storm for melancholy. 

I was talking myself into remembering I couldn’t start crying and be a swollen, lobster-faced mom at school pick-up or I’d freak out my kids (and probably the other parents!) when the radio started playing David Crowder*Band’s “He Loves Us.” Soon I was singing along. And God gently prodded my heart with a reminder that sometimes what I need to dwell on most is who He is. I don’t need to stress and fret over things beyond my control. I don’t need to have all the answers to all the problems in my life. Sometimes I just need to bask in the fact that God loves me. He LOVES me, even when I mess up and fall short. HE loves ME! Oh, how He loves me! We must cling to God’s love and promises most when life leaves us downtrodden and feeling dismal. And so many times a song heard at just the right time can remind me of these things. That’s the power of music. It can take a dreary Friday afternoon and turn it into a time of praise and provide a balm for an aching heart.

And this example is just one of thousands I can give you from throughout my lifetime. God often speaks to me through music. Other times I have used music to be a great stress reliever. Still other times it has kept me motivated to keep working while I clean my house. I even have a specific soundtrack that I most often listen to when I’m spending an afternoon writing or working on an intense project. 

Music is powerful and strong and can make such an impact on our lives. What are some of your favorite songs from the soundtrack of your life?

You can now find Families with Grace on Spotify! I’ve put together a play list of all sorts of great contemporary Christian songs both old and new to uplift and encourage you as you create homes filled with grace, love and faith. Check it out and follow the playlist!

Never want to miss any Families with Grace content? Sign up for our mailing list and receive a FREE tip sheet on 10 ways you can start living as a family with grace right now! It’s chock-full of good, practical ideas to help bring peace to your home. Don’t miss out! Go here now!

How grace-filled is different from graceful

When I think of someone who is graceful, I think of a ballerina or a dancer who moves in fluid, smooth lines. I think of someone who seems to float more than walk. That person is not me. Not at all! And that’s not what this site is about. I’m talking about grace-filled lives. Grace-filled families. Grace-filled women. A grace-filled me!

A grace-filled person is someone who is so full of God’s love that they stop before they react out of anger to assess the situation and see if the person or situation is one that needs grace more than it needs anger. 

And a grace-filled parent is one who resists the temptation to yell or say mean things after her children misbehave when she realizes they are having a legitimately bad day. While she doesn’t let her children get away with bad behavior, she disciplines them with grace and addresses what the actual problem is instead.

THAT person is who I want to be. (Honestly, I wouldn’t mind being more graceful either because I am quite a clutz! But, I digress…) I know I can’t do it on my own. It goes against my human nature. My human nature wants to say mean things, raise my voice or slam a door shut. My human nature doesn’t want to extend grace, because I deserve justice. I deserve revenge.

But, I don’t. I don’t deserve justice or revenge. I deserve severe punishment, because I mess up over and over again. However, I serve a God filled with grace and mercy. I serve a God who sees the inside of me and why I’m misbehaving. I serve a God who stills loves me in spite of it all. In fact, He loves me so much that He sent His Son to die for me. Talk about grace!

So to be a grace-filled person, I’ve got to fight that human nature. The best way I know to fight it is to let more of God into me. My goal is to be more Christlike. And being more Christlike means keeping my focus on God. When I do that, I am more likely to let more of Him show through me. If I think of Jesus sitting beside me while I’m dealing with my children, I am more likely to act in a way that honors Him and helps them.

I am not saying that my children don’t need disciplined, because they do. God doesn’t give me grace and mercy and just let me have at life my way. He disciplines me. Sometimes it hurts, but every time I grow from it and learn another lesson and more about God. Every single time! That’s what I want to model for my children. I want to discipline them so they can grow up to be awesome people. I want to discipline them so they understand the right way to behave and treat others. And I want to discipline them so they are safe. But I don’t want to utterly crush them. I don’t want to respond only out of anger. I want to show them grace and discipline as God has shown me.

In the end, I want to be intentional about how I’m living my life and raising my children so that we are a Family with Grace. I don’t care if we are a family who is graceful, but I definitely want to be one who is grace-filled!

Looking for more posts about being grace-filled? Check out these posts, in particular!