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WE ARE MORE THAN CONQUERORS!

(Written 9/12/20)

Yesterday was the 19-year remembrance of the terrorist attacks. It’s hard to forget those things that seem unimaginable. My mother’s generation can very clearly recall where they were and what they were doing when they first heard that President Kennedy had been shot. My generation will remember the confusion we felt as we went to work. The attack and the news on the attack unfolded as we clocked in for work that morning. By the end of the day, I was genuinely worried about the kind of world my daughter would be born into only nine days later.

Nineteen years later and we’re under the attack of an unexpected enemy that we are only now beginning to understand. What we do know for certain is that many lives have been lost to a virus pandemic. COVID-19 has changed the way we do life, essentially hijacking our day-to-day activities, from seeing a movie to going to church, work, or school. It’s also revealed some of the best and some of the worst in out humanity.

Australia had already had one of the most devastating fires they’d ever seen, killer hornets were on their way (which brought back the memory of every killer bee movie I’d seen when I was much younger), the black community and their supporters determined that George Floyd absolutely would not be just another death this time. Megan and Harry said farewell to the royal life, that “little rocket man” was MIA for awhile, and the democrats just couldn’t seem to get rid of President Trump no matter how hard they tried. And they tried!

All in all, 2020 has become a good year to forget! And we’re not done yet. Even here in south central Minnesota, Summer has packed her bags and left without giving Fall a proper pass of the baton!

It’s no surprise that Christians are wondering if these are the end times. Is Christ ready for his Second Coming? None one knows. Not even Christ himself.

The other day, I was listening to a sermon from Alistair Begg. He was addressing the concerns of his audience. Just how bad does it have to be in order for it to be bad enough? (And remember, we’re looking at mankind’s words and deeds; God also sees the cruelty and utter depravity of our hearts.) Begg supposed it was something we were all wondering, especially “in light of recent events.” I naturally assumed it was one of his most current sermons, but it wasn’t. The recent events he referred to were the bombing in Paris and so many other terrorist activities. Apparently, things weren’t bad enough in November of 2015. The genocides in Germany weren’t bad enough. WWI, the “war to end all wars,”  wasn’t bad enough. They weren’t bad enough so many times when humanity felt it was hanging by a very thin thread.

I don’t know what “bad enough” will look like, but I’m in no hurry to find out. I think the only thing staying God’s hand has to be that “The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. Instead he is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance.” (2 Peter 3:9, NIV). I have n o doubt the heart of our Abba is breaking, but although he knows he wins in the end, he plans to lose as few of his creations as possible to the enemy.  That can only mean one thing….

We’re still at war!

Brothers and sisters in Christ,  I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling an urgency to take my Armor of God out of storage and check out the user’s manual.

Those of us – like me – who have been content to have heard the stories about God, Jesus, and The Holy Spirit, may want to get to know the Creator behind those stories more intimately. The Lord is our Shepherd, our God is our true north, and The Holy Spirit will tell us what is truth amid the lies and the “not-technically-wrong” things we are told.

While I’m as worried as the next person, I’m even more concerned about why the world and those in it are even able to entertain an ugly indifference to the pain and humanity of others, to stop seeing sin as sin but rather “an issue” to be discussed in therapy and normalized by advocates of aberrant acts against the weaker population.

Then I remember the words of a young man I met in our office. He was in summer ministry.  The riots in Minneapolis that followed the death of George Floyd were only a few days old, and I was interested to hear what this young man, who was as dark as I am pale, had to say about the situation. 

The first thing he did was remind me that Ephesians 6:12 tells us, “For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.” The problem isn’t a president or protesters. The problem is the enemy whose dominion is the Earth and on it. It’s become too easy to stand aside as Satan takes what he has no right to. It’s too easy to see the horrifying things people do to each other and shrug because we don’t know what to do about it. It’s too easy to feel defeated when one school shooting is followed by three more. What can we possibly do about it?

I’m not so sure we are called to solve the problems of the world. Perhaps we’re called to trust deeply the One who can solve those problems and to kneel in unceasing prayer. We do what we can and then stand. It’s time for us to protect ourselves with the Armor of God, be familiar with its defensive weapons, and love others enough to pray for them, their protection and salvation. And we hold up the hands of our prayer warriors and encourage our brothers and sisters in Christ. 

If this isn’t the end game, then the clock’s still ticking, the score isn’t final, and we can’t let the enemy act like some Pokemon character who’s hell bent on catching them all. It may be that those of us – like myself – who have been overly focused on the pains of our individual pasts and the cutting insults from others, get in the game.

You are loved! We need to accept that so we can move on. Some of us may need to put some ice on our injury, wrap it up, and play hurt. I honestly don’t intend to disrespect what anyone has endured or experienced in physical or emotional assaults. I’ve had to escape my childhood home, myself. I’m still angry and scared and hurt. I’m still working on forgiveness. But Satan is more than happy to let me lick my wounds for another 10 years if that’s what I want to do. It keeps me distracted and he doesn’t have to lift a finger to keep me on the bench. But I know that my pain doesn’t compare to the pain others are living in now and will feel for eternity if I sit out the game. Personally, I know I need to stop acting like my past is more important than someone else’s future.

While there’s still time in the game, let’s suit up! It’s not over ’til it’s over. Our victory is guaranteed. Our comfort is not, but our victory is. The question is, which rules are you playing by? Those meant for Satan’s dominion or those in the heavenly realm? And just how many souls are we willing to lose because the enemy “just wanted it more than we did”? Is that really going to be our post-game defense for losing? Unfortunately it’s the sad truth, but it’s one of the lamest excuses we could hope to use when we face God!

God loves his children dearly – those who have accepted his Son and those who haven’t yet. We don’t have to like them all, but we do need to love them enough to fight for them. Just remember, you didn’t deserve your salvation either; but you were still loved enough to be offered it.

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WELCOME TO YOUR NEW NORMAL! (for now, anyway)

This coronavirus sure has been something, huh? As men and women, we’ve grown very comfortable with the idea that we have control over so many parts of our lives – both personally and as a community. We’re so confident that we can can predict, plan, and prepare for every eventuality. That helps us feel safe, doesn’t it? And then something like this virus comes along and puts us in our place within the cosmic universe.

Day by day, hour by hour, one public notice at a time, we’ve begun to realize that we’ve been sucker punched by an unprecedented unknown that has had every medical team across the map scrambling to, at the very least, identify it. We didn’t have time for the learning curve this virus demands. Now, we’re are biting at the leash that’s keeping us at home, away from anyone who wasn’t already living with us.

Suddenly, nothing looks familiar. Not work, hanging out, shopping, church, school, weekly Bible study groups. Nothing. And just when you get bored and think about going to a movie or having lunch with a friend, you’re reminded that you can’t.

I have a daughter who will be graduating in May, though we have no idea what that will look like. (My money’s on a Power Point presentation.) But Maggie also works about 30 hours a week at Walmart and has seen just about any version of civilized humanity you can imagine. A couple of weeks ago, she developed an upper respiratory infection that kept her home for a week. Just as she was ready to return to work, my husband found he had walking pneumonia and strep. We’ve become acutely aware of the choices we must make to not go to work and risk infecting someone else and lowering their immune system, or to bring home something to our family while our immune systems are weaker.

Minnesota’s Governor Walz pointed out a significant source of frustration for many of us. Yes, it’s obviously frustrating to be stuck in the house, not knowing when we’ll ever get back to our routine. But what’s even more frustrating for us is realizing that the most powerful and helpful thing we can do now is nothing. If our area was facing flooding, we could sandbag for days. If we were surrounded by snow, we could shovel. If a neighbor had a death in the family, we could make enough hot dishes (that’s “casserole” for the rest of you ;D) to fill a freezer or two. If someone needed help paying medical bills, we could hold a fundraiser.

But right now, we will do our best by doing nothing and going nowhere.

Life hasn’t come to a complete standstill, though, has it? The school year isn’t over, so our students and their educational staff are getting schooled in distance learning. Zoom is making sure it’s business as usual for businesses and groups and families. Church services are available online, even making it possible for church members to comment in real time and engage with each other during the service (which would otherwise be frowned upon inside the building itself).

We’ve become an international community, and that’s the very thing that has allowed the coronavirus to become a pandemic. We also have an incredible amount of technology available to us, which has helped us avoid closing up shop completely. No, our best efforts to do business as usually has not been smooth or pretty because we weren’t given time to prepare, and some businesses are unfortunately closed for now. On the other hand, there are those businesses who have reinvented themselves in remarkable ways – some by changing how they do business and others by changing what they do as a business!

I genuinely believe our strength can be found in how adaptable we are, how inventive we are, how creative we are, how very resilient we are. Sure, some of us might hoard and stockpile toilet paper, leaving others without. Some of us may buy tons of hand sanitizer and uncharitably try to sell it for a profit. But at the very heart of our humanity are those who are at their absolute best!

John Kennedy is credited with saying, ““The Chinese use two brush strokes to write the word ‘crisis.’ One brush stroke stands for danger; the other for opportunity. In a crisis, be aware of the danger–but recognize the opportunity.”

This pandemic is a crisis to be sure! I think we’re beginning to adopt a healthy respect for the danger this virus presents. I also think we’re beginning to see the opportunities it presents.

We’re being given the opportunity to evaluate and reimagine our world and the way we live in it. How do we learn? How do we work? How do we worship? How do we get together with friends and family? How do we comfort each other when a loved one has died? How to we do anything?

Do we need to go to a school building to learn things from a teacher and book? Does all of our work need to be done inside a building? Can we only worship if we go to a church building every Sunday?

In the past, the answer was a resounding YES! The only way a child was going to learn was to go where the information was and receive it from the teacher. (You might enjoy this thought-provoking TED Talk regarding this.) Today, we don’t lack information! We need critical and discerning minds to determine is true and what is almost true. We need creative minds to apply what is learned. Which means it might be time to recognize the power of introversion or attention deficit and invite them to the table – but only if the introverts want to hang out with the extroverts around the table! ;D

In the past, our businesses made things, tangible things made with machines inside buildings that were absolutely too heavy to move. We still do that today, but we’ve also made a business of ideas that can be shared from anywhere in the world. We can hold meetings in our homes wearing a shirt and jacket on top and comfy fleece and bunny slippers beneath the table – or a trendy tutu like John Krasinski recently wore during one episode of SGN (Some Good News) when he and the cast of Hamilton surprised a fangirl.

And worship? How sad to think we can’t worship, honor, and love our Creator only if we get dressed up and go to a building. Our Father is everywhere we are, all the time. He takes up residence in us by means of the Holy Spirit. Still, I am missing face-to-face fellowship with my church family, or anyone who wants to share their love of and appreciation of our Father. I believe it’s good and right to gather when we can – even if there are only two of us and we’re in the pet food aisle at the grocery store – once we’re allowed to get closer than 6 feet from each other again.

This crisis has also given us the opportunity to take inventory of our lives and adjust our perspective. For example, self-isolation has given me a chance to take a really, really good look at my house. When we bought our home 10 years ago, it came with a three-season porch. Over those ten years, we’ve used it for general storage and as a cooling unit for pop and food in the spring and fall. At one point, the rubber roof had been damaged and rain had soaked part of the roof, leaving pieces of the ceiling just hanging there. They’re still hanging there. In all of those years, we have never actually looked at the work it would take to make it usable for its intended purpose – a place for us to enjoy! This past week, we finally began the process of deconstruction that should help is in a better reconstruction, and as you may guess, it’s old and it’s gross! But all it will take to make it better is an affordable list of supplies, some elbow grease, and some time. For 10 years, our windows have had glazing that’s fallen off and collected at the bottom or is currently curling up to die. These are Frankenstein windows – if you’ve ever had an old house with windows and their hardware painted shut, you know just what I mean! But today, I know they can be restored!

What about you? In addition to the Honey-Do List, have you taken a look at your life and realized there are some things you miss greatly and will treasure all the more when this pandemic passes? Are there things that had kept you incredibly busy that you can’t currently do – like running your kids to practices and games for every sport or activity your child was signed up for? Have you remembered how much you enjoy reading and plan to intentionally carve out more time for it? Are you reacquainting yourself with your spouse and children?

Have you found that Easter is more than the clothes, Easter egg hunts, going to Grandma’s and getting your child’s picture taken with the Easter bunny when you’re the only one who wants a traditional Easter photo – even if it turns out like this one? This is my favorite. Maggie wouldn’t stop crying, Sophie was completely done with the whole thing, and if you look close enough, you may even see the agonized scowl of the Easter bunny himself. (Sure, I could have put an end to the agony, but we’d already stood in line for 45 minutes and I’m no quitter!) Just be careful about saying this was the year we didn’t have Easter.

Yes, it’s important to be cautious and follow the lead of those in a position to inform and guide us. Being cautious and careful is smart. And don’t worry because when God doesn’t protect or prevent the way we think he should, he will provide.

Above all, please don’t miss the opportunity to take inventory and reimagine your world! You never know when something completely unimaginable is exactly what we desperately need.

Resurrection of Jesus Christ by Vintage Works (2009)

This coronavirus sure has been something, huh? As men and women, we’ve grown very comfortable with the idea that we have control over so many parts of our lives – both personally and as a community. We’re so confident that we can can predict, plan, and prepare for every eventuality. That helps us feel safe, doesn’t it? And then something like this virus comes along and puts us in our place within the cosmic universe.

Day by day, hour by hour, one public notice at a time, we’ve begun to realize that we’ve been sucker punched by an unprecedented unknown that has had every medical team across the map scrambling to, at the very least, identify it. We didn’t have time for the learning curve this virus demands. Now, we’re are biting at the leash that’s keeping us at home, away from anyone who wasn’t already living with us.

Suddenly, nothing looks familiar. Not work, hanging out, shopping, church, school, weekly Bible study groups. Nothing. And just when you get bored and think about going to a movie or having lunch with a friend, you’re reminded that you can’t.

I have a daughter who will be graduating in May, though we have no idea what that will look like. (My money’s on a Power Point presentation.) But Maggie also works about 30 hours a week at Walmart and has seen just about any version of civilized humanity you can imagine. A couple of weeks ago, she developed an upper respiratory infection that kept her home for a week. Just as she was ready to return to work, my husband found he had walking pneumonia and strep. We’ve become acutely aware of the choices we must make to not go to work and risk infecting someone else and lowering their immune system, or to bring home something to our family while our immune systems are weaker.

Minnesota’s Governor Walz pointed out a significant source of frustration for many of us. Yes, it’s obviously frustrating to be stuck in the house, not knowing when we’ll ever get back to our routine. But what’s even more frustrating for us is realizing that the most powerful and helpful thing we can do now is nothing. If our area was facing flooding, we could sandbag for days. If we were surrounded by snow, we could shovel. If a neighbor had a death in the family, we could make enough hot dishes (that’s “casserole” for the rest of you ;D) to fill a freezer or two. If someone needed help paying medical bills, we could hold a fundraiser.

But right now, we will do our best by doing nothing and going nowhere.

Life hasn’t come to a complete standstill, though, has it? The school year isn’t over, so our students and their educational staff are getting schooled in distance learning. Zoom is making sure it’s business as usual for businesses and groups and families. Church services are available online, even making it possible for church members to comment in real time and engage with each other during the service (which would otherwise be frowned upon inside the building itself).

We’ve become an international community, and that’s the very thing that has allowed the coronavirus to become a pandemic. We also have an incredible amount of technology available to us, which has helped us avoid closing up shop completely. No, our best efforts to do business as usually has not been smooth or pretty because we weren’t given time to prepare, and some businesses are unfortunately closed for now. On the other hand, there are those businesses who have reinvented themselves in remarkable ways – some by changing how they do business and others by changing what they do as a business!

I genuinely believe our strength can be found in how adaptable we are, how inventive we are, how creative we are, how very resilient we are. Sure, some of us might hoard and stockpile toilet paper, leaving others without. Some of us may buy tons of hand sanitizer and uncharitably try to sell it for a profit. But at the very heart of our humanity are those who are at their absolute best!

John Kennedy is credited with saying, ““The Chinese use two brush strokes to write the word ‘crisis.’ One brush stroke stands for danger; the other for opportunity. In a crisis, be aware of the danger–but recognize the opportunity.”

This pandemic is a crisis to be sure! I think we’re beginning to adopt a healthy respect for the danger this virus presents. I also think we’re beginning to see the opportunities it presents.

We’re being given the opportunity to evaluate and reimagine our world and the way we live in it. How do we learn? How do we work? How do we worship? How do we get together with friends and family? How do we comfort each other when a loved one has died? How to we do anything?

Do we need to go to a school building to learn things from a teacher and book? Does all of our work need to be done inside a building? Can we only worship if we go to a church building every Sunday?

In the past, the answer was a resounding YES! The only way a child was going to learn was to go where the information was and receive it from the teacher. (You might enjoy this thought-provoking TED Talk regarding this.) Today, we don’t lack information! We need critical and discerning minds to determine is true and what is almost true. We need creative minds to apply what is learned. Which means it might be time to recognize the power of introversion or attention deficit and invite them to the table – but only if the introverts want to hang out with the extroverts around the table! ;D

In the past, our businesses made things, tangible things made with machines inside buildings that were absolutely too heavy to move. We still do that today, but we’ve also made a business of ideas that can be shared from anywhere in the world. We can hold meetings in our homes wearing a shirt and jacket on top and comfy fleece and bunny slippers beneath the table – or a trendy tutu like John Krasinski recently wore during one episode of SGN (Some Good News) when he and the cast of Hamilton surprised a fangirl.

And worship? How sad to think we can’t worship, honor, and love our Creator only if we get dressed up and go to a building. Our Father is everywhere we are, all the time. He takes up residence in us by means of the Holy Spirit. Still, I am missing face-to-face fellowship with my church family, or anyone who wants to share their love of and appreciation of our Father. I believe it’s good and right to gather when we can – even if there are only two of us and we’re in the pet food aisle at the grocery store – once we’re allowed to get closer than 6 feet from each other again.

This crisis has also given us the opportunity to take inventory of our lives and adjust our perspective. For example, self-isolation has given me a chance to take a really, really good look at my house. When we bought our home 10 years ago, it came with a three-season porch. Over those ten years, we’ve used it for general storage and as a cooling unit for pop and food in the spring and fall. At one point, the rubber roof had been damaged and rain had soaked part of the roof, leaving pieces of the ceiling just hanging there. They’re still hanging there. In all of those years, we have never actually looked at the work it would take to make it usable for its intended purpose – a place for us to enjoy! This past week, we finally began the process of deconstruction that should help is in a better reconstruction, and as you may guess, it’s old and it’s gross! But all it will take to make it better is an affordable list of supplies, some elbow grease, and some time. For 10 years, our windows have had glazing that’s fallen off and collected at the bottom or is currently curling up to die. These are Frankenstein windows – if you’ve ever had an old house with windows and their hardware painted shut, you know just what I mean! But today, I know they can be restored!

What about you? In addition to the Honey-Do List, have you taken a look at your life and realized there are some things you miss greatly and will treasure all the more when this pandemic passes? Are there things that had kept you incredibly busy that you can’t currently do – like running your kids to practices and games for every sport or activity your child was signed up for? Have you remembered how much you enjoy reading and plan to intentionally carve out more time for it? Are you reacquainting yourself with your spouse and children?

Have you found that Easter is more than the clothes, Easter egg hunts, going to Grandma’s and getting your child’s picture taken with the Easter bunny when you’re the only one who wants a traditional Easter photo – even if it turns out like this one? This is my favorite. Maggie wouldn’t stop crying, Sophie was completely done with the whole thing, and if you look close enough, you may even see the agonized scowl of the Easter bunny himself. (Sure, I could have put an end to the agony, but we’d already stood in line for 45 minutes and I’m no quitter!) Just be careful about saying this was the year we didn’t have Easter.

Yes, it’s important to be cautious and follow the lead of those in a position to inform and guide us. Being cautious and careful is smart. And don’t worry because when God doesn’t protect or prevent the way we think he should, he will provide.

Above all, please don’t miss the opportunity to take inventory and reimagine your world! You never know when something completely unimaginable is exactly what we desperately need.

Resurrection of Jesus Christ by Vintage Works (2009)

Wile E. Coyote, Simon Peter & Me: A Christmas Story

[Note: This is a long one! And it’s not for everyone; in fact, it may only be for my own edification. Just know that while this post may appear to be a snapshot of discouragement, it’s actually about the ashes from which I anticipate beauty. To paraphrase Rumi, this is my descent from which I plan to rise.]

If you grew up in the Warner Brothers generation, your first physics lesson probably came from Wile E. Coyote. You are not bound by the law of gravity unless and until you look down. Then you crash. Simon Peter combined this lesson with a more powerful – and  authentic – lesson in faith when he took Jesus’s invitation to step out of the boat and walk on water in the midst of a raging and terrifying sea storm. Gravity is a bear if you take your eyes off the One who created the earth & its natural laws and start to look around. Then you get wet.

And me? For as long as I can remember, I believed that I was holding my world in balance, everything held in place by two other laws: The law of motion and the law of cause & effect.  If I did this, then this would happen, and as long as everything kept moving along, everything was fine. I truly believed I could keep myself safe by maintaining careful control over everything.

I need that!

• Say the right things and be seen as bright, competent & clever; always offer to help, and I’d be liked.
• Keep all the bills paid on time and in full because that’s what responsible grown-ups do.
• Make sure the family has food to eat, and they stay healthy and happy.
• Work harder than everyone else at work and be rewarded with respect, raises, better opportunities and preference.
• Above all…Don’t make a mistake!

However, I’ve been in the process of having any of the identification or security I thought I had ripped and stripped away from me.

To be brutally honest, I am a 55 year old woman who stands 5′ 1″ and weighs about 225 lbs. Both of my knees are in great pain, so I waddle. I also lose my balance easily, so my gait is unsure and cautious. When I’m tired, excited or frustrated, my speech is slurred. My left shoulder, being dislocated, fails to fill out my clothes the way it once did, so it’s not unusual for my shirt to be nearly falling off my shoulder. I seldom notice my bra strap showing because I’m busy trying to stay focused and on task. The hair on the top of my head is so thin that there’s as much skin showing as there is hair, but I finally gave up wearing wigs because they insinuated a deeper shame than my thin hair did. And in the last few months, I’ve lost two crowns – both of which are right up front.

I am not attractive to look at. And some days I feel a deep sympathy for anyone who has to look at me. (Not really, but pretty much.) I’ve given up my driver’s license in the best interest of everyone because my brain and body don’t work they used to.

I wonder what people see when they look at me. Do they see a woman who’s had too much to drink staggering through the store? Or perhaps a “special needs” woman who needs to hold someone’s hand? I’m confident they don’t see an intelligent, clever woman whose wit puts others at ease and makes them laugh. I’m sure they don’t see a woman in pain who’s absolutely terrified of falling. I do know they no longer see a woman who is quick to flash a wide open smile at a total stranger because it just bubbles up out of her spirit.

I’ve whined, complained and explained so much of this in previous posts. It would be simple enough to say I have been a big baby, but in all fairness I don’t think I’m all that different than most people. In the past 12 months, I’ve dealt with a lot of unknowns that, quite frankly, I can’t even Google. If I can’t Google it, I can’t research it. If I can’t research it (for at least 36 days in a row until 2 am each day), I can’t understand it. If I can’t understand it, I can’t control it. And if I can’t control it, I am vulnerable. 

I can’t bear to be vulnerable. Vulnerability is a sure opening for pain, fear and discomfort. And I am no match for pain, fear and discomfort. This last year has changed me more than any other year.

So now, I have to reset my idea of who I am. Who is LaRonda now?

I know the answer is that I am a beloved child of El Roi, the God who sees me. I know I am loved by a Father who is merciful and gracious and who longs to bless me for his glory. I know that when my Father looks at me, he doesn’t see a short, fat, toothless woman who can’t walk straight; he sees the child he formed in my crazy mother’s womb, a child he chose before I could choose him, a child who now stands before him covered in the purifying, sacrificial blood of his son, Jesus Christ, redeemed and his.

That should be enough, shouldn’t it?   

But it’s not. What I know and what I feel are often mutually exclusive. I need to feel affirmation, appreciation and affection.

I can’t be the only one who didn’t get those things from their family or had them kept away from them as a means of punishment and control or had them horribly perverted.

I can’t be the only one who bartered herself for attention or affection, hoping to be “picked” by anyone, even if it was closing time at the bar and I was the last girl standing, feeling like the last kid left to be picked for a miserable game of dodgeball. Again.

I can’t be the only one who wanted a baby, thinking that if no one could love her, she’d give birth to someone who would love her – because that child wouldn’t know any better – for a few years at least.

At 32 years old, I was still hoping for a man who would keep me. I wasn’t delusional enough to expect love. I would be content with someone who would just help me make sure my needs and the needs of my daughter were met – shelter, food, clothing and – eventually – wifi. In turn, I would do a good job of making sure we had groceries in the fridge, all the bills were taken care of, and I didn’t embarrass him among the people he knew. That’s when God gave me John. And since God always seemed to know what he was doing, then I figured John would keep me, and I would secure my position by doing for him everything that needed to be done.

For 22 years, I’d genuinely thought that was the arrangement. Then God’s renovation project came along. I came to the end of 2019 worn down and tired, as was John. Everything we thought we had – decent insurance, acceptable health, enough money at the end of the month, a secure relationship – all fell away bit by bit. 

Just after the middle of December, our “Night before Christmas” looked like this:

• My husband had a $55 bonus and some rebates from Menards.
• His weekly paycheck was half of what we were expecting because he didn’t get paid for Thanksgiving after all.
• I didn’t know if I was even getting a bonus.
• We had no savings account.
• We had no credit left, and we couldn’t have afforded higher or additional payments even if we did.
• We had already advanced our checking reserve in full.
• And we hadn’t gotten anything for our daughters yet.

I was looking at our balance and the carefully maintained Excel spreadsheet that listed our bills, due dates, monthly payments due and balances (you thought I was kidding about control, huh?). When there was no reconciliation to be found, I turned everything off.

In utter defeat, I turned to John and admitted, “I can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

“I can’t do anything. I can’t pay this bill. I can’t find a way to get the money to pay it. I can’t tell you how we’re going to buy anything you can’t get with $55 cash and Menards rebates to give to our girls for Christmas. By the way, Santa’s off the payroll so you’re getting nothing, and all I want for Christmas is some Xanax.”

I’d like to say a Christmas miracle happened that night as the miserly old neighbor drove 12 miles in the moonlit snow on a sled that was full of food and gifts for our starving family, but it’s not true:

• Our neighbor is just next door, so it would have been silly for him to drive 12 miles simply for the sake of a good story. 
• It wasn’t snowing – which was uncharacteristic of southern Minnesota.
• The only thing our neighbor has ever blessed us with is the excess leaves that Mother Nature (that’s what we call his trusty leaf blower) happened to leave in our yard. A yard with no tree. 
• We were far from starving, unless not having enough dip for the chips counted.
• Our daughters are 18 and 27 years old. They each have their own jobs and can buy what they want for themselves. As could we, and we had; hence, some of our debt.
• None of us even needed anything!

So now that it’s too late for me to say, “Long story, short”, follow me down the spiral  recap (because I obviously like bullet-pointed lists):

• Big changes in 2019
• History of low self-esteem with a crumbling facade
• Hopelessly low expectations of a marriage
• Dismal pre-Christmas/year-end
• I CAN’T!
• Wile E. Coyote and Simon Peter

So…the laws of nature! Wile E. Coyote looked down and fell. Peter looked around and began to sink. And I made the mistake of looking in. I’d counted and recounted all the things that had gone wrong that year ad nauseum! I was terrified of losing what little grip or control I had on things. And I crumbled.

The Whaa-ambulance came to a sudden, screeching stop at year’s end, and everything that wasn’t tied down was hurled forward into the new year. In the stress of the mess, I questioned everything – my life, my job, my marriage. I looked to find what had gone so wrong – so I could make sure it never happened again. After sorting through the debris, labeling and cross-referencing it, I came to this irrefutable (and most obvious to me, of course),  conclusion: It was clearly my husband’s fault. What a relief it was to be able to finally wrap up this mystery and pit a big bow on it in time for Christmas. 

I’d gone to a lot of effort to create a nice family letter, and I’d asked him to do one simple thing – just address the envelopes. But he didn’t do that. I don’t know how our marriage had lasted as long as it had because I obviously couldn’t rely on him to do anything I asked. Ever! Furthermore, if he didn’t want to help me, we each may as well go to our own metaphorical corners and JUST EAT WORMS!! (Except it was nastier – a lot more Dr. Phil than SNL.)

But I submit that there may have been a Christmas miracle in there after all.

After the curtain closed on my personal drama, I sat down with my husband. I explained to him that I didn’t think I had ever asked for much from him and that all I’d ever expected from him was to keep me, not walk away from me, and meet the most basic of my needs – like addressing 10 envelopes! Then I asked him what he had expected from our marriage. John simply said, “I just wanted someone who would love me.”

I thought that was a pretty stupid thing to say! Hadn’t I taken care of him? 

I had, actually. If it needed to be paid, organized, remembered or resolved, I had probably been the one to take care of it. I’d handled the lion’s share of anything done in the kitchen. To be fair, I cannot take credit for any cleaning! But God revealed to me over the next few days that the one thing I hadn’t done is love my husband. John had given me what he needed – love – yet he was so afraid of not meeting my standards and he had a such a stronghold of anxiety that he wasn’t as confident as I was at doing. And I needed some doing. What’s more, I realized that every single day that John had told me he loved me over the past 22 years, those three words had been lost in translation because I really didn’t understand love for the sake of love.

It’s time for some changes, I think. It’s time to let go of so many of the beliefs I adopted early in life, beliefs that once served as strong survival skills but have been keeping me from enjoying what’s been mine all along. I am lovable and loved – by my husband, my two daughters, my friends and a gracious Father. It’s time to take comfort and joy in that love. No more keeping score.

“LARONDA, I AM YOUR FATHER”

Have you heard of the phenomenon known as “The Mandela Effect”? It’s named for Nelson Mandela, whose death in prison had become a widely accepted truth in spite of the fact that he was, in fact, very much alive. The Mandela Effect refers to a widely accepted belief that something that did not happen or that something happened differently from the way it actually happened. For example, many people – probably those who did not actually see Star Wars – would tell you that Darth Vader said to Luke Skywalker, “Luke, I am your father” when he actually said, “No. I am your father.”

The Mandela Effect has absolutely nothing to do with this post.

But today I am spending time alone with my Father. I need to because right now, I feel like my life is full of impossibilities, and I need to spend more time with the way maker than I do with the obstacles in my way.

For the past week, I’ve been in significantly more pain than usual, which is already a lot. In addition to the bone-on-bone pain of my permanently dislocated shoulder creating a new place to call home and the accompanying nerve and muscle pain, other bones and muscles are uncomfortably adjusting to my shoulder’s re-location, and they are clearly displeased with the imposition.

The tendinitis in my left hip is getting progressively worse, and I remember all too well the last time this happened because I spent nine months in agony, only able to sleep in my recliner at night – all to get through a 40 hour work week. And most recently, the back muscles on my right side painfully seize up each time I set down my right foot, complementing the grinding pain in my knee. For those of you playing at home, that’s fifty percent of my steps. 🙂 Then I have the the gnawing, unrelenting nerve pain that goes with spinal stenosis spreading through the bottom half of my body. And I may have a hangnail.

And?

And I’ve been trying to work 40 hours a week because we need the money. Even on the days that everything in me cries, “I can’t.” Last night, I couldn’t even lay in bed without my back muscles protesting. That’s when I decided to text my boss that I would not be at work today. I’m worn and exhausted. The pain won’t be any less, but at least I don’t have to feel the pressure of pressing through. Today, I really can’t!

So I’m spending the day with my Father. And a kitten who likes to suckle on my clothes.

I just wish God would give me a small encouraging glimpse of what’s ahead, of where I’m supposed to be or what I will be doing. I could use some tangible hope. To be honest, my preference would be to have the time to write until something really good ends up on paper.

I was delighting myself in this possibility as I got ready for bed. I got out of the straight jacket we call a bra and into the comfort of a well worn nightgown, then I brushed my teeth. When I finally turned off the light and pulled the covers over me, I opened an app from Morgan Harper Nichols and found this:

Yes! My spirit sang for joy at the thought that this was God’s answer. I was meant to be in bed, warm and free from the constraints of a bra! Praise God! I still hurt, but I could deal that thorn as long as I could deal with it in bed.

But I’m not foolish enough to believe this is the good plan God has for me. (Truly, I’m not!) But as I joke about it today, sitting in a quiet house with a perfectly content kitten sleeping on me, a heating pad warming my back, I think there may be an answer there for me beneath the sarcastic humor.

Maybe this is closer to the truth of where I’m meant to be:

“Now may the God of peace, who through the blood of the eternal covenant brought back from the dead our Lord Jesus, that great Shepherd of the sheep, equip you with everything good for doing his will, and may he work in us what is pleasing to him, through Jesus Christ, to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen.” Hebrews 13:20-21 (NIV)

Now that is appealing! Resting comfortably in my Father’s arms, wrapped in his provision and protection, wanting for nothing because he knows what I need. He is the good Father who delights in me and is the giver of good things. He has a good plan for me and goes ahead of me to make the path straight, lighting the path with his Word so I have no reason to stumble.

I really have no reason to worry about my future because the same powerful, steady hands that hold me up when I’m weak are same hands that gently hold me close to his side now. I never knew the comfort of a father’s reassuring embrace, but I’m beginning to believe that it wouldn’t hold a candle to the peace I feel spending time with him today. My Father is a good father. He knows me. He sees me. He loves me. And he’s got this!

I may wait, but like C. S. Lewis once said…

 

SHOW ME WHERE IT HURTS

Anyone who’s watched Raiders of the Lost Ark knows all too well the beating Indiana Jones takes right up to the scene where he finally gets a chance to stop and catch a breath. It’s only then that he or the audience gives much thought to his injuries. Marion tries to take advantage of the moment to kiss it and make it better, but each touch is met with varying cringes. Finally, she says, “Damn it, Indy, where doesn’t it hurt?!”

Isn’t that sometimes the easier question?

But the question I’ve really been pondering has been the one Lysa TerKeurst brought up: What is my deepest wound?

Honestly, I thought it would be a bigger challenge and require a lot more navel gazing than it did!

But I think my deepest wound is the fear of being unlovable and alone.

You know, the kind of alone where you’re pretty sure no one cares about you. Because you’re broken. Because you’re hideous. Because you’re worthless.

And you know you’re broken because the thoughts you think are wrong and weird, and you can’t even pass a remedial algebra class in your third year of college. You know you’re hideous because no one ever asks you out but if they did, you’d wonder what was wrong with them. You know you’re worthless because for years you felt hatred actually emanate from your own mother.

Who could ever love you? And don’t say “God” because if the people around you – people you can see, hear and touch – don’t seem to want to see you or hear you, much less touch you no matter what you do, then how are you supposed to believe that a God you can’t see, hear or touch loves you no matter what…just “because”!

That is what you’re supposed to believe when no one wants you?

That is what you’re expected to hold onto when you’re completely and painfully alone?

That sense of being completely and forever unlovable is what I think my deepest wound is. In fact, I’m willing to suggest that it’s the deepest wound most of us have.

Why?

Because it’s the one wound that consistently threatens to keep us from the only one who can fill the gaping wound, the only one who can stop the bleeding – the very one who created us. Because that is the wound that God’s greatest enemy will always rub, bump or flat-out jab to keep us from ever being fully confident of God’s love for us.

During the past six years, I’ve been getting to know the God I trusted to give me my Get out of Hell Free card when I was 12 years old in a Southern Baptist church. It was a pretty typical Southern Baptist salvation. As the congregation sang “I Surrender All”, I made my way down the aisle to the front of the church, and accepted Christ as my savior. But it’s taking a long time for me to actually surrender all!

That was it, though. I tried to be a good girl like a Christian was supposed, but my life was painful! I spent the next 20 years just trying to survive, wondering where God was. If God loved me so much, why didn’t anyone else? If he loved me, then why did I feel so unlovable?

That, I think, has been my deepest wound.

What changed? How did I come to actually believe that I was not unlovable? Twenty-two years ago, my Father gave me a husband who refused to give up on me. One day, shortly after we were married, I was considering that I wasn’t sure I loved John. I was grateful to him – which is another post entirely – but I didn’t think I loved him. I also had a four year-old daughter who was especially challenging. I wasn’t sure I loved her either. So I sat on the front step of our apartment and told God, “I don’t think I know how to love.” He gently told me, “That’s why I gave you John.”

John kept showing me love and patience again and again, no matter what I did or said. I saw how it looked. Eventually, I felt it, and I could recognize it when I saw it. I recognized it when it came from my Father.

Even before I began this blog, I was quite aware of the fact that I was not equipped to feel loved – by anyone. I felt unlovable and unloved not simply as a woman, but as a Christian, too. And that seemed so wrong to me. Something told me I couldn’t be the only Christian who was so convinced that they were unlovable, that they were missing out on the most complete love of all.

It’s sad enough that anyone would feel unlovable. It’s so much more unfortunate that many of those people are born-again Christians. And I want more than anything for us to be set free from the lies we’ve been told about ourselves so we can live a life so fiercely victorious that satan is terrified every single day of what we will do with that freedom!

But first, we have to heal.

STEPPING OUT IN FAITH, IN STYLE!

On September 19th, I posted A New Thing, a preface of sorts to the direction I hoped to move in, a direction I felt God was calling to move in. I was still feeling pretty excited on September 21st. That day I was reading a few articles online when I noticed some really pretty dresses being advertised. Now I’m not a fancy dresser at all, but I like the idea of wearing something pretty and feeling pretty in it. I even have a board on Pinterest called ‘Things I’d Like to Feel Pretty In’. And that’s the closest I’ve ever gotten – thinking about feeling (not even being) pretty. And a lot of it is tied to how I was raised – like wearing a garage sale maternity top when I was 9 because it was “big”. Even so, when I dress for my office job, it’s in ‘work clothes’ because I plan to work hard and need to be comfortable more than I need to feel ‘fluffy.’

Anyway…It was a few minutes later that I clicked on a devotional about stepping out in faith, and this is a screenshot of what I saw:The first dress is the one I’d shown my husband about 20 minutes earlier as one I especially liked. Finding this combination of article and advertisement really funny, I then posted the screenshot and this comment to Facebook:

I clicked on a link to read a devotional on stepping out in faith. Thanks to another link I’d looked at earlier, I saw that there were ways I could step out in faith looking pretty doggone good! (FYI: My favorite is the first dress and I wear a 3X. Just sayin’!) 😂

Not long after, a friend of mine replied, telling me, “Well get your walking shoes on. The dress will arrive in 10 days at your home!” (Of course, I cried!)

The dress arrived yesterday, and it’s beautiful!

And I’m glad it came yesterday because every day from September 22nd to yesterday, I’ve felt unbearably hopeless and helpless. The sense of personal failure is overwhelming, and my personal mantra seems to be, “I can’t.”

I have so very much to learn about being a child of God and just what my Father is – and isn’t. His Word assures me that he doesn’t intend for me to feel afraid or without hope. I know that he doesn’t expect me to carry the load by myself. I think he’s very happy to see me in a pretty dress. And just to be sure I know he’s paying attention, 30 minutes after I freed my dress from its shipping constraints, I opened an email from Chicken Soup for the Soul notifying me that a story I submitted is in the final considerations for publication.

My Father sees me. He knows me. He loves me. Even when I wonder where he is.

And I have a pretty strong suspicion that he likes to see me smile!

 

RISE AND SHINE!

The other morning, I turned off my alarm and laid under the covers wondering why my alarm had the audacity to go off so early in the morning. Then I remembered. I had a job to go to. I needed to shower, dress, and eat breakfast.

I did a quick mental inventory of what was in the fridge that I could eat. That’s when I remembered…

There was a large diet Coke from McDonald’s waiting for me in the fridge!

That alone was enough to motivate me into a vertical position, feet planted firmly beneath me. My morning leveled up just a bit more as Sheryl Crow’s voice wandered aimlessly through my mental fog…

All I wanna do is have some fun. I’ve got a feelin’ I’m not the only one.

No, Sheryl, you are not the only one. But we can’t all run around singing all day, can we? Fun would have to wait because I had work to do.

Then I remembered the countless times my husband would drop me off at work. He’d tell me to be good and have fun. And each time, I would smile at him and shoot back, “You’re going to have to choose one or the other, because I can’t do both.”

Not every day is sunshine, lollipops and rainbows. But if you can find one thing to smile about, it can make a difference. Even if it’s only the promise of a large diet Coke from McDonald’s.

 

 

WHAT’S YOUR NAME?

The older I get, the less I like looking in the mirror. My hair is thinner, my skin is less firm, and, quite frankly, I look weary and defeated many days. But the worst part if looking at my reflection is that I see my mother’s face.

I don’t think we look alike as much as people often said we did. I think it’s our eyes. She usually looked utterly exhausted by life.

I have pictures of my mother when she was young, when she was Judy and not yet Mom. She truly was attractive. She stood tall at 5’8″ and had the most amazing long legs.

I know she’d had a hard life. When she was nine, she had a step-father who apparently spoiled her, and she adored him. Her mother was pregnant and my mother couldn’t wait to meet her new brother or sister – the first sibling she would have.

In one school-day afternoon, everything changed. Her mother and sibling had both died in childbirth. And in 1951, it wasn’t common for a man to raise a girl alone; certainly not a step-daughter. So she went to live with her mother’s mother.

I’ll never know what happened to her in the years between her ninth year of life and the year I turned nine. Ironically, as it were a family tradition, it was when I was nine that my mother married my step-father and I was eagerly waiting to meet the brother or sister my mother was pregnant with. Her delivery went well, although that was the year her grandmother passed away.

Over the years, her mental health deteriorated. She became unpredictable, mean-spirited, and increasingly scary to live with. And I found it harder and harder lo have any affection for a woman I was afraid of. It has been my greatest fear that I would turn out just like her.

The other day, I came across a rare photo of her that was taken during a short visit when we took Maggie and Sophie so she could see her granddaughters. Sophie was nine and Maggie was only a few months old. The photo was of the girls with their grandmother. She died a few years later. But in the years between the photo and her death, she’d begun to have hallucinations that terrified her enough to stay awake all  night sometimes. To be honest, death was probably a great relief for her.

So the night I found that photo, I showed it to my now 17 year-old daughter.

“Do you know who this is?” I asked.

“You?”

I knew Maggie had never been old enough to remember her grandmother or to recognize her face, but I never would have imagined my reaction to her answer, as genuinely innocent as it was. I know Maggie hadn’t seen her face before. I know she had no idea who else it could have been.

Still, the thought that there could be any resemblance between me and the woman who was sick, cruel and had terrified me for years was more than I could take. I had done everything I could to make sure I was not her. This bothered me for over a week.

Then, as I was falling asleep, my thoughts skipping from one thing after another, I sensed my name being called inside my head (Not outside my head! I’m fine. I checked.) Actually, it’s fairly common for me. Out of nowhere, I sense my name being called. I like to believe it’s the Holy Spirit trying to get my attention so I can be focused enough to hear something really important, but I never hear anything. I didn’t hear anything this time either.

But a few minutes later, I sensed the name “Judy” being called. It got my attention because this was different for me. I couldn’t understand why I’d heard my mother’s name in my head. As I gave up trying to make sense of it, I sensed that same voice:

“Why did you stop to listen when I called your name?”

Because I thought you might have something to say to me.

“Why didn’t you do the same when I called ‘Judy’?”

Because that’s not my name.

“No, it isn’t. You are LaRonda. You are not Judy. You are not your mother.”

 

I THINK I’M DONE

When I started this blog a little over a year ago I felt pretty strong, pretty confident, and I had fantasies of writing something that would, in some small way, touch someone. My greater goal was to help people who felt unlovable to realize that they were lovable and loved by a God who treasures them, quirks and all. The only way I felt that was possible was from the other side of my own doubts. And to be honest, I lasted longer than I thought I would.

I don’t think I can do that right now. I have no doubt that one day I’ll start writing again, but it’ll definitely take more than I’ve got right now.

A few weeks ago, I posted Are We There Yet? I think that’s a fair enough question.

Most of the trouble is that I’ve always tried to be a good girl and never ask for much. I tried o be a good student, a good employee, a good Christian. I learned at a very young age that I was not much more than an option.

I don’t recall what I did wrong, but my mother told me she’d made a call to the orphanage. The only thing I understood about the orphanage (which we actually had in our city) was that it was where children went when they didn’t have parents. She told me someone would be by later to get me. They’d put me in a dark room and feed me when they felt like it.

I waited quietly until it was dark enough to know grown-ups weren’t at work anymore, which also meant someone hadn’t come to take me to the orphanage. I asked my mother if they were still coming to get me. She simply said, “They must have forgotten about you. They’ll probably come tomorrow.”

i never went to the orphanage. I continue to live with my mother, which was probably worse than the alternative.

I’ve spent most of my life convinced that I was unlovable and insignificant enough to be easily forgotten. At best, I was tolerated. But that tolerance was very conditional, and I was constantly reminded with, “If you don’t like it, you can leave.”

I didn’t like it, but I had no where to go so I couldn’t leave. And I didn’t leave until the day before my 21st birthday.

My point is this: When you grow up without grace  or mercy, there’s no way you can recognize it when you see it. Even if you could, you can not accept it when you’ve believed that you’re something to be tolerated.

I thought I had made progress, that I had more confidence in God’s word. But I know now that I haven’t. I was starting to come to terms with the limitations after my open-heart surgery. I kept looking for the good after I wrecked the car in January. I trusted God to provide when we had to replace a new furnace in February. I even tried to remain optimistic when I wrecked my shoulder at the end of March. And somehow, we’ll find a way to pay the taxes we owe to the state.

But if God knows me so well, doesn’t he know that I am not that strong? My body had already betrayed me enough, but to have to live the rest of my life with the pain and limitations of a permanently dislocated shoulder? How does that glorify God? To be so perpetually broke that the kindness of really generous friends and my husband’s family barely scratches the surface of our debt because more debt is piled on than we can dig out…how does that glorify God?

So I’m angry and confused. I feel foolish for trusting God because there are plenty of people who are looking at me and wondering why they should trust him if this is what a Christian life looks like.

So here’s the deal: I can not write anything encouraging or motivational right now. This post is concrete evidence of that. So I shall keep all of my thoughts inside my pretty little head until I can be nice again. Besides…if I don’t like it, i can always leave, right?