The pressure cooker of life wears me down some days, no doubt it wears on others too.

Pressure cooker, defined by Merriam-Webster:

1. an airtight utensil for quick cooking or preserving of foods by means of high-temperature steam under pressure

2. a situation or environment that is fraught with emotional or social pressures

Pressure so great that a prominent pastor’s son ended his life.

Pressure so great that wee ones were and are ripped from wombs.

Pressure so great that innocent spectators and participants were terrorized with pressure cooker bombs at a marathon.

And there’s a baby named Charlotte who has Spinal Muscular Atrophy (SMA) Type I. She’s dying. Charlotte’s mama dances with her in the living room to “Blessed Be Your Name” as she holds dear to precious moments that remain.

The grief feels unbearable for Aden’s mama. Her sweet boy passed just weeks ago to cancer, and she and the rest of the family are on a cruise to help relieve the pain, but tears stream in quiet on the ship deck. The pain from loss overwhelms Caribbean beauty, and she sits paralyzed, just her and God in this place of sorrow.

And down your street, men and women fight. Husbands and wives sleeping in different rooms, and they can’t figure out how to fix this. They don’t remember the love, the promise that brought them to the alter years ago. The pressure is building and it needs to be released. Somehow. Now.

On top of all this comes the rain, the sleet, and the snow. We’re hearty here in Minnesota, but when it’s April 18th and it’s been cloudy for weeks and the temperature hasn’t risen above 40-something except for maybe a day, everyone feels the pressure. So when the 1-4 inch snow predicted turned to a major snowstorm in the middle of my work day yesterday, I just about lost it. It had been raining and sleeting all morning as I made my way from house to house for therapy. The sleet turned to snow before my 12:30 visit, so when I returned to my car an hour later, it was covered with a thick layer of snow. And the scraper was nowhere to be found, so my wipers sufficed. Cold snow fell in on the driver’s side arm rest and onto my pants as I pushed the automatic window button, the bare minimum necessary to remove snow from the side windows just enough so I could see. As if denying the snow’s presence was going to make it go away.

The roads were snow packed, the only thing filling baseball fields was snow, and I felt like I was trapped in a snow globe with no hope of ever getting out.

Even the snow packed trees were hard to see as beautiful because I kept thinking it’s April 18th, and we’re supposed to be wearing flip flops and shorts and playing outside on the playground today. For when life’s served you too much pressure, and there’s never an opening for release, finding beauty, finding something to be grateful for is like finding a needle in a haystack.

And when I got home, the task of clearing the driveway from inches of snow loomed.

The school had called notifying us of a school delay and my husband stayed late to avoid the traffic, so after the girls went to bed, my son volunteered to help me shovel.

I shoveled one strip all the way down the driveway, and to be honest, I wasn’t up to the task. But my son, he was pressing on, and I didn’t have to beg or plea, so I thought it best for me to be an example.

After a while, I told him “I can’t do this anymore. It’s too long, it’s too cold.” “Who cares,” he said, and kept shoveling. After that, I was determined to finish that driveway, to be an example whether I liked it or not.

The cold pressed in even greater. The snow was heavy, and it felt like each shovel-full was 20 pounds. And in my grumbling, my complaining to myself, I thought of Ann Voskamp’s One Thousand Gifts, how her book and her blog and through nearly three years of reading, her message of gratitude, of eucharisteo, has been pressing in on me. So I gave thanks for my son who was still shoveling and not complaining one bit, for a flurry of snowflakes illuminated by the street light.

But in all honesty, those moments of gratitude turned to anger because I was still shoveling heavy loads of snow, and there was still half of the driveway to shovel, and it was still. April 18th. In the allowing myself to experience that anger, I thought of messages on anger I heard earlier that day on faith radio, how when we’re angry our “personhood,” our sense of security is threatened. And another message I heard last week about turning our anger not towards others but FOR others, so justice can be served for all the right reasons.

And I realized, I am angry. My sense of security has been threatened, my “personhood” has been threatened. So I started throwing snow in the name of justice. I threw snow for the tiny souls that never got to breathe a breath. I threw snow for little Charlotte who’s going to pass to heaven while still an infant, for Charlotte’s mom who will grieve the death of her precious daughter before she knows it. I threw snow for the little boy whose beautiful life was cut short because evil prevailed through a bomb. And I asked God why? WHY?

In those moments of anger and throwing snow for justice and asking God why, these verses came to mind…

I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world. John 16:33

But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from Godand not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that his life may also be revealed in our mortal body.  2 Corinthians 4:7-11

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. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.  Matthew 11:28-30

So I stopped and I stood still near the end of the driveway. The wind picked up, the snow blew cold on my cheeks, and I heard His still small voice “Feel my presence, even in the cold. Even in the cold.”

Amy

I was running. The sun had just risen, and light was coming through the palm trees like a bit of heaven on earth.

But as I turned that corner where the invisible boundary between Santa Monica and Venice Beach becomes oh so clear, a homeless woman stumbled in front of me on the path. Her face was beautiful and she was blonde, she was even dressed up but her feet were bare and she was talking to herself. The floodgates of healing opened wide as Plumb’s “Need You Now” played loudly on my iPod.

I had to stop, catch my breath, let the tears stream quietly. For nine years ago, dear sister was lost and in trouble on these streets of Venice Beach. We got on a plane and spent days here, hoping and praying, walking and running, following and chasing, desperately trying to entice sister back home and save her from destruction. But our efforts failed, and it was six years of trauma and drama before there were any signs of hope.

For me, the wounds from Venice Beach and the six years that followed had healed as best as they could this side of heaven. That’s what I thought.

But God alone provides the right time for real healing to begin.

Two hours ten minutes of running the first day, and one hour thirty minutes the next, that’s the time I spent on the path to, through, and out of Venice Beach over a week ago.

I could have stayed comfortable in the hotel workout room, but my soul needed healing. My soul needed to see, to experience the sights and sounds of Venice Beach again, this time in a new light.

So after crossing paths with that stumbling homeless lady, I decided I would face the pain straight on. Rather than run on the outskirts of Venice Beach on the winding path, I’d run straight through. I’d stare down the store fronts forever etched in my mind, I’d look right into the eyes of the homeless residents, I’d let every image seep in and every old memory leak out as it may.

The further I ran, the more I was healed, and by the time I got back to the room I was physically exhausted, but filled with peace I would have never known had I remained safe in the hotel.

And through the healing came another message quiet, but clear  – we’re all homeless without a Savior.

As I ran, I saw glimpses of all humanity in the homeless.

Hollowed out, dried up.

Shuffling around, wandering aimlessly.

Playing it cool, putting on a happy face.

Wasted. Used up.

Seeking, hiding.

Sleeping the day away, riding the wave.

Bent over, worn out.

Abandoned. Alone.

Desperate.

Whether we’re homeless on the streets, or homeless because we have no idea where we’re going, what we’re doing, or where our real home is, we’ve all faced emptiness, uncertainty and desperation in our lives to some degree.

Perhaps all of life makes more sense in light of Easter. A God bigger and more powerful than we can even begin to imagine sent his son, Jesus, to dwell on earth as man. Perfect in every way, He lived in a land that was not his home. He experienced and therefore understands all of human life, the good and the bad. And though it’s hard to believe or even fathom since we didn’t see it happen, He died and rose to offer us redemption and perfect life in eternity. And while we’re here on earth, He heals, He directs, He guides, He offers peace and clarity, and He creates something beautiful with our lives and days – if we’re willing to listen, if we’re willing to believe, if we’re willing to follow.

It’s a gift, and we have free will to accept that gift or not. For me personally? When I find myself in the midst of complete confusion, chaos, and dissatisfaction, I remember this reality, and it’s the only thing that makes sense.

“If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world.”  C.S. Lewis

 

He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away. He who was seated on the throne said, “I am making everything new!” Then he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.”  Revelation 21:4-5

Amy

It’s Friday, which means it’s time for another Meet Me At This Moment for Five Minute Friday post! I spend the last hour of Thursday chatting it up with a group of authentic and inspiring Five Minute Friday bloggers on Twitter (#fmfparty). One minute past midnight EST Friday, Lisa-Jo Baker gives us a single word prompt and we all write a blog post centered around that word. We write for five minutes, and five minutes only! In the words of Lisa, this is “unscripted. unedited. real.” You meet me at this moment in time…my thoughts and opinions, my joys and sorrows, my dilemmas and dreams. And I receive one of the greatest gifts ever…a regular outlet for processing and expressing my thoughts without constantly editing myself. This is my life, my perspective, unfiltered.

The word of the week is ORDINARY. 

I’m quieted. I’m silenced in all your extraordinaire.

I’m momentarily paralyzed by your God-sized dreams, your god-sized living on the computer screen. But I am not you, and you are not me, for God has a plan that is unique and special, only for me.

And I begin comparing and thinking this God-sized dream I’m not willing to share is just too big. That it’s not worth dreaming. That it might be so God-sized it’s not even possible. And that leaves me in a place of defeat before I’ve barely begun.

For if I compare myself to you, you seem bigger. You seem better. You have it all together. You know where you’re going. You’re on your way.

And I sit in this silence.

For although He made me quiet, my heart beats loud and I have much to say. Things to say that you, and you, and you can’t possibly say.

For this path? It’s mine. And the God-sized dream, between me and God.

My heart wants to believe it true, but my mind? It tells me no way. That brain that over-processes and wonders if this mystery will ever be unfolded? No way, just no way. The world? It tells me no way, that’s ridiculous, far off daydreaming. My overpacked life? No way I can ever make it happen. And the Twitter stream? No way, nothing but a face in the sea of success.

But my God? In the quiet, He says yes. In the quiet, it’s ok. Between you and Me, we’ll keep it this way. I’ll lead. You follow. Sit and be near. For you see the worlds’ works, but My way is better. This journey is for you. For you are not ordinary. You are extraordinary.

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. For those God foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, that he might be the firstborn among many brothers and sisters. And those he predestined, he also called; those he called, he also justified; those he justified, he also glorified.  Romans 8:28-30

Amy

SPECIAL NOTE BEYOND THE FIVE MINUTES: Holley Gerth, author of You’re Made for a God-Sized Dream, is leading a group of women that are publicly acknowledging and pursuing their God-Sized dreams. I follow Holley’s blog quietly, and admire her very much. The day Holley’s God-Sized blog series launched, I stayed up really late reading everybody’s posts, and I was stunned, but inspired by their willingness to share such big and bold dreams with the world. Although I know with clarity my own God-Sized dream, I am not bold enough nor confident enough to share it publicly. I pray I will be bold and courageous as I continue down the path to my God-Sized dream, that I will follow Him each step despite my human fears and doubts, and that I will rest in peace knowing His plans are to give me hope and a future.

ANOTHER SPECIAL NOTE JUST PRIOR TO LINKING-UP! I published this post, went to link-up at Lisa-Jo’s site, and read that Holley’s book is released TODAY!!!! I have some serious goose bumps knowing I wrote this post and did not realize today was her big book release day! A big congratulations to Holley, and I’m knowing God has His arms wrapped around all these God-Sized dreams more than any of us can fathom. Truly, this has been a God moment for me today. Thank you Lisa-Jo Baker for the prompt, thank you Holley Gerth for the book, and thank you all for joining in this stream of consciousness.

You are a special mama.

I hear you.

I see you.

I understand you.

I am with you.

That look, I recognize it. I see it. The way you look at your child. Your quiet, wondering eyes tell all. The way pain has settled in. What does this child’s future hold? Will everything be ok?

That voice, I hear it. Your anxiety, your worry, your being on the edge every moment. Your wondering who has the answers. Your wondering who can help me with this child? Your need to know you’re not alone. You’re not alone, that’s what you need to hear.

That feeling, I get it. That others simply don’t understand. They know not what you have been through. They know not what your child needs. They know not how to respond. Their understanding of what your child says and does is limited. Not by their own fault, but by virtue of not being you, not being in your shoes. You take not a single thing for granted when it comes to your child. Embrace that gift. Use it to hear, to see others better, more deeply. Live more fully.

That gut horror of yours, stop overanalyzing it. Did you do something wrong? Too much of this, not enough of that? Could you have done something earlier, something more, something better? Could you have prevented this from happening? Would a different parent have been better for this child? Accept this gift from me. You have done nothing. Your guilt is not warranted. Your gut leads you astray. You are the parent your child needs.

That joy of yours, that pride, I sense it. It comes overflowing in that moment. It takes your breath away. You never thought your child could do that, could be so great, could meet, exceed all your expectations. Believe it. Your child can do anything. Anything is possible. That triumph is yours. That triumph belongs to you and your child.

Because you are great.

You are courageous.

You are strong.

You are an amazing mama.

You can do it.

You can do this.

This is hard, but you are doing it.

You are doing it.

You are a special mama.

And I see you.

May the gift be yours to embrace.

But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart. Luke 2:19

Amy

It’s Friday, which means it’s time for another Meet Me At This Moment for Five Minute Friday post! I spend the last hour of Thursday chatting it up with a group of authentic and inspiring Five Minute Friday bloggers on Twitter (#FiveMinuteFriday #fmfparty). One minute past midnight EST Friday, Lisa-Jo Baker gives us a single word prompt and we all write a blog post centered around that word. We write for five minutes, and five minutes only! In the words of Lisa, this is “unscripted. unedited. real.” You meet me at this moment in time…my thoughts and opinions, my joys and sorrows, my dilemmas and dreams. And I receive one of the greatest gifts ever…a regular outlet for processing and expressing my thoughts without constantly editing myself. This is my life, my perspective, unfiltered.

The word of the week is WONDER.

Ready. Set. GO!

I wonder, yes I wonder. What am I to learn from these thoughts, these things that I see?

I wonder, yes I wonder. How to respond to this abundance of dancers in front of me? Wild and free, beautiful, graceful, spinning open wide for the world to see. Sit or stand, or dance more too? What is it Lord, you want me to do?

I wonder, yes I wonder. What to do with the soul that got lost in my fumbling early morning fingers, a video, an email. How is it, I am to respond? Which way is up? Which way is down? Which is your way? Or any at all?

I wonder, yes I wonder. This question that’s been asked. What does it mean? What is the answer? What do you want? Where will you lead? How will I know?

I wonder, yes I wonder. What is this quiet? And what is this noise? What am I to do with all of that, Lord?

I wonder, yes I wonder. Why so much? Why so little? Why such disparity? What is the message from you to me?

I wonder, yes I wonder. What is next? What should I do? What would you have me do? How would you have me?

Are you directing these thoughts, these ponderings to something specific, Lord? These jumbled up thoughts and random little visions, moments all together, faint glimmers of perfect sense. And I wonder. Is it possible these thoughts and these visions are from you? Is it possible that the linear, aligned, organized, planned visions I believe necessary for proper functioning are nothing but a figment of my worldly belief system? Unattainable fiction? Your ways, your paths, your fragments, your still small voice calling out, all seemingly random, but so clear in a new light?

Oh I wonder, yes I wonder.

Stop.

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

Amy