2013

  

Hello January 1^st, I hope you have seriously reconsidered they type of year you bring in light of last years’ damage. 2013 was kind of a bust. I can only remember one year of my life bringing more distress and it was roughly a decade ago. I suppose for that kind of reprieve, I should be thankful. I’m just not there yet. I’m trying to get up from the dust and reawaken a soul that was nearly lost this year. So goodbye 2013, you won’t be missed. My one hope is that the death you brought would birth new life inside of me soon.

 This time last year was the eve of loss. I could not know how much at the time. When I began to lose, I guess something inside of me thought that loss was equated a threat to my very person. I remember the first waves of loss that began to rush over me. It wasn't just the loss of a grandfather. It was the loss of ideals and pictures of control. Ideas of how I should feel when a grandparent passes. Pictures of feeling more in control and at peace.  My emotions were ill-fit for the pace of my life. If there is any part of me that gets the brunt of neglect, it is my emotions. I didn't have time to lose control. Work and faith and mothering and being a faithful spouse and being a student, training for a marathon all required a certain cadence and energy that I could not give another person, including myself. I did not have time to stop and deal with my heart. Sit tight, I told her, you will have to wait until I have time to deal with your disorder. And January 21st came and went and I kept moving. Moving past the funeral, past my feelings and on to my next demand.

I remember jokingly telling my grandpa Joe that he was not allowed to die as we stood at the graveside of my grandpa McCord's burial. My grandmother doting over my song at the funeral and casually planning for me to sing at hers one day...I was serious about my orders...No one else can die.... I can't handle the loss. Please consider my sanity and stay with me another year. But May 23rd came and loss was mine again. I can't handle it, I told God. Strengthening my grip on all the shaky pieces of my life, I told my heart to sit tight, I would get to her soon enough. Even missing the funeral because there were already wonderful 5-year anniversary plans that demanded to be met. "He would have wanted you to keep your plans." my grandmother said. And she was right. But my heart was still waiting on me. I brushed past her again. I will get to you. 

I have been mentally trying to resolve myself for months. There was even a lingering conclusion type blog that is dangling in the draft folder of my phone. I could not finish it because I wasn't at a place of closer. I had stopped short of despairing of life but I could not make meaning of the pain so I continued on my journey away from the pain into a place of total feelinglessness. (Not a word but go with me)

I'm kind of a conclusions person. I always want to know: What did we learn? How did this help? What can we change? But that kind of reflective learning requires a heart that is alive. And that is my problem. 2013 tried to kill me and I was a willing participant in the process. What I did not realize in the participation was that  I was risking was the death of my heart. See, hearts can't wait forever. I asked my heart to do something it just couldn't do.  

There is a researcher (who I adore), named Brene Brown. In a ted talk (found here) she talks about the important connection that vulnerability and emotions have to being alive. She says, "you cannot selectively numb emotion. You can't say, here's the bad stuff. Here's vulnerability, here's grief, here's shame, here's fear, here's disappointment. I don't want to feel these. I'm going to have a couple of beers and a banana nut muffin.  I don't want to feel these. You can't numb those hard feelings without numbing the other affects, our emotions. You cannot selectively numb. So when we numb those, we numb joy, we numb gratitude, we numb happiness. And then we are miserable, and we are looking for purpose and meaning, and then we feel vulnerable, so then we have a couple of beers and a banana nut muffin. And it becomes this dangerous cycle."  I have shared this talk so many times and referenced it and warned against the danger of being numb and here I have fully engaged in a numbing defense. The power of which was so strong it is hard for me to unravel. I haven't turned to banana muffins or beer but I have turned to full on stoicism and it's choking me out. 

The verse that has been calling to me from my neglected bible is this one, "The thief comes only to steal, kill and destroy. I have have come that you might have life and have it to the full." John 10:10

So 2014 finds me in a kind of come and get me kind of place. I have had all the numbness I can stand. I am tired of holding all the pieces together. I've seen behind the curtain of control and it is a lie. I want to be alive. I want to feel the fullness of life even if it excruciatingly painful but I especially want to feel the joy. I want to reject the promise of comfort that being numb lies about bringing. Come and get me Lord. Bring life from death as you always do. Water the dry places and break up the hardened ground. I want to live. 

The Feeling of Learning

May I tell you about one of my favorite feelings in the world? It's learning. I know that it makes me sound like a total nerd for putting this out there. It's ok, I own that persona... no need to call me out on it. But seriously, I love the feeling that comes with learning something new. We get little mists of this feeling when we learn new trivia or read a short article on twitter. A little surge of excitement...retweet, text a friend..."hey random stranger, did you know??"....

But what I am talking about is the feeling you get when you have been submerged in a concept or process emerge on the other side of a learning journey with something new...perhaps even as someone new.

I am sure I'm not alone in that not every concept automatically 'clicks.' Before the clicking....the struggle that leads to the lightbulb...that is the learning journey. A lot of people give up before they get to the aha moment. This can be in school, in relationships, even spiritually. Totally honest, I have wanted to give up before that moment a lot when it comes to mastering a concept. But that lightbulb moment, it keeps me going. It is the little reward at the end of the road. It is the taste of personal satisfaction.

I enter into this experience a lot and the sequence is always the same. (Perhaps you can identify)
1. Great enthusiasm for the new thing I am learning
2. Waning confidence that I can do or learn said thing
3. Great frustration in pursuit of just which way is up
4. Feeling of floating in a sea of confusion
5. An inching sense that there might be order coming
6. Bam! A moment of aha.
7. The triumphant feeling of learning!!

In my mind, the learning feeling plays out like the end of a great movie. I have overcome...there is music (Rocky) and sunshine and wind blowing my hair and cardigan (obviously) as I walk down the sidewalk. And I am smiling.

That my friends is why I learn. Learning is living.

It is quiet

I feel suspended in this. Like I am floating in the ocean. The quiet hum of an old air conditioner, the sturdy presence of aged books, oak tables and no person in sight. A smile on my lips, I am at peace alone with you.

I wouldn’t know the beauty of silence if I did not live in noise. To some people noiselessness is uncomfortable, scary even. Not to me. I know you are here in the silence. I can feel you near when it is this quiet. There has not been any sound so comforting as this hush. Because in this indulgent space, I am still and my heart is at rest. There is no noise, without or within. Still. Focused. Aware. Thankful.

He is gone

My grandpa died today. In this whole short but painful process it is like I never realized people die. Of course I see death and hate it but most of the time it is the tragic kind. The kind of death where it is okay to say "This should not have happened." But now I am looking at the end of life kind of dying. The kind where you say, "They lived a good, long life." The kind that is just supposed to be a part of life...a passing from this place. And instead of feeling at peace, I feel robbed. This can't be the plan. Surely there was going to be an exception this time.

But death comes to all of us. There is only that sure thing to life.

So why do I feel robbed? It could be deep selfishness...OR it could be the original Imago Dei in me, reaching out for what really should have been. We were not created to die. We were created to live. Death is the cold reminder of sin's dark stain upon creation. That voice within me saying it should not be so is my eternal self, groaning for things to be made right again..to be garden-like again.

My grandpa is experiencing this full renewal today. He is basking in the restorative light of God's presence and he is whole. He is whole in ways that he once was on this earth; he is whole in ways he never was. He is free from all of the trappings of sinful flesh that we seek to nullify on this side.

Death did not win today. Christ Jesus did. That same Jesus who has set my sweet grandpa's spirit inside a new body today is the one who will strengthen me until I am in the same place.

So I realize that you are generally supposed to do a year in review in January. Since I can't get it off my mind, I will go ahead and tell you guys (whoever you may be)...late though I am.

For a while now, my years have had themes to them. If I am good, I write them down but mostly, I notice in December what it was and smile. 2011 had a distinct theme, one that is extremely important to me because it is the culmination of years and years of walking with the Lord. The theme was this: Driving out Fear. "(See 1 John)

1 John 4:18 has always been kind of a mystery to me. "Perfect love drives out fear." It evokes more questions than answers for me. Who's perfect love? God's? Can people love perfectly? This verse has been echoing in my heart for years....years! If this is true God, why am I still so fearful? Fearful of dumb stuff and legitimate stuff. My heart was one big field of opportunity for the enemy. Thus, my loving Jesus set out to eradicate that weakness for my good, by calling me to face my fears.

So here it goes, the big lessons from ordinary things. Things God asked me to do that most of you can do without blinking an eye. That is why my journey has been visible only to me, the Lord and a handful of people who were fortunate enough to see fear roar its ugly head in the form of a breakdown.

Biggest fear.....drumroll.........Entertaining people at my house.

I can remember the first time that God called me to work on this fear. "Share with God's people who are in need. Practice hospitality." Romans 12:13. That's not the only verse that gives hospitality as a command. Type hospitality into your bible search engine and just see how many times it shows up. It's a lot. Every time I would roll over this concept, I inwardly winced. I thought, oh gosh, not that. I can give, volunteer, keep the nursery, share the gospel, disciple someone, but please don't make me open my home.

My dinner club friends (Shawnee DC shout out) can attest to this fear. That was step one to God removing fear in my heart. I would go to dinner club, once a week with some lovely ladies connected with OBU. Occassionally, it would be my turn to host. I would have to have a pep talk on the phone with my mom before any of these occassions. I dreaded everything: cooking, greeting the first person who came, small talk that depended on me to carry it, the fact that none of my dishes matched, everything. The only thing I was comfortable with was when it was time for  everyone to go home and they all politely left at once. Then my heart would return to normal. A little reference, that began in 2004.

The second place that God began to pull away this fear was in my jewelry business. In 2008, I started selling Silpada (LOVE IT). The only problem is that this business requires home parties. My stomach dropped at the thought. I can remember my first party. I invited everyone I knew, got great invitations, picked food that I knew would work, cleaned my house and of course, had my mom and sister Leah come so that I would have a safety net. I vividly remember talking to them and saying, "What if nobody comes? That will be so embarrassing! What if they don't have fun and then they stop liking me?" Yes, I was 26 years old and not 14. I am telling you, this fear was deep and intense. Short version, the party was great fun and I got lots of great jewelry and made new friends.

As much as selling the jewelry pushed on my insecurities, inching me closer to God's perfect love, it was not the kill shot. Jewelry got to be this really fun buffer. If there was an awkward pause, there was always the jewelry to stand in between us. God still wanted more from me. He wanted me to have people over for dinner. It was a clear, undeniable call in my heart. I started small with friends who knew about my fear and I knew wouldn't judge. Eventually I got braver but not too much. I was averaging 1.5 dinner parties a year.

Then in January of 2011, Terry and I sat down to do our yearly goals. One of those lists included people that we would have over for dinner. I wish I could say that I had all of them over...I can't. However, I can say that I had my inlaws, my neighbors, good friends and lots and lots of college students. I even go into the habit of having a group of college students over every Sunday for a while. I would try daring new recipes. I made Collard Greens.....and they were delicious. With each Sunday, I could feel the grip of that fear loosen until I realized I was free.

You are probably thinking that this is a little stupid and why is it important for me to get rid of that kind of fear? If you don't like having people over, just don't. Right? Wrong. The reason it was so important for me to conquer that fear was because people need community. I need community and they do. Every person, no matter their response to other people, needs community. Community is most easily created by engaging in common activities. What could be more common than your dining room table? People need to be loved and God had given me a great gift of a big house and money for food. The only thing standing in my way of loving people was my fear of doing so in my home.

What are you afraid of? Let God press on it and break it open, I dare you. Perfect love drives out fear and allows us to drive out the fear in others.

Love you guys! Who is up for dinner? :)

In a world that is growing increasingly hostile to the true gospel, I find myself tempted to compromise. It is like a centripetal force pulling me in with the movement of my environment. The crazy part is, I find myself wanting to shroud that compromise in religious language.

I have always prided myself in standing boldly for truth. The problem with me however was that in that posture, I was not loving. God worked on me so much to understand the importance of loving people. He drilled this verse into my heart: Instead, speaking the truth in love, we will in all things grow up into him who is the Head, that is, Christ. (Ephesians 4:15 NIV84). In the last several years, I have grown so compassionate toward people. I find myself having empathy for people that I would have one time judged. I have often remarked that I don't know who I am anymore, I am just so 'nice'.  It is foreign to the old me. Don't get me wrong, I am glad for the softness I have found in my heart. I am glad that I see the fruit of love but it does leave me worried. This culture does not know love. What if I am confused too? I have seen that no matter how much I am trying to have a biblical view of an issue, I am still affected by culture's sway. When I was wielding truth like a weapon, I felt safe. It felt good to know I was absolutely right. But this love thing, it feels dangerous. Have I become so familiar with it that I too have lost the biblical definition of love? Have I lost the difficult kind of love that speaks the truth compassionately, even when it hurts? Have I grown afraid of boldness? Am I loving God and pleasing him with my love or am I living a compromised faith that is culturally approved? I don't know. Not for sure. But I do know that I have a burning desire for my love for people to be married to truth so that I don't confuse them with approval calling it love. Jesus love for us was so dangerous and so full of integrity. He never compromised truth in the name of love, yet he never wielded truth in a way that sacrificed love. I want to live like that.

The Birth Story...

Now this should be neither graphic or disturbing. I have read some of these that gave me nightmares, so given my squeamish self...That is not the case with my story.

I was not one to have an elaborate birth plan. To be honest, I am still not sure what the necessary parts of a birth plan are. I do know that this is the part of pregnancy where you say yes or no to an epidural. For me, that was a no brainer. Pain?? No thank you. In essence, my birth plan was to avoid hearing any of the reasons that people decide to forego the nectar of the anesthesiologist. I did this successfully, almost. I did have two college girls tell me something about disfigurement and paralysis, but I chose to dismiss it as inexperience and horror stories.

I suppose I had a couple of expectations. One was that he would come early/on-time (I do have a schedule you know). The other was that I would have a dramatic, middle of the night contraction story. In this mental montage, I had tons of adrenaline and my hair/makeup looked great. That did not happen.

I was induced on 3/13/12 at 5:30 in the morning. Also known as my husband's 28th birthday. When we got to the room and the nurses began to give me instructions I started to get really nervous. What am I doing? Why am I doing this? Oh my gosh (repeat 10times). I was dialated to a three like I had been for three weeks.
They started the pitosin and I immediately began contracting (according to the machine).

Terry and I started the latest episode of The Voice on Hulu while we waited to progress. Periodically, a nurse would come in and ask, "can you feel that?"  Each time, my answer was no. Apparently my contractions looked pretty intense on the monitor. They let me know that I could have the epidural any time I wanted it. However, since I am afraid of all pain, I wanted to wait until my labor pains were greater than getting a big needle stuck in my back.

I was there by about 9:45am, at which point I ever so politely demanded/requested my epidural. While we waited my mom and sisters took turns massaging my back as I writhed in pain. Terry silently let me break all the bones in his hands.My contractions were one right on top of the other so that there were no breaks in between.

At 10:30, the angel with the epidural arrived. Once those drugs hit my system, I was praising the Lord for everyone in the hospital. Why anyone wants to do this without drugs is still beyond me.

 Around noon, the nurse checked and I had progressed a little but was on track to deliver around 6pm that evening. I prepared myself for that mentally. (the exit strategy for babies has always baffled and terrified me)

1:30pm, the doctor dismissed everyone so she could check me again. She looked at me and told me it was time to do this thing. I began to freak out a little. It's not 6pm!?! I'm not ready!

I asked for my mom and she arrived as my transformer bed morphed into a baby receiving station. Terry was already in the room since I hadn't let go of his hand since 5:30 that morning. The Dr. began to give me instructions about pulling my knees up and pushing. 


After the first big push, I asked them,  "are you sure this is going to work?" I reminded Myself that women have been doing this for centuries. There was probably someone delivering a baby in Africa sans pain meds as I lay there.

I continued pushing. "Oh! There's his head!! Oh! Look at that hair! Do you want a mirror.?" The doc says. Heavens no! I don't want to see that, I replied.  I kept contracting and pushing along with the counting nurse.

My mom said at some point my face shifted from doubt to determination and she knew I would deliver him soon. With the last push, I could feel his little legs kick out and I was finished. I have never been more surprised or overjoyed to see something I knew was coming. As soon as I saw him, I burst into tears and looked up at Terry, who's eyes were also brimming with tears. We did it. We have a baby!

As they cleaned him up and stitched me, I watched him in amazement. Oh my gosh, there is my own little human.  8 pounds, 8 ounces of little baby. How did that happen? In the same astonished moment, I felt stronger, more alive and more respectful of every mother on the planet.

 I watched my proud husband admiring his son, knowing I was watching a wonderful dad already. It was a precious moment. I am still collecting our precious moments. I have grown to love and own the title I earned that day: mom to Myles Solomon Rimmer.