Good Riddance

Chapter 4

 

"The landfill is tall with trash--papers and broken brooms and old beds and rusty cars. By the time they reach the hill, the line to the top is long. Hundreds walk ahead of them. All wait in silence, stunned by what they hear--a scream, a pain-pierced roar that hangs in the air for moments, interrupted only by a groan. Then the scream again.

 

His.

 

As they draw nearer, they know why. He kneels before each, gesturing toward the sack, offering a request, then a prayer. 'May I have it? And may you never feel it again." Then he bows his head and lifts the sack, emptying his contents upon himself. The selfishness of the glutton, the bitterness of the angry, the possessiveness of the insecure. He feels what they felt.  

It is as if he'd lied or cheated or cursed his Maker.

 

Upon her turn, the woman pauses. Hesitates. His eyes compel her to step forward. He reaches for her trash and takes it from her. 'You can't live with this,' he explains. 'You weren't made to.'  

With head down, he empties her shame upon his shoulders. Then looking toward the heavens with tear-flooded eyes, he screams, 'I'm sorry!'

 

'But you did nothing!' she cries.

 

Still, he sobs as she has sobbed into her pillow a hundred nights. That's when she realizes that his cry is hers. Her shame his.

 

With her thumb she touches his cheek, and for the first step in a long nighttime, she has no trash to carry.

 

With the other's she stands at the base of the hill and watches as he is buried under a mound of misery. For some time he moans. Then nothing. Just silence."

 

 

We had Vacation Bible School this week at my church. Boomerang Express! The kids learned 5 Bible verses each with their own meaning. But the last one coincides with this book, "Give it All to Him". 

 

"If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." 1 John 1:9

 

It seems strange to me that if we just tell Jesus what we have done wrong and ask for forgiveness, He will grant it. No questions asked. And after we are forgiven, we are no longer bound by shame, guilt, lust, or greed. We are free. But why do we still feel the guilt? If God has cleansed us like he says, then why are we still shamed by the guilt and guilted by the shame?

 

Max Lucado gives a very good analogy: "Confession does for the soul what preparing the land does for the field. Before the farmer sows the seed, he works the acreage, removing the rocks and pulling the stumps. He knows that seed grows better if the land is prepared." And my favorite sentence in the whole book: "Confession is the act of inviting God to walk the acreage of our hearts." (Such a neat thought) " ' There is a rock of greed over there, Father. I can't budge it. And the tree of guilt near the fence? It's roots are long and deep. And may I show you some dry soil too crusty for seed?' God's seed grows better if the soil of our hearts is cleared."

 

Such a neat concept. Confession is the act of inviting God to walk the acreage of your heart. He's walking through your heart pruning, cutting back, fertilizing, encouraging and loving us to help us grow in Him. Wow.

 

"You were dead because of your sins and because your sinful nature was not yet cut away. Then God made you alive with Christ, for he forgave all our sins. He cancelled  the record that contained the charges against us. He took it and destroyed it by nailing it to Christ's cross." Colossians 2:14 (NLT)

 

Wow.

 

What can I leave at the cross?

 

What can you?

 

Until chapter 5...

Footprints in the Sand

So it's my 4th Father's Day without my dad...and it never gets any easier. Ever since last year I've been getting upset about little things during the week before and sort of lashing out at people. I hate it because I don't really mean anything by it; it's just that I'm having a hard time.

 

My dad was a chef. My dad was a fisher. My dad was funny. My dad was goofy. My dad loved the Hogs. My dad loved talking about God--with anyone. My dad loved telling stories. My dad was a man of God. My dad was a Dad. 

 

He used to call me "Pea Baby" and I loved it.

 

I don't know how people go through tragedies without God. I know I've had my differences with God, but all in all, He's there. He carries you through that storm and leaves one set of footprints.

 

"One night I dreamed I was walking along the beach with the Lord. Many scenes from my life flashed across the sky.

In each scene I noticed footprints in the sand. Sometimes there were two sets of footprints, other times there was one only.

This bothered me because I noticed that during the low periods of my life, when I was suffering from anguish, sorrow or defeat, I could see only one set of footprints, so I said to the Lord,

“You promised me Lord,

that if I followed you, you would walk with me always. But I have noticed that during the most trying periods of my life there has only been one set of footprints in the sand. Why, when I needed you most, have you not been there for me?”

The Lord replied, “The years when you have seen only one set of footprints, my child, is when I carried you.”

 

So, I don't know what your situation is or how you live your life or what your relationship is with people. Tell your Dad that you love and appreciate him. I can't do that anymore and there's an ache that I cannot escape because of that.

Love.

P.S. The 4th chapter is coming, I promise. Maybe Tuesday!!

Let My Life, O Lord, Praise You

Do you ever wish you could do more? I wish I could. . .

 

Do you ever wish you could be more? I do. . .

 

Do you ever wish there was more? I do. . .

 

More. . .Wishing. . .Dreaming. . .

 

Yesterday, I went to a family reunion. A place where we get to catch up on everyone's lives that we haven't seen for days, weeks, months, and years. A place where bonds are formed. Friendships are created and strengthened. Love abounds. Laughter and smiles are abundant. 

 

In this particular family reunion, I got a chance to once again bond with my mom's 2nd cousin, Christy and her daughter, Nichole. Christy is so much fun! She's a mom of 3, Nichole (15), Nathan (13), and Elizabeth (12). And she just recently became a foster mom to 2 precious little girls, Kali (6) and Hannah (4-today). And if anyone was made to be a foster parent--it would be Christy. She is so ridiculously strong. She has thing presence about her that cannot be ignored, in the best way possible. She is very forceful but in a safe, loving, and fun way. If that doesn't make sense--you'd just have to meet her!

 

Anyway, we started talking about how and where she got involved. She said that she felt God calling her to be more influential and presented The C.A.L.L to her and her husband, Gary. They prayed about it and felt like being foster parents was what they needed and were called to be. Christy was telling me all of this, telling me that it is so rewarding to be that influential in someone's life. I told her that I have always wanted to do that. I used to ask my parents if we could foster kids. We never had the money or the space for them. I cannot wait to do this in my life.

 

I'm 21 years old. I know that I'm no where near emotionally and/or spiritually ready for this. And God knows that I won't be financially ready for it for a while (or until I give Him the reigns--I'm working on it) unless He decides to do something HUGE in my life. But in a way, I cannot wait. I can't wait for God to bless me so much that I almost can't handle it. I can't wait for this calling to be carried out into completion. Rewarding feels like such a lame word to describe how I'm going to feel when this happens. Blessed? Blissful? I don't know, maybe rewarding is the right word. Who knows? 

 

We sang a song in church this morning entitled, "Praise You". It had a particular phrase in the song that spoke to me about this weekend. "Let my life, O Lord, Praise You." I want my life to praise His Holy Name. I want my actions and how I live my life to exalt Him.

 

"I cried out to Him with my mouth; his praise was on my tongue." --Psalm 66:17

 

"My mouth is filled with your praise, declaring your splendor all day long." --Psalm 71:8

 

"I will sing of the LORD's great love forever; with my mouth I will make your faithfulness known through all generations." --Psalm 89:1

 

"But I will give repeated thanks to the LORD, praising Him to everyone." --Psalm 109:30

 

Everyone who asks me, "What are you going to do with your life?" "What's your major?" "What's your calling?"

 

People ask me, "If you could do one thing with your life, what would it be?"

 

Well,  here it is: "I want to be a mom." That is always my answer. Whether the word foster has to be in front mom or not, I want to be a mom, always have.

 

I will be praying this through pretty much until it happens. I'm believing that this will happen in my life. When? How? I don't know, but God will be completely in it. 

 

The next post will be chapter 4 of that book. I just wanted to write about this. 

-katie

Taking Out the Trash

Chapter 3

 

"She stiffens, steeling herself against the scorn she has learned to expect. As if she needed more shame. Stop him. But how? She awaits his judgement.

 

But it never comes. His voice is warm and his question honest. 'Will you give me your trash?'

 

Her head draws back. What can he mean?

 

'Give it to me. Tomorrow. At the landfill. Will you bring it?' He rubs a moist smudge from her cheek with his thumb and stands. 'Friday. The landfill.'

 

Long after he leaves, she sits, replaying the scene, retouching her cheek. His voice lingers; his invitation hovers. She tries to dismiss his words but can't. How could he know what he knew?  

And how could he know and still be so kind? The memory sits on the couch of her soul, and uninvited but welcome guest.

 

That night's sleep brings her summer dreams. A young girl under blue skies and puffy clouds playing amid wildflowers, skirt twirling. she dreams of running with hands wide open, brushing the tops of sunflowers. She dreams of happy people filling a meadow  with laughter and hope.

 

But when she wakes, the sky is dark, the clouds billowed, and the streets shadowed. At the foot of her bed lies her sack of trash. Hoisting it over her shoulder, she walks out of the apartment and down the stairs and onto the street, still slushy.

 

It's Friday.

 

For a time she stands, thinking. First wondering what he meant, then if he really meant it. She sighs. With hope just barely outweighing hopelessness, she turns toward the edge of town.  

 

Others are walking in the same direction. The man beside her smells of alcohol. He's slept many nights in his suit. A teenage girl walks a few feet ahead. The woman of shame hurries to catch up. The girl volunteers an answer before the question can be asked: 'Rage. Rage at my father. Rage at my mother. I'm tired of anger. He said he'd take it.' She motions to the sack.  

 

'I'm going to give it to him.'

 

The woman nods, and the two walk together."

 

Why does He want my trash so badly? Why does he want my reluctance, sorrow, pain, worry, grief, or anger? Why? Why me?

 

Max Lucado points out that God sees our burden and He wants it as well. He wants it. That is just completely crazy to me. Why would someone want to take on another's emotional and spiritual baggage? I'm sitting here thinking about it; and I've come up with nothing. Nothing. I guess the only answer that could possibly make sense is: He loves us. That's it. He loves us. That sentence alone blows my mind.

 

But it's not good to keep all those emotions bottled up inside of you.  For me, I keep all those inside and then I blow up at the littlest thing that I get mad about. Giving them to Him seems to be a better option. But, we are human. We like to take care of things ourselves. We say things like "I can handle this" or "I'll take care of us" or we ask questions like "How am I going to get through this?" or "What am I going to do?" It's like we are taking care of everything instead of stepping aside and letting God work. 

 

"Come to Me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls." --Matthew 11:28-29

 

That has been my theme verse for a few years now. I cannot explain how much comfort this verse brings me. This verse, along with others (Romans 8:28), I've been able to start working through the challenges that He has dealt me.

 

Until next chapter...

What's inside the Bags?

Chapter 2

 

"Here comes a young mother. With one hand she leads a child; with the other she drags her load, bumpy and heavy.

 

Here comes an old man, face ravined with wrinkles. His trash sack is so long it hits the back of his legs as he walks. He glaces at the woman and tries to smile. 

 

What weight would he be carrying? she wonders as he passes.

 

'Regrets'

 

She turns to see who spoke. Beside her on the bench sits a man. Tall, with angular cheeks and bright, kind eyes. Like hers, his jeans are mud stained. Unlike hers, his shoulders are straight.  

 

He wears a T-Shirt and baseball cap. She looks around for his trash but doesn't see it.

 

He watches the old man disappear as he explains, 'As a young father, he worked many hours and neglected his family. His children don't love Him. His sack is full, full of regrets.'

 

She doesn't respond. And when she doesn't, he does.

 

'And yours?'

 

'Mine?' she asks looking at him.

 

'Shame.' His voice is gentle, compassionate.

 

She still doesn't speak, but neither does she turn away.

 

'Too many hours in the wrong arms. Last year. Last night. . . shame.'"

  

I love the way that Max Lucado writes. It is just so powerful, thoughtful even.

 

So the story continues. This time, another woman is the subject. A young mother.

 

The chapter goes on talking about loneliness, worry, pain, resentment and revenge, and failures.

 

I love this part of the loneliness section:

"Loneliness. It's a cry. A moan, a wail. It's a gasp whose origin is the recesses of our souls. Can you hear it? The abandoned child. The divorcee. The quiet home. The empty mailbox. The long days. The longer nights. The one-night stand. The forgotten birthday. The silent phone. . . Listen again. Tune out the traffic and turn down the TV. The cry is there."

 

People all over are lonely. They feel cut off from people or God.

 

What about worry? Lucado explains the meaning of worry. He tells us that "worry divides the mind. The biblical word for worry (merimnao) is a compound of two Greek words, merizo ('to divide') and nous ('the mind')." Our minds are in two different places when we worry. We are thinking on what needs to be done now. Then we worry about things that haven't come yet.

 

For example: 

Present. I'm worried about money. Future. I'm worried that I will never marry.

Present. I'm worried I won't go back to school. Future. I'm worried that will effect my family.

 

Worry. Matthew 6:27 (NCV)

 

Pain.

 

"Part of you is broken, and the other part is bitter. Part of you wants to cry, and part of you wants to fight. The tears you cry are hot because they come from your heart, and there is a fire burning in your heart. It's the fire of anger. It's blazing. It's consuming.  It's flames leap up under a steaming pot of revenge."

 

Lance Armstrong said, "Pain is temporary. It may last a minute, or an hour, or a day, or a year, but eventually it will subside and something else will take its place."

 

I don't know. Life is throwing me some screwy curve balls right now. It's kind of annoying. But prayer is weaving it's way back into my life and I'm looking forward to seeing what that will bring. More hardships? Or blessings? We will see, I suppose.

 

Until Chapter 3. . . .