What do i know of Holy?

October 4, 2011

This morning I read the following passage while soaking in the Lord (praying/listening/reading the bible/being in the presence of the Lord)

Isaiah 6:1-8 “In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord seated on a throne, high and exalted, and the train of his robe filled the temple. Above him were seraphs, each with six wings. With two wings they covered their faces, with two they covered their feet, and with two they were flying. And they were calling to one another:

“Holy, holy, holy is the Lord Almighty: the whole earth is full of his glory.”

At the sound of their voices the doorposts and thresholds shook and the temple was filled with smoke. “Woe to me!” I cried. “I am ruined! For I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips, and my eyes have seen the King, the Lord Almighty.” Then one of the seraphs flew to me with a live coal in his hand, which he had taken with tongs from the altar. With it he touched my mouth and said, “See, this has touched your lips; your guilt is taken away and your sin atoned for.” Then I heard the voice fo the Lord saying, “Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?” And I said, “Here am I. Send me!””

I know this passage is familiar to a lot of you. Something new about this passage hit me this morning. You see, whenever I read this passage I got angry with the Lord. I ALWAYS said, “Lord, I'm saying this! I'm saying 'Here am I. Send me!' and You are NOT sending me!You keep having me stay HERE!” My head went to go that direction again this morning as I read this, but it took a little bit of a turn. “Yes, Lord, thank you for sending me to Mada for a whole year. Yes Lord, I realize that though I feel like I'm STAYING here in Quakertown You are actually SENDING me to Quakertown.”

Then I just sat quietly for a moment. “My dear Daughter, Your focus is wrong. This passage is NOT about you, or sending you. Read this passage again Dear one, and this time don't focus on you but focus on Me.”

So I encourage you to do what I did. Go back and read the passage again, and focus on Him. Yes, right now, go ahead I'll wait......

Can you imagine being Isaiah and seeing, feeling,and hearing this!? Don't you think that from that moment on Isaiah had a different understanding of who God is and who he, himself is? Do you think it changed his outlook on eveyday life? I asked myself, "what do i know of Holy?" I went back a third time and read the passage again and imagined myself as Isaiah, seeing, feeling, and hearing. I suggest you try it. Ask God to open up your eyes to the wonder and magesty of His holiness. I understand that we wont fully get it, (His holiness) until we stand face to face with Him, but certainly we can ask Him to reveal more of Himself to us on a daily basis and allow that knowledge, of who He really is, His holiness, to change our daily behavior. I'm going to stop know and go back and read this passage again and just spend time soaking in His holiness. I challenge you to do the same. Soak Him in, allow His presence to change you.

I'M SICK OF MYSELF!!!!

Sept 27, 2011

I've been trying to get into a new habit in the mornings. I get the boys off to school and then I do my stretching and go right into my God date. I've been calling it my “soaking” as my spirit is so dry I just feel I need to soak in His presence.

Do you ever get sick of being with yourself? I'm at that place today. I just want to get away from my anxiety and the mass of thoughts that just keep running laps around my brain. I'm struggling with what to do with my life. What do I do now that my children are in school and I am a stay at home mom? What do I do with my time? Why can't I be a better home maker? Why can't I be content, like most Americans, at living here in America where there is safety, freedom, and stuff? What am I worth now that I'm not “raising my children during school hours”, now that I'm not working and giving to the community? Is what I'm doing enough? It seems like all my insecurities are being brought out. Instead of talking about them I just shove them under a rug thinking, “This is so stupid, I should not be struggling with this. There are other people out there who would give anything to lead the life I lead.” and therefore I just dont work through it. In doing nothing with it, not talking about it/praying about it, these insecurities continue to have power over me. I guess it's really a pride issue. If I'm struggling with these issues that seem so pitiful to me what are others going to think of me?

The truth is, this is where I'm at in life. I am struggling with these issues, and it's ok. I need to work through them with the Lord and those who love me so that I DON'T give them the power to cause anxiety and fear in me. I need to work through them, talk about them, pray about them, in order to use these things to bring enlightenment, wisdom, and strength into my spirit rather than anxiety and fear.

I need to stop hiding behind the fear of seeming weak and just … well... be weak. It says in 1 Corinthians 12:9-10 “But (the Lord) said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you , for my pwer is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.”

Ok, so I'm not delighting in them as of right now, but you get my point right? I did finally have a good talk with my “bestie”, Randy, last night. Just laid all my fears and questions of myself out there. It was a nice release. Thankfully I have a husband who told me he loves me just the way I am. But you know what, even if I didn't have Randy I have the Lord and He loves me 100 times greater and more perfectly than Randy does. Cole was practicing his memory verse for school this morning. He reminded me this morning that “He (God) created my inmost being. He is the one who knit me together in my mother's womb. I am fearfully and wonderfully made.” Psalm 139: 13-14.

“I am fearfully and wonderfully made”. I need to work on believing that one. Do you need to work on believing that as well? Let's work on it together and not just “shove it under the rug”.

Struggling to appreciate things

1. 
   

   September 1, 2011

   Yes, I know it's been a lllllloooooonnnnnngggggg time since I've last blogged. I do need to appologize, that's assuming that anyone still reads this now that we're back in the States. I admit that I just haven't wanted to blog. I keep thinking, “Who wants to hear the mundane life of a stay at home mom, who has no children staying at home, living, what feels like, a mundane American life.”

   Anyway, that's enough of my soaking in my own misery. The boys had their first day of school on Monday. To say they were excited to ride the bus would be an understatement! We left the house to walk to their bus stop around 7:45 am. The bus stops right down the street from us at 7:51am. As the boys went off on the bus Randy and I walked back home. I then left to drive to the school for a “tissues and tea” for Kindergarten parents. I just wanted to go meet some of the other parents. There were about 10 other parents there. Some where complaining about how they had to walk 2 blocks to the bus stop even though the bus goes right past their house. I just sat there quietly listening. Should I even bother sharing with them the walk we did to get to school when we were in Madagascar? I decided against it.

   I came home, flopped down on the couch and started crying. Randy came out and said, “you sad to see the kids go?” “NO” I said. “There were parents complaining because they had to walk a whole 2 blocks to the bus stop! I wanted to complain because we ONLY had to walk 2 blocks from our house. Our walk to the bus here is so BORING! It was so short and there was no market to walk though. No need for me to say, ' Don't step on the pile of fish honey.' 'Don't trip over the hens.' 'Watch out for the zebu'. No hard working women pounding leaves in the pestle and mortar. Nobody yelling, “Vaza! Vaza!” It's SO boring here!”

   So, as you can hear in my writing, I'm still struggling with missing Madagascar. The boys and Randy are well adjusted. Though I do need to say that at least once a week Seth is in tears saying he misses his friend Amin from Madagascar.

   And so, this is why I haven't wanted to write. What do you write when most of what is on your mind is missing a certain place. I know that eventually I'll be able to move on from this pain. Until then, you'll have to lovingly deal with me as I share my grief through writing.

   For now I feel led to follow a friend of mine's lead. She just finished up her furlough in Canada and is now back in Madagascar. She wrote down 10 things she loves about her homeland (Canada). And so I shall do the same thing as I try to encourage my heart. I'm not going to state the obvious that I love my family and friends.

   10 things I love about America

   1. The freedom, safety, form of Government

   2. I can trust, for the most part, the policemen who are out working so hard for our safety.

   3. I can find just about any kind of nationality, people and cuisine, within an hour from my house!

   4. The freedom of speech and religion we have here.

   5. The access to anything and everything we have here (although this is also one of the things I can't stand)

   6. Reliable electricity and clean running water

   7. Turkey Hill Ice cream

   8. Hershey's chocolate

   9. 37” seemed pants

   10. Carpet

       and .....I'm done.....

$0.25 a book …. 7 books sold = $30.00?????

Aug 6, 2011

So I have been going through ALL the children's books I have, wanting to thin them down to 1/3 of what I now have. I had chosen about 50 books I wanted to get rid of. I was going to take them to a thrift store but saw that someone was having a yard sale down the street from us. So I thought I'd make a sign and put the books out to see if I could make a buck or two. My neighbor stopped by and bought 6 books. She gave both the boys $5.00 as the books were, technically, their books. The boys were VERY excited and used that money to buy things for their fish (that they won at the fair last night). Later we were in the house playing with a friend and her son that stopped by. Randy was in the bedroom and looked out the window. There was a man looking through the books. Randy went out to chit chat with him. He asked about old books. Chit chat...chit chat.... Eventually he said that the only reason he stopped by was that God had told him to. Apparently he and his wife had gone through some rough times in the past and so when he sees someone selling things he will often stop by and see what their story is. Randy explained to him that we had just gotten back from Madagascar and that I wanted to thin down our STUFF. The man then picked out a book and said, “I want to buy this book, but this is all the money I have on me, I'd like you to have it”. Randy thanked him and the man drove away. When Randy finally counted the wad of money it was $20.00. Wow. I was speechless. We called the boys in, and my friend and her son, and told them what had just happened. We then stopped and prayed over this man that the Lord would conintue to bless him with money to bless others and that we would learn from this man's generosity and do the same in return.

Making things right

Aug 3, 2011

What do I blog about when my heart is so sad? I want to be able to find my sole contentment in God alone, however, how can I do that when I'm not talking to Him because I'm angry? I finally realized part of the reason why I'm struggling so much right now. Yes, I'm going through reverse culture shock. Yes, I'm missing Madagascar and my friends. Yes, I prefer to live in a thrid world country where life seems a little more simpler and slower going. But, when I was there I was solely dependent on the Lord. I prayed throughout my day, realizing that there was nothing I could do in my own strength. I looked to Him for daily safety in travel. I depended on His strength to live a day outside of my culture. I looked to Him to help me recall the Malagasy language. I looked to Him for strength as I walked 1.5 kms home from the grocery store with 5 lbs of groceries in each hand, 10 lbs on my back and two little boys. I looked to Him for wisdom as I tried to communicate with hurting people in another language other than my own heart language. The list goes on and on.

Why am I not praying throughout the day like I did before? I finally took some time for a God date. Much needed I assure you. You know what I came to realize? I'm angry. I'm mad at God for making us come back to America. The funny thing is that I can't imagine staying in Madagascar, because I have no peace about staying in Madagascar. I know He's calling us to be here in the States. So I have peace in my soul about being here, but my heart and head haven't caught up yet. Why is that? Why do I have to be so complicated?

And so, I cry before the Lord, asking Him to forgive me for being mad at Him, to instill in me a desire to lean on Him for my every need, my every desire. Help me Lord to look to Your strength throughout my day here in America. Help me Lord to look to You for safety in my daily travel. Help me to depend on Your strength to live a day in my own cuture. Help me to recall English and use it in a way to build others up and not tear people down. Help me to look to You for strength as I go through the grocery aisles with cranky people trying to push their way through the aisles to rush on to the next thing. Help me to look to you for wisdom as I try to communicate with hurting people here in my own neighborhood/church.

Ahhh, a sigh of relief as I feel the weight of the day come off my shoulders and onto His yoke. Why didn't I take time to do this before?

Seriously? Do we need to talk about this again?

July 25, 2011

For those of you who don't know, when Seth, our firstborn, was about 9 weeks old I was diagnosed with Post Partum Depression with Psychosis. It was a VERY difficult time for us as a family. That's a whole other story in itself. However, the reason I'm bringing it up right now is because that time in our lives has been brought up 5 times this past week. Firstly, when we went to fill out papers to apply for health insurance we had to record our health history for the past 10 years. Therefore, I had to name the psychotherapist who diagnosed me, all the antipsychotics and tranquilizers and anitdepressant medications I was on during that time. I sat there, in the insurance office, feeling very raw, very fragil, and yet very blessed that I, and all my family members, specifically Randy and Seth, were actually still alive.

The same day as the insurance visit I was meeting my best friend from high school for dinner. (Bear with me here as I do a little bit of circlular writing. I need to share a short story first before I go into how the psychosis came up.)  I had wanted to break up with her for a while because I was hurt by a few things that had happened between us. But, ya know what? There aren't any “break up cards” for best friends! I hadn't talked with her about these things earlier because I just felt stupid. I just kept telling myself, “Megan, people and friendships change.  Just deal”. So, back to the dinner date. We had dinner and were driving to Kohl's when we started talking about some things that might be awkward between us. This was the perfect time for me to mention my hurt to her. You see, when I went through my post partum I had not wanted to see ANYONE. I was hoping that Brigitte, being my best friend, would ignore my wishes and spend time with me anyway as I was really suffering. She hadn't. So I brought this up to her. She looked at me with her jaw dropped and an astonished look in her face. “Megan, I was with you once every week during that time! My mother rearranged her schedule so she could watch my baby, so I could be with you and Seth. Your brother would come in the morning and I would take the afternoon shift”. Up within me came a pit of sorrow (wait, a pit doesn't come up does it....well...you know what I mean). I heaved with emotion and cried the ugly cry for about 10 minutes. I didn't know what I was more upset about, the fact that Brigitte wasn't as big of a jerk I thought she had been for a few years, or the fact that I couldn't remember this loving gift she had given me and therefore....I realized, again, that I really was VERY sick during that time.  (p.s. we're still friends:) )

The third time it came up was when I was going through boxes and BOXES of stuff we had packed to store while we were in Madagascar. I found a bunch of cards I had saved. I opened one to read it and it was a card from my dear friend Julie. She was very good at keeping in contact with me and encouraging me through cards. This one was dated 3 days before my first psychotic attack. I remember talking to her and telling her that I just wasn't feeling right. I felt like God was dead and that I was feeling distant, almost removed from the daily activity of just living. As I read that note I realized again, not only the depth of pain that I and my family had gone through, but the amazing miracles and ways God had shown Himself faithful to us through that time of suffering.

It then came up again, two days later, when I was talking to a friend about having more babies. She asked if Randy and were done having babies. I had stated how, for 5 years the thought of having another baby petrified me because of my fear of getting psychosis again. I would have never had Cole if God hadn't made it happen. (I was still in the middle of my post partum when I got pregnant with Cole). But, I shared with her that for the past several months God had put the thought of having another child back on my heart without ANY fears.

Then this afternoon Randy starts playing a song on the piano. I started singing with him and got all emotional. I said to him, “Why am I getting so emotional about this song?” He said, “We sang this song together when you were coming out of your Post Partum.”

Why is this coming up so many times this week? I don't believe in coincidences. I believe in purpose. So, what could be the purpose of the journey with this disease coming up 5 times this past week? Well, I know that when we go through very tough things, suffering of some sort or another, we often need to go through ALL the steps of grieving. They say that grieving the loss of a loved one takes up to 7 years. Therefore it doesn't suprise me that grieving the losses lost to this disease will take many years of healing. My sickness was full of losses but was also full of Godly gains. Thank you Lord for reminding me of the loss and the gain that I have received through that suffering.

So, I ask you, “What have you lost lately? What have you suffered through lately? Are you able yet to look back and see blessing in it? Are you able to look back and see God's hand through it?” I pray that if you can't yet, you will soon.

I want to pop my bubble.

July 17, 2011

So, I'm 36 years old and I had no idea that carrots don't always grow in that “perfect carrot” shape. You know the one I'm talking about? Thick at the top and thinning all the way down until it's a tiny point at the bottom. I didn't realize this until two summers ago when I grew carrots in my garden. I remember pulling them out with the boys and they were all “stubby”. Same size from the top to the bottom. Some had little knodules on them. I remember Seth saying, “Ew, I'm not going to eat those.” You might be asking yourself, “Why is she writing about this?”

In Mada the vegetables were beautiful. They were beautiful and ALL natural. No chemicals. AND no perfect shapes. The carrots where lots of different sizes and often needed some part of them cut out. The orange peals where not bright orange. The apples, though you would find a few really nice, nondamaged ones, where bruised or had little nibbles here and there taken out of them by bugs. Have you noticed the produce that's sold here in the States? It's “perfect”. Perfect in color. Perfect in size and shape. Extra juicey, extra crispy.

I was really stunned by this as I walked through the supermarket the other day. We Americans, really live in a “perfect” bubble. We need perfect looking produce or we don't buy it. We need perfect looking bodies in order to feel attractive. We want a perfect car with no scratches and will pay to have a scratch erased. We want the perfect meal served to us with the perfect service and if it's not how we feel it should be we complain. Oh yeah, and we want it quick.

I really don't think that most American's realize that they really don't live in the “real” world. We have created for ourselves a little bubble of “perfectness”. “Comfortablity”. “Reality”. The reality?  80% of the world's population lives on less then $10.00 a day. Do you think they care what their food looks like, let alone how it's served to them?

Excuse me as I rant a little bit. And please understand that I'm in “reverse culture shock” still. But really. I just want to challenge us a little bit. I really think that Americans need to realize that they are NOT living in “the real world”. The real world is full of germs, trash, and starving children who are looking through, if not living in, trash dumps trying to find food.  People with no shoes, no running water, and open sewers.  And our day is ruined if someone cuts us off while we're driving, if we have to wait too long for our food to be served to us, or if we have to wait more than 5 minutes in line at the grocery store (All of this last sentence happened to me today and irritated me....)

I'm just saying, living the way we do in America is NOT typical. Could we find more ways each day to be thankful rather than to be irritated and have our panties in a knot over someone having 16 items in the 15 item grocery line? This is just where my thoughts are today.