Special.
“Now I can’t do my S!”
Tears filled her eyes as she dropped her pencil, defeated. “SEE?!” She held up her spelling workbook. I could see the spot–she had erased a hole right in the page, trying to get her s just right.
Now the page was ruined, hope lost.
Now, let’s just get an accurate picture here: Her handwriting is beautiful, she’s only 6 years old, and we were attempting to do homeschooling while crossing the Mohave desert, so the bumpy ride made perfect penmanship virtually impossible.
But that wasn’t the point. I simply wanted her to practice her spelling. Part of the blessing of homeschooling is we can travel anytime, but it also means we might do workbooks in the car.
Her attitude had been great. I was pleased. She was working hard.
I was happy!
But she was in tears.
I calmed her down and looked into her eyes: “Sweetie, who is your teacher?”
“You.”
“Who decides if you’re doing a great job or not?”
“You.”
“And I am saying, you are doing a great job! I’m proud of you. Your s’s look great. You’re working hard. I know it’s bumpy so they won’t look perfect, but I’m so happy with you. I love you. Can you just know that I’m happy and I love you? Can that be enough?”
Whoa.
These were the exact words I’d heard from my own Parent that morning.
A friend had shared the word, “Surrender” with me. I wasn’t sure exactly what it meant. It didn’t seem there was anything I was clinging onto. In fact, quite the opposite! I was ready to quit everything! 🙂 But I spent a day just ruminating on that word, asking the Father to show me where or how He wanted me to further surrender. A whole day went by, nothing came to mind.
But the next morning, early, in that way that only He can, by His loving Spirit, the Father showed me this:
“Surrender being the best.”
What?! At first it didn’t make sense. Um… I’m not the best. At anything. I never have been. I’m a mediocre writer, a mediocre mom, a mediocre wife … shall we keep the list going? I already felt discouraged and unmotivated, so why this word about surrendering to being the best?
Maybe the Spirit had visited the wrong house, surely God had meant this word for someone else, someone more … special?
And then, that word. Special. Why oh why were there tears slipping down my cheeks when I whispered that word into the dark silence? Special.
I could hardly speak it, the words came from so deep: “I just want to be … special.”
So that was it. That was what needed to be surrendered. That’s why I was so discouraged.
It was nothing huge, just the selfish sorrow of being hopelessly mediocre.
I closed my eyes, tears streaming now, down my cheeks, and just then I hear it:
“Can you just know that I love you? Can that be enough?”
And at the same time I hear her soft pitter-patter footsteps. She came, clutching her stuffed animal and blinking her sleepy eyes, and wordlessly crawled up into my lap. I laid aside my Bible, my journal, and gathered her close, inhaling her amazing morning smell, kissing her cheeks.
“Oh, babygirl, you are so special.”
Of course. I am absolutely intoxicated with love for my kids. It is impossible to even begin to describe the love I have for them. I can look at pictures of them all day, I could hold them forever, I would do anything for them.
They are so unspeakably special to me.
Not because her handwriting is perfect.
Not because he knows a lot of facts.
Not because they run fast or are good at math.
They are my children. That is why each of them is special. How it would break my heart to see them try to earn special.
They don’t need to earn special.
They are special. They are special because they’re my children. She could erase holes in her workbook page every day of the year for the rest of her life and she’d never stop being special to me. Sure, I might work to correct her excessive-erasing habit. 🙂
But she doesn’t need to earn special. She is special.
He speaks this to us too, His kids.
You don’t have to earn special. You are.
Maybe this is for one of you today as well: “Can you just know that I love you. Can that be enough?”
{Praying you know you are special to Your Father. Thank you for reading}
Don’t Give Up
It just spilled out: “I’d really like to just quit.”
Longtime friendships are funny like that — deep, honest conversation just flows, even if you haven’t seen each other in a year and you’re sitting in a fall festival surrounded by crowds and shouting children eating corndogs.
“Everything’s good. I mean, objectively I could sit here and make you a list of how and why everything’s good. Church is good. Absolutely no complaints. Home is good. Great, really. Nothing’s bad, per se. I just lack all motivation. This season of testing has been hard — I feel like God has been convicting me of so many inner things, so much subtle selfishness. It feels overwhelming. And the book thing? It’s been 4 1/2 years of writing and pitching and praying and waiting. I’m only doing it because God so clearly told me to. But does the world really need another book by a middle-class 30-something white girl?”
She smiles, and manages to do that thing she does perfectly — identify completely and yet challenge wisely. She herself had just “quit” in a sense. She made the decision to end her online presence in order to fully devote herself to her family and in-person ministry. I basically wanted to just copy her. That sounds heavenly, honestly. Shut the thing down. Walk away.
But her thing was different from my thing, and her “obey God” thing is different from my “obey God” thing. Deep down, I knew that. She did too. So she didn’t just let me copy her (aren’t we all tempted to just encourage people to copy us because it helps validate our own choices?!) but instead she asks probing questions that help me identify the deeper issue.
I leave encouraged, not with some voice-from-heaven moment or life-altering revelation, but just deeply encouraged in my heart. Heard. And inspired. I haven’t decided whether or not to quit, but I feel hope. One thing I do know: Decisions made from desolation never honor God. Even in discouraging circumstances, decisions must flow from a heart-place of consolation. Hope-filled decisions reflect the glory, power, and purposes of God.
Hopeless decisions dishonor the God of hope.
The next day we make the 5-hour drive to our next destination. Along the way, Jeff hands me his phone: “Listen to this.”
I have no idea what to expect. A sermon? A song? I look at the screen, it’s a voicemail from a pastor-friend we worked with a dozen years ago. We haven’t seen him in ages. But his familiar voice rings clear on the message, and he explains that during prayer, the Lord brought us very strongly to His mind. He then shared what he sensed to be God’s heart for us, for why he was to intercede so intensely for us. He explained at the end,
“I don’t know what’s going on, with church or your family or anything, but I just keep sensing so strongly God saying, “Don’t give up.””
My eyes filled with tears. Jeff knew the message was for me. I did too.
Hadn’t I just written the list of simple tweaks needed to make that river cabin glorious? I hadn’t written, “Burn the whole thing down. Quit. Give up.” No, of course not. The reality is, finding a renewed sense of vision, passion, and purpose, involves stripping away all that isn’t contributing to that vision, passion, and purpose.
Just as that filthy cabin needed a good scrubbing (and large dumpster) before it could be ready for function and beauty, so our lives must go through seasons of stripping away, seasons of discipline, purging, struggle and conviction. Go ahead and pull out the drawers and dump all the contents in the trash. Burn the brown shower-curtain. Toss the moldy kitchen sponges and dated musty curtains.
But don’t give up.
Why? Our friend’s voice so clearly conveyed His heart: He loves you.
“My son, do not despise the LORD’s discipline, or be weary of His reproof, for the LORD reproves him whom He loves, as a father the son in whom he delights.” Prov. 3:11-12
{Don’t give up. You are loved. Thank you for reading.}
How not to lose hope
That delusional optimism thing, maybe that’s why it’s so discouraging when God starts exposing the sin in my heart.
That’s in there?
*sigh*
So much work to be done.
You may have picked up on it; I’ve just been in a season of … Well, there’s so many names for it. Pruning, discipline, conviction — HOPELESS DISCOURAGEMENT. No, no, not really, but it hasn’t been that fun. God in His infinite wisdom has graciously led me in a time of testing and conviction. Seriously, it can feel overwhelming, realizing that basically every single area of my life is somehow tainted by sin. Maybe not things like theft or lying, but self-seeking. Subtle self-seeking is the sin that pollutes all. And I can see it everywhere; it can feel overwhelming.
But that filthy cabin where we spent last week; it spoke to me. It’s always the mundane where God’s voice rings more clear for me, and as we settled into our humble home for a few days, one thought kept filling my mind:
This place has so much potential!
Really, even though it was filthy, poorly stocked, most everything was broken, and it stunk to high heaven because of the sulfur water. As I looked around, I kept thinking,
“Oh, what I could do with this place!”
I told Jeff,
“I could take $250 and transform this whole place.”
And I know they had that much because that’s what we paid to stay there! But apparently they weren’t interested.
The whole place spoke loud and clear, “No one cares.”
No one cares about the broken lights and broken heater, no one cares about the filthiness, no one cares about the lack of supplies, the smell. No one really cares. It was a picture of neglect.
But I cared! I was the one staying there and I saw the river right outside and the breathtaking views and abundant wildlife and saw so much potential for glory.
It just needed a little work.
So I made a list. A detailed list of the simple items that needed repair, and ways it could easily be made more accommodating for future guests. I wasn’t angry about the condition of the cabin, I just knew it could be so much more. I wanted to show the owner, “Look here, here are the things–simple things–that could make your cabin so much more. This could turn your cabin from dump to a dream!”
I wanted to help. Sure, I could have just written a scathing review online. I could have ridiculed and torn them to pieces on Expedia. And yes, I will write out some helpful “hints” for future visitors (“Bring blankets and bottled water!”), but more than anything I wanted this place to be wonderful.
I wanted to help.
So I took the owner the list. I wrote across the top, “Your cabin could be great!”
Isn’t that God’s heart toward us?! Can we just be so honest as to acknowledge: We are the dumpy cabin. We have brokenness everywhere. Things aren’t functioning the way they were created to function. There’s a smell. It’s awful. We’re lacking so many of the basic things that would make us delightful. We post pictures of ourselves that portray one image, but the real deal is quite a bit dirtier and a lot more disappointing.
(Isn’t this an inspiring Monday post? 🙂
But if we’d just acknowledge this, God is graciously waiting to show us the simple things that would help us be what He created us to be. We have unbelievable potential. We could be so much more. He’s given us His image, His life and breath, His gifts and talents, He’s poured out His Spirit into us.
We are made in His image! We have hope!
But do we care? Will be look at the list He gives us in His Word, and will we take it seriously? Will we let Him make the repairs? Will we let Him clean out the filth and mold? Will we let Him throw out the grimy things we keep clinging to?
And will be believe that He’s showing us these things because He loves us? Because He cares enough to fix us up, and not neglect the work of His hands. We are His creation, loved beyond our wildest imagination. His heart toward us is beyond our comprehension.
There is hope.
The LORD will fulfill his purpose for me; your steadfast love, O LORD, endures forever. Do not forsake the work of your hands. (Ps. 138:8)
{Thank you for reading.}
PS The owner was actually super kind and grateful for the list. I have hope 😉 he will act on them!
The Sail & The Anchor
I suffer from a disorder called Delusional Optimism.
They say over the years that married couples tend to become like one another. However, it’s also true that each partner in a long-term marriage tends to compensate for the other, which is why (I believe) so many couples end up being polar opposites in certain areas.
My man would say he’s a realist. I’d say he’s a Worst-Case-Scenario guy. It’s not that he’s negative, he’s actually not. He’s joyful and fun to be around, he’s just always aware that most things are not what they seem, most people are more wicked than they seem, and he has no fairy-tale expectations of any situation. The great part of this is, he’s rarely disappointed. When someone does something disappointing, he’s not shocked. This makes for a great pastor (in my opinion) because he’s patient with people’s shortcomings. He’s willing to go the distance with people.
I, on the other hand, am a Believe-the-best girl. To a fault. I believe the best about everyone, I believe they have pure motives, I believe they are always looking out for my good, I believe people like each other, that they like me, and I like them! I always believe that things will turn out for the best, and I’m very trusting of others.
This is why Jeff won’t let me book online accommodations.
I look at the claims, the photos, and the low price, and think, “Great! Wow, I bet it’s even better in person. I can’t wait to stay here!” Sure, it might be rated 1 1/2 stars, but I believe that those 1 1/2 stars are better than no stars!
The cup may not even be half-full but at least it’s not completely empty! 🙂
Jeff looks at that and looks for the worst — he reads the bad reviews, suspicious of the photos, thinking of at least a dozen ways this place is not as promised. He sees 1 1/2 stars as an invitation to run as fast as you can the other direction. There are probably bed bugs involved.
The result is that when we walk into our filthy dilapidated cabin near Sequoia Nat’l Park, I am a bit wide-eyed at the shockingly less-than-advertised accommodations. I’m amazed that anyone could list this cabin with a clear conscience. There’s no potable water, everything is disgustingly filthy, the sink won’t drain, the bathroom light and fan don’t work, the wall heater’s broken, the sulfur smell is intolerable, there are no basic supplies … How does the owner sleep at night?! Jeff just laughs. He knew it’d be this bad. You get what you pay for. You always get what you pay for.
Neither one of our traits is right or wrong. They’re just different. And together we actually make a great team. I’m full of faith and optimism, reaching for the stars. He’s planted firmly on the ground, evaluating the terrain and helping take care of the ordinary people and situations I ignore in my lofty visions.
A boat needs a sail and an anchor.
We need each other.
This is the amazing thing about marriage — we complement each other. For us, this has been the most powerful shift that’s brought profound oneness in the past few years: Seeing differences as complementary rather than competing. We know this, it seems obvious, but in the nearness of marriage, the differences tend to rub is the wrong way, agitating, so we polarize and over-compensate and blame, trying to be right or prove our perspective is better, rather than asking, “How do I need this trait of my spouse’s in order to become more like Christ?” The same is true even outside of marriage–we are the body of Christ. Each member complements the other. How much better we’d function as ONE if we understood this!
We haven’t arrived, of course. There are still a few traits I can’t quite see as complementary. 😉 But I praise God for this covenant, that keeps us depending on Him as we grow together in oneness, and more into the likeness of Christ.
{From the filthy cabin, with love,
Kari}