Serving My Marriage

                                                                                                                          *Photo by the amazing Kara Stewart

I do not want to be a part of the disintegration of my marriage.

I want to build what I could easily destroy.  Love what I could hate.  Serve when my expectations would want to be served.  Be present when I want to avoid. 

This man I married, may I always love him, encourage, protect, speak well of, give wholeheartedly, demand less, thank more, and always delight and arouse him.

This is my heart as a wife. 

They say it takes two to break a marriage.  I don't want any part in it.  I don't want a list of reasons or excuses.  When he fails me, may I remember his destiny.  Let my words always see ten steps ahead.  I don't want to be a woman pointing at what is before me, but one who reminds him of where he is going.  I don't want a list of reasons or excuses, why I deserve different.  There is no better than what I have.  I promised my life to this union and each day I want to live fully committed to this man.

So when we lie in bed and I remember we haven't taken the kids to the bathroom, I jump up and take them, without pushing the equally exhausted man out to do it for me.  His joy that it's taken care of, is more than reward enough.  Even when it's a close cuddle, kiss in the hair, and half asleep whispered thank you.  He is important and every way I can, I want to show him.

When our children are bickering, let me be the first to put my book or email away and stand to parent.  Despite how easy it feels in a moment to call from the other room.  Even when it feels like what I am doing is more important.  Let me not live fully dependent on him to fix every broken thing, but enjoy that when he is there he is quick to rush to fill any need.

When he acts in a way I don't agree, may I be found silent.  When I need to speak let it be privately with gentleness, love, and encouragement.  Remembering that 'a soft word turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger'.

May I always believe the best.  When I start to worry or doubt, let my heart trust what I cannot prove.  May I push my fear aside, knowing that he is all he claims to be and let my heart rest, believing he is even better.

I want to see the man he is called to be and let him work out his journey while I stand beside cheering him on.  May I never point out his flaws or weaknesses.  Simply call out his strengths, reminding him of his great destiny. 

When he is tired, may I be a place of rest.

When he is hungry, let the work of my hands nourish him.

When he needs me, may I satisfy him.

I have found that the more I pour into our marriage, the more I am blessed with in return.  He is quick to surround and encourage me.  As we strive for the other’s best we each reap so great a reward.  It is not in the desperation of personal need that achieves gain, but the delight in serving what is not asked or expected.  We each are the others best defense and greatest support.

It takes two, but you won't find my hands pulling this apart.  I want to give my life to be the best choice he has ever made.  He is the best decision of my life.  So, when you see me building and strengthening, it is because I'm shoring us up for all the storms that life brings.  That when they come we are safe in a house built on a solid foundation.

Let grace sustain, faith lead, hope direct, and trust surround this tender journey of two becoming one.

Looking Forward

 *Photo by the amazing Erica Bartel

In my life I am being challenged in so many ways to develop my trust in God and understand the fullness of my identity.  As I process all that comes in various waves, I thought I would share some of my thoughts with you.  I hope you are encouraged and that if you find yourself in a similar place you choose to take the leap and live heartfelt in God's hand.  I have learned it is the only true place of safety, though it tends to present as the most terrifying choice.

As I have lost my identity in Christ I have lost my ability to trust my role in every other area of life.  My failures have stacked against me and I have had no where to turn because if I am not rooted and grounded in love then I am bent under the weight of ever guilt and condemnation.  When I am gripped with Christ and all that he has spoken over me - then I KNOW that I am more than a conqueror, I am precisely where I am supposed to be when I am held in his hand.  As I come to this and open to the the ruthless sense of trust I am broken by my fear of the unknown - what if God fails, what if he chooses to break me.

It is this terrible, trembling beauty of unsurpassed openness to both the wonderful and painful aspects of life, that gives me pause.  To accept and receive this allows for all that terrifies me to have place in my life and when I first glimpse the idea, only the evil of fear grips me.  To say yes to blessing and abundance is to say yes to pain and grief.  They walk hand in hand.  Openness to God is not an insurance plan, but a deep fountain of trust that receives everything his hand provides.  It is here I am fully humbled and here that I must completely surrender - not my will, but yours.  He requires all - of the rich young ruler - sell all you have and give to the poor.  He has set a stumbling block before each of us, what we love most and what we fear most.  It is the acceptance and action that propel us forward, this is why it is different and unique to each.  The way to Christ, accepts all he demands and holds openly all that once built like walls around our fragile, desperate treasures.

These themes have shaken me to my core as my fears have presented in harsh realities.  I have been cut to my knees in my brokenness and wanted to give everything up.  Turn, run, hide from what beats in my heart.  My greatest joys are also my deepest sorrows.  The places I have to push through to realize and experience my dreams are like the thorns hiding Sleeping Beauties castle.  They rip and tear me apart, but there is a prize waiting on the other side.  Choosing to step forward in bravery and trust, hoping that what lies ahead is worth all that is stripped away in the pursuit.

I may be fragile right now, but I am walking through a process of strengthening that cannot be undone.  God's goodness sustains me!

When I Am Not Enough.

                                                                                                                                         *Photo by the amazing Erica Bartel

One of the surest ways to cut off your source of strength is to discredit yourself before you even start. 

My life I have known what it is to be shut down, told I’m not good enough, that I should stop.  

I strive to do well.  

And inadequacy haunts my every move.  It’s not that I’m afraid to fall, I’m waiting to plummet.  Movement and failure are inevitably entwined in my life.

I long considered myself a perfectionist.  As that was pointed out to me on a daily basis.  If my house were too clean, it was because I was obsessive.  If I worked hard it was because I was trying to prove something.  

It is only recently that I have fully understood the weight of these words and harsh criticisms.  It’s not because I am trying to be perfect, or even live a life of excellence.  I have become an absolute underachiever.  I am afraid to do anything.  I live in terror of not being good enough and because that’s not something I can change.  I live as less.

As our family has moved recently and we are needing to become a two income family, I have had to find ways to work while still maintaining my role as a full time mama.  This has involved cleaning homes, taking care of extra children, and recently applying for jobs in the restaurant industry.  

Last night as I bent under the weight of my husband’s very mild criticism of my writing, I shook in grief.  Why wasn’t I able to do anything well?  I am striving to work hard, to let go of the voices in my head.  And one repeated itself over and over.  “Who are you Cherylyn, what are you good at?”

As I erupted in broken grief.  I realized that all of my life, I have been less.  I have been wrong at every turn.  And now as my options are work in a servant role or put my children in daycare, I find that this has been my broken self image.  This has been the role I’ve claimed.  

It’s not my identity, who I am.  Serving is a beautiful grace.  Loving my family and giving outside of what I long to do, is a heartfelt sacrifice.  It is not wrong, ugly, or less.  It is only what I make of it.  

I woke this morning, still weary from my emotional meltdown.  Eyes swollen from endless wells of sorrow.

And I lay my head on the chest of papa God.  Who am I, Jesus?

And words like oil run over my head and seep into my bones.  You are beloved, you are destined, called.  Do not be ashamed or afraid.  Move forward and rest in my presence, come into my excellence.  Let me train your hands, strengthen your arms.  You are my daughter.  Do not look at today or tomorrow, keep your eyes on mine and I will take you forward in peace.

Our identity is constantly attacked.  Who we are is shaped and defined by the careless words of those around.  Arrows can get through even the strongest armor.

When you find yourself repeating a phrase, a heartless word, strip it down.  Find the source, what it connected too.  Then repent for allowing yourself to believe lies.  Forgive those who cast words like stones, unaware of how they break against you.  Then ask Jesus what he says.  

Let truth be your guide.  Walk in what you know, not what you feel.  

You are worthy, you are good enough.  You are exactly who you are supposed to be.  The painful lies and shame that have come against you are not who you are.  They do not define you.  Papa God has your identity, your role, your existence written in his hand.  When you forget he whispers it over you.  Just listen to His words and walk faithfully in his presence.  Break off the chains and broken illusions.  

This has been incredibly raw for me.  I hope it encourages you.  Strengthens you.  And pushes you to the excellence that is in you.  You are so much more than what has shaped or defined you.

Grace in the journey, peace in the storm, and hope in the morning.

Anchored Trust

                                                   *Photo by the amazing Erica Bartel

Let my life be found in the hand of trust.  May my heart wait, hungry, beating, for your glory to appear.  Hold my hope in your ever present goodness and let me stare with the eyes of a child at your truth.

There are no promises of ease or perfection.  We live, some are sick, deformed, others broken at a whim, suffer from mental atrocities, we die.  There is only the guarantee of pain that we know to be so close in this world.  With trembling hands we build our walls of protection, we are afraid to hope for an easy life, too aware of how possible it is to be taken at a moment.  In our prosperity we wait for our loss.  At every good we tremble at what lurks around the corner.  We have learned that trust is a loose ideal and hope a foolish dream of those unacquainted with the suffering of this world.

We take back our trust at a moments indiscretion or foolishness.  You are not worthy of my trust, you are not good.  How can I ever trust again.  We don't.  We hide in our walls of fear and anxiety, our hope a twisted vortex of waiting for the worst.

Storms will rage and as we wait for them, we miss the days of beauty.  We forget to live, too lost in our hearts obsessions or the dreams of someday.

This is your time.  To watch the glory of a changing world.  To hold close the growing lives that for this moment need your hand.  Enjoy what you have today, because we are not guaranteed our tomorrows.  Love freely, give wholeheartedly, do not get to the end of this life surrounded by your walls of deception.  There is no safety in fear, no protection in our battalions. The more we strive to guard and shore up our lives, the greater the misery that grips our hearts.

Fear will take you far from the path of life.  It will present your death while you stare at all that breaks around you.  It will grip your mind in the broken record of pain and failings.

Trust is like a budding tree, you know will one day blossom in the weight of heady blooms.  It is the foundation of hope that looks to the end of life and blesses its existence. It is not broken by the frosts or the waves that rise, it looks beyond to the cleansing air that breathes warmth and the changing tides.

Trust breaks me every time and hope laughs in the face of my fears.  It places me before the cross with the anguish of my brokenness and the reality of death that restores me.  Good is often found in great pain.  We find his presence in our brokenness.  It is the act of absolute desperation that pushes us into his goodness.  Do not despise the hard places that shape you or the darkness that sharpens your ability to hear.

Let us know God is good.  In the midst of life, let us believe in his mighty love and value for each of us.  May we believe that despite our hurts, the pain that surrounds - his mercy heals, restores, strengthens, loves.

As we live held in the grip of trust, train us to listen to the voice of wisdom, to laugh with the frivolity of childlike wonder.  To be a people given to peace, strengthened by hope, and protected by the shield of faith.

Identity.

Often people in the church setting speak of this thing - Identity.  They discuss how you need to have it, that it can be found in Christ, and that it is a necessity for living well.  What I feel gets missed is what is Identity and how do we get this elusive, but oh so valuable gift?

According to Merriam - Webster

Identity is -
a :  the distinguishing character or personality of an individual:  individuality

b :  the relation established by psychological identification

This is just a small part of the definition, but key because I believe it was what we often think of when we consider our identity.

When I think of my identity I often consider what I do, where I came from, my successes.  I identify with what others say about me and inevitably those all work to become realities in my life.

The unique separation in all of this is that we often miss our true identity or in essence our true self.  We become what we've been called, what we do, we are either good enough, better than others, or not good.  We tend to not see ourselves as complete.  We are in process, attaining a goal, reaching, ever reaching to this higher and elusive height.  Why?  At our core we have not accepted and loved ourselves for who we are.  Not our accomplishments, our backgrounds, the honor of others.

This is what I believe the church is often calling us to, though we often find church to demand our true selves and give little to no value for what it encourages us to be.  Church is usually the first place to point to giftings, successes, attributes, and assigning personal value based on those who excel.  It is rare to find the father who works 60 hours a week to provide enough for his family, honored in such a setting.  Or the mother who gives without fail to her children.  Or the working family who struggles together to make ends meet.  It is not often that the secretary is given the same value as the pastor.

We identify and glory often in our roles, but fail to realize that these things are simply what we do, they do not make us or define us.

We are given huge value.  We have all been called with a destiny and purpose, though it will most likely not look like another's.

A server is often dismissed and rejected, while the CEO is given the head of the table. And while each has earned their status, neither award or reward defines the identity of one better than the other.

Honor.

A word tossed often around.  Yet rarely given where it is most due.  Honor comes easy to those with status, but less often to those cleaning the floors. Honor becomes a hungry demand to the one who has not learned to give it.  Love, respect, value, and honor - these are all things that flow from the one who has learned themselves and understand their identity.

Identity is handed from the hand of Him who made us.  It is whispered in our hearts and spirit.  Is not the voice of our parents, siblings, coworkers, or friends.  It is the knowing in our hearts and souls that outside of what we do - we were made with a purpose, a joyful gift that when operated in, spreads, blessing to all with whom we come in contact.

I encourage you to learn to hear the voice of Him who made you, that you may hear not only His pleasure, but his unique plan and purpose for your life.  It will not look like anyone else.  Like you, it is a special gift.

Hope Realized.

Hope.                                                                                *photo by the amazing Kara Stewart

It presses and pushes us to go farther, live deeper, see the dreams become reality.  It keeps us from folding in tough situations and gives us the strength to walk faster, go longer.

For years I have wanted a third baby.  I've seen their face and felt as if I was missing something, someone.  I tried to push it aside, but it stayed and often had me in tears, that this person, I felt so strongly, wouldn't get to be.  They would be an idea, a dream, a hope, but never realized.   I wrote about yearning for a baby and many of you responded.  I was encouraged, but also not hopeful.  I had resigned to the realization that we would always be a family of four.

What a wonderful, delightful, fabulous family it has become.  My children are full of joy, love, and adventure.  They are wild and always ready to go for the next journey.  They've dealt well with their gypsy parents and we have enjoyed every moment with them.

Then, when it was way past the time of longing or hope.  When everything was settled and we had reached the rhythm of living, we found that our family of four would really be a family of five.   My first thought was absolute excitement that this person would get to be!  I knew they were supposed to exist and now they are.

Then fear has followed swiftly, threatening at times to rob me of my joy.  Are we really ready.  Oh my goodness, we're going to have another baby.  It feels crazy and scary and wonderful all at once.

We are so far from the stage of having little people.  Our kids are practically adults.  Okay, they're going to be five and seven, but they need so little from me.  They have become my best friends and now we are not just rocking the boat, we are throwing a bomb right into the middle.

I don't know how it is going to look to be a family of five, but I know that it is going to be awesome.  I know that our children will all be loved, adored, valued, and wanted.

I can't believe I'm carrying my third and definitely my last baby, but I am so excited to them to be here.  To welcome them and to see the dynamic joy
they bring to our lives.

Hope, it whispers in our ear.  It murmurs secrets and then, it keeps it's promise and makes all things good.

Loving Our Babies.

Do you ever have those moments where you've lost it with your kids?  Of course you have.  We all have.  We've all stumbled and fallen flat on our faces in front of our most precious gifts.  I hope you apologized.  I hope you scooped them up and stared in their eyes and said, 'I'm sorry mommy lost it, sometimes mommy's mess up, too'.   I hope you then tried really hard to not do it again.

Very often I see posts that talk about the absolute failures we experience as moms.  I just don't always hear the recovery process.  I know that I have messed up a million times.  I am absolutely not perfect.  Sometimes I yell, sometimes I punish when I shouldn't, sometimes I don't listen, sometimes I'm so angry I need a timeout.  Simply because these are my sometimes, doesn't mean I can just let them slide, brush them off as having a rough day or that time of the month.  I have to build myself up so that I can do better next time.  I am constantly reminding my kids to learn from their mistakes.  I love natural consequences, because often I can point to them as clear punishment for my children rather than having to mete out any formal training.  But, how am I doing?  Am I learning from my mistakes?

A few things I've learned from messing up.

Say you're sorry.  Just as we want to train our kids to be quick to apologize, it is just as important to model this behavior.  I've found that we have precious times when I go to my babies, wrap my arms around them and tell them how sorry I am for hurting their hearts, for not being in better control of myself.  They are so quick to forgive, to love, and reconnect.

Try to stop.  It's one thing to apologize, but if you don't try to change your behavior or the situations that cause it, you're kids aren't going to believe you.  We tell them to learn from their mistakes, we have to be just as quick to learn from ours.

Know what triggers you.  It drives me crazy when we're in a hurry and my kids move sooooo slowly. The more I encourage them to get moving, the more they can't help but stop and stare at the butterflies.  I know this drives me crazy.  So rather than grab their arm and drag them behind me, I take a couple really big deep breaths.  Then I go to them, get down on eye level - I first marvel at what their seeing.  Yes that is the most beautiful worm in the world, definitely the biggest.  Thank you for showing me.  Now, we are going to be late, and that's okay if that is your choice, but I don't like to be late, do you?  Okay great, do you think we could run to class, then?

Whisper.  Seriously, the more angry you are the better it is.  When I'm absolutely about to lose it I go and get down on eye level and communicate with my kids.  Very, very quietly.  It's unnerving and terrifying.  They're usually pretty quick to obey after.

Change what you can.  Since everything breaks down when we are running behind, I've found that it is incredibly helpful for me to get up a lot earlier and have everything organized and ready to go, before waking my kids.  I schedule extra time, because I don't like being late and I know I react when we are.

Sometimes there are just rough days.  We all have them, even our best planning can't stop them.  Do your best to go with the flow, breathe deep, remember this season is so short, it is literally flying by, and you will miss it when it's over.  These are our fabulous and fond memories that shape our tomorrows.

I want to model my best to my kids and I am the first to admit my guilt and modeling my worst.  I am so grateful for their sweet forgiving hearts.  I adore their gentleness and I hope I can learn from them to forgive quick, love more than I should, and always believe in the best.

It's okay mama, wherever you are in your seasons of life.  You're doing your best, and that's awesome.