Blog on the Move!

If you are interested in following my blog, I have designed a website of my own and have a page dedicated to my blog.

I have a button set up to link to these blog posts for now, but hope to move them eventually.

Hope you get a chance to visit my new website: lisawagneronline.com - Home

Merci' Mercy

Whew!  Not my best workout, but I was faithful and felt invigorated.  I kept to my schedule and got off the stationary bike in time to get home, shower and take my daughter to school.  This was the last year to drive her.  Soon, my sweet Freshman in high school would be getting her license and hold the keys to new found freedom; well at least a little bit.

The text came right as I was getting in my car:

“Okay, so last night I realized that I did throw away my book cover.  I’m really, really sorry.  Can you please take me early from home and possibly stop by Walgreens or something for another?  I’ll pay for it.”

Just as my heart rate was slowing to normal, my emotions revved up for their workout!

I waited a moment before I replied, started the car and tried to sort out what I felt like doing and saying versus what God would have me do; what was the right response.

You see, I had been school supply shopping more than once so far this school year.  The first time was before classes began and we went together buying all the things she “thought” she would need and wanted.

Then after the first day of school, “the list” came home of the items she must have.  But with athletic practice after school and new loads of homework, she just couldn’t make it.

I had gone, willingly, to get the items only after she wrote out a specific list so that I would not be held accountable if something was missing.  And I do remember the very item from the text: a book cover.  I hadn't bought one of those in years.

After I brought the new load of supplies home, I watched as they simply sat on the table.  Where was the urgency that night?  Or the next?  Where was the “Thank you.”

Hmmm, they must not have really been needed. 

But then, the evening came where they were all integrated into the backpack and the trash was bagged up…. and left in the middle of the room.

In our small rental space, I have learned to keep quiet and just clean it up; and I did.

So when I got her text this morning, I had to put into action a lesson that I had just heard yesterday from a well-respected Christian leader and teacher. 

She was teaching on the mercy of God.

Psalm 103:8-9

The Lord is merciful and gracious, slow to anger and plenteous in mercy and loving-kindness.

He will not always accuse, neither will He keep His anger forever or hold a grudge.

Her challenge was to BE MERCIFUL, because God is merciful everyday, multiple times a day, with me.

Then she continued the challenge to be mindful to NOT even mention it when someone else makes a mistake or causes a problem; even to the point of seeing how many times in a day you can NOT mention it.

I remember thinking, “Ok, that means there will be a challenge soon.”

And this was my first.

Now this might not seem like much, "it's just a bookcover!"  But I often debate within myself when is it the time to let my child learn the lesson?  When do I not bail her out?  As opposed to being a helpful and supportive mom. 

Didn’t I already by this book cover with all the other supplies?  If it was so important, why did it not get put on the book first, before everything else was stuffed in that backpack?  Did it really get thrown away, or was it wedged under a table or amid a pile dirty clothes on the floor?  And why was this high school teacher giving a grade on a book cover?  Those types of grades are against policy?

And most important, I'll miss my morning shower!  Well, at least I'll have to put it off for a while.

Only seconds had passed and the arguments continued to twirl round and round.

And then, as I started the car and backed out of the parking space, I’m sparked by the mercy challenge.  And I recall that in addition to not mentioning the mistake, I have to avoid the trap of making her think somehow she “owes” me.  Or that she knows how a great person I am for fixing the mistake.  Ouch!  Pride wounded.

So as I pull onto the street, I press speed dial and call her.  I swallow my, “I told you so” attitude and tell her that I will go to Walgreens before coming home.  She is pleased.

I am at an intersection near the store, sadly, they are not open at 6:45 A.M.  I text her from the red light, “On to WalMart.”  Leaving my pride in the car, and dressed in my sweaty workout clothes I search the depleted school supply aisle.  I wander up and down thinking I must have missed a small stack of them, or even one last little book cover tucked somewhere by mistake.

I ask out loud for Jesus to help me find a book cover, risking the thought that someone might think me crazy.  Nothing.

I am only slightly comforted by another woman searching the same aisles, keys in hand.  She looks to be a desperate mother trying to save her child before school as well.

I head back to Walgreens, hoping they have opened by now.  The lights are on…  The book cover is there.  Success, praise Jesus!

I push open the shaded glass door of the store to exit to the parking lot and am greeted by the most beautiful sunrise.  I pause.  I truly believe it was God's mercy; a beautiful gift simply because I am trying.  I listened, I reflected and I am working on changing my heart.  It is not easy to let go of my pride, but I can smile in His sunrise of grace.

As I drive home, I contemplate my words.  How can I be sure to have the right words, right expression, lack of sarcasm, irritation or pride?  I pray for God’s wisdom.  It may seem such a small circumstance, but I know that it is part of the test.

I want to pass this small test from God.  Heaven knows, if not, the next one will be bigger and harder.

Beside that, it is a lesson for my daughter.  I want her to be merciful as well; this is an example for her.

I have not even made it home when she calls.

“Yes, I have found one.”  Our conversation is brief.  I don’t want to blow it!

As I come in the house, she greets me; she thanks me.  I simply hand her the book cover and change the subject.  We begin talking about other events of her day.

But I watch her as she opens the package.  Our conversation is brief.  I turn to get something out of the refrigerator and she is at the kitchen table putting the cover on her French textbook.

As I pivot around, I see her clutching the book close to her chest, eyes closed and lips slightly moving.  I am humbled.  She is saying a prayer.  I am not certain of the words, but they are dedicated to God.

And in my heart I say, "Thank You, Lord, for teaching me to tether my tongue and pack up my pride."

Mercy won today.

Psalm 86:5-7

You, Lord, are forgiving and good, 
abounding in love to all who call to you.

Hear my prayer, Lord; listen to my cry for mercy.

When I am in distress, I call to you, because you answer me.

I Can't Help the Butterfly

It was the third time she told me she was thinking of coming home.  It was not as she expected; college life on an athletic scholarship was not the dream she envisioned.

Oh, she’s plenty tough and can hang with the best:  maxing out in the weight room, two-a-days, lack of sleep, and cramming for exams in the super fast-forward summer school classes.

But every team she had every played on came with it’s share of friends.  Not this one.  These were all the athletes who had the drive and ambition, stamina and pride to take them this far.  These were the athletes who didn’t need anyone else.

My girl, it turns out, is not the cookie cutter athlete.  Nope, God cut her from a different mold completely.

Yes, she is driven and has ambition and stamina.  And this girl wants to win more than most.  She can look at a scoreboard and be at the losing side of game point and down by ten.  And still, she will give it her all; never say die.  That’s my girl.

But this girl also loves “team.”  She develops those deep, true, loyal sister-like frienships that take time.  Time, sadly, had not been built yet.  But when you’re 18, instant is an expectation.

So when I hear her voice tell me she’s ready to set down the ball, she sounds like a stranger.  Something inside of me is twisting and turning and I can’t let her give up so quickly; I know she’s in there somewhere if we just wait a little bit longer.

“Hang in there, Sweet Girl,” I beg her, “It will get better.  Just wait until the games start and you’ll see.”  When she gets into a real competition, I believe my girl will come back.

But nothing I say can convince her because these words don’t fit into her reality.

I am constant.  I am consistent.  I think of every positive thing I can say and text morning, afternoon and night.  It has been weeks, and still I press on.

I send her a verse of the day or a song of the day; often with no reply.

And God tells me, “My word will not return void.  Press on, Mom, she needs you.”

(from Isaiah 55:11)

This time I sense it; she needs a dose of “my” reality.

So I tell her…

“If you were to walk in the door right now, be prepared to live here at home.  Be prepared to pay for gas and insurance, clothes, entertainment…  Basically anything except tuition from this point forward, because that is all your dad and I are prepared to provide should you give up the commitment that you have made.”

Silence.

And then the conversation takes a turn for the worse.  My emotions get the better of me.  Clearly, Dad should have handled this one.  He is much calmer and factual about these matters.

When the call ends, I fear I won’t hear from her for a few days.  But I hold my ground.

The next morning at the gym, I am rewinding the conversation in my mind.  The gym is my place to really think; endorphins are my brain food.  I have been on the stationary bike for longer than I know.  I am sweatier that I care to admit, but am deep in thought.

Instead of plugging my headphones into the TV attached to the bike, I decide to close my eyes and listen to a playlist on my ipod.  The next song begins:

Beautiful Things by Gungor.

(http://www.metrolyrics.com/beautiful-things-lyrics-gungor.html)

It is a song that I have listened to many times before today.  I adore this song and I begin to worship.

Suddenly, I am overcome with an image and know that God is present.  As the image of a cocoon unfolds in my mind, the beautiful butterfly struggles and fights.  Finally it works it’s way free, and is in flight; I weep.

My Sweet Girl!

Thank you, Lord, I am overcome.

Self consciously, I pray that no one will be able to tell the many tears that pour down my face from the sweat that I cannot stop.  But certainly they must see my shoulders slightly heave, now and again, and my mouth curl downward, as I cannot contain myself.

This struggle is hers and she must wrestle with it.  If, like the story goes, of the man who opens the cocoon early to ease the butterfly's struggle, I help her out of this “mess” and make her life easier, my Sweet Girl will also never take flight.

And so I continue to worship and pray.

I have said it before.  I would almost rather she be that crying infant once more; at least I knew how to hold her tight and comfort her in my arms.  Loving her at a distance and watching the struggle is a much harder way to “mother”.

I cannot imagine if she were to suffer to the point of ridicule, torture and execution on a cross… for a crime she did not commit.  Thank You, Father.  You watched that from a distance.

Thank You, Lord, for the gift of being her mother.

Even at this distance, I am content.

Leaning In

One of my sweetest memories is sitting in church with my girls when they were younger.  Their friends would often bring colors and paper for drawing, but I preferred not.

Often my girls would join in the drawing when the sermon began, but that didn’t entertain for long and soon, I would find them slowly moving in closer; one girl on each side, nearer.  Sometimes one might lay her head on my shoulder and lean in with her hand wrapped around the inside of my upper arm, squeezing it a bit like a hug.  Other times, she might lift my arm to skooch underneath it and get closer to lean into my side, and under my wing.

It was never bothersome or distracting.  I knew even then, that one day, I would miss those sweet moments of closeness.

Being a parent often brings me closer to God; just contemplating how He, as a Father, sees us as and our relationships as children and family.

Recently I was seeking to encourage my daughter in some choices she was struggling to make.  She so wanted her life to follow a direction that would truly be an uphill climb. 

As she strained, spun and scrambled to make it all work her way, she found herself frustrated and discouraged.  So in a brief text, I sent her the following verse:

Proverbs 3:5-6

Lean on, trust in, and be confident in the Lord with all your heart and mind and do not rely on your own insight or understanding.

In all your ways know, recognize, and acknowledge Him, and He will direct and make straight and plain your paths.

As the bar scrolled across my phone, sending the words across the many miles that separate us, I was brought close to the memory of her leaning near to me on that church pew just 10 or 12 years ago.

Oh how dearly God must love us.  How His heart must ache for us to lean on Him; to rest our head on His shoulder and wrap our hand around His upper arm.  Or if we could be so bold as to skooch a little closer and lift His arm for a safer place, nearer to Himself. 

I close my eyes and picture the pew; I am sitting in a quiet chapel.  I take a deep breath; hold it for a moment.  As the tears roll down my cheeks I let go with a sigh.  I relax my muscles a bit more, and I lean into Him.  It is safe here.  I can let go of my thoughts; those worries and plans that I try so hard to wiggle and shift into this puzzle I call “my” life.  The picture I’ve held so firm in my mind begins to blur as He gently hugs His arm a bit more around my shoulder.

“You ready?” He whispers softly. 

I know He is waiting for me to look up; to look at and acknowledge Him.

Slowly I begin to lift my head and as my eyes move across His tranquil expression, our eyes meet.  They are brilliant; they see me.

“I know the plans that I have for you, Lisa.  They are wonderful and hopeful.  I will not let you down.  But you need to trust in me even though you don’t understand.”

"But this is so hard, Lord," I creak.  I am undone.  While I want so much to relax my full weight into Him, there is still so much of me that wants 'my way' to work out.  The dream I've got dreamed up looks so nice from where I sit.

"I have a better plan," He replies without a moments hesitation.

I've been here before; this where grasping for something only leaves you with aching arms and empty hands.  I take one more deep breath, let it out, and as I relax all of me and lean further still, I open my hands and let go.

As I bow my head in prayer to Him, I say,

“You are my hiding place; you preserve me from trouble.

You will surround me with songs of deliverance.”

Psalm 32:7

And for a moment, before I open my eyes…  I believe I hear the soft voices of angels singing over me.

It is not possible for us to “plan” our life; nor would I want to.

I have lived long enough to find that I cannot do it nearly as well as God!

He thinks of everything, knows everyone and has unlimited resources.

Amen!