Tag: Family

Delicate Balance – Days 6 & 7

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 2 Comments

Who has not lived that doesn’t know that dance, the one of in and out, a bob and a weave of a clumsy waltz. Like a prize fighter penned in the corner. The bob and weave in the ring of life. A punch, one two, of difficulty, pain.
Who is not part of this commonman, every man, every woman club, begun by Eve and Adam. Thank you very much.
Who does not struggle to make sense out of the hard and the rough, to soften them down and smooth them out with words and love.
Who has not found a limb or two, maybe all four tangled in a web, sticky, ensnaring our hearts our lives, in confusion and hurt.

And who has not cried out, flailing hands towards the heavens and yelled like a child in the throws of a tantrum at God and asked why?

Is there one who has not sought restoration and reconciliation from broken life, like shards of glass, shattered into pieces sharp, pieces which cut through, bleeding life drips droplets puddle.

It is all that He wants to mend the cut, and cup the chin, and wipe the tear.

It is what He longs to do for child of Eve and Adam too. To mend, restore, the balance so delicate. The delicate pieces and places, He knows.

And in the wailing and crying there is Hope. And when the relationship slips to a place where balance is lost, like life’s level and equilibrum hang in the loss of balance.

Think on these things. Rest in His arms. And look to the Restorer to re-order, rebuild and realign.

The Carpenter, Builder, The Restorer of Hope, Rebuilder of Lives,

The Delicate Restorer of Balance, He mends the lives of the broken.

What Amazing Grace, what Amazing Grace indeed.

Writing in community today with Deidra and The Nester for the continuing series of 31 Days of Wonderful Words.

This is Day 6 and Day 7 of the 31 Day Series which we are a part of at The Nester’s. There a community of bloggers is writing for 31 days in October. If you would like to back journey on this blog and read previous posts in the series please do. Previous posts have included Ordinary, Savor, Hope, The Poetic, and Dancing.

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When Your Efforts To Help Feel Anemic

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 13 Comments

Under my roof the dryer tumbles and rumbles and hums its white noise roar. And on the screen Isaac blows all blustery hues of cool blue and fire-hot red. Water droplets on the camera lense make the picture blurry, foggy, out-of-focus. But the story behind the blur screams loud and clear, even though the sound is muted.

There is suffering and there is pain. There is hurt and there is loss. Lives are being torn upside down and inside out.

Three left my home this morning for school, one for work and one remains. He leaves later to work and live, outside of this nest now. This man/child home only for a visit.

And I have a friend I mentor, she is in middle school. I don’t know how her first week of school is going. I need to call. She goes to the top of my heart to-do list, which is not as it sounds. She is precious. She is precious to me. My heart weeps to know her heart. I feel behind in my intentional relationship building, in my loving and helping her. I will ask to have lunch with her at school this week and pray God redeems the time between the times we’ve had together, in relationship.

Never have I wanted to freeze living like I do now. Stop time. It is too wonderful to go at the current speed. To savor, it needs to be reduced to slower motioned living. But God. But God in His wisdom designed it to move at this very pace and speed. Every day I mark. Every day I burn the memories in. Its the Senior year for one and the Junior year for another. For the senior, a series of lasts.

She said you are right to mark, and remember and burn in your memory and write and photograph it all. And that the fast approaching empty nest will be a glorious other chapter for the Patient One and me.

But for now I balance a wild love for family with a burning desire to serve. To do and be both and. To serve Him by serving my family well and by loving and serving others well. Those hurting deeply. The suffering souls who long for the love of Christ to be shown by the hands and feet of Christ.

And in the breath right next to the breath about savoring and marking, she and I begin to plan our Haiti Mission trip. My heart leaves them. My heart stays with them. I may miss a volleyball game or a basketball game or the joy of a red-letter day in the life of a 2012 American Teen. Or I  may miss the chance to comfort a daughter or console a son.

Monday morning, wheels rolling north down a four lane highway I stopped behind two cars stranded and stopped in the middle of traffic. One was helping the other and I made a third car stopped in the middle of the highway. He said I am trying to help her and I asked what can I do. They had not called the Highway Patrole. The potential for injury and a collision was real. So I stopped and cars honked at me. I was  inconvenient. I was in the way. I was trying to help.

She looked scared and she looked afraid. I asked her several times what can I do? Her eyes pleading for help. He was helping re-start the car. I was trying to help console her heart. I asked her if I could help. And told her I had called the Highway Patrol. I wanted to pile three strangers in my car and take them somewhere. But they were safely waiting in the grass. So I  left once, came back again and checked on her. And said God Bless. In the strange ways of crossing paths with strangers daily, I may never see her beautiful face again. Ever. Our worlds are far apart. Our lives are lived out very differently. I hope my anemic effort to love on her in passing was enough. I long for those quick decisions  made in the middle of honking annoyance to have shown compassion.

September is Blogging Month for Compassion International. I want to make a difference with my writing. I pray that God will use my words to make an impact. How does a mother with a computer and three children, a husband, three dogs and a cat use her words to change hearts.

God can use mothers at home with children. God uses mothers at home with children. And God can use me. It is not because of anything I can do, but my willingness to be obedient and to be used by Him. That is hard to say. It is humbling. While my efforts may feel anemic, His love and His power and His Desire to use each one of  us  for His purposes is supernatural.

And when I in my weakness can’t balance my roles under this roof with my desire to serve beyond my four walls, He in His power strenthens me. Helps balance me. Calls me. Nudges me lovingly. I am weak but He is strong. I have known this. I know this.

I want to go to Haiti in September instead of January. Because now with Isaac the need feels more pressing. More immediate.  I want to call and see if the Doctor heading up the trip has room next month. But unless I hear from Him, I know not to move ahead of His plans and His call.

So I have the privilege of pulling out my little calendar and marking the volleyball and soccer games. And marking the days I plan to write for Compassion. And pray that my young  friend will let me have lunch with her at the middle school.

And  I pray for courage to stop in the middle of the busy road daily to help. To serve in the now. To look in love for ways to show compassion in the now. And to savor like a wafer thin Life-Safer, these moments with my children as we so bitter sweetly move toward an empty nest.

And I pray that I will learn my new neighbor’s first name so that I can be intentional about speaking in love to him. We passed him the other day and I told The Patient One until I learn his name, his name will have to be “Morning”.

There is work to be done at home.

And there are children, like my Compassion Sponsored Child in Peru, who need the love of Jesus today. And there is a grown child waking up in the other room who still needs his mother’s love.

Both, And.

Joining Walk With Him Wednesdays, Unwrapping His Promises and God Bumps and God Incidences.

A Frame, A Lense, And The Eyes of The Heart

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 18 Comments

When I look I see.

When I see I feel.

When I feel what I see when I look is it because the eyes of my heart are soft and tender? Am I looking through the frame of His word? Am I looking through a lense created by His hands, molding and shaping and forming my will and my thoughts.

Whispering gently in my ear is the notion of perspective. It has been for sometime. The title of this blog is viewing life through a lense of grace. So the tapes in my head and the beat of my heart is to the song of perspective. And framing. And viewing.

And yesterday I saw it in a fresh way with a child. It is the children who teach and point and show and bend the heart to truth. It is so often they who press in to the hard places and make them tender, the rough places and make them smooth.

Everytime I hear and respond, I have a choice. And everytime I see and act, I have a choice.

I want to choose well. And so very often I don’t.

But the lessons keep coming and the chances for new mercy and change are ripe for the picking. And I want a basket of juicy and sweet fruit to hang from my arm swaying in sweet love.

One has a challenge with ADHD. So I have a challenge with ADHD. And I can choose the lense of patience, and understanding. If I choose to. And view his heart and life through a beautiful lense of tender mercy, with my momma love.

When I go off into a writer’s imagination and dream, I dream of writing a book on perspective and framing events, and circumstances and the story of our lives with a frame of grace and beauty. Shhhhh, don’t tell anyone. You are the first I have told of this dream. Can you keep it tucked away?

Because each part of the story that has a narrative of pain and challenge, has brought deeper understanding of His charachter and love.In my life. So the eyes that saw hurt or pain or confusion can now frame circumstances in richer understanding. I feel tugs and pulls to write of framing with grace and framing with love. Is it a season for my heart? Most likely. I want to stay there for eternity, so that I can see my world with more compassion, more tenderness, more mercy and more love.

Yesterday I glimpsed with a sharpened lense of grace a child. And a beautiful change. He is Grace. I want to reflect Him more. I want to show more and more and more grace in love to my world. And my child with ADHD is a good starting place. For me.

Because even when I reach down to draw from the springs of empathy and cry out for more empathy and understanding and patience, do I really know the individual struggle and challenges of an ADHD child?But God knows. The number of hairs on his head even, amazing. Amazingly. Beyond a mother’s heart of understanding is the love He has.

Each of us grow and learn down a path that is our very own. I want to go before my child with grace, and sprinkle bread crumbs of patience and understanding on his way.And mark it with compassion. And hem him in with gentleness and mercy. He has one more year at home. I want to end well my journey of his days at home.

I am a miserable failure, broken and banged up on my own.

Mercifully, God goes down these mother roads in tandem with me. And I can look at mothering through the lense of the cross.

And the road of friend, and wife and sister and child. And neighbor and writer and blogger and each and every role He allows me the privilege of playing.

Praying for His grace as we start this “new year” of school and life.

And as always, grateful and privileged to have you on this journey.

And it would be a joy to have you come to my facebook page, wynnegraceappears on FB (scroll to the bottom of this page and click over). Thank you in advance. We can chat over there some too.That would be lovely.

If you are on twitter, I am at @graceappears on twitter.See you there?

Thanksgiving In July

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 9 Comments

They move from event to event, stoic, chin-up with game faces squarely on.

Determined, fierce-competitors, steely-glass eyes starring the moment directly in the face without blinking. Unflinching. Taking on the challenges with grace.Brave. Unwavering. Strong. And appearing to all the world as though they have no fear.

Mighty warriors on the world stage. Grace on display in diminuative packages. And they amaze.

I watch these young Olympians strong-jawed and graceful, gymnasts who take my breath away with their poise, beauty,and skill packed in lovely small packages of pure muscle.

They are like marathon runners pacing their emotion. Pacing the celebration and victorious grins and all-out over-joyed thanksgiving for their wins, the milestones.

Because until they are finished, they must pack their bags and unwrap their wrist-wrappings and move to the next big event.

But I am not an Olympic gymnast. Very far from it. But sometimes if I am not careful I will move fists clenched and jaw tight from one event to another without stopping to rest in moments of thanksgiving and praise for God’s goodness.

And I have seen God’s goodness in many areas of my life. So I have to stop. And be still for long moments of the heart. To let myself catch up with my living. To let the soul soak in the worth savoring. Because I have seen break-through’s and they are worthy of noting with praising lips.

They are worthy of big Alleluias and Hallelujahs back to the Giver. They deserve a return of praise. They require a thank you note of the heart.

If I am not careful I will race ahead without engaging my heart and soul in a long grateful embrace. The moment worth the long savor risks being passed over. The answered prayer of the heart and lips risks going by without an outpouring of gratitude.

I will rush ahead of myself and God into the forward moving moments of life. Without rightful praise. Without rightful thanksgiving. Without giving the breakthrough its long celebration of being born into my life. I risk being stalled out and stuck in a place of forward moving living which races into the next without pausing and looking long on the beautiful miraculous milestones of God gifts of the now.

The now is so deserving. The right this minute is so worthy of marking and noting. And of celebrating.

I see these as the happy middles. No longer wanting to desire only the happy endings in life, but rather finding joy in the happy middle moments. The good stuff on the way. The stumble upon small things which are truly grand. Like the small Olympic gymnasts we pack a pint sized punch, these little life-moments are grander and more glorious than we often give them credit for. They are huge if we but stop and marvel.

Just because its good. And just because The Giver of Good Gifts, a holy God, has given with and in Love.

If I miss the opportunity to walk into His presence with praise, I miss a holy moment of intimacy with God. And we were made by Him to praise Him. The praiseworthy moments then, are just what we were created for.

And some just seem due a longer pause, a wider smile, and an even more joyful heart. I don’t know why they seem to stand out, accept that when you journey with Him and cry out to Him, and pray to Him, there are moments which feel so glorious. Maybe its the ones we thought we’d never live to see. Or maybe its the ones that come after long periods of drought or what feels like extra-long waiting. Maybe its the ones which look so transformative as to have God’s mark, His handiwork so beautifully displayed that we are in awe. Of His Goodness. And His Love. Maybe it’s the ones that have a bit of the prodigal son peppered in the narrative.

That God in His mercy works beautiful gifts into  every day is worth an outpouring of gratitude every day. But sometimes it feels hand-stamped,hand-delivered right to the door of our hearts. Because it is.

It always is when it comes from God. And thanks be to Him, the Giver of Good Gifts.

Counting gifts today. And it truly feels like Thanksgiving in July. And grateful to Ann and her book 1000 Gifts for helping point me in a grateful direction of the heart.

*a beautiful worship service yesterday with glorious music and a very very funny guest preacher. Joy in the laughter echoing all through the sanctuary.

*a transformation in a relationship. Restoration, love, and tenderness.

*a moment to mark and celebrate a moment with a mother in church which involved seeing great things in the lives of our sons.Seeing her beautiful tears of joy at God’s hand in our lives. A gift.

*Seeing my man/child in his new home loving His job and seeing glimpses into his future with his career. Feeling God’s hand of protection and love on his life.

*Hearing my middle son say how much he enjoyed our family day together, after not wanting to participate. Hearing him proclaim the joy in the day. Amazing. Grace. A mother’s heart hears how very much we are wired to be in relationship.

* Four of the five riding back from Charleston and my daughter looking out at the marsh and marking the beauty. Then, passing the river and marking the beauty. Her words of longing to be on the beautiful water. Seeing her mark beauty.

* Hearing my son sing in church.

*watching the Olympics with my family

*Mother-daughter time of fellowship with friends laughing and savoring and spending hours, the four, for a celebration of birthdays. It is good. Friendship.

*Finally telling my husband how very badly my heart desires a literal white-picket fence, and having him sweetly receive, and try to see where and how he can provide my silly heart’s desire for one.

*A loving text message filled with gratitude from someone in my life, early this morning. A welcomed-Monday morning sight for these eyes.

*Seeing the joy in a woman’s heart upon receiving home-communion yesterday. Seeing  the power in breaking the communion wafer for someone for the first time. The beauty. The holy of the moment. Grateful for the opportunity to serve. Seeing her touched by the love of Jesus.

Writing in community today with Ann, who is helping me develop a heart of gratitude. And I am joining with Michelle at Graceful today.