Soak Me Up

It was Thanksgiving morning.  My three kids were buckled in their car seats, three across, the back of the car stacked with suitcases and food for a weekend away with family.  I stood in our kitchen, just around the corner from the door to the garage.  I could hear one of my kids throwing a fit about something – maybe his seatbelt, maybe a sibling argument – who knows?  It was his third meltdown of the morning and it was just after 9 o’clock. 

 

My husband, Jeff, came in, looking for me. 

 

“Ready to go?  Everything okay?”, he asked.

 

“I’m standing here because I feel like a sponge.  I woke up feeling good about this trip.  I’ve been handling everything that usually stresses me out.  I’m not upset.  But, every time he gets upset, I feel it!  I’m soaking up all that angst and irritability!  I don’t want to get in the car with that.”

 

Then Jeff did something I didn’t expect.  He squatted down a little to my height, opened his long arms wide, and broke into a huge grin.

 

“Well, I’m doing GREAT.  I’m lovin’ life!  Come here and soak me up!”

 

He pulled me into a hug, squished me, and danced around.  I started laughing.  We got into the noisy car, both smiling.  The kids began to list their various grievances.  I put my hand on Jeff’s arm.

 

“Are you still lovin’ life?”, I asked.

 

“Yep!”, he said, grinning.

 

We laughed again and backed out of the garage, on our way.

 

 

Since then, I’ve thought about that moment a lot.  It still makes me smile and feel so grateful for this husband that can brighten moments like that with his humor and easygoing nature.  I wonder what I can do to be less of an emotional sponge.  This even happens to me when I watch movies.  For hours afterwards, I will feel emotions the main characters expressed during the film.  In some ways, it’s a piece of me that can offer genuine empathy to people who are hurting.  In other ways, it’s exhausting and makes me try to control my environment so I don’t have to feel things I don’t want to feel (for instance, if my kids are upset, I’ll be more harsh in an attempt to curb their big feelings because I can’t feel okay while they are melting down). 

 

While I’ve yet to get to the bottom of my spongy-ness, this thought occurred to me:  if I can soak up my husband’s peace and joy in a moment – a man who is awesome, but still very human – why can’t I use this quality see and feel things God’s way?  Who better to sponge off of than Him?

 

What is God’s perspective in any given situation?  Is He hopeless?  No.  Stressed?  I don’t think so.  Overwhelmed?  Nope.

 

Is God the authority over everything?  Yes.  Is He a God of peace?  Absolutely.  Does He work everything out for the good of those who love Him and have been called according to His purpose?  No doubt about it.

 

Psalm 16:11 says, “You will make known to me the path of LIFE; in Your presence is fullness of JOY…”

 

Zephaniah 3:17 says, “The Lord your God is in your midst, a MIGHTY one who will save; He will rejoice over you with GLADNESS; He will quiet you by His LOVE; He will exult over you with glad singing.”

 

I have help, I have joy that’s soak-up-able, I have glad singing, life, strength, wisdom…the list can go on and on.  With the same gratitude and joy that I remember Jeff’s arms ready to receive me, I can imagine Jesus’s arms.  In those moments when I realize I’m receiving the chaos around me – and thus, having a difficult time relating with others in a patient, caring way – I have a beautiful option to soak up all that Jesus is. 

 

I think I can confidently say He’s lovin’ life too.  

 

 

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No Place is Off Limits to God

 

Last night, my husband and I watched the movie “The Sound of Freedom”.  As it deals with the child trafficking and sex industry, I knew it would be difficult but important to watch.  There is part of the movie where the main character goes to find a child in a remote area populated by rebels.  No one will go there because it’s pretty much a death wish.  As I watched him continue his search, I thought, ’99.9% of people would have stopped.  They would have thrown up their hands and declared the girl lost for good because the rebel territory is a line too dangerous to cross.’  I was reminded of a powerful message God gave me years ago in China.  I found my journal entry of the experience.

 

 

“In him was life, and that life was the light of men.  The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it.” – John 1:4 & 5

 

               This evening, I put on my poofy winter jacket and colorful New Zealand wool hat and went walking around the neighborhood as it was lightly snowing.  I started to sing and pray.  There’s a prostitution place a couple of doors down, so I prayed as I walked by.

               When I turned onto [a street], I passed another place.  As before, I put out my hand and prayed.  Then, I felt like God was asking me to go in there.  I walked a few more meters and stood by a tree for several minutes.

               Me: “God, I’m pretty sure I heard you, but I don’t know if I can do that.  I know You will love me the same whether I go or not.  But, I don’t know what to say.”

               God: “That’s what Moses said.”

              

               I stood there, trying to think of anything to start a conversation with and my mind was void of all Chinese, save for “Nihao.”[hello]  Seriously blank.  I began walking towards the place.

 

               God: “The darkness doesn’t want you to go in there.”

 

               It became really, really clear that there was a boundary.  I had been more than willing to pray from the outside, but I didn’t belong inside a prostitution place, nor did it make sense that they would welcome me there.  It felt very “us” and “them”. 

               They slid open the glass door and I walked in.  “Okay, Lord, this is a good time to tell me what to say…”, I thought.  I said, “Nimen hao” [hello plural] and they shifted on the couch to allow room for me to sit.  The oldest, boss-looking woman invited me to sit.  So, there I was, sitting with them, still wearing my hat and coat – they in their short skirts and fishnets.

               We chatted for about fifteen minutes.  I told them I was an English teacher with no work on the weekends and I could teach them for free.  They declined, but had me teach them a few things like “massage” and “My name is…”  My Chinese was so terrible, but somehow we kept talking.  I tried to tell them that I’d come again to say hi, but I don’t think they understood.  I left and we waved at each other through the windows as I walked away.

               This is so freaking incredible.  What I saw tonight was that God is boundless.  There are no lines drawn to keep out His light.  He stinking LOVES those girls and nothing will stop Him from reaching out!  Oh, the power of Jesus!!

 

 

Too often, I operate on fear and the belief that darkness is more powerful than God.  It’s not true.  Could the man in the movie have died in rebel territory?  Yes.  Could I have been in danger somehow in China?  Sure.  Is any place off-limits to God?  NO.  He is still Lord of all and He’s not intimidated by boundaries, man-made or spiritual.  His love is the most powerful force and God is active in seeking those who need Him.  When I feel intimidated or at a loss because of the evil in the world, I need to be reminded of God’s authority and perspective.

 

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Learning the Difference Between With and Present

 

 

“You make known to me the path of life; in your presence is fullness of joy…” Psalm 16:11

 

 

I am nearly always with my kids, but I am inconsistently present with them. 

 

As a homeschooling mother of three children aged seven, five, and 19 months, going to the bathroom by myself is a luxury.  I used to think mothers were exaggerating when they said stuff like that, but it turns out to be true.  The majority of my weekday hours, someone is touching me or just within arm’s reach -  on my lap, eating from my plate, hanging on my leg, or just bouncing on the couch next to where I’m reading.  More than just the physical aspect of being with my kids, there’s a mental and emotional component.  One of my kids is more social and wants to talk with me throughout the day.  Each has some measure of tantrums, obstinance, and anger.  They need help from me.  I’m trying to teach the older two while simultaneously keeping the youngest from tearing the house apart.  When I feel the heaviness of all this with-ness, it makes me want to escape.

 

I felt this way sometimes when I lived in China.  While I loved being immersed in another culture, like motherhood, at times it was too much.  Adapting and adjusting all the time wore me out.  I wanted escape and it was difficult to find a healthy way to do so.  China was everywhere.

 

During this time, a counter-intuitive practice became my balm.  When I wanted escape, I ended up doing the opposite.  I had a walking loop that took me from my apartment, through the busy main street, and finally into alleyways accessed only by bicycles and foot traffic.  The alleys were snugly packed with life – cart vendors each selling a specialty snack, grandparents caring for chubby babies in layers of warm clothing, old men playing cards and mah-jongg, kids running up to me to try out English phrases.  Instead of just being in China, I walked slowly and was present with China.  I stood in front of my favorite tree with the gnarled, almost braided roots.  I bought fried bread and asked the vendor where he was from.  I made eye contact with people and smiled.  Eventually, the walk opened out onto a large bridge, back to the main road and the guard shack outside the school where I lived.  Five flights of concrete steps back to my door.  Back to the apartment where instead of hiding from China, I could just rest.  I didn’t need to escape anymore.

 

I’ve been wondering if this same practice of presence may bring needed life into my motherhood.  I’m curious to try it.  What would it look like to not just be in the same space as my kids, but to listen carefully to them, engage with what they’re saying, sit down with what they’re doing?  I imagine it will feel awkward at first.  I’m used to being mostly focused on what I have to get done or the stress of taking care of everyone.  Maybe the tasks from which I most desire escape will be the activities that ground our family in deeper joy and satisfaction.

 

A big part of why I write is to bring attention to the goodness of God.  So, I don’t want to end this post without connecting these ideas to spiritual life.  What I’ve said about motherhood and China can equally be said about my relationship with God.  I am good at doing Christian things.  I go to church, I read the Bible to my kids, I listen to worship songs on the radio, I’m involved in daily Bible study.  I know God is always with me.  But do I stop and allow His presence to sink in to my consciousness?  Not really.  Sometimes, I’m more likely to hold God at arm’s length because I don’t believe He likes me very much.  It feels uncomfortable for me to just sit in the knowledge that I’m loved no matter what.  That I have His help and wisdom if I ask.  That He wants me.  I see a sunset and say, “Wow.”  I acknowledge that my Creator made such beauty.  But maybe what I need is to let Him in.  To listen if He wants to say anything to me.  To let the attitude of my heart be open to however He wants to show me love in any given moment, instead of trying to make do all on my own.

 

This writing will need a part two, somewhere down the road.  My husband and I are trying something new with homeschooling that will give space to try this concept of being present instead of just being with.  I’ll let you know how it goes.  Peace be with you in abundance, readers.