Happy Birthday Papa

Annie had her first "black tie affair". And while she didn't get to stay for the dancing and wine, she had so much fun seeing all her many family members that came in town to celebrate my grandfathers 80th Party!

Just Because

Show me Thou love Lord
And fear will be gone
Show me thy Hand Lord
And I'll know I'm held strong
Show me your Hope Lord
And I'll then run and not faint
Show me Thy Son Lord
And make me Your Saint
Show me Your humility
And I'll dare not be proud
Show me Your world
How You painted the cloud
Show me Your love Lord
Show me Your Son
Show me Your heart Lord
And never be done

- nat

Maddie's 3rd B-Day and Annie's First Party

Maddie had her third birthday last Saturday! It was so much fun to bring Annie who was a little overwhelmed, but overall had a blast and got to stay up until 9:30 - she was beat! The cameras kind of frightened her a bit which is why she is teary in some. Her cousin Riley is three months younger and is so cute with the cutest cheeks I've ever seen. Austin is four days older than Annie. I told Annie her birthday was coming up in three months (and I pretend she knows what I'm saying...")

Tick, Tock

Timing, His, Not Mine

I Think that timing takes on a whole new meaning for a believer. In a very real sense time is something that “goes too quickly”, especially as we get older. “Oh, if I could rewind the clock”. It’s as though we blink and years have gone by. We are never quite content with the idea of time because when on the one hand we say “slow down”, it is on the other that we plead “speed up”. I believe it is in the good times that we say “slow down”, and in times of suffering that we are ready for “godspeed”. It is in the abyss of the unknown where the “tick-tock” moves a bit callously in the midst of our circumstances. David asked “How long O Lord?” And so do we. I think the verse that comes to mind is the one where we wait upon the Lord “more than watchmen wait for the morning”. It is repeated twice, probably because the psalmists eagerness and anticipation was so great. Think about having a job as a watchmen. I’m sure that it was very isolating. The whole world seemed to sleep as you lie awake. At first, perhaps as with all jobs, the man was awake, alert, ready for the night to fall. Then, as the night wore on, their bodies grew weary, their eyelids longed to close. It might have seemed as though dawn would never come. It was never there job to bring the sun, as they were of course, helpless to do so. But it always did. And so, they waited. Eagerly. Expectantly. Anticipating. Because the sun always comes.

Is not our nights often the same? Do we not begin bravely, boldly, when trouble comes,or when we await an answer, but as time wears on, perhaps grow disheartened? Tired? Weary? And it seems as though the whole world “sleeps”. When, in suffering, no matter to what extent, no matter what question we bring before the Lord, how small or how big, it might just be that it comes to the place where we do what we can…we pray, we work, we persevere…, but there is often a greater task…that of waiting. And though it is dark, and and the night feels like forever, we wait because He has told us to. But we don’t wait sulkingly, kicking the dirt beneath our feet. We wait expectantly. For we are not mere watchmen. We are children, awaiting a Father who watches us unceasingly. We wait because the Son always comes.

Amatie (French for Friendship)

I love that kind of hum drum, depressing kind of music. I don't know why I'm particularly drawn to it. Of course, I love upbeat happy tunes as well like Sinatra, Christian -mostly alternative, jazz, Brodway Musicals - can't beat Les Miserables "Who am I?....24601!" Oh, if only you could hear me really sing it. Thankfully, you cannot although some of you probably to your unfortune have.. I really came to love James Blundt's first C.D., esp. the song "Cry"

I have seen peace. I have seen pain, Resting on the shoulders of your name. Do you see the truth through all their lies? Do you see the world through troubled eyes? And if you want to talk about it anymore, Lie here on the floor and cry on my shoulder, I'm a friend. I have seen birth. I have seen death. Lived to see a lover's final breath. Do you see my guilt? Should I feel a fright? Is the fire of hesitation burning bright? And if you want to talk about it once again, On you I depend. I'll cry on your shoulder. You're a friend. You and I have lived through many things. I'll hold on to your heart. I wouldn't cry for anything, But don't go tearing your life apart. I have seen fear. I have seen faith. Seen the look of anger on your face. And if you want to talk about what will be, Come and sit with me, and cry on my shoulder, I'm a friend. And if you want to talk about it anymore, Lie here on the floor and cry on my shoulder, Once again. Cry on my shoulder, I'm a friend.

I think that's often what friendship is. Listening over and over even if it's the same story. I have friends like that and I'm always amazed they don't kick me to the curb and shout "Enough!" Henri Nouwen says

“The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing... not healing, not curing... that is a friend who cares.”

I have some friends like this. They have seen all of my flawed self - they have infact seen me hope, fear, be angry. I have infact cried on a friends apartment floor with her over and over. And sometimes that's enough. Sometimes they have, like the song, turned me back from destructive ways. While there is a time and a place for helping, offering advice, and by helping I mean not just advice, but tangible practical help if you can - sometimes one just needs to cry...on your shoulder....once again.
And then you get up. And dust yourself off. And you stop crying and you laugh. The friends you can laugh and cry with...those are your friends. I have a friend who we tried working out together. We would laugh so hard we would be on the side of the road holding our stomachs....falling over. I guess it was a different kind of workout. These are the friends I am so grateful for and to. So, laugh, and cry. And then turn on Sinatra for awhile and "think to myself what a wonderful world...."

Redemption

Who redeemeth thy life from destruction; who crowneth thee with lovingkindness and tender mercies; Psalm 103:4


If you're a believer, the word redemption flows throughout our language, our pulpit, our pews. God, our Redeemer. I've been thinking about redemption a lot lately, largely in part of circumstances, largely in part of Mark. Mark would say "God can redeem this". "This can be redeemed". So, redemption: Definitions : deliverance, rescue, atonement for sin....paying off....but my favorite....repurchasing." Redemption from our sins is yes, key. But redemption from our circumstances - from something that Satan tends to destroy...is a bit different and yet a bit the same. I like the thought of God "re-purchasing" us from our situation. Whatever it might be. An illness, a dwindling marriage, friendship, mistakes....name it. Name your hardship. It's as though God says "Oh, wait a second. She's mine. He's mine. This situation's mine." to the Enemy. He redeems it. Another definition I found is "recovery by payment." Well, we know that we were "bought with a price." So is not all that we have "open for redemption". I picture a garage sale. On the table is all of our faults. All of our sins. All of our "messes". And God walks up, picks up our broken pot and says "Ah, just what I needed for my perfect plan. I'll take it."
Often I think we believe our circumstances, our "broken pots", our "lot", our mistakes to be at the Point of No Return. As though a sign the Enemy wants to stick here - Oh, big mistake. Here's your sign. A stake in the "mud". And sometimes we stick our "Point of No Return" signs into our lives and live as though this was truth. But see, God can "re-purchase" it. It is not lost. It is not "un-usable". Infact, it is probably the very things, the places in our lives with the Enemy's signs that God will use - redeeem....in other words, another definition, will rescue.

Oh God you see this place I'm in
A point of no returns
Oh God please take your gentle hands
And buy my wounds and burns

And though I staked upon a lie
Your Son, enough for it to buy
So take these signs
And instead
May these places be
The places where You tread

So all my broken pots
My bruises, weaknesses, and shame
You purchased with two wooden beams
And they are Yours to reclaim.

Nat

*This is kind of an after thought. The movie the Shawshank Redemption. A man, Andy, put in prison for a crime he did not commit - there twenty years. Most of us, certainly I, would become bitter and angry after twenty years. It just might not even seem worth it to keep going, to get out. But in the scene where he escapes, Andy rips off his clothes (we should all probably refrain from this but go with me...) and his hands fly in the air and he basks in the rain.....he basks in his freedom....he has been redeemed. He didn't escape, curl up in a bawl and sob. He didn't curse and scream that he had been in prison. Instead he saves Red, Samuel L. Jacksons character by providing him hope when he gets out into the world.
So when we're tempted to be bitter....it's probably good to recall Andy....and rejoice in God's redemption. Not think "too late", "doesn't matter".....and then when we're out it's good to help someone that's been there. And remember what Andy told Red "Get busy living or get busy dying". And then go get a boat on the beach. (No, wait. That's the movie. Probably best to refrain from that part as well.)

This is fun!:)

MyHeritage: Family trees - Genealogy - Celebs

Different Pics = Different Celebs. Ok, I'm over it now:)

MyHeritage: Celebrity Morph - Free family tree templates - Free family tree

Cafe Lalo

Me and Michele at Cafe Lalo

One of my all time favorite places in the world is a charming little cafe called Cafe Lalo on the Upper East Side in New York City. And, yes, I know what those of you that know me are thinking - and no, it's not just because Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks met there on You've Got Mail (although, sheer perfection that they did). I simply adore it's menu.....irish oatmeal with fresh berries....cappaccinos, lattes, coffee, sandwhiches made with goat cheese and melted spinch. It's a simply lovely atmosphere. Small, quaint, wood floors with a glass display of all of their delictiable cheesecakes, cakes, giant cupcakes with sprinkes topping them off....
Michele and I went there almost two years ago. I dragged her there knowing once she arrived she would no longer think it wasn't a nescessary sight-see. Uh huh. The same with Nat, Josh, and J-Paul. They ate their words, although they might deny this. Michele and I sat down and ordered the most delicious sandwhich while the guys at the bar served us free margaritas....it was two in the afternoon. We sat next to a couple who had to atleast be in their eighties. We ended up talking to them for three hours. They looked rather down dressed, almost poor. Very understated. I asked them...."so do you see any famous people up here?" "Well," uttered the woman. "Our next door neighbor is Martha Stewart." Her husband told us to google her name and when we did we found out she was a famous, innovative artist. The first female to have a piece of art - a sculpture - allowed into the Modern Museum of Art.
Upon leaving Cafe Lalo there are all sorts of "items" - matches, t - shirts, post cards. Of course, I am tempted to buy them all as any sane person would be. For it is simply the greatest coffee shop in the world. And it lies in New York City. I'm in Dallas unfortunately at the moment. Perhaps I was thinking about it because I made myself eggs this mornng and I thought very Audrey Hepburn like "OH, wouldn't it be loverly...." to be at Cafe Lalo, eating a waffle with a dollop of real whip cream and fresh straberries..... , sipping my latte, talking to famous artists in disguise. Hopefully in the fall....when the leaves change and as Tom Hanks would say in You've Got Mail...."Don't you just love New York in the fall? It makes me want to buy school supplies...."

Remembering Mark

I still think about Mark so often. He comes to my mind at weird times. Watching t.v., eating out, driving.....I remember things about him and smile. I tried to watch his funeral online the other day and couldn't do it. I was trying to show my mom who couldn't make it and wound up in tears and closed the laptop that displayed visuals, pictures, friends of my friend Mark.
Some things about Mark:
Mark would clip his toenails during our sessions. "I think I feel really comfortable with you". I thought it hilarious.
Mark would walk out, and our appointments were often early at 7 a.m. and he was definately a morning person. Bright-eyed, energetic. He'd walk out, point at me as if to say "YOU! Back in the office."
One time he said "hey sweet girl", as often he would and he said once "Do you know why I say hey sweet girl?...because you are." That will forever stick with me.
One time , after getting frequent throat infections he kept telling me to get a dental "pick". It's this long tube that squirts out water. He said his daughter used it for her throat by putting salt water in it and sticking it way back (yes, you gag) cleaning out the "white spots."
I never did. So one morning Mark grabbed my keys and drove to CVS and bought me one. Out of his own pocket. He was already seeing me with no charge. I think those little things about Mark are what made him so Christ-like.
He'd always be munching on an apple, bannana, or pretzels. He'd say "Wanna bite?"
I guess it takes awhile to get over someone's death. Someone that you imagine is still in his kacky shorts - well pressed iron shirt - like I'll see him Thursday this week and he'll offer me coffee....
It's weird to think of him just not there. Atleast his body.
Like I still have his e mail address on my account. I can't delete it yet. For some strange reason. It's not that I'll ever use it again. It's just I can't browse down click on his name and click "delete". Maybe I think it's confirmation....as though I needed it.
One time there was this song that meant a lot to me and Mark wanted to listen to it . It was some old seventies song, really depressing. So we went out and were listening to it in the lobby when another therapist walked out and stopped watching us listening to this seventies depressing song.
I looked at Mark and said "What kind of weird therapy is this?" We all laughed. He had a great laugh.
Death is strange. Death to suicide is even harder. Harder to accept. Harder to process. I once asked Mark if I could mess up God's plan for my life. "No."
"What if I committed suicide", I replied.
"Even then God would work it into His plan."
And so it is......
This picture of Mark was sent to me by his dear friend. Thanks! It's him, in his office, doing what he did best. Listening and loving. God, how I remember the chair he sat in so well...leaning back just like this, hand on his face just as it is.
I miss you Mark, so much!

The Good, The Bad, and the "Really?"

my mom: "meet a nice young man at Church" Ok, so it isn't quite as "Leave-it to Beaver" as that....
me: mom, you don't understand just because guys go to church and can spout out Spurgeon's sermons, does not make them godly men.

And so the troubling facts:
1. Dating in the first place is pressure
2. If you happen to convince yourself to go be on a date it may be that two minutes into the conversation thinking "Dear Lord, get me out of here or hurry up with that glass of wine", you are then forced to take two hours of your life being pleasant, aggreable, and you sometimes throw him a "oh, that was so funny" laugh. (Waiter...that wine?)
3. Do people really date anymore?

Not that I'm Ms. Experienced.
Definately not.
But I have had experience- enough that I feel like I can atleast with some credibility write.


Suspects.
1. We'll call him Bob.
Bob and I were "friends". Friends that hung out, went to eat, he would pay - we'd laugh, talk about God. He was Presbyterian so we'd often talk "doctrine" which I liked.
He liked not Star Wars, but Star Wars' twin...oh gosh, what's it called...well, he liked it. Had to watch it. Apparently I've surpressed the memories of the horrid, horrid movies. I thought they were a comedy. He didn't think that was funny when I mentioned it.
Bob had a stuffed animal his mom had given him. He slept with it and while it was cute...was it?...I fast forwarded to marriage counseling and knew "Fluffy" would somehow come up in our spats....


2. I once had a date, that was one time with a man who knew my faith was important to me.
Our conversation went something like:
We'll call him Andy.
Nat: What was your day like?
Andy: Well, today I had lunch with my dear brother in Christ. (plllleeeeaaaase.....)
And that's how the night went......He kept sitting in my car, I thought maybe wanting to kiss, so finally I said " I just don't kiss on the first date". He later went on to pursue a girl from his church. I think she was far more "spiritual" than I. (Please take this all in jest....mostly;)
Andy. Don't think he was a bad guy, just needed to be more real which let's face it we all do. But if there is anything worse than being unequally yoked perhaps it's being yoked to a man who would like to hand you his spiritual resume before dinner.

3. My relationship with Goerge. Goerge was cute, "knew the Lord", and yet somehow whenever God came up it came across to me as "words". I felt God was "used" if that makes sense. Though there are deeper red flags, those are to be shared with my girlfriends:), not a blog...:)
1. Goerge goes to a Bible study, comes over and tells me the minister spoke on abstinence.

Goerge: One day your husband will thank me.
Nat: (Hmmm....well, what if your'e my husband one day, aren't we dating?) Really, why's that Goerge?
Goerge: Because I didn't de-flower you. (I'm sorry, you didn't just use that word, did you?)
Nat: Well, Goerge (very handsome Goerge), I think my husband will thank ME.
Goerge: I have a way with women.
As though to imply he could have me should he decide to.
Goerge let me pay for meals, asked me if we should go "dutch", used God as an "out". I was overly smitten with him, apparently giving me invisible blinders to flashing "STOP" signs all about me. I knew Goerge two months. That was one month twenty nine days too long as I should have not seen him the day after we met.

And so the dilemma: The "Christian" guys aren't always so "Christian" and use God when convenient, or perhaps to impress, etc.
The "bad" guys are fun and non - judgemental. But herein lies the problem. They are "bad guys".
And then there are the "good Christian guys." The real authentic ones. The ones you are interested in. They seem to be
A. Married.
B. MIA.
C. On a dating "sabattical"
D. All of the above (well, that doesn't work but there ought to always be a D all of the above.

And so meeting "godly men" I have found is not always at church.
I happen to have a very handsome, compassionate, sweet Jewish friend who is far more moral and quite the gentlemen than some of our"church-goers". (Can one marry someone who is Jewish? Wasn't Jesus? Ya, okay....)

But they are out there. I've met them. They're there. I think as I get older what I want is authenticity more than anything. Genuine compassion for others and a desire for the Lord.
He doesn't need to know "systematic theology", or be able to quote to me Martin Luther's 95 Thesis.
He needs to love. The Lord. Me. My daughter.
I'm sure I'm often guilty of the same things our suspects our.....not all, but some....
So often I hope he just lands on my front door. The doorbell rings. He enters.
He's fun, goofy, charismatic, charming, loving, real, edgy and of course dashidly handsome!
Alarm Clock. Dreaming.
But I've found that even the most handsome can become quite unattractive and vice versa.

And so for now I won't be dating. As I'm just focusing on Annie and me.
But when I do.....
God help me....
And may he be out there (And God help him even more) (haha....sort of....)
Confession: My best friend and I have a rule. We give each other our dates numbers (safety) and then have them call an hour into the date incase we need to "escape" . "I'm terribly sorry my friend is quite ill." (Yes, we're British liars and in the 18th Century on dates...)

My Sweet Annie Boo Boos

And then one day I heard the news
That inside their beat a heart
It was the very start of you.
"Thump, thump, " I'd hear
And you were near...

Inside you grew and tossed and twirled
Still though I wasn't aware
Didn't know my Annie Boos, so fair.

And one morning
Out you came
There you were
Life never to be the same

So sweet and innocent and pure
You'd lay on me oh so small
And look at me that head brow scrunch
That only you can do

And even then I knew for sure
How very special that you were
I thought of you, I thought of me
My "extra special delivery".

And how you grow!
How time has flown!
And how my heart
For you it groans

And as I watch you when you sleep
I'll sometimes say a prayer
I'll stare at you in wonder in awe
And hope you know I'm there

But more importantly, my Boos
As you grow - and grow you will
And laugh, and play, and dance and sing
Do so in the Shadow of His Wing

For though I vow to keep you safe
I'll never take your Daddy's place
He will love you more than I
You are the apple of His eye

So Annie Boos the fun to come!
My little angel, my blessing, oh!
I'll keep you safe the best I know!
Oh sweetest little girl
Oh little girl of mine
Your tender heart makes me cry

And when one day you leave my side
And off into the world you fly
May you always keep me near
And may my heart not flow with tears

For though I know it surely will
I'll know then to just be still
And let you go and live for Him
And let you soar without a care
For you'll still know that I am there

And forever I'll be glad
That you're my precious little girl
That somehow though I didn't deserve
I got to love and shape and form
A gift,
God gave one December morn

My little Annie Boos
So very young, so pure, so true
With eyes so very soulful blue
Know this my love

I'll often whisper in your ear
I'll often say it loud and clear
Just know however it is said
Tis true
Can I make it known
How very, very, very much
I love you.

Because I think too much....

My argument against God was that the universe seemed so cruel and unjust. But how had I got this idea of just and unjust? A man does not call a line crooked unless he has some idea of a straight line. What was I comparing this universe with when I called it unjust? If the whole show was bad and senseless from A to Z, so to speak, why did I, who was supposed to be part of the show, find myself in such violent reaction against it? A man feels wet when he falls into water, because man is not a water animal: a fish would not feel wet. Of course, I could have given up my idea of justice by saying that it was nothing but a private idea of my own. But if I did that, then my argument against God collapsed too--for the argument depended on saying that the world was really unjust, not simply that it did not happen to please my private fancies. Thus in the very act of trying to prove that God did not exist--in other words, that the whole of reality was senseless--I found I was forced to assume that one part of reality--namely my idea of justice--was full of sense. Consequently atheism turns out to be too simple. If the whole universe has no meaning, we should never have found out that it has no meaning: just as, if there were no light in the universe and therefore no creatures with eyes, we should never know it was dark. Dark would be without meaning. - C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity


And so, as it often seems, I come upon what one might call a “spiritual crisis”. Not the ones Peter had walking on water, we all surely have those . I suppose this would be more of an Eclesiastes type crisis so to speak. An “I’ve searched and searched”, an “all is meaningless” ( of course Solomon meant without God). Tonight I met with my best friend from college. We had not seen each other for awhile, and had sort of a “falling out” when we met up after eight years, but after I asked his forgiveness, he forgave me. I’ve always loved this particular friend, though we are incredibly different. Which is probably why we were close. No one wants to hang around someone like themselves, lest they be rather bored as they are with themselves quite often ( and bad a bum…..that’s my drum at the end of my joke;).
All to say he is an atheist, I’m a Christian. We both went to the same Baptist college we both acted, infact we often acted in opposite “we’re in love” roles which is a bit ironic.
With all that has happened in the last eight years if not more, and without details, but hardships that I’ve gone through…things I never would have dreamt of….the pain of life physically right now as I’m still healing from chronic pain I’ve had (the scariest thing I’ve ever dealt with) tonight I spoke with my friend about his life, about mine. What had taken place since we were eighteen, carefree and young. The trials, the ups and downs, relationships lost….
And I asked him if he was happy.
He said yes.I said that confuses me. (And it did)
I think we laughed. (I told him stop being happy!)
I asked him why he was.
He told me that from a Christian’s viewpoint I could look at it that he is in the world, and of the world, so why wouldn’t he be happy? He doesn’t have anyone to answer to so to speak…..and apparently is still “carefree”. Now I use the word carefree lightly for I never really and truly have been. I’ve always been a thinker, a performer, a people pleaser, a do-the-right thing because that’s what I knew to do. And so in college, I not only acted in plays, I performed in real life. Life was a stage and I was the lead role.
I remember one girl, who happened to be this friends ex wife telling me I seemed to “have it altogether.”
Well, she didn’t know that I was dealing with depression, a severe eating disorder. I was pacing the tracks at night weeping. Reading my Bible, praying, seeking…..that “hole” that Jesus fills in those without Him?....well, apparently my hole was still there, quite perplexing as I “knew Him”, right? So, books, theology, Bible studies, anything that would give me that “revelation” of God…of His love….that “peace that passes all understanding”
I’ll repent.I’ll praise.
I’ll encourage.
I’ll sacrifice (My, wasn’t I the martyr?;).
And so I would have to say that for the last ten years my burden has been heavy though I “tried” to let Jesus carry it, for isn’t His yoke light? Yes, yes, I knew all of this.
At school there were mostly ministry majors, then art or theatre majors. I preferred to hang out with the theatre majors, for though they were “dark”, at least in my mind they were “real.” I suppose in a way that’s me judging others, but it was what it was at the time. I thought if I were too close to the “real Christians” we’ll call them, they might catch on to what was going on the inside of me and realize (shocker) I did not have it altogether….at all.
My friend that I’m talking about here does not seem angry at God, for in his mind there is no God to be angry with. He told me if God knocked he would answer. And change his life. I asked my athiest friend to see his response….”so am I missing out?” “Is it more fun to have sex, drink a lot , not really care to some extent?” (Although he cares to some degree of course)
Surprisingly, he said no.
Then he told me religion works even as though it were a placebo. I hadn’t really ever thought of that and this disturbed me more than I let on. Is my religion a "placebo", I thought....I mean aren't there happy Buddhists, miserable Christians?
It's this whole "universal mentality" he is under. Whatever works for YOU, well, that’s Truth, right? If you’re an Athiest, you die and become dirt. If you’re a Buddhist you go to fifth dimension, a Mormon you run your own planet, a Christian and you go to Heaven. Well, if I could curse on here without feeling the need to delete it I would for that is sheer nonsense!
It’s like the ever popular book out “The Secret”. It’s all the “power of the mind”. Ok, well, question. If our mind is THAT powerful how did it get formed that way? If our brains are THAT complex, which they are....was this just happenstance?
I don’t want my God to be a “placebo”. He’s not my “prozac” so to speak. Either He exists or He does not. Period. Either there is an after life or there is not.
As Paul said he would be the biggest fool of all if Christianity were not true. We would all be quite foolish.
And so I simply will not believe God to be a “placebo”. If there is a God, which looking at the sun, (it’s amazing how it stays in place and if it were just a little bit closer to the earth we would all be burned), if you look at flowers, birds, bugs, the human mind, body, the arts, the ability to love (had to come from somewhere) I have to know that there is an Artist. There is a Creator. There is a God who “knows the stars by name”. And if I suffer here for a little while, then I identify with Christ (though I often suffer because of my own sin…dangit;). There is a verse that speaks about not envying those that don’t know God for theirs is the god of this world. I found myself envying him tonight. He is as he readily admits “of the world”. Christ said “be not of the world, but be transformed”…..And if there is a God (which I must say there is) and if He had a Son (which historically and Scripturally seems accurate) and if He came to earth as a baby, lay in a manger, served others his entire life, loved others then died the most horrible death because God loved me – God loved my friend – then all of my “envying” of the world should be gone, right? Wrong! Because I’m still human. I still have fleshly desires that “wage war within me” (see Romans Seven). I still stomp and scream inwardly when things aren’t going according to plan. I still yell at God, (I have, but I think He’s ok with that), and ask Him why and how come and tell Him how unfair life is. But He’s God. It’s like when Job questioned Him and God answered! I’m sorry Job, did you create the sea?
But see Job acknowledged that He exists. And is not the core of some of our “Christian” suffering the fact that we know and believe that there is a God? Would life in some ways be easier if I didn’t believe? Yes. If I had no God that loved me, that died for me, that cares for me, that wants me all to Himself…then I would live much differently. I would be “carefree”. I wouldn’t pray for I wouldn’t think there was an answer – Help for me or others. My problems wouldn’t be so frusterating because I wouldn’t believe in a God who could speak and my physical pain would be gone. (This could go off into a tangent about the problem of pain and God but I’ll leave that one to C.S. Lewis). But the ironic thing is: my faith allows me to be “carefree”. For, I ought to be able to rest and know that God is in control – of the evil that happens, of the good. He knows every hair on my head. He knows “when I sit and when I rise”. John Piper gave a sermon once entitled “Are you Humble Enough to Be Carefree?” Is not the very thing my friend has, a sense of “care-freeness” – the thing I envied the very thing I am told to be? Is it not freeing to love, to serve, to give, to consider others better? Is it not freeing to look around at the suffering in this world and know that it is temporary? To know that when my therapist who loves the Lord and hung himself is now free? That he doesn’t not exist, that all of his service was not all for not, but that he is in Heaven with a God that says “Well done my good and faithful servant”?
How sad would I be if there were no God. How despairing? When David became depressed he would often close in the Psalms with “Why are you downcast O my Soul? Does not God live?”!!
How sad when one day I grew old, should I make it and I lose people I love to not know they are okay.
How sad to think my little earthly self is “just a breath” and choices don’t matter. That nothing matters. For if there is no God there can be no good - no right/ no wrong. There can be no reason and purpose. And though I'm wrestling now with various things, far better to "sink with faith, than swim without it."
For how hopeless would life be without God? I wanted to fast forward - ask him what about if one day his child dies - where lies his comfort? Or wife? Where is there peace?

All of this is not directed at my friend. He knows Christianity. He cares about others. He is able to love ( I personally think we are only able to really, really love because God loved us….how else would we know of love?). And I, if I’m correct (which often I’m terribly wrong but I’m going off Scripture here so perhaps I’m safer…whew…) then my friend whom I love is wrong. And there will be a day when we stand before God. One of us is “right”. One of us is “wrong”. And looking at the sun tonight, considering the stars that hang in perfection, a rainbow, how a bird takes flight, how a fish breathes in water, how rain makes a tiny seed grow, how humans are able to love, laugh, cry…..I have to believe I’m “right”. Not in a prideful way, for there is nothing worse than a prideful believer. I think it’s kind of an oxymoron. It’s more of a humbling thing. It is, in fact, care free.

And so, Lord, might I rest knowing my sufferings are temporary. And that You came so I might have life. May I never despair completely, but always, always be reminded of You. And may my desire to love You be ever present, may You be more “real” to me than this computer I type on. May I desire pure things and love the impure. For You love me and I am definitely impure. You love the least of the least. And so in my sufferings, grant me peace. In my “deaths”, grant me Life, and in my burdens teach me to cast. For You carry an entire universe. Surely You can carry our burdens.
And for my sweet friend may he be blessed in such a way as to know You. I would never judge him, but can only say what I believe to be true just as he doesn’t judge me for believing what I believe. You love him more than anyone. And I ask that he would be Yours.

And in my “lamenting”, I am going to go to bed now for I know I’ve said too much (often I do;). And in all of my writings I often find that God teaches me. All of the things I wrote about – I’m not there so to speak. I’m not “carefree”. But I ought to be. I’ve been given the privelage. There was a Man. There was a Cross. There is a Son. There is a God. And thank God there is ;).
(It must be said that there is now a flying roach in my living room. If there is anything I hate it’s roaches. If there is anything I hate worse it’s roaches that fly. We have no bug spray so I find myself in a sticky situation. In a room with a flying roach and a bottle of furniture polish in my hand on guard. Maybe it won’t know the difference......)

Restless Nights

When I couldn't sleep one evening this poem came to me: It comforts me still though it was years ago I wrote it.

Won't You sit at my side while I fall asleep
Will You sing me a song with words ever sweet
Will You fill me with dreams full of the lovely
Won't You tell me of Jesus, how You and He love me?
Will Your light keep me warm as I fade off to sleep
Grant me trust so I might my worries not keep?
And when I arise, be still at my side
Until dusk dawns once more, Christ Jesus my Lord.

Goodbye My Hero, My Friend

Mark Woods (January 19, 1953 – May 30, 2008)

“In love’s service only wounded soldiers can serve”

– Thorton Wilder

As some of you know, my beloved mentor and friend Mark Woods took his life May 30 in the evening. He left notes for his daughters, wife, and best friend.

I met Mark almost two years ago. I wasn’t going to go and see him but Tom Nelson had recommended him as he had helped him through his depression and so reluctantly I sent Mark an e mail. I don’t normally do this because. I’m not very what’s the word, charismatic? but I sent the e mail and said a silent prayer as though defiant.
Lord, he has to call right away or I don’t think I will go and meet with him.

Thirty seconds later the phone rang.

“Natalie. This is Mark Woods. Natalie, I’m never on the computer, and even if I am I never return phone calls but I felt the need to”

Hmmm.

Okay. I’ll meet with him. Once.

I sat down in his office and looked up and my stomach sank. My favorite book by Henri Nouwen is the Prodigal Son. On the cover it has the famous portrait.

On Mark’s wall hung the portrait, large, and framed.

Ok, God.

When Mark spoke it was as though he knew me. He told me he didn’t want to charge me – he felt led to do this. He saw me three times a week.

They were blessed times. Times of laughter, of tears, of learning, asking.

Mark listened like no other. He laughed and cursed and loved the Lord. He loved people. He loved his daughters. And somehow he loved me.

When I learned of his death I didn’t want to believe it. I called Tom Nelson (bless his heart I was in Seattle and forgot it was two hours later in Dallas). Is it true? “Yes.”

“How”? “He hung himself”

Sobbing. No. It can’t be. He wouldn’t do that. He had struggled years ago with it but told me life was worth living – no! No! I don’t believe it. I’m supposed to see him this week! No! He loved God! God couldn’t leave him! No!

I hung up the phone….Tom said “Natalie, take his wisdom and remember at the end of the day he is fallen.”

I just wanted to run. And so I did. I ran. I ran down near the water. I screamed and sobbed. Not Mark. Not Mark. Whatever the reason, Mark knew God could redeem it. Not Mark. Oh God, no! This cannot be the end of Your faithful servant. If he can’t make it, how can I?

God, was He scared? God, is He okay now? God, did he feel pain?

The funeral. . I sat down next to a woman who untimely said “Oh, if only he had taken his own advice.” I wanted to scream at her. Instead, I bit my tongue and tears poured forth.

One of his friends spoke that we must embrace the idea that we cannot know what happened with him, but we must grieve well, letting go of an answer.

It was said that God identifies with feelings of distress, despair, fear and terror.

Mark was a Wounded Healer.

There was a video of him and his children, goofy pictures, sweet ones. The last one was him on a hill, his back to us, with his arm around his wife and the words “We’ll see you soon Mark”. His daughter than sang the most powerful version I’d ever heard of “My Redeemer Lives”. We all stood. We cried.
I spoke with his daughter after. I fell in her arms and she said “Are you ok?” What? I thought……are YOU okay is what should be said…..however she held me just like her dad would have and whispered in my ear “He will get us through this. He will get us through this.”

And so in closing,

Mark, now in Heaven with the Lord you loved…..I hope you are smiling a lot. I hope all of your tears have been wiped away……and yes, we will see you soon.

Oh, and Mark….thank you. Thank you. I love you.
In one of Chris Rice's songs "Come to Jesus" it ends with this verse. I'll always think of you Mark.
"And with your final heartbeat, kiss the world goodbye. And go in peace and laugh on glory's side. And run to Jesus. Run to Jesus. Run to Jesus and live...."

Mercy and Grace

"You knit me together.....I am fearfully and wonderfully made" Ps. 139

Well, after reading my friends blogs and being so blessed and encouraged by others – even people I don’t know - ones that I’ve found through the Village Church, etc. I have been so blessed and encouraged by people’s candidness about their walk with the Lord. The joy, the pain of daily life.

At first I didn’t want a blog because I thought – well, it’s just me and Annie. Are we a family? I’m a single mom. I didn’t want those that don't know me e to think things about me that weren’t true. I want to tell the story of how I got pregnant, how Annie came into my life. I want to defend, have everyone understand the details, it wasn’t all my fault, well, yes, I did make that mistake, but...let me explain.... this happened, that happened. I didn't want presumptions, stimgas....

But I decided it’s not important. Those closest to me know the story and that’s all that matters. And God knows.

For awhile while I when was pregnant, especially towards the end where one feels as though they have metamorphasized into a new type of whale as I'd waddle to and fro, I felt as though I bore the Scarlett Letter. I would go to Starbucks and hide my hand…there’s no ring ( But wait, let me explain! I long to say…..um, I’m a Christian, um, I didn’t sleep around, um, um, um,….see, this one night....)

“When’s your baby due?”

“December”

“Are you excited”

“Oh, yes.”

( No! Scared to death, embarrassed, angry really, do you have an hour?) My best friend and I went to register. Anxiety attatcks. Fear.
"Yes, this is cute". (I'm ready to go.)
I didn't go to church. I couldn't face anyone. And so for a year I hid in shame, fear, despair, anger and confusion. And I grew......

And then she came. Bam.

After thirty six hours of hard labor and with no epidural ( they could not give me one for medical reasons…..I still want one….) a little girl, whom I had carried for nine months….with ten fingers, ten toes, beautiful blue eyes, and the most innocent little face I had ever seen came into my life.

(Really? Am I draming? She’s mine? I’m responsible for her? Um, God…?)

My family was there, my mom in the delivery room as I pushed her out – no time to call the Dr. They placed her on my chest and it was so chaotic I was simply relieved to be out of labor. I had done it. She was here. Ah.

Now what? (Um, God can You put her back in for a little while….I was kidding, I’m not ready)

But here she was. Swaddled. Innocent. Perfect.

And visitors came – Annie’s dad, my entire family, aunts, uncles, Michele, Nat, Josh P., and Lily, Meredith. We gushed over her and took pictures. And then everyone left.

And it was her and I.

There was no husband in the chair where the new dads sit. Her daddy wasn’t there to talk with me about who she looked like the most. And there was an emptiness.

(Unfair. God, this is not fair. Yes, she’s beautiful. Lord, let me love her. God, I’m terrified.) Tears.

We stayed for five days because Annie needed I.V. antibiotics.

When we arrived home with her, I was quick to pass her to my mom. I don’t know what to do. She was scaring me. At the very core of all of this was a deep rooted seed of fear that had blossomed…..and blossomed….I was heavy laden with fear. It penetrated my very being. So much that I couldn’t see past the - "what if’s" and "if only’s". So much that it robbed me just a bit of embracing my precious little girl. I didn't know something yet...

“Children are a blessing from the Lord” the Bible says. Yes, but what if you have no husband? Did I miss out God? Is this a punishment? But God, wasn’t I the “good one”? (Pride, Resenment)

The first three months I experienced a great deal of postpartum depression. But the scariest part for me was that I felt disconnected from my daughter. As though she were someone I babysat but her real mom would come and get her soon. And so I was guilt ridden. What’s wrong with me?

Oh God, please help me. Let me love my baby like I’m supposed to. And please don’t let anyone know how I feel.

I began going out at night….almost denying the fact that she was there. Confused and hurting. I was looking for a job, and honestly with a most horrid attitude. Though I wanted to work, I didn’t want to….I wanted to be married and stay at home. How will I provide for my daughter? I didn’t finish school. Job interview after job interview failed to produce anything.

Soon I began to pray. God above all else let me love my daughter. I want to love my daughter.
I knew I needed to be more actively involved.

I'll get up with her. I’ll feed her more, change her more, tickle her, make funny noises, read her books, watch Barney and sing and dance with her.

And one day I awoke and she had my heart. I suddenly didn’t want her to go down for a nap….I wanted her awake with me. I no longer desired to “escape” my reality and meet my friends for dinner. I wanted to be with my daughter. I started praying with her. “Dear Jesus…watch over us...take care of us” We’d sing Jesus Loves Me. She is the first person I want to see when I wake up. The one I want to see after work. Dinner? Um, I'm busy. Oh, you're getting together? Thanks for the invite but....

I love being able to comfort her when she’s upset. I love hearing her laugh, sing, watching her sleep. I have a crib in my room and since I started working I’ll often keep her in there with me. That way I’m right there the moment she awakes. And somehow it helps me knowing she's there.

Work was hard at first , being away from her. The first week I worked forty six hours. I cried for I rarely saw her. The next week my hours were less and I was able to savor each moment.

Finally.

Finally I see. I see that in the life of Joseph, Isaac, his brothers – God used Joseph’s cockiness, his father’s idolatry for making Joseph first in his heart, his brothers envy. He used prison and had the tiniest detail not taken place all of Israel would have been lost.

And so it goes in our lives.....

Is God Soverieign? Yes. Does He use the evil to bring about His purposes? Just look at the Cross.

And, though I am by no means the mom or woman I desire to be there is much work to be done….I now see Annie as my precious little gift. I tell her God stamped her "extra special surprise delivery before He sent her down." And God saw fit to give her to me. To give her to Josh. Josh, Annie’s dad, is seeking the Lord, changing his life. He will be a great daddy something I wasn't always sure of.

Would I go through it again? Yes. In a moment. She is my littlest, greatest joy. Will there be hard times? Absolutely. Am I still afraid? Certainly. Do I still wrestle with comparison, fear, confusion? Of course. Are there bad days? Days where I am overwhelmed with the future? ("Do not wory about tommorrow....")

But one thing is for sure. God gave me an angel.

And so life, that I thought was over, is finally beginning……Annie's name in Hebrew means "gracious, and merciful". I am certain she will be this in my life and others....