Sick Thoughts

I'm on the eighth day of a doozy of a cold.  I'm not sure which symptoms will greet me in the morning when I wake up.  It began with a sore throat, and the next day seemed to subside.  The day after that, it felt like I'd been hit by a truck.  Then two days of feeling better.  Sunday was awful.  Monday was better. Today is awful too.

I'm exhausted from lack of sleep.  Coughing and headaches have stolen my precious hours of rest.  On top of that, I find that having three children is not conducive to rest anyway.  They already have far more energy than I do.  Now that I'm sick, it multiplies my disadvantage exponentially.

Being literally sick and tired is no time to think deep thoughts because they only tend toward the depressed and discouraged ones.  But what's a tired, restless body and mind to do when it can't muster up the energy for anything else?

I went to bed thinking about the boy in my kids' karate class who ignores my son every time he tries to talk to him.

I had  "the" bad dream- the one where Josh leaves me.

I notice that the layer of dust is getting thick on the shelves.  And remember that a whole bunch of people are coming for Thanksgiving.

I think of the pies I have to bake.  And that I need to make sure the turkey is defrosting properly.

I get sucked into searching Amazon for early Black Friday deals. And remember that I'm not looking at any of the flyers this year.  And have very little shopping to do anyway.

I'm grouchy because I'm sick but I still have to put the kids to bed every night.  And then I remember that they haven't gotten out of their pjs or brushed their teeth yet this morning.

I start to worry about cavities.

I'm kind of upset and really discouraged that Josh hasn't gotten a deer this year. He's put in  hours in the freezing cold for nothing.

The house is full of food but all I want is some soup.  And there's no soup in the house.

I make some soup out of leftover meatballs, half a carton of beef broth, some quickly chopped baby carrots and a few pressed cloves of garlic. I beg the kids to leave me alone for 52 minutes- just long enough to lay on the couch with my bowl of soup and an episode of Call the Midwife.

I only have a few episodes left to watch and I'll be all caught up. Even this thought makes me sad.  It's such a beautiful program, all about love, so powerfully full of LIFE!  And once I'm caught up, then what will I watch when I need 52 minutes all to myself?

But I feel better after some soup and some rest.  Even 52 minutes helps.

I make lunch for the kids.  I'm calling it lunch, anyway.  Popcorn, a cheese stick, hot cocoa, and a slice of coffee cake.  I'm waiting for Mister to tell me we didn't have lunch today. He likes very traditional meals.

I almost made chocolate chip cookies?  Am I crazy????  No, cooking is just therapy for me.

But I don't need therapy. I need rest today. There will be all that cooking and baking in the next few days.

I'm thankful my mom will be here. She'll make the turkey (if it's defrosted).  She'll give the kids all the attention I haven't been able to this past week.

I'll feel better soon.  Til then, I must come up with something that resembles dinner.  Cereal?  Rolled up ham and cheese?  A scoop of peanut butter and some crackers?

I cough my way through the obligatory three books before bed.  I'm tempted to stay up for a while, now that the kiddos are asleep in their beds and I can get a few things done in peace.  But I force myself to crawl into bed.  I hack and cough for over an hour, and pray for sleep. I need it so desperately.

And it comes.  No bad dreams.  Fewer worries.  Just the usual interruption of my littlest needing to go potty. And the next thing I know, Josh is returning from his night shift. He crawls in beside me, and though I am still coughing a little, all is right with the world and I feel better.

Simply, Thankful

Every day I'm reading thoughts of thankfulness in my news feed.  I love this and I appreciate it, though I haven't joined in.  I sometimes fear being one of those people who updates my status too often.  Or shares too many links. Or comes across the wrong way. Or reveals too much.

So I suppose I save more words for this place, a place only visited by a faithful few (and since I'm writing about thankfulness, I want you to know I am so very thankful that you do read my ramblings).  A writer needs to write.  It's almost like drawing breath sometimes.  And a writer needs to be heard to keep sharing.

I'm thankful for things deep, ridiculous, simple, often overlooked. Things beyond my comprehension.  Things I touch every day.

I'm thankful for the fish sticks and the french fries and the dill pickle slices we ate for supper, because I just didn't feel well enough to make anything better for dinner tonight.

I'm thankful for the layers of deep color in this morning's sunrise, just on the horizon, deep pink and gold and amber and stopping me in my tracks.

I'm thankful for a warm comfortable bed.

For the vacation credit card bill being paid in full.

For the basement being full of wood to heat us this winter.

For bags of potatoes at $1.99 a piece.

For bags of honeycrisp apples at $2.50 a piece.

I'm thankful for The Snowy Day and Llama Llama and Max's Dragon Shirt read over and over and over again.

I'm thankful for peace so deep even though there are so many things I'd change about my circumstances right now.

For Call the Midwife.

For Christmas music early.

For the word "mama".  Even though I don't receive a dime for it's use, it has made me rich.

I'm thankful for the verses that speak to me completely out of context but so clearly by the Holy Spirit.

I'm thankful for photographs.

For all four of my children's grandparents being believers in Christ and for being fully involved in their lives.

For the many beautiful stories I've shared with my children over the years.

For marrying my best friend, though I didn't know he was at the time.

For the times Petite takes me arm and wraps it around her and then snuggles in close to me.

For the intuition of my Brown-Eyed-Girl.

For the strengths emerging in my son.

For that first peppermint mocha of the season.

For the empty hole that will never be filled til heaven.

I'm thankful for the goodness and love and kindness of people. It's there, it's all around; it's stronger than evil and hate and cruelty.

I'm thankful for new mercies every morning. And every afternoon. And every evening. Moment by moment, if necessary, they are available.

For memories.

For the ones about to gather in our home this Thanksgiving.

For the joy in their eyes when they see the snowflakes fall.


I could go on and on. I am blessed.  As my husband says, and as he lives his life, If the Lord never does another good thing for me, He's already done more good than I deserve.

And yet... there is still so much more good to come.

For this, I'm thankful.

For His Goodness

Earlier this year, my best friend moved from our very northern state to the most southern state.  I didn't feel too abandoned.  After all, we were the first to leave our small town.  We just didn't move so far.

In our many conversations about moving, she looked to me for advice and encouragement.  I often felt inadequate to give either one, at least positive advice or encouragement. After all, we had moved in part because of necessity, but certainly at the call of God to go.  They were going out of desire.  They were choosing this move with arms wide open.  Paradise was calling.  And as I looked around at my life a year and a half after our move, it seemed anything but paradise.

It was loneliness.

It was discouragement.

It was the daily wondering, "Why are we here?".

I wanted to be of value to her during this exciting time, but I felt too disillusioned by my own experience to count for anything.

But this is one thing I remember saying, truth from the very depths of my own experience, my own walk with God over the past 15 years.

There are times when God blesses you so much.  You're so overwhelmed by his goodness, how he pulls everything together, making a beautiful picture puzzle of all the details.  You get that desire of your heart.  You're pinching yourself because things are too good to be true.  Enjoy those moments fully.  Praise him because he is being so good to you.

But then there are the times when none of the puzzle pieces seem to fit.  The details of life don't lend themselves to the big picture you imagined.  Every day is just hard.  Or just monotonous.  Or just confusing.  The desires of your heart are seemingly beyond reach.  Or maybe you've even forgotten what they are.  Even in these times, God is still good.  Even these times are his perfect love toward us.  These are the times our roots go down deep and make us stronger, even when our leaves seem to be withering like the last days of autumn.  Even in these times, we praise Him because he is good.  We praise him as we walk by faith.

And it's those hard times that make the good times so much better.

I remember how faithful and good God was when he fit all the pieces together for us to move.  Our house sold.  Our new house, he saved for us til we could buy it.  There were so many steps along the way that showed his hand in our lives and in the great change we were going through.  Six months later, reality set in.  I knew it would.  It was over a year before we made our first real, close friends.  So many things have not been easy or fallen into place.

But there have been the glorious moments of God's goodness among the more subtle ones.  Right now, we embrace one of those moments.  We try to live fully in the day we are given as we go to places we've never gone and see faces we've missed.   We embrace these moments even as we pray to embrace the ones we will return to. The ones not so sunny, not so exciting, yet still full of the goodness and love of God.

Strengthen Your Arms

A few weeks ago I mentioned that I was at the point of wanting to quit homeschooling.  I reserved the rest of the story for another blog post. This blog post.

I've been able to reflect on some of the factors that brought me to that place where I just wanted to quit. Deep inside, I didn't want to give up. I love that I get to homeschool my kids.  I even knew I wouldn't give up.  I can't fathom placing my children in any other kind of school at this time.  It would just be wrong.  For no other reason than this: God has called me to do it.  It's not just something I do when it's fun and I'm seeing how it benefits us.  It's obedience to the mission and ministry God has given me.  To not do this would be wrong.

That's why it felt so much worse, so desperate a situation.  My will to do it was diminishing.  When I looked toward the future, I dreaded doing it day after day after day. I feared that every one of those days would be like the ones I had been experiencing lately.

There were some decidedly selfish and immature attitudes going on.  There was fighting.  Tempers got lost, including my own.  Tears were shed.  Everything, everyone felt like a lost cause.

But this was just the way it all manifested itself.  Here were some of the deeper issues going on inside me:

The two-year "anniversary" of our move had arrived.  And along with it came the discouragement, loneliness, confusion, depression, and lots of other tough feelings to swallow.  What are we doing here?

It was the weekend and Josh had to work, so I was alone a lot.

I hadn't exercised in a few days and I was eating way too much of the food my body doesn't like.

My blood sugar would spike, then drop.  No doubt some hormones were involved in this whole mess.

I wondered, do I need some medication to help me?  Because nothing seems good right now. Nothing.

Monday was just an awful day of school.  It was then that I began to vocalize that I just had no will to do this anymore.  I don't want my relationship with my children to be signified by this angst we have about math or by fighting with them to get their school work done.  I start to see all the ways I'd be a better mom and have a better relationship with my children if we weren't together all the time.  I'd get to greet them with cookies after school and let the teachers deal with their bad attitudes and laziness.  It sounded heavenly.

And yet, so wrong.

When I finally had the chance to get it all out with Josh, I was feeling a little calmer, a little more rational.  But I still went to bed depressed.

Things got better the next few days, probably because Josh was home and  helping to share the load. And things are just right when he's here.  It gave me some breathing room and time to come down from my ledge.

One of the major factors in this whole situation was that I wasn't taking care of myself.  I had skipped some days of exercise. I was eating too much carbohydrate, which makes me feel tired, cranky, and frustrated with myself when the effects on my blood sugar hit.  My time on the treadmill is decompression time. It's my time to either zone out to some great music, or pound out all the thoughts in my head and make sense of them.  Many of my blog posts are sorted out and "written" while I run.  It's where God so often speaks to me and makes things clear.  If I'm feeling "off" emotionally, and I can't figure out why, I usually have by the time I'm off the treadmill.  The exercise is just as much for my mental health as my physical.

I'm alone a lot. I'm an introvert, so I'm recharged by being alone, but I also need people.  I need other women in my life- sometimes to bare my soul, sometimes just for a good laugh and a cup of coffee.  When too many days go by and I haven't connected with someone, I start bearing more burdens than I'm meant to. Fellowship helps me unload the stuff that's too heavy to carry alone or at all.

It is really, really hard to prioritize taking care of yourself.  First, who has the time to exercise and plan a healthy menu?  And then, who has the money to buy all the special foods you need on all these new diets?  And, isn't it selfish?  Isn't me-time pretty much taboo?  Die to yourself, mama.  Your life is not your own.  Don't grow weary in doing good.  Don't let that candle go out at night and rise up early to take care of your household.

I get up every morning and all I want is a cup of coffee and my Bible.  I groan at the thought of putting on my sneakers and exercising.  It's tough, but when I get up really early and have a house full of peace and quiet, it is so worth it.  I get the recharging I need for a new day because I'm alone and uninterrupted.  I warm up to the idea of working out and feel that I have plenty of time to do it before school begins.  I feel fantastic by the time I hit the shower because I have taken care of me AND I'm running on schedule, ready to take care of my family for the rest of the day.

But then there are the days I sleep in a little and I have my coffee and my time with the Lord and I look at the clock and I just don't think I have enough time to exercise.  I'm running behind and I like to run on schedule.  Type A? I don't know, what am I?  My husband says I'm an ISTJ.  So I always ask him which letter of my personality is operating when I'm ticked off because we're not on schedule.

But the bottom line is that I need to take care of myself and it needs to be a priority.  Perhaps it's wrong that so much of my mental well-being rides on my diet and physical activity.  But taking care of myself pays huge dividends when it comes to my outlook on life and my ability to care for the ones God has given me.  I take care of me by reading my Bible and praying each day.  But let me be honest, it doesn't make my day better.  It doesn't make the kids stop fighting or the dishwasher snap out of it's funk of not working when I want it to.  It doesn't change the reality of life spent at home and the ensuing mess, chaos, and crumbs!  I do this every morning because it slowly, imperceptibly changes me.  And I am a weak and weary mama most days who's only strength comes by the grace of God, building me up line upon line, precept upon precept.

I've been exercising faithfully for over six months now.  Let me debunk a few myths.  You don't have more energy when you start exercising.  Not right away.  It took several months for my energy levels to rise.  One day I realized I wasn't completely exhausted in the afternoon.  At first, you'll probably feel terrible.  You'll be so tired it won't seem worth it. You'll especially be tired if you're limiting your calories too much or eating the wrong foods (you figure out what those are for your body.  It's different for each of us).  I've lost some weight and lost some love handles, but I've found that eating too little has it's disadvantages.  I need fuel to get through every day without crashing.

When I began working out, I was part of challenge group, and one of our assignments was to figure out our "why" for  eating better and working out and share a picture that represented it.  That was a tough one for me.  There wasn't a celebrity body I wanted to look like.  I didn't want to run a 5K.  I just wanted the energy and strength to do what God had called me to do.  The verse from Proverbs 31: 17 came to mind. I love all the versions of it:

She sets about her work vigorously; her arms are strong for her tasks.  NiV

She is energetic and strong; a hard worker.  NLT

She girds herself with strength and makes her arms strong.  NASB

She draws on her strength and reveals that her arms are strong.  Holman

The Proverbs 31 woman is an elusive ideal, but the heart of this woman is that she did well the things  God called her to do.  Taking care of her family, servants, and property required strength, in more ways than one.  She took the time to make her arms strong. She had strength to draw on.

I need that too. That is why I exercise and make the attempts I do to eat well.  It benefits my family, and that's not selfish.

I've discovered in the past few months that taking care of myself is something only I can do.  It can't wait til tomorrow, my husband can't do it for me.  It's my responsibility alone.  When I neglect to, I find myself spiralling down an emotional black hole, with Oreos and Cheez-Its my only companions.

So the purpose of sharing this is several-fold.  

To tell you I'm weak.  I'm frail.  I'm desperate most days.  Maybe you are too.

And it's okay to be.

That's why you've got to take care of yourself, Mama.  Mrs.  Miss.  You've got to.

There are people who love you and need you and they'll probably be thrilled to see you take some time and a little money to strengthen your own arms.  They can't do it for you, so you must do it yourself.

When you want to quit what God has called you to do, don't.   Wait. Perspective will come.  If you can, let Calgon take you away to wherever it is you'd like to go to get that perspective.  Call a friend or your sister.
Put a movie on for those crazy kids and don't feel guilty about it.  Get your hair cut (step away from the scissors! Don't do it yourself!)  Research workout videos and get one.  Just do it for a few weeks and don't worry about eating less, just better.  Chuck your schedule (if called into question, I never, ever actually said that) and steal whatever time you can to do something you enjoy. Carve out some time every day. Trust that it's doing something good.

Don't believe the myths that say a good Christian woman shouldn't need anything but Jesus.  In principle, yes, it's true.  He is your all-in-all. But discover the Jesus who feasted, celebrated, laughed with his friends, climbed mountains, took time off to pray, considered the lilies and the rest of creation, and travelled the country.  And if there was coffee back then, a million bucks says he drank it.  With delight.

So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God.
1 Corinthians 10:31

The Playground

Yesterday, while my oldest two were at karate class, I took my youngest to the playground next door.  The days was a perfect mix of sunshine and comfortable temperatures.  The mamas and little ones were out in droves- and some of the daddies were on duty too.  It's such a treat to spend some one-on-one time with my youngest. After all, she came along when there were already two children in the family.  When  she was just a babe, on Thursday nights Josh would take the oldest two to church and I would stay home with Petite, snuggling, nursing, watching a mama-movie and soaking up the uninterrupted time together.  I love when our schedule allows time with just one of my kiddos.

I look around the playground and see all these young mamas, many with babies and most with toddlers. Some of the children are older, siblings of the young, but most are preschoolers like my own, if not younger.

There is a strange sigh inside of me as I admire all these adorable children and I watch their mamas.  I feel so young, just like them.  Subconsciously, I think they are my age. After all, I'm in my twenties still, right? I quickly forget I'm halfway between 30 and 40.  I don't believe age matters, I believe you're as old as you feel.  But I watch these mamas and realize that I am slowly graduating from their season of life.  My baby is four now. She'll join the ranks of her brother and sister before I know it, taking classes at the YMCA next door instead of playing at the playground. My arms no longer hold a baby on my hip while pushing a swing at the same time.

It hits me again that this season of young ones goes as quickly as they say it does.  The years of diapers and nighttime feedings are so fleeting.  The chubby cheeks and gurgles last but a moment.  The days of being there to catch them from falling off the swing set come and go before you know it. Soon, they are making new friends and chasing each other and mom is but a watchful eye seated on the bench.

We go to pick up the oldest ones and catch the last few minutes of their class.  Everyone has a piece of a pool noodle and is chasing each other, stopping at the command of their Renshei.  These 8-12 year olds are flushed and full of laughter.  Whatever Renshei is teaching them, it's fun.  It's unleashed the child that is still in them all.

And I know that these days will pass, too.  If they pursue the different belt levels, their training will become even more disciplined, more mature.  The push-ups will come near to perfection.  Their kicks will meet their mark.  Those smiles will turn to mouths set in serious concentration as they get ready to snap a board in half.

I'm thankful we walk this road one day at a time, one season at time.  I'm thankful for the reminders- they come out of nowhere- to just enjoy this moment, this day.  Because the diapers will be gone. The stuffed animals will no longer be cherished.  The Legos will collect dust.  The cell phone bill will have new lines added to it.  The playground will be just a place we drive by.

The Drive

There's so much the Lord teaches me as I do the thing he's called me to do: staying home with my children and homeschooling them.  Every day, every week, every year is a journey from one place to another.  The ride is different when there's been a nursing infant coming along with us, and then a toddler, and now a preschooler with two elementary age children.    There is sometimes a long, unwinding stretch of road we travel that is uneventful, daily, but progressive.  These times typically come in winter, when it's too cold to venture too far. We hunker down by the fire and see few people but ourselves.

We've had the stretches that are like a roller coaster.  Ups and downs constantly, unpredictably,  some of us screaming in excitement, some of us holding on for dear life.  The season when we were preparing to move, selling our home, every day was an up or down.  Good news or no news.  Our first year in our new home was the same.  Good days or terrible days that came out of nowhere.  Fear. Crying.  Just wanting to get off the ride.

Rocky patches of roads.  Huge pot holes we could fall in and get lost in.  Math.  Loneliness.  Discouragement.  Just not liking anything about life at the moment.

The scenic overlooks are my favorite.  When we pull off to the side, stop and pause and just enjoy the view.  That rare view that gives us a glimpse into what the Lord is doing, what he has in store for us if we keep going.  Enjoying and delighting in what our children are becoming instead of driving defensively through the days of raising and training them.  Looking in their eyes and seeing the little people in there and realizing they are so much like us.  Holding hands with my husband and remembering "I love this man. I like this man. I love our life together. I love the children we've made together."  Snuggling up all together and just being together with nothing to do and nowhere to go and just enjoying it.

Every day is a winding road, the song says.  And it's true because I never know where we'll go next.

Today we homeschool. I expect we'll be on this path for a while.

But tomorrow we may be led to add something or take something away.

Yesterday, the kids joined a karate class.  Families do this all the time. The kids take classes, join a sports team, leave the nest. Early.  Three, maybe four years old.  But this is new for us.  We haven't done a lot of classes or sports.  Brown-Eyed Girl did dance for two years but since we've moved, we've been going solo, it seems.  Putting most of our energy into home, school, work.  I blame myself, the one who desperately needs routine and feels overwhelmed with too many times to keep.  But it was time for a bend in the road.  It's time for stops along the way of our day.

The Lord has been teaching me that I take the wheel too much.  I'm in the driver's seat most of the day, taking responsibility for the education of my children, the care of their bodies, minds, spirits.  I care for the house, the meals, the pets.  I'm serious about what I do.  I don't take it lightly. But there are just some places I can't go.  I start to get heavy eyes, an achy back.  I need to let someone else take the wheel.

I can't navigate the road of teaching my son to be a man on my own.

I can't be the PE teacher, the art teacher, the music instructor, the foreign language teacher, the coach.  I need to stop trying to take all those turns at it and let someone else take my kids in that direction.

I'm not the mom who easily does that.  I've taken full responsibility for them. They're mine, no one else's.  I get the message from the homeschooling community I'm part of that it's my business to raise them, not the school's or the coach's or the church's.  Yes, I've seen the village and I don't like what I see.  I don't want it raising my kids.  Yes, yes, yes, I agree!  I'm at the wheel, I'm driving endlessly, I've gone through the dark nights, the hills and valleys, the long desert stretches, the scenic routes, and the right-straight-ahead not-much-to-see interstate. 

But I have to make some rest stops now.  Let someone else serve my family and maybe find that we've been given a feast!  Maybe it will just be McDonalds, but it will be a chance for me to sit and watch and trust.  It means I can take my hands off the wheel for just a little while and even if we don't go anywhere, I rest.  Maybe we'll go someplace exciting that I could never take us.

The Lord has reminded me that I have a husband to help navigate and also to drive us through areas where I have night vision (math, science experiments, raising a man).  I have friends who will pray travelling mercies with me, for me, and for my children.  There are wonderful teachers, coaches, instructors who actually do have my children's best interest at heart.  No, they won't love them as much as I do! They never could, but they'll make sure they buckle their seat belts and obey the rules of the road and help them see the wonderful sights along the way, the ones I'd miss because I'm always looking straight ahead, keeping my eyes on where we're going.

That white-knuckle grip of mine must let go.  And I have a feeling we'll still get to where we're supposed to be going.  And enjoy the journey even more.

Already Beautiful

I thought I knew what I was going to say. I debated saying anything and then I decided that my reasons for sharing my good news were pure.  I just wanted to give God the glory for the great things he's done in my life.

I got my braces off today.  It's been a nearly three year adventure, from initially making the decision to get a consult to getting the first appliance put in to getting the top braces on exactly two years ago to getting the bottom braces on the following December to... today.  Through just a few popped brackets and a gazillion teeny tiny elastics and some unwelcome canker sores to this day.

I was so excited. I pretty near cried every time I thought of it. 

But the day was somewhat anticlimactic.  My braces were off in just a few minutes.  They took the molds for my retainer.  I got my teeth cleaned.  I looked in the mirror and smiled, but I wasn't shocked.

I've been smiling for months now.  When we had our family photos taken for Christmas cards after I had my braces put on, I broke into tears when I saw them.  I was smiling. Really smiling. With my teeth showing.  I wasn't trying to smile and hide my teeth; they were right there.  Already straightening out.  I had never ever seen myself look that way. 

I got more and more comfortable just smiling.  Not curling my lips together, not so concerned about posing for photos. Just relaxing and smiling.

So the only thing different about seeing my smile in the mirror today was that the metal was gone.

It was still me.  I hadn't changed.

You were beautiful back when I made you, I felt the Lord whisper to my heart.  I've always loved you the way you are.  You were just as beautiful then as you are today.

I stared in the mirror.  Ran my tongue over my teeth.  I'd never done that and felt it so smooth.

  A friend of mine, who also had braces as an adult, said that most people didn't notice when she got them off.

I know why.

They loved her the way she was.  They didn't look at her and see an adult with braces, they saw the beautiful person she was, both on the inside and the outside.

The people who loved me yesterday won't love me any more today, just because I got my braces off.  Sure, they'll be happy for me, but they liked me just the way I was.

My husband loved me before I got the braces.  He loves so much more about me than my smile, my body, the way I dress.  He loves the deepest part of me.  He's patient with my weaknesses and he celebrates my strengths. 

The other night I confessed to him that even though I've been exercising and lost some weight and I'm toning up, sometimes I still just feel "fat".  I'm constantly presented with images of what beauty is and start feeling inferior sometimes.  I can confide in him because his love and acceptance of me is so deep and I know that he loves me exactly the way I am.

Seriously, who loves their dentist? Me, that's who!  They are the best!

 

This is the greatest kind of love.  I've had the wonderful opportunity of going through the process of getting braces as a thirty-something.  As a wife of more than a decade and a mom of three.  As a friend of God.  I've experienced that Jesus is the lover of my soul.  He is the lover of every single part of me. He rejoices over me with singing. I remember when I first heard those words from Zephaniah. They literally stopped me in my tracks.

How can it be?  I'm so messed up.  I'm so flawed, physically, spiritually.  The idea of Jesus rejoicing over me, singing over me, it's almost embarrassing! 

This is all I can compare it to:  One of my favorite movies is The Family Man with Nicolas Cage. He plays a man who gets to go back and see what his life would have been like if he had chosen the path of family instead of career.  The house is a mess.  No more designer suits.  He drives a mini-van.  But he truly, deeply loves his wife and is willing to make a fool of  himself over her.  He finds a video of her birthday party and he's singing to her, in front of all their friends and children.  She's a little embarrassed. But she is captivated by him.  His eyes are fixed on her as he belts out a love song.  Their love is something special and as everyone else stands around watching, they are captivated by it too.

You were beautiful back when I made you.  I've always loved you the way you are.  You were just as beautiful then as you are today.

This was the love song He sang to me yesterday as I looked in the mirror at my smile. 

It can't get any better than that kind of love.

I think of the young girls who are getting braces and are so worried about what people will think of them.  Or maybe it's not braces.  It's probably their weight or maybe a scar or a birthmark or maybe just their second-hand or Walmart clothes they are so worried about.  I want to tell them that the people who really love you will still love you!  And that the other people are not worth your time or energy or one single care.  I want to tell them that Jesus is rejoicing over them with SINGING!

He's singing you a song, girls! He couldn't love you more.  You couldn't be more beautiful to him.

And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with God's holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love which surpasses knowledge- that you  may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.

 

Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than we could ever ask or imagine... to him be glory...! 

 

Ephesians 3:16-21