Grandparenting With Grace: His will be done.

Six and a half  long hard years of life stolen by fear and uncertainty. Prayers whispered, prayers cried, prayers screamed-thought ignored and unheard. Pride and Selfishness via for top billing. Why should I have to pick up the pieces of some one's messed up life? I don't want to do this!!! I want to do what I want-finally now that the kids are grown and all on their own. It's time for me. I struggled, knowing what God had called me to, but not sure I was perfect for the task. I prayed to be willing. I prayed to be humble. I prayed to extinguish the selfishness. I prayed to be accepting. I willed myself to be it all. I re-buked the spirits of pride and selfishness, and so wanted to gracefully accept. HA!!! I laid it at the feet of Jesus, many times. But to no avail-- or so I thought. It is only in His time that our life unfurls in the direction He sets in motion. It is only when His work in our heart is accomplished that the frayed ends can be repaired and hold fast-standing firm against the pulling, heave and drag of the evil one's lies. We can lay it down over and over again, but until we truly relinquish our grasp over to our only True Strength-our Steadfast Rock- we will continue to struggle as He accomplishes His good work in us. When we are broken and cannot stand on our own, He will come through. When we indeed say, "His will be done." Then our prayers are answered. Soon our Grand-daughter will become our daughter. Soon the uncertainty will end and we will be secure, not only legally-but first and foremost in His hands.

Grandparenting with Grace: Lack of Connections

I am in a season of seeming friendlessness. It seems my close friends have all moved distantly in the physical sense and/or relational. Our children have all grown and moved away, gathering together in their own homes and apartments – we no longer have that tie of co-parenting to keep us in touch with each other. Or, friends have moved out of state for job or health reasons. Others are moving into the grandparent stage as actual grandparents- and me- I am a Mama-grandma, raising my grandchild. While friends exclaim how fun grand-parenting is and plan play days and outings with their grandchildren I am running to preschool and conferences, deciding whether to home-school or not, thinking about music lessons, and wondering how to develop a friend base for a child, when all my contacts for friendship actually avoid interaction with me because I am constantly attending to a young child’s needs; it’s one interruption after another, after another while trying to visit of go somewhere. I feel isolated and alone. I’ve reached out in Bible study, Sunday school classes, and just in general. I’ve made lists of things to pursue for my own growth and to meet new people to ward off these negative feelings, and although I continue to learn and grow, I still come away unconnected with anyone.
As I type this, I have received a heartfelt e-mail from a true friend, prayer warrior, and kindred spirit. Unfortunately she lives thousands of miles away and does not wish to speak by phone, so we e-mail back and forth. It is what feeds my friend hunger when I am starving. I will press on in my friend quest. I am searching for a grandparents group in my area (I wanted to start one at my church and was told there wasn’t a need). I will continue to trust Him for the desires of my heart and the outcome in my situation. There is great joy in each day, even in the toughest moments.

Grandparenting with Grace: Five minute Friday again "writer"

Here I am again on  a Five minute Friday. Joining the group fromhttp://lisajobaker.com/2014/04/five-minute-friday-writer/  writing prompt WRITER. Taking 5 minutes out of my week to do what I wish I would do more-write.
http://lisajobaker.com/2014/04/five-minute-friday-writer/
 Writer

I had dreams of being a writer back in my High School days. Ha. My teachers told me I had a gift. Well. Then life took off and I followed and writing was gone. Lost somewhere like dust in a forgotten corner. Yet, every now and then I took out those pages I had gloried in. Now they are yellowed after 35+ years. But I still have them. Tucked away. Those neat and carefully hand written pages. My heart on paper.

I've added to them. Some pages  handwritten from the early days of "word processors" when I was afraid to even attempt to turn on that strange thing called a computer. Some safely tucked away in an electronic file on my computer in "my documents." From time to time I go back and read my words. And I wonder, did I really write that? There must be a mistake, it sounds too good. I tuck it back away and go on about my daily life-and wonder-then forget.

Am I a writer? Barely. I mean each day flies by and it's the last thing I think about. There are so many other things to get done. Besides, who would ever want to read what I have written.?? Yet, my own words re-read years later bring me to tears. Maybe it's just me who needs to write. And read. And write. And read. . .

Grandparenting with Grace: Finishing strong with hope for a prodigal

 Here are the final recorded cries of a mother's heart over a rebellious child. My crying has not ended. I have no idea when it will end. I can only pray and trust that one day God will be honored and glorified through the brokenness of our family.

Life can really knock a person down.

Before the first round it gets tough.

Beyond my reach

     As if dead,

May as well be,

     I cannot touch

That wandering child

    So far from our home.

Freedom worn-

     A ball and chain;

Thought to be a prize,

     Instead a weight.

Weighted down by rebellion-

     The destroyer of youth.

All innocence gone; given

      In a frenzy of impulsive lust

For all one can experience.

      Not ready, but ready thought.

When will it end? 

       Where will it end?

And will there be anything left?

Lord,

     Help me to remember that You love her more than I.

But then, I’m at a disadvantage; You know the outcome.

I can only trust and pray.

                                Each day.

                                           And pray

                                                   Oh, pray—all day.

Do You cry as I?  Does it break your heart as mine,

To know she is running from You too?

I can’t catch her, But You can.

So do!  Please hold her fast!

So some day she’ll return; to You, to us

                                                           At last.

What’s Out There?

What’s out there in the shadows, unknown in the dark,

So attractive?

Who wants your company, but fears the day?

Evil lives in the recesses of the night.

He lays in wait to catch you unaware and draws you near,

 Until his hold is clasped about you so tight that the light is out of reach.

Turn and flee!

 Scream!

Get away while there’s still time.

Before the Dark swallows your very soul

And leaves you raped, ravaged

And for dead,

In the dark hollow of your mind

Without a flicker

Of Light for hope.

Where did it all go wrong?

Who wrote this chapter of my life’s book?

It’s written all wrong!

I didn’t want it to be lived this way.

The chapters are all mixed up

With some one else’s story.

Can we crumple up these pages and begin again?

I’ll write it how I want it to be read.

It will be more comfortable, easier to follow.

Like a Fairy Tale

Without an evil witch or dragons.

But then, what will be the plot

And who will want to read it?

Okay, continue on.

But I’d rather it be less than one hundred pages.

I’m impatient and want the happy ending.

Quick!

                                 Besides, the story hurts while it is being written.

Roses

The other day you stood handing out roses and it made me think………

You are a rose-

A beautiful young lady,

But when I’m with you, I can only feel the thorns.

They prick and draw blood,

Injure my soul.

Did you know that there are thorn-less roses?

With breeding and care:

A flower so beautiful and delicate

One which does not injure or hurt

Does not draw blood and leave wounds

It grows and unfolds slowly to maturity

Carefully tended by the gardener

Until it is cut loose from the branch and presented to the world

Beautiful and confident in its radiance 

To be placed among the best of the flowers

Ready to unfold on its own

To capture hearts and make a most positive impression

Taken from the branch too soon—

The petals will not unfold to show all it can offer of its inner beauty and rich fragrance

Taken too late and the fragrance is past its best

The petals fall before they can be enjoyed for their beauty

We were only trying to tend your inner beauty and radiance,

To cut you loose at the correct time,

So you could unfold on your own confidently, positively, and fully,

Into a beautiful and complete rose

Surrounded by fragrance.

But the elements of life have invaded our garden.

The insects of hate destroyed all we had accomplished.

Now we cannot see you among the flowers;

Our plant has been hit by blight

And only through constant attention, hard work, and patience

Can it be restored miraculously to its state of pure beauty.

But, God is known for His miracles

And He began our garden.

We’re waiting for our miracle.

The pain is indescribable;

There is an ache within my heart.

This grief that has a hold on me

Is tearing me apart.

There are no easy answers,

No place to lay aside

This burden I must carry

Until in His arms I can abide.

The road that I will travel

Has many times been trod.

And when all take the long route

Our Lord must think it odd.

For the peace that passes from Him

Is only a prayer away,

And if we pause a moment,

A moment every day,

To give the burden to Him

With Him it would stay.

Then in grief’s place we’d find His peace,

And a gentle quiet rest.

We’d learn what He has planned for us

Is always

What is best.

 

Be quiet inside, in your heart with the lasting charm of a quiet and gentle spirit which is so pleasing to God.  I Peter 3:4

Inside---Beautiful

My heart;

Quiet…

Gentle…

A spirit

Pleasing to God

My prayer...

 

Lord

You know all:

All the joys

All the pain

All the fears

All the loss

All the beginnings

And where it all ends

I look on as a stranger to a stranger and wonder ---why?

All I ever dreamed of is unattainable, vanished, not to be.

Unimportant,

Uncared for…

It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

Oh, to trade places with my child.

I would have loved the nurture and love given,

So missed and coveted at one time.

A life invested, questions asked, eager encouragement.

But it all still remains unattainable.

But now from both sides—

Never given,

Never accepted,

Full circle—Rejection

Lord I never knew how to love

one who didn’t love me.

Thank you for teaching by

Your example on the tree.

            For that I had the need.

I hope for your return;

I am eagerly waiting for the day

I do not yet see.

But I know it’s coming

For I have prayed and been promised

The desires of my heart.

Romans 8:25 But if we hope for what we do not see, then

 we eagerly wait for it with perseverance.

Keep her safe….yet break her.

Hold her close…yet let her fall

Draw her near…as each step taken farther from You she strays.

Never let her out of Your reach…only show her where self leads.

Love her…even when she’s filled with hate.

Claim her as Yours…although You she has denied.

Bring her back home…You know where she belongs.

Does she never wonder how she got to where she is?

Lord, she’s some how lost her way.

Can she not retrace her steps back to You one day?

Tell her You are waiting, where the path taken—

She was mistaken.

You’re there to guide her back to where she used to be.

But only with a willing heart can she be enabled to see

All that You have planned for her-

As Your child she’ll receive.

I Thessalonians 5:18 Give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.

DO WE THANK HIM

Do we thank Him for the answer to the prayer that we have prayed

Even though the answer given was strewn with pain along the way?

We ask to be made Christ like, yet shudder at the thought-

To walk the path that Christ walked when we are asked to bear our cross.

Do we thank Him for the heartache we live with everyday

Knowing we’re a sinner—

Ahhh, but a sinner saved!

Do we thank Him in the shadows when we’re in the Valley of Despair-

Where He shows us what is meaningful and our soul has been laid bare;

And all else that we had hoped for seems to wither in compare?

Do we stop to offer thank-yous for our pain along life’s way-

Knowing that His greatest work in us is done when our heart on Him is stayed?

 Or, do we only offer thank you when we’re where we want to be-

When we’re so full of what He’s given,

Or only on

Thanksgiving Day?

Do we dare, or even think, to give thanks when we are empty

And what lies ahead looks grim?

Do we take the time to stop and humbly give thanks

Just—for Him?

(Written and read Thanksgiving Eve 1998, Kost Church)

  

I’ve heard it said that there is a correct way to pray, a correct way to ask for forgiveness, and a correct way to forgive.  Does God not know the heart? Is a broken and contrite heart not the correct way?  If God gets so caught up in a particular formula for prayer and forgiveness- what happens when one’s heart is so heavy and hurting that the formula is forgotten?  Does that prayer go unheard? Is that cry ignored?

 No, God does not despise the cry of a broken and contrite heart.

Psalm51:17 The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit,

A broken and contrite spirit-

These, O God you will not despise. (NKJ)

A true heart.

A need for Jesus.

A plea for help in all weakness.

I understand it now;

I am being pruned to bear more fruit.

And how can one be pruned without it being at first

 a seeming hardship-

until the fruit comes forth?

  I’m yours Lord, prune away!

It’s hard to take that first step, but once it’s taken we are on our way.

Each day I’m hoping for a miracle,

And still, it hasn’t come.

Yet I’ve been hoping for awhile now

And pray as each day ends…

That God would work His miracle

 In this life that He has given.

A miracle of healing

To surround my broken heart;

A miracle of wholeness

And restoration for my soul.

Returning all that has been taken,

Or squandered in despair.

Adding more, much more, to fill my heart

And joy to sooth my soul.

The miracle is coming down

The question is not whether--

They only question’s when?



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