Hello darkness, my old friend . . .

I spent Memorial Day weekend at the beach with my son and his wife's family.  My husband was able to lead this family in dedicating their two 2 youngest girls - my granddaughter who is 7 months old and her cousin who is 3 weeks old.  A very fun relaxing time for me.

On the last night my 4 year old granddaughter Mac was riding back from our family dinner with me and my daughter-in-law's mother. I didn’t want her to fall asleep because if she fell asleep, I would have to carry her up a flight of stairs to the beach house.  I told her to sing us a song - This is the song she sang:

Hello darkness, my old friend,  
I've come to talk with you again

Because a vision softly creeping

Left its seeds while I was sleeping

And the vision that was planted in my brain

Still remains

Within the sound of silence

She had learned this song from the Trolls movie - I remember it from my high school days sung by Simon and Garfunkel.  Bill and I had taken her and her brother and cousins to see the movie while we were in Texas for Thanksgiving.  The movie had such great music I ordered a CD for each family.  My son said they played it in the car all the time. 

I laughed as I heard this very sobering song being sung by a 4 year old.  It spoke to me - as does silence!!

This morning, I'm at home back to my somewhat normal routine - catching up on e-mail and cooking for a church member whose husband passed away while we were gone. I stopped to read a blog post from my sister-in-law.  Her husband, my brother, Brian, died suddenly 5 years ago this summer of a brain bleed.  Her life has taken quite the turn.  She writes a weekly blog.  Many times it is just what I need to hear.  Today was no exception.  I want to share it with you as well.

The Healing Power of Silence--Debi Newman Reisling

          God moved heaven and earth to get me into this wait-listed, 10-day silent retreat.  It had taken me eleven years to arrive. Why do I have to have a lingering cough from a cold that began over a week ago when I am sharing a room with a roommate who needs to sleep, and I must be quiet during prayer?  Why? After waiting all those years to get here, why would I be banished like this?  

I returned to my silent room and sat down in the most comfortable chair you can imagine and began my private session—no one could hear my coughs.  I did okay but mainly I discovered that the God of all comforts had something to show me through this seeming disaster.  It’s not so bad to pray in your room overlooking the beautiful lush green Rockies with snow tipped peaks (this was before the 3-5 inches of snow that began that afternoon).  I wiped my tears and enjoyed my setting.

          Things were looking better as I got back on track with the schedule and walked down to the morning church service.  I spent time in the Guest chapel before the service asking God to help me not cough.  It was a miracle; I did not cough, but I did cry.  I cried a lot.  I cried and cried and I don’t cry.  I’m not a Cryer so I didn’t expect to cry, but I do know I need to cry so I didn’t stop the tears.  But I connected to what the tears were about as the service began.  The monks in their white church robes triggered a painful reality about my son who was on the journey of wondering if he should be a monk when his life took a detour to wearing a white prison uniform.  I needed to talk about this.  There are retreat leaders here.  There are people to talk to.  I’ve been invited to talk, but I need to talk to a monk. It is monk business that is making me cry, at least that is what I think.  So I write a note and don’t expect an immediate response; yet I am told to go down to the bookstore at two and talk to a monk.

          Fr. Charles is sent and I spill out my story, and I show him a picture of Ben and me taken just the Sunday before.   He looks at it and listens; I cry some more.  When I finish my rambling, he tells me, you know this is about you, right.  You are crying for you.  You have been through a lot and you need to cry.  Of course, I have a lot going on; and he doesn’t even know the half of it!  I think my tears are telling me that.  But, no, I don’t automatically think my tears are about me.  I think they are about how I am failing my son somehow, that I wasn’t enough to keep him on track, that there was something else I could do.  I mean I don’t say that to people.  I don’t live that out every day…but when I come to a place like this, and strip away all my normal distractions, that is exactly what I think.  I think I’m crying because my son needs something more from me!  Something I should have been able to give him if I were just a better mother.  There’s some way I can make up for that if I can just figure out what.  I can help him.  He needs my help.

          Well, he does indeed need my help so says Father Charles.  He told me that what Ben needs most of me is to take care of myself and be one with God.  That is how I can heal Ben best—heal me.  I hear him.  I really do.  And as he talks, I know that is true not only  for Ben but also for Rachel, Nate and Lila.  It’s true for Paul and for my ministry.  What the people in my life need most is not more of what I can do but more of God in me (and in all the other places He is in their lives).  It's what Irvin Yalom calls the healing presence.  I know that is what has happened through the years as I have counseled others.  It’s not my training or my brilliance, rather it is God’s healing presence in me that directs people’s souls to a new way of connect to Him that results in their healing.  It’s not whether I do a certain thing, but it is for me to connect more deeply to how God is in me so that God can connect more deeply to all the people in my world.

Psalm 46:10:  Be still, and know that I am God.

If you are interested in reading more of her blogs,  you can find them at 
http://teatimeforyoursoul.com

A Tale of Two Mothers

This is Mother's Day Weekend at my house.  My family is already celebrating me as a mom.  I have received a new lounger for the pool, a bouquet of flowers, cards and a popcorn popper.  They have also given me the opportunity to attend my first ever 'silent retreat.'  I'm at a convent in Nashville with 12 other women.  We are spending 24 hours nurturing our soul in quiet along with 3 classes of (optional) holy yoga. 

Being the planner that I am, I spent much of the day yesterday thinking about what I would 'do' at this retreat.  I had thought about bringing a scrapbook that I have been working on for more than 5 years.  It is a photo journal of my married life.  My goal is for it to be up to date by my 40th wedding anniversary.  I have 10 months to complete it if I'm going to reach my goal.  

I also wanted to complete setting up a prayer journal that my sister had given me 2 years ago for my birthday.  To help with this, I decided to take down my 'War Room' closet.  I liked the idea when I saw the movie and it did help me organize my prayers and visually see who and what I was praying for; but that set up wasn't for me.  I took down all the pictures and prayer cards and put them in an envelope.  I'm going to put them in my prayer journal.  (maybe while I'm here, maybe when I return home)

While thinking about that little project, I decided that I would bring my journals to the retreat.  I'm not a person who writes daily in a journal but over the course of my married life, I have journaled off and on.  I went to a bookshelf and picked up 5 journals and put them in my bag.  

This morning I have been reading through the first one.  I started it in 1986.  As I read through the pages, I began thinking about where our family has been and how God has protected and provided for us.  Between 1986 and 1998, we had moved 8 times and served in 6 different churches.  Much of my journal was about praying for God's guiding and the disciplining of my children.

In 1998, my life changed and I was thrust back into a role

I thought was ending.  I become a mom again at 42.  Today that child is 18 years old and about to enter his senior year of high school.  He has been reared by a mom that has been scattered.  She has helped her husband plant 2 churches, spent 10 years taking care of aging parents as well as becoming a mother-in-law and grandmother to 5 grandchildren.  During this time, a young life was growing up right under her nose.  This child has not had the undivided attention of his mom but has had to share her with so many others who were clamoring for her attention.  This mom tried to be everything to everyone and in doing so has squandered many years that could have been used to disciple and nurture this young soul.  

There are tears in my eyes as I think about the 2 moms that have reared my children.  One mom was very intentional about teaching her children the books of the Bible, as well as memorizing scripture and guarding their hearts.  She did not let them go 'trick or treating' or believe in Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny.  She always had Christian music playing in the car and even participated in a campaign called 'Turn off Your TV'  She and her family did that for one month.  Her children grew up, completed college, got jobs, spouses and children.   

The other mom found herself in her 40's with a toddler, aging parents and churches that needed constant care.  This mom has lived in survivor mode for over 15 years.  This mom has hardly had time to take care of herself spiritually much less disciple another child.  She is living with a lot of regret.  She loves this child and is so proud of the young man he is becoming.  She is regretting not giving him the tools he needs to succeed in this ever-changing world.  She did not spend enough time teaching him about God and his Word.  She let the short time he was at church be his main teaching.  She knew that she could not depend on the church to be the religious educator of her children but she allowed that to happen with this child.  She has asked God to forgive her and He has.

She continues to pray daily for this child.  He has struggled finding his place in his family, not to mention his place in his school and in the world.   Even though this has been a very difficult post for me to write, I know it was needed for me to put into words what has been in my heart.

I'm not sure where you are this Mother's Day weekend.  You may be struggling with infertility, death of a child by abortion, a prodigal, or just the everyday disappointments that come with being a mom. 

I am clinging to a verse that is so very special to me - It is Joel 2:25 - 'I wish restore to you the years the swarming locust have eaten.'  This is God's promise to me concerning all the failures and shortcomings I have as a mom.  God has promised to restore and I am resolved to be part of that restoration with the years I have left on this earth.   I am excited to see what lies ahead for this child and his aging mom!!