Anticipation (in a GOOD way!)

So much has gone down since my last post.  And of course, God is in all of it! As I mentioned, I don't talk much to our son; however, almost two weeks ago, a VERY cool God-sighting occurred.

My Guy and I were having an intellectually stimulating conversation  watching TV at 9 pm when his cell rings. I can hear the anguish, the crying over the phone!  It was our son----all 23 years, 6'2" of him, unashamedly bawling and blubbering.

"The Mom" came out in me. I felt as if I had been punched in the gut.  He calmed down as did I.  The old-self would have mushed, gushed, and cooed.  In her place, I spoke with strength, a calm and a presence of mind.

The words from my baby's mouth were new words out of his mouth:  "The spiritual warfare here is so real.  There is evil here.  I hold my Bible and cannot open it for all the distraction."  THAT is not his normal lingo.  (I know it is because so many are praying).

He then told us something that made the Mom-punched-in-gut feeling hit again.  "There are two really evil men who whisper horrible things to me."

I breathed deeply.  I ran for my "Prayers That Avail Much."  I prayed. He listened. I ended the conversation telling him I love him.  Because I do...just not the way I used to.

The next day he called My  Guy to inform him he had slept like a baby.  THAT was a very specific prayer as he had not slept in three nights.  Then....get this.  Oh. My. Goodness.

The two 'bad guys' had not gotten off their bunks or from under their covers since 11 pm the night we prayed.  It was 1:30 in the afternoon the NEXT day!!!!!  Do you believe prayer works????  We do!  God gave me a visual of two HUGE, warring angels sitting on those bunks, not allowing the evil to roam around.

It sounds awful yet I am not devastated. God's so huge that He holds me up and is with me through all of it.  I have been able to thank Him for this season.  I've needed the break----my focus is on Jesus, The Healer.  He's so sweet - giving me a retreat much needed, terrific books that speak right to me, friends who pray.  And...THE sweetest - a husband more tender, more loving, more like Jesus than ever.

Recently, I've found some lovely, deep, causing-me-to-think blogs.  Check 'em out....and enjoy!!

She is bringing out the artist in me.  Yes, me!

She is partnering with me.  In life.  We are on a journey (Jer-Ne!)

She is fun to follow on Instagram and has a GREAT site!

I'm bound and determined to live the life that is deeper, truer and has been hiding inside of me.

Love this fall and its' harvest of peace, restoration, healing and anticipation!!!

A Croce Cry

  

Isn't that the way they say it goes?

Well, let's forget all that

And give me the number if you can find it

So I can call just to tell 'em I'm fine and to show

I've overcome the blow, I've learned to take it well

I only wish my words could just convince myself

That it just wasn't real

But that's not the way it feels…

-Jim Croce

I had not heard his voice in twelve days.  A call came through, and I took it.  It was ‘the system’ and I allowed myself to hear “Hi, Mom.”  Whoa.  Those two words can really do a number on ya.  I was as stiff, cold and stoic as I was in our last conversation….

The crazy part of our story is that as NUTS as our drama is, as intense and heavy…so is our love.  God made me to love deeply.  And I have.

For me to turn aside, not engage in conversation with him, was difficult, to say the least.  It’s just better not to talk at all.  I need to not answer 866 #s!

What would Jesus do?  Would he answer and talk on the phone?  At this moment, I am a confused Mom.  Lord – give me the strength I need. You are what I need.  Help me to pull away…if I am to pull away.  Help me to know what to do.

Out of the Deep!

5 AM:  I weigh 500 pounds. It's hard to walk, I am drowning...in deep water.  Or so it feels.

My heart and soul are heavy and forced me to stay put today.  It is a work day; but I simply cannot. I sit here with a late cup of coffee....it's normally at 5 am not 10 am.  

10 AM:  Joining me is my grand-dog, Lucy, a pit bull.  #1 Son has trained her up well.  I cannot tell you how much I love this dog. She knows what's going on (and the other dogs do too!!). Canines know us, feel us, and I believe, empathize with us.

I walked into the sun room to quiet my heavy heart---planning to read and just be blah. And, there sat Lucy, with her blue eyes, staring me down. After loving on her  a bit, sipping hot coffee and reading Shauna's latest post, I'm swimming upward from the deep. 

I've got a couple of beautiful boys.  One is shiny, the other is tarnished.  Shiny son owns Lucy.  When he introduced her to me a couple years ago, I was petrified.  Really nervous about her.  She IS a pit bull.

We are dog-sitting for a while and I welcome her.  She makes my dogs look like buffoons!  Lucy is well mannered and loving.  As I was petting her, the words "beauty for ashes" played in my mind. The world fears pit bulls; yet they can be beautiful if loved and trained correctly.  Beauty for ashes.

I am praying for #2 Son - that his ashes will be restored to beauty.

11:30 AM:  ...thankful for coffee, the beautiful light in our home at 10 am, dogs' unconditional love, and for days to take care of oneself.  Thank You, Lord, for new minutes, and hours  - You Who pulls us from the deep.

Onward & UPward........
xoxo

Same Kind as Us-Rick & Kay Warren!!!

I shed tears when I heard of Pastor Rick Warren's son's death.  It hit (far too close to) home.

Mental health is a huge issue in these United States...and unfortunately, many who suffer from it, suffer always.  Or for a long time.

The medicine helps.  But 'they' don't like to take it. 'They' like the highs and love fixing the lows themselves - with alcohol, drugs, dramatic behavior and/or rages.

I really feel for Pastor Rick and his lovely wife who are returning to the pulpit this weekend. Their interview is candid and shouts truth.  I'm with 'em.  I need to talk to them.  Really.

Most days I'm the optimist - and can see the glass full.  Not half full; but FULL.  However, I do have my days when I crash and burn. This afternoon is one.

You see, we have a son.  One who suffers from mental illness and who is currently choosing NOT to  heed his doctor's Rx. He thinks life is grand - and that WOULD be the grandiosity that is part and parcel of his illness - below is the def of grandiose in 'shrink-lingo.'

...having an exaggerated belief in one's importance, sometimes reaching delusional proportions, and occurring as a common symptom of mental illnesses, as manic disorder.

I may be too tired to express the depth of my worn-outness (like that word??) on this day....after watching #2 Son 15+ years. Other days I handle it like a champ.  But not today.  

My friend has a son seven years older than ours who could be our son's twin brother. They've lived through this stuff even longer.   I have to wonder-----Lord, how long?  How long can he go on like this?  How long will he survive?  What will become of him? So, I know two stories well.  There are so many others.

Thank goodness, the Warrens will use their tragedy for good.  Aren't we supposed to do that?  

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Streams in the Desert

August 2

"I will make all my mountains a way."  - Isaiah 49:11

God will make obstacles serve His purposes. 

We all have mountains in our lives. 

There are people and things that threaten to bar our progress in the divine life. 

These are the very conditions of achievement; they have been put into our lives as the means

to the very graces and virtues for which we have been praying so long.

Meet thy trials in Him.

They are HIS mountains.

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May I be real?  I am bone-weary from mountain climbing.  Worn to a nub.  This day.

And yet...I know that tomorrow brings hope - and Greek hope is THE best kind of hope.  Please pray for the Warrens.  Pray their congregation 'hears' their hearts and loves them unconditionally.  There has already been a book entitled "Same Kind of Different as Me" - but me and the Warrens could be Volume II.

If you'd like, you may pray for us as well. We cry-rage-stew-pout-pray-love-cuddle-adore and pray.  

I need to focus on the praying.

Thanks for lending an ear...

If I got a tattoo...

I'm taking the lead from Privet and Holly - and looking back over the past 45 days.  If you do not know of her blog, GO!  She writes so very beautifully!

In these past 45 days, my heart has broken then healed, shattered a couple more times, then filled to the brim with joy.  No matter the state I am in, I have HOPE.  I've always been a hopeful gal.  And, I've learned a new meaning of that word.  We say it often and frivolously.  Ya know - we can almost replace it with "I wish."  The dictionary definition is quite different from the Biblical def.    I have to thank a young "wordy" friend who told me about the Greek meaning.  It's deep, rich and profound - to me.

Hope (the New Testament meaning) - is an absolute.  It's the Greek word "elpis" which means "to expect or anticipate with pleasure."

Try using hope in a sentence.  Or in a prayer.  Then, replace that word with "I expect with pleasure..." Oh, my - doesn't that make you giddy!?  I almost wish I was a tattoo girl.  I would get "elpis" inked on the inside of my wrist.  But, I'm not, so I won't.

And, though, life is never dull around here, it's very often full of hope.  I expect with confidence and pleasure that God is taking care of my sons.  I thank Him that He's got them in His hands; and I can take mine off.  They are buried deep within my heart; and the apron strings are cut. (I never liked aprons any-hoo).

I am blessed to have a great support system - prayer partners, friends who listen, wise counsel...and their hope is oh so tangible and soothing.

Maybe your hope is bolder. I certainly anticipate with pleasure that it is!

Here's to {Greek} hope, everlasting!



  

No Average Joe!

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There lay my treasured CDs next to the rap trash of #2 son.  A favorite pearl necklace was strewn over the highway and close by, evidence.  Evidence of a dark life, and not what a Mom wants to see.

The contents of the car had exploded all over the highway after rolling two times, ending upside down. The car is totaled. Yet he is absolutely fine.  He punched the air bag and climbed out of the window.  Superman?  No.  Just a man.  A young man whose life has been spared far more than the Average Joe.  

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I am grateful he’s not hurt, physically.  No broken bones.  No blood in sight.  But, his spirit appears broken!   This latest hurdle might crush the Average Joe; but I’ve accepted and thanked God that I am not average.  I am uniquely made to be his Mom and have beyond-average strength and perseverance.

Praise.  I have to praise God that HE is with me to do this thing.  Trust.  I have to trust God that HE has this boy covered. 

The Average Joe hasn’t been within a block of where our boy is now paying the consequence.  Again, he’s not average.  He, too, is uniquely made.  God made him…God knows him.  God loves him.  I love him.

I’m floundering with this concept: as I live life…biblically….that is: give my yoke to the Lord, let go, let God, give my son to Him, have the joy of the Lord, be thankful in ALL,  how can I reconcile the daily routine of my boy?  He sits in such a dank, dark, disgusting place while I have everything I want or need at my fingertips.

It’s hard.  It’s really hard to be a Mom.  I think it may be extra hard to be his Mom…but again, I’m not your Average Joe.

And, so – I will thank the Lord - for He is good. He’s got me.  He’s got this thing.  He’s way ahead of me and His plans are perfect.  He’s not average either!

Of course, I had to fluff his room.  It was trashed; but not anymore.  And on his dresser, a vignette that reminds me of him and the HOPE that I cannot relinquish.

...if you would, keep our boy in your prayers. 

Country Living is the life!

I have visited the country and loved it - but it was short lived.  It was not MY place, just one to visit.   I'd be refreshed and energized from such a country visit and always see God!  Always!  I've learned that nature is my pathway to Him (have you read Gary Thomas' "Sacred Pathways?").

(view of our new place...the side/back)

We've got a God-story for you.  Our current suburban residence is the one we've been in the longest - seven years.  Two years or so ago, I knew that IF we were to move, God would need to make it obvious.

As many of my previous posts have been about #2 Son, you know we have a few struggles. He's been home since November 6, 2012 and it has not been easy.  His life is very unpredictable.  For him.  And for us.  We need some space; but not be completely removed from his life.  Solution: garage apartment; but alas, no such thing in the 'burbs.

Three weeks ago, at work (my church), I mentioned to a woman that we'd sell our house.  No, it was not even on the market. But...there was a beautiful young couple with three beautiful little girls that wanted to live in our area. They came and looked and wanted to buy it.  Bam! We needed to find that place with the garage apartment.

The picture above shows what WILL be #2 Son's garage apartment apres conversion. We are moving out....not too far, but just far enough to think of our new home as living in the country.

We've lived in ten homes in 35 years of marriage - Saudi Arabia, Denver, Ft. Worth, and seven homes in the Houston area.  Our Country Place will be #11.  And, it is THE first of all of these that feels like HOME!!!!!!!!!!!

My Guy and I did a 'drive-by' on the Friday before our appointment.  When I stood right about where this picture is taken, my eyes filled up with tears.  My {darling} Guy said: "Ya know, it looks like Connecticut."  And, that says it all.  Home.  Where I grew up.

Next day - I walk through the place.  Her Bible was open.  "Jesus Calling" was on the table and the peace that covered the property was palpable!  I was home.

Contract offered. Contract accepted. Packing has commenced. Move date is not far away...

My mind is reeling and my heart skips.  I get giddy at the thought of living here.  I feel SO blessed!!!!!!!!!  It is not grand or fancy yet I am home.

As I mentioned to friends, this place is bringing out my "East coast-Tracy Porter-Anglophile-God in nature-girl!

Dad bequethed his Barbour jacket to me when we were on a shoot in Scotland.  It was my 40th birthday and he and Libby treated me to THE trip of a lifetime!!!!

This old, well loved, well traveled jacket smells like my Dad and the thought of HIM in it and now me....well, it's just plain FUN!  I'll be traipsing around in it, you can count on it!

And now I simply must order some Wellies!