Walk Close Beside Me

She has no glass around her now. She knows the deep blows of frailty and ease in giving up. Gently, she reveals her heartache, sweeping back her thin hair and with it her fear and timidity. Always the waiting, she has chosen what is good and refused to be calloused. I see in her  the brink of restoration, like green peeking through the ground in Spring. 

She refers to him as lover. No, not this broken man, but this One who beckons her to follow. She sees vineyards ahead, knowing His promise is unchanging. The vows he made to her long ago, were said and done, forever to be kept by His undying love. His eyes are set on hers as he leads her along this dusty valley road. Though she often looks away at passerby's, his strong arm pulls her in once again. Into this forever, in just a little while. 

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He will allure her, 

He will pursue her, call her out. 

To wilderness, with flowers in his hand.

She is responding, beat up and hurting,

Deserving death. 

Offerings of life are found instead.

She will sing, she will sing, O to You.

She will sing as in the days of youth.

As you lead her away,

to valleys low,

to Acres of Hope. 

Here in the Valley,

walk close beside me.

Don't look back,

for love is growing Vineyards up ahead.

You have called me Master,

I know you're in the dark here.

Call me Friend,

and call me Lover. Marry me for good.

{Acres of Hope, Shane & Shane}

 

"keep me first"

I need to start by saying I am only 26 years old. Not even a full 3 decades yet. My heart is overwhelmed with thankfulness as I sit on our front porch, belonging to the house and piece of land we steward. A sweet and sleeping baby lays in his crib, mahogany frame given to us by a giving mother-in-law, not too far from me. Today we purchased an SUV, all of you who know me are aware of my timidity in sharing my taking part in the so-called, hollow american dream. God has led us to this, as much as I fight. We have big things coming up in our life, all of which we feel God has led us to and is bringing his kingdom through. I cannot be more thankful in this moment. Most of all, I am giving thanks to God for each of our friends and family who have supported us, in all things. We would not be where we are without your deep faithfulness and care for us.

THANK YOU, JESUS. AND THANK YOU, FRIENDS.

Loving Neighbor...Loving Self?

Heavy eyelids read across the lines carefully, as if never before. I turned my head left onto the cool pillow, begging for a pause in his own reading.

"Do you have to love yourself to love your neighbor?"

We've been pouring over textbooks in preparation for summer seminary classes. Late night readings after long days. Jesus intended this night to press into our hearts. 

"Yes, K. I know it seems contrary, but why else would Jesus have said it? In loving ourselves we are receiving the gospel and knowing the grace we have been shown. It's the only way we can turn and extend it to others."

Big sigh.

"Do you love yourself, Kayla?" 

Facing the white ceiling, I knew the answer. I wanted to say anything but no, mostly not to admit my own lack of understanding the fullness of the gospel. I mean, I am a minister after all. I tell students, friends, and family alike that they are worthy of love and acceptance because Jesus gives them worth. Turning back toward him, I met gentle eyes waiting patiently for an answer. 

"No, most of the time I don't love myself. I'm not sure I know how to." It felt freeing. Everyone knows I struggle with self-confidence. Well, anyone I have let close enough. How can I love my Sammy or Sheila, our neighbors, without getting past self-dissapointment? I will only be looking out for myself, and ironically, only truly caring for myself. I have many idols: comfort, control, approval. It seems holy to not like myself, even. I am reminded of Brennan Manning's thoughts on this subject when he says, "True humility is not self-loathing, but self-forgetfulness." How can I forget myself when I am so consumed by the fear that everyone else will? 

I now face the door across the room. Just behind it lays a little boy who is teaching me how much I love myself, not as God does but as my sinful heart demands. Jesus, teach me how to love myself as you see me. Teach me to love my neighbor as I love myself, your beloved. 

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As a follow up to yesterday's post, I wanted to mention how overwhelmed with support and care I received from many of your comments. I had the chance to talk to my dear friend last night, a true reminder that we are not too far away and are certainly not alone. Also, I believe (it's so hard to tell) I spotted a white speck on Malacai's lower gum ridge. 

Today has been super fun. We woke up late and went straight to work around the house and outside. We are reseeding our backyard! Here's to many future days and nights looking out at a grassy yard.

Some Saturday Fun Photos:

You're so LUCKY!!

I loathe these words. I cannot imagine any words that distance a relationship faster as a mom. I've said it, too. It seems encouraging.

Yes, my son does sleep through the night. Yes, he does weigh as much as a small hippo. Yet, my mind is still full of self-blame, confusion, and longing. I am still tired. I am still lonely. I tell myself every day that this is a phase, to enjoy these moments with him, and things will get easier. I know what is true, but what I need is for people to pull me closer. It seems we push out those we least understand. I do it, too. If I think someone has it together, I certainly don't lean in and learn their secrets...I send them out the door praying they didn't stay long enough to find out I'm nothing like them.

I cannot tell you how often I hear, "You are so lucky! Be thankful!" Translation in my head: "I don't (won't) hear any of your complaints because your life is so seemingly easy." For a long time, I LOVED hear these words. They fed me, and told me I was a great mom. Right? Isn't our children's behavior the DIRECT influence of our amazing abilities as parents? Then everything came crashing down.

To tell you the truth, these past three weeks have been some of my hardest. I have dealt with death, loss, leaving, and yet this seems to get under my skin. Malacai is going through, what I assume, is the 4 month regression, or the 4 month "wakeful". It all started one night about 3 weeks ago. He began waking up in the night to eat, which turned into waking up to play and laugh and cry...and anything to get me in the room. It then spilled over into the days. Naps became shorter. He became harder and harder to get soothed and asleep for naps. Anytime I would lay him down...boom...awake. After a week of waking up constantly at night, we decided to let him cry.[ I actually thought we would have a kid who didn't need to sleep to fall asleep.] Making this decision was extremely difficult. I still hear Cai screaming in my ears long after he is asleep. It haunts me. I'm not sure hearing my son cry will ever get easy. It's necessary for him. Though, it does get much easier with each day. After one night of crying to sleep, Cai slept through the night again. He wakes up every once and a while, but now is able to soothe himself again.

Now there are the naps. Three weeks. It may not seem very long, but, well, it is. Progressively all of our tactics have melted away. Music. In bed early. Rocking. Swing. Paci. Darkness. Eating is all we have left.

EATING IS ALL WE HAVE LEFT.

The guilt creeps up my neck. I want to delete it. Sure, there is nothing wrong with feeding your child to sleep, giving them a bottle to get them drowsy. But it feels like desperation to me, at the end of a long list of options that won't help my son. I hear the critics in my head. I hear the others who say, "oh, that's just fine! It's wonderful to have him on you. These days will be gone before you know it!" Ok, yes. That is true. But I am so tired of sitting in a dark room, alone, praying I don't cough and wake him up.

I'd love a cup of coffee.
Or a shower.

So...what do I do? Austin and I were sitting in the nursery, in the dark of course, holding Cai and whispering.

"We need to see this season as wonderful, too" Austin says, "But I have no idea how."

Abundant life has to include perspective changes and rejoicing in hard seasons, I thought.

So, we call on Jesus again and ask for help. We need different eyes and ears, the same difference we are praying for Cai to discover when He knows Jesus. And somehow this hope, the hope of Jesus, let's me lift my head.

Sure enough, I'm not just lucky, I'm really, really blessed. For one, my son looks elated after eating and falling asleep (see photo above). And more importantly, Jesus is for real.