February 8, 2012

• {a special birthday and how to answer our critics}
  
  I got home from youth late last night and grabbed my phone as I headed in the bathroom.
  because, yes. sometimes I multi task that way.
  
  I came here and began reading through the comments of monday’s post. tears brimming my eyes.
  once again. just so humbled by those of you who choose to show up here.. the grace you extend.
  
  and then. my husband. there at the end, last of all.
  he’s out of town. we hadn’t talked all day.
  oh, this one who knows me most, and yet loves me anyway.
  then. the tears brimming, fell.
  
  Do I need the affirmation? I told myself yesterday when my heart began to pound and my throat went tight as it does when we feel judged or misunderstood. hurt. that I needed to cling to the very thing I’d just written – He.is.enough. He knows. that’s all that matters.
  
  but insecurity seeps out in places we didn’t even know we had holes.
  and when I wanted to run to the phone for a friend, or my husband.
  His voice to me said, “be still…”
  
  “But I need to explain myself, Lord…”

  need to know that my friends here don’t feel the same…
  many of which have very different beliefs than me on dress.
  because the father of lies loves to cantor on the tail of the critic, “everyone agrees!”
  
  but. the Lord kept drawing me over and over, all afternoon long.
  prying my white knuckles yet again from my reputation.
  and in the prying He brought reassurance once more of who I am, in Him.

  and though I didn’t feel I “needed” the affirmation from those around me..
  not that I’m all strong and cured that way. only where He’s growing me.
  but that’s why there were tears sitting in that bathroom as the words scrolled down a tiny cell screen –
  because how like Him!
  to take where words have hurt, to use words to heal!
  
  to use others to swoop down with a big soft hug, as if straight from Him.
  and in so doing. reveal the true heart of what His character is all about.

  so thank you.
  
  and the best way to answer our critics? I think, not at all.
  we cannot change their beliefs, their view of us.
  but we can allow that criticism to send us to the arms of the One who does change hearts. that knows ours best.
  and to trust, what needs changing, He will.

  {mrs.b~ your pocket change was not wasted. I need all the spare change I can get.}
  
  I don’t ever claim here to be doing things the “right” way. I want to.
  I want to live in absolute abandon to His will for my life. but yes. the flesh and spirit war.
  and if you read here. you’ll read that. the struggles of a slow learner. 
  
  I appreciate those of you who read with grace covered eyes.
  
  “The critic carries gifts he never meant to bring, motivation he has no awareness of. The voice of the critic forces us to face our biggest fears, and in so doing, listen for the voice of God. If we dare to believe Him, if we dare to believe His dying and rising back up apply even in this, we can then be oddly, ironically, deliriously free.” ~ emily freeman, when the critic speaks

  
  
  *****
  
  now moving on to someone I’d much rather talk about than myself.
  
  my dad.
  
  today is his 60th birthday.
  
  How I wish you knew him. I think you’d like him.
  
  he’s quiet. even a bit shy.
  the boy who used to hide behind the couch when company came to his house..
  then the man God called to be a preacher!
  Of all the things he didn’t like doing the most. talking. is what he ended up doing.
  
  he’s not eloquent in his speech. he’d be the first to tell you.
  he’s simple. direct. to the heart.
  he talks in a way where you feel he understands where you’ve been.
  
  He smiles alot.
  
  he’s funnier than most people realize. he has the quickest sense of humor.
  when Dad gets tickled. we all do. he laughs till he cries. and we laugh because he is.
  he laughs at his own jokes and that makes me laugh the most. I love his jokes.

  
  
  he has the best stories. like straight from Rin Tin Tin.
  oh, the tales of him as a boy and his trusty dog, Rusty!
  
  the time Rusty saved him from the bull in the field.
  the time Rusty rescued him when he broke through ice.
  Rusty, the faithful sidekick that died from a rattlesnake bite.
  he was that kind of adventurous dog.
  
  how the boys and I would love those Rusty stories.
  every night before bedtime, “dad.. tell us one about ole Rusty.”
  
  and sometimes he would start a story out like,
  “well.. there was the time I was living with the Indians…”
  
  and I smile now just remembering.

  
  
  I miss him.
  it’s days like today where home seems so far away.
  and I wish I were there to go drop him off a chocolate pie, his favorite, and hug his neck.
  
  I called home on Monday to talk to Mom, and he answered.
  I don’t talk to him that much on the phone.
  You know, how it is, girls…
  when we call home it’s usually Mom that answers. Mom we ask for.
  questions about recipe’s. advice on potty training. the sort of stuff we need mom for.

  so. it had been awhile since I heard his voice.
  and the comfort of your father’s voice. the familiarity. the strength it seems to hold.
  I got all choked up.
  
  I had alot on my heart that day. it was crazy. the little girls were being loud.
  Reese kept climbing up on the kitchen table, and I was trying to talk, but would stop every few minutes,
  “reese get down. emma, take that trumpet downstairs. I’m so sorry, Dad….”
  
  “Oh, that’s okay.” and I could hear his smile. though I couldn’t see it. “I don’t mind at all.”
  
  and I know he doesn’t. I know he loves spending time with me, even when it’s crazy and loud.
  because he always has. and I’ve always been a bit crazy and loud!
  I’ve never felt from him that I had to be any different. though so different from him.
  and in his smile…
  that one I could hear even across the phone line. has always let me know, I’m accepted.
  “I’m proud of you.” are words he says often.
  
  and he listens.
  I’ve never known anyone in my whole life who listens as he does.
  and you know he is. not just absent mindedly.
  and at the end. when he knows I’m all done. He’ll say he understands. and point me to The Father always with me.
  
  He always directs our focus to the Lord.

  
  
  he’s a friend. we like hanging out.
  and since he’s not a big talker, sometimes when I’m not either we just sit.
  just quietly. together. and it’s okay. we’re comfortable with the silence. we know there doesn’t always have to be words.
  
  there are two things that come to mind when I think of him to share with you…
  if I wanted you to know anything about him it would be this.
  
  one night while here at christmas, we were sitting in the living room, just he and I. quiet.
  I asked him what he was thinking about and he said,
  
  “oh, I was just thinking of the widows there at our church. I know there’s some bad weather coming in and I hope they’re okay and  have what they need.. someone to shovel their walk….”
  
  That’s his heart. others.
  
  and several years back. after my older brother and I were both married,
  he came to the two of us and said he wanted to ask our forgiveness.
  we were floored. for what? to us he had seemed to be the perfect father growing up~
  but he said because he hadn’t always parented us based on what the Lord wanted,
  but rather, what others might think.
  
  he cried as he talked about how God had convicted him. brought that to his attention.
  we cried as we listened.
  and hugged and prayed.
  and if my respect for my Dad wasn’t already to the roof, it just blew it completely off.
  
  he didn’t have to do that. we were fine, weren’t we. the relationship was good.
  but after that. it took on a whole new level. of realness and friendship.
  
  and because of that. through him. I’ve learned that one of the most important things I can do for my kids is let them hear me admit when I’m wrong…
  because I’m going to be. and often.
  I’m going to miss things and mess things up and think maybe I’m doing it right and look back and see differently,
  but because of Christ, there is redemption. and though we can’t undo things we wish we hadn’t done..
  we can bring healing and wholeness when we’re not afraid to let our kids see our weakness.
  
  my Dad has taught me true strength is in humility.
  
  how I love him.
  how blessed. truly. I feel.

  
  
  
  Happy Birthday Dad.
  
  
  and just with all my heart,
  sis.   
  
  

  • 2:02 pm
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