Surprised By Myself

Today I was listening to a song called Blessed Be Your Name, and I found myself singing along. I was surprised by myself. That song and I have some history. Not a very good history, but a history.

Here are the lyrics:

Blessed Be Your Name
by Matt Redman
album: Where Angels Fear To Tread (2002)
- - -
Blessed Be Your Name
In the land that is plentiful
Where Your streams of abundance flow
Blessed be Your name

Blessed Be Your name
When I'm found in the desert place
Though I walk through the wilderness
Blessed Be Your name

Every blessing You pour out
I'll turn back to praise
When the darkness closes in, Lord
Still I will say

Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your name
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your glorious name

Blessed be Your name
When the sun's shining down on me
When the world's 'all as it should be'
Blessed be Your name

Blessed be Your name
On the road marked with suffering
Though there's pain in the offering
Blessed be Your name

You give and take away
You give and take away
My heart will choose to say
Lord, blessed be Your name

When I first heard it, I loved it.

Then I did not.

Almost 4 years ago when I lost my first baby it was "the song" in our church... you know, the one that is sung almost every week. The one that everyone loves - until they are all burned out by it. Come to find out, it was "the song" in every church that I was to visit in the couple of years that followed. I could not get away from it no matter how hard I tried. The first time that I went back to church after my loss, that song was being sung. Not only could I not sing it. I had to leave church. It was too much! I could not sing those words. I could not stand there and watch people flippantly sing those words. I was in "the dessert place, the wilderness, the road marked with suffering", and I could not sing - flippantly, like I had before - "Blessed be your name". There came a time when I was able to tolerate it when the song was sung, but I definitely could not sing it. It hurt too bad. I did not understand the "gives and takes away" part. I was living it, but I could not comprehend it or accept it. Then, I remember a day that I made myself sing it - kind of. I had this talk with God that went something like this..."I don't understand you. I mean it! I REALLY don't understand you. But right now, I choose to say, 'Blessed be your name'. But you are going to have to help me out here. I don't have the strength to do it on my own." He did. I literally felt Him come under my arms and help lift them up to praise Him. The act, in and of itself, was a metaphor for the life I was living. I couldn't walk on that "road marked with suffering" without Him. He had to carry me. There was certainly "pain in the offering", but it had to be done.

The next chapter in my love/hate relationship with this song was written about 6 months ago. My dear friend was laying her baby to rest. If I had been on road marked with suffering before, she was at the place that that road ended up. The very depths of suffering. At that memorial service - only days after her face to face with the death of her son and her dreams - she was able to lift her hands and praise the One that could have changed the outcome of her little one's life. I was astonished. Amazed by her faith! Because of her faith, I am one step closer to a place where I can say, "You give and take away. My heart will choose to say Blessed be your name"... maybe a little more quickly than I was before. This is what she has to say about worship... (It gives me chill bumps.) "Worship is lovely when when there's love in the air, but worship is relevant when everything hurts." I could not agree more.

So, this song that I once liked, then hated, I now love. I can sing it. I can mean it. I still hurts sometimes, but I can do it. And when I do, it is relevant and deep.

Terrific Target

Tonight Miss Allie and I went shopping. It was fabulously fun. I love being with her. Undistracted. We just ran some errands - the mall, 1/2 Price Books & Target- but she was in her element... so I was in mine. At Target we looked for new sleep-shorts for her, and we found a pair that she liked on the clearance rack. (I hardly even look at things that are not on the clearance rack. I whole-heartedly believe that most things should be bought on sale, and Allie has learned that lesson well from me.) The shorts didn't have a tag, so we were not sure if we would buy them or not. When we got to the checkout (as they were turning the lights off and locking the doors, by the way) the guy input a number into the register and the price popped up... $1.16! Now, that is my kind of sale! So, spending one-on-one time with my girl was the highlight of my day, but the super-cheap shorts was the cherry on top. I LOVE Target!

God Bless Erma

The following was written by the late Erma Bombeck after she found out that she had cancer.

If I Had My Life To Live Over

If I had my life to live over, I would have talked less and listened more.

I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was stained and the sofa faded.

I would have eaten the popcorn in the 'good' living room and worried much less about the dirt when someone wanted to light a fire in the fireplace.

I would have taken the time to listen to my grandfather ramble about his youth.

I would never have insisted the car windows be rolled up on a summer day because my hair had just been teased and sprayed.

I would have burned the pink candle sculpted like a rose before it melted in storage.

I would have sat on the lawn with my children and not worried about grass stains.

I would have cried and laughed less while watching television - and more while watching life.

I would have shared more of the responsibility carried by my husband.

I would have gone to bed when I was sick instead of pretending the earth would go into a holding pattern if I weren't there for the day.

I would never have bought anything just because it was practical, wouldn't show soil or was guaranteed to last a lifetime.

Instead of wishing away nine months of pregnancy, I'd have cherished every moment and realized that the wonderment growing inside me was the only chance in life to assist God in a miracle.

When my kids kissed me impetuously, I would never have said, "Later. Now go get washed up for dinner."

There would have been more "I love you's".. More "I'm sorrys" ...

But mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute... look at it and really see it ... live it...and never give it back.

© Erma Bombeck

Wet 'n Happy

This morning Jack had a flag-football game. It started raining on our way to the field, and it continued the entire game. Allie, Cooper, and I huddled under some angel-man's umbrella while Jack and Corey stood out in the rain as they played and coached. By the end of the game, Cooper & Allie were begging to go home, and we were all 3 soaking wet and getting cold. When the game was over, one of the dad's asked the boys if they liked playing football in the rain, and they all cheered. I think that it was their most fun game so far. BOYS!!!


Jack's Wet Gatoraide Grin

Love

I was talking with a friend a few days ago, and she was telling me how her pastor was talking about how people tend to think that God is going to love a "future-version" of themselves more than He loves them now... He'll love me more once I can kick this habit or that, when I can read a bigger chunk of the Bible each day, when I do this good deed or that, when I am older and wiser, when I sin less, when I have more good days than bad ones, etc. I think that in some way, that is how I was living. I don't think that I had made a conscious decision that that is what I believed, but I don't think that I was secure in knowing the depth of my Creator's love for me. The fact is, He will not love us more tomorrow than He does today... and He didn't love us more yesterday, if that was one of our "good days". He has always and will always love us. He loved us before we were ever born. Before we could make a choice to love Him back or not. Before we had all of those "bad days".

But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Romans 5:8

Not My Words, But My Thoughts

I will say boldly: "This is what I have done, what I have thought, what I was. I have told the good and bad with equal frankness. I have neither omitted anything bad, nor interpoled anything good...I have shown myself as I was: mean and contemptible, good, high-minded and sublime, according as it was one with the other. I have unveiled my inmost being even as Thou hast seen it, O Eternal Being."

Jean-Jacques Rousseau
Confessions, Book I
[The Years 1712-1719]

My Dear Friend

11 years ago, almost to the day, I met a girl. We were in childbirth class - both expecting our first babies. Instantly, I was drawn to her. I even thought that she looked like me. Come to find out, we had mutual friends and as we got to know each other we discovered that we had a lot more than that in common. We became best friends... almost instantly. We talked every day on the phone - she even called when she traveled to another continent. I had other friends, but none like her. She was my other-half in many ways. We did everything together. Really. Almost everything. We saw each other a few times a week even though we lived a good half hour apart. Eventually, her family moved to my family's part of town, and we lived a mile apart. We saw each other almost daily then. It was great! Meanwhile, she had a second baby then we both got pregnant and shared that experience. I was with her - holding on to her, yelling "push" - when her precious third baby came into the world. That was an experience that I will always cherish. Always! Time passed, and we continued to raise our babies together. We went to church together, started a MOPS group together, took our families camping together, scrapbooked together, made friends together. We did everything... together. More babies came - twins for her, 2 miscarriages followed by a baby boy boy for me. Life got busy, and we seemed to be on different paths. Sometimes they intersect, and in those times I find comfort... like I am with an old friend... but most of the time I just really really miss her. Miss the way things were. As her birthday approaches, she has been on my mind almost constantly. I am sad that things could not have remained the same as they were when our little girls were our everything, when our phone calls were the highlight of our days, and when our outings together were what we looked forward to each week. I miss you, my dear friend.