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Monthly Archives: September 2014

Just Can’t Stop Pretzel Breathing

So, I learned a new technique a few months ago from my son’s therapist. It’s about breathing in while folding my arms around each other and pulling them in against my chest. Something about the breathing in, folding, and exhaling interrupts the body’s stress processes and calms us down. In other words, it takes the “wig” out of “wigging out.”

Well, I thought I’d just be reminding my son of this lovely new tool, but instead, I find myself pretzel breathing in rush hour traffic on the way to karate; while watching my kids painstakingly slowly pack their backpacks up and tie shoes as I hear the bus rolling up; when we are fighting homework battles with one who isn’t big on receiving feedback; when arguments break out between siblings right when I need to get out the door; when the dogs eat the important mail; and when the person in front of me in line is simultaneously on the phone while trying to order bagels and coffee for 30 people who aren’t currently with her.

Yeah, I really just can’t stop pretzel breathing. I’m not sure if it’s counterproductive or not to replace OCD/anxiety symptoms with obsessively using techniques to interrupt them, but I pretzel breathe to the umpteenth power. Cannot get enough of it. It’s a new compulsion, and I’m not even the patient.

I even went so far as to demonstrate my awesome new skill at my moms’ prayer group at the start of our prayer year, and since then, one prayer warrior mom has reported she’s in love with it too. Really, all of the pills* in the world to fix this, that, and the other thing, and all we have to do is twist and breathe? Sign me up!

It works so well that I don’t think I’ll ever stop. I’m pretty sure my gravestone will read: “Faithful wife, mother, friend. Pretzel-breathing advocate to the very end.”

So, I asked myself, is anything close to pretzel breathing in the Bible?

I have no idea.

I think taking Sabbath is along the same lines. [For more on this, kindly refer to: “And on the Seventh Day He Rested….” The kid in the picture is pretty cute!]

What I do know is that prayer, Bible reading, and worship are like that. When we participate, they beautifully interrupt our trudge through the sludge of life and ground us. Praying empties me of my burdens. Yes, sometimes I need to pray the same thing over and over again until I am ready to fully let it go to God and trust Him, but the discipline of running to Him first is what frees me.

When I read the Bible, it always speaks directly into something I am going through. That’s because it is not just a history book. It is the living Word of God. It comes alive in us because it is always relevant and because He sends the Holy Spirit to those Who trust in Him, to help us gain understanding. God’s words are meant to be read back and prayed to Him. That’s what engages them in our lives: believing them, speaking them, talking to our Creator. It’s not something we chant to get our minds or hearts in a better place (although that is a definite result). It’s living dialogue with God, Our Father. Unlike pretzel breathing, it does more than calm the body. It calms the soul. It says: “At rest, my soul. You’ve spoken with and trusted in God.”

And worship is praising Him, singing to Him, acknowledging Him, dancing to Him, honoring Him. We worship even when we tell others about something great He has taught us or has done in our lives. It’s acknowledging His awesomeness, and no matter how rough your day, wouldn’t that turn your perspective around a bit? If we were each focused on His awesomeness?

Pretzel breathing is a fantastic stress tool, that’s for sure, but its effects are simply in the moment. I have to keep performing that task when different scenarios come up that stress me out.

Prayer, Bible reading, and worship are also beneficial, if done repeatedly, but the difference is: They last. They build into our peace like a storage chest of truth, rest, hope, and promise. Practicing them, as well as practicing thankfulness,** eventually leads us to and sustains us at a state of joy, no matter our circumstances.

There’s no harm in wrapping my arms inward and exhaling now and again. I honestly don’t think I even know how to stop, at this point. But, by far, the best way to interrupt the day’s stress is to spend time with God. Eventually, we get to the point where His Word is in our heads and hearts, and He speaks it to us right when we need it.

Psalm 119:10-18, unnamed author

I seek you with all my heart;
do not let me stray from your commands.
I have hidden your word in my heart
that I might not sin against you.
Praise be to you, Lord;
teach me your decrees.
With my lips I recount
all the laws that come from your mouth.
I rejoice in following your statutes
as one rejoices in great riches.
I meditate on your precepts
and consider your ways.
I delight in your decrees;
I will not neglect your word.

Be good to your servant while I live,
that I may obey your word.
Open my eyes that I may see
wonderful things in your law [emphasis mine].

*This does not mean I am in any way anti-medication. Our personal journey to making medication decisions can be found in Not Just on Sundays.

**This is a great book for practicing thankfulness:

Voskamp, Ann. One Thousand Gifts: A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2010.

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Posted by Bonnie Lyn Smith on September 18, 2014 in Anxiety/OCD/Depression, Dance/Karate/Robotics/Band/Basketball/XC Mom

Tags: ann voskamp, anxiety, hidden your word in my heart, not just on sundays, OCD, one thousand gifts, pretzel breathing, psalm 119, sabbath

Turning in This Rickety Chariot

17 Sep

This verse has gone through my head over and over again all week. I couldn’t completely understand if God was trying to tell me something, but I would speak it when I heard it in my head. It kept coming back to me. I found it a comfort in the middle of so many things, and today, I found it a source of hope and strength as I waited for news of whether or not my father’s cancer had been completely removed, or if it had launched a stealth mission to land somewhere else.

Psalm 20:7, David speaking
Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the LORD our God.

I also considered it an excellent reminder as news came in that we are not finished pursuing specialists for one of our children, that what we thought was okay is really not fully okay, and we take yet another big step toward wellness and wholeness.

And as I wrap up publication of Not Just on Sundays, with all of the unforeseen delays, obstacles, and new rabbit holes to go down—no matter the margin I left myself—trusting in the name of the Lord our God sounded pretty good to me. Because trusting in anything manmade or even human doesn’t really get us anywhere.

Not when the stakes are big.

What do you trust in? Have you asked yourself that lately?

I thought I trusted in Jesus, but somedays I realize I’m trying to ride that chariot again. And you know what? It has wooden wheels. It doesn’t stand up against the fires that burn in life. A chariot is fine for running short distances, but it sure doesn’t get me safely through a long, uphill battle. Have you also found that to be true?

My husband and I recently had a conversation about how independent we each are and how we each project to others a strength that isn’t actually always there—but it somehow conveys that it is. This came up because we were talking about how we’ve never lived near family or had grandparents local enough to babysit or give us a break. We have lived as far away as the Marshall Islands, and we’ve always had to go it alone—just the two of us—since Month 4 of marriage. That’s two decades of “it’s up to only us.” Our only “village” at times was our church in each location and our community (at one point, graduate school community and at other times, our military community). With him traveling often for his work, I frequently shoulder running the house and family, and I’m completely unqualified most days, so I regularly cry out to God. It’s not something we set out to do—be away from family—but it has definitely limited our ability to take the marriage on vacation from the kids. There is no rescue when we need to flee. We just don’t flee. When hard things hit, we get through them: graduate housing (and funds) running out, an infant in the NICU, depression, as some examples. We also draw deeper into friendships because there’s something about proximity that helps us feel less alone, more supported.

But we fail each other. We can’t carry everything. Between us there aren’t enough resources, intellect, strength, or answers to go further than a chariot can take us. We trust each other, but we can’t trust in each other.

And isn’t this true of any relationship, really? A beloved sibling, a dear friend, an inspiring mentor?

I had to ask myself lately: “Bonnie, are you trusting in Bonnie? In another person? In a circumstance? Are you taking a chariot ride?” And I was. I was riding around and around on wooden wheels connected to a wearied horse.

Sometimes it’s not until we fall completely over, exhausted, depleted, and withered, that we realize this whole time we could have stopped spinning wheels like Samson, my Shih Tzu, and saved ourselves a lot of emotional and physical energy by going straight to God. I have to place my trust there. When I don’t, my chariot gets rickety, falls over, pops iron nails, and busts a rail or two. And so much repair is needed when I could have skipped that whole routine and just given something to Him in prayer, laid it at His feet, snuggled into His promises.

And you know what else going directly to Him does? It relieves others of our unfair expectations on what they can(‘t) humanly do, preserves relationships, and teaches us so much about how destructive self-reliance can be. God answers—sometimes quickly and sometimes not—but we have to get out of the mindset of a drive-through God. It’s about relationship, not dispensing answers at us like a slot machine.

When we stop taking that long, bumpy ride on the chariot going nowhere, we will see how incredibly blessed we are to have a God Who knows our name, hears our prayers, and wants to delight us with a response.

The learning curve can be rough for me at times, but when I remember to live this way—willing to be patient and not take my own control—you know what happens? Peace reigns, and I finally get somewhere much further in my prayers walking alongside Jesus, barefoot on the road, than I do trying to fast-track the journey in a rusty, splintered chariot.

How about you?

Do you feel like there are some chariots in your life that you can leave at the side of the road and just grab the hand of Jesus for a nice, long walk?

I promise the adventure will be life-changing and completely awesome. You’ll eventually forget all about your chariot because you will have traded it in for something so much better—something life-giving.

Tell Him you want to trust Him, and go for that walk. See what happens.

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Copyright: V. Gilbert and Arlisle F. Beers
Used with permission by http://www.visualbiblealive.com/religiouspictures/Chariots.html

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Posted by Bonnie Lyn Smith on September 17, 2014 in Renewing Our Minds

Tags: drive-through God, Marshall Islands, psalm 20:7, some trust in chariots, trust in the name of the Lord our God, walk with God

Warrior Princesses and Marching Bands

16 Sep

There is absolutely nothing quite like the sound of a marching band. Nothing like it. I love me some jazz band, for sure, and I’ve enjoyed watching my high school son perform an improv solo on the trombone at concerts, but a marching band coming at me is so ceremonious. I always choke up when I hear and see it. I had about five seconds of fame in my high school marching band. I played a xylophone, which proved a bit much for this 5 foot 2 girl to carry, at least at the time, but I loved being part of the march, the formation, the celebration.

So, I sit here in my van outside the high school band entrance delighting in the fading sounds of practicing percussionists with a few trumpets and trombones hanging in there—and a tuba. The rest of them have already gone inside to pack up. And even though this blog is way behind schedule, and I truly have no idea what I’m going to write about (God usually gives me an image or story, and I pray and go from there), I’m transported back to school days, pep rallies, peer pressure, and pimples. My own high school stories are not phenomenal. They didn’t leave lasting impressions on my life (people did, but not necessarily experiences), nor did they scar me. I still have some great friends from that time, although I’ve never made a high school reunion yet. But the truest friends from my high school years have remained in my middle decades, and that is awesome.

———————————————–

After a few interruptions (ages 8, 11, 14, and 43), I finally returned to finish this blog, and it’s amazing because I asked God: “Okay, I’m a little late here on the inspiration…what are we going to write about today?” He already wrote an entire book that continues to be a best seller, so there’s really nothing to add to that. I just try to talk about what I discover in His Great Big Book of Truth (the Bible, of course!).

And then I quickly caught up on a private message on social media with a few people (four) to whom I sometimes call out for prayer. We call ourselves the “Warrior Princesses” because we war against the rough stuff of life in prayer for each other. And there was something heartfelt and deeply personal that I shared earlier in the day, which was followed by several amazingly poignant observations about either my own wrong thinking or where I wasn’t seeing with clarity or fullness of the situation. But it was said with deep love, compassion, and care. It spoke directly into the inner turmoil I had. I didn’t have to share more than a few sentences. These prayer friends just knew my silent torment. And because God made them individuals, they each had different wisdom to bring to the table. One of them speaks with a sweetness, one with blunt and delightful wit, one with practical wisdom, and the other with maternal compassion. They each have something unique but true to say—and it blends in beautiful harmony.

I believe it sounds like a triumphant march of praying, warrior chicks who won’t give up helping each other to look up to God. As one of them put it when I asked permission to reveal our group name (Warrior Princesses) on public forum:

“Yes, you can say that, Bonnie. We are very Xena with our swords, and I want a horse, too, please.”

She’s absolutely right. When one of us hurts, doubts, can’t see Jesus through the clouds of our own chaos or confusion, the other four ride in on horses cutting out the untruths and reminding the limping one of God’s truth. Sometimes two or more of us have multiple “Oh, Jesus, please help us!” moments going on at the same time. Somehow, we all, in private message format, get it taken care of. And we’re not all on at the same time. But Bible verses are typed, e-prayers are written, and some fun emoji (topic for another blog, for sure!) are shared.

Another group of praying moms sits around my table every other week for a few hours. An hour of coffee, a half-hour or more of sharing, and 30-45 minutes of prayer for our children, schools, communities, teachers, bus drivers, you name it! And tears have been shed as well as peals of laughter heard—sometimes even in the middle of prayer—because life is messy, muddy, sticky, gooey, and if we aren’t real about that, why on earth do we gather in the first place?

And of course there are my precious one-on-one friends who read my three-sentence angst in a text and know exactly how to reply. They, too, know my history and where exactly my heart is in certain moments without me saying much.

There are some dear ones with whom I simply exchange a meaningful hug at church, or elsewhere, and the embrace says so much while we say almost nothing. It’s an exchange of pain and encouragement—an “I love you, and I understand.”

This blog isn’t about how awesome I am to have these friends. It’s to encourage us all to enjoy the variety God gives us. To not rule someone out just because they’re a bit blunt, and you are more sugary. (In my case, my oldest child tells me I am not “sweet,” but rather “spicy kind” in personality. Yeah, I probably have to agree with him there.)

I have felt badly lately because I haven’t been very good at holding anyone else up in this particular season of my life. My strength only went so far, and I hate that. I like it when I can extend it beyond our family. I certainly pray for people and send out an encouraging word here and there. I respond. But I haven’t been able to carry others. My arms and heart have been weak. I have felt my limitations, and they have been humbling. I want to do more, but in this season, God brought my focus back home for a while. He narrowed it, and I am learning to be okay with it, because I trust Him to broaden it again when it is time.

And this is where we need people to come alongside us and say: “It’s your turn. It’s okay that you need us right now without an immediate return on investment.” As one Warrior Princess put it:

“There is no tally being kept.”

What? There’s not? Most of the world out there doesn’t tell us that. People who don’t keep tally are rare gems.

But this cycles me back around to that resounding boom of the marching band. One instrument, or even five of the same instrument, cannot bring the same music to our ears as multiple instruments playing different parts. If I surround myself with only funny people, I miss the beautiful music of the more serious ones. We need all of the personalities in our lives to blend and teach us something.

I love what the Apostle Peter has to say about this in the 1 Peter passage about different gifts. What do you think? What does your band sound like? Does it have both speaker and servant personalities* in it?

1 Peter 4:10-11, Apostle Peter speaking

Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others, as faithful stewards of God’s grace in its various forms. If anyone speaks, they should do so as one who speaks the very words of God. If anyone serves, they should do so with the strength God provides, so that in all things God may be praised through Jesus Christ. To him be the glory and the power for ever and ever. Amen.

*A more thorough discussion of personality differences represented by this Scripture can be found in Not Just on Sundays.

**This blog has been shared at Faith-Filled Fridays, Blessing Counters, Dance With Jesus, and Christian Mommy Blogger.

2 Comments

Posted by Bonnie Lyn Smith on September 16, 2014 in Dance/Karate/Robotics/Band/Basketball/XC Mom, Ministry Moments

Tags: 1 peter 4:10-11, as faithful stewards of God's grace, if anyone serves, marching band, not just on sundays, prayer warrior, praying moms, use whatever gift you have received, with the strength God provides

Planted Promise: Fresh Hope for Wearied Hearts

15 Sep

Sunflower

Beautiful sunflower
Up on the patio table,
Away from curious and hungry bunnies,
Repotted,
And climb-climb-climbing toward heaven,
Until it’s tall enough to open up
Into full, golden bloom.

Little Man’s planted promise.
A takeaway from a tough school year.
A living stalk trying to get up to God—
—To open for Him,
Reflecting part of His amazing, creative glory.

That sunflower climbs for all of us:
For Little Man,
For our family,
For my father,
For the book,
For hopes and dreams.

Bonnie Lyn Smith, 2014

——————————

My eight year old, Little Man, came home with a sunflower seed on the last day of school last year. I have as much luck growing things as I do dusting. (Let me know if you see my furniture because it’s been a while since I have.) I’ve never really been able to keep an indoor plant alive for very long. The previous owners of our home had beautiful landscaping done. I felt so conflicted every time I pulled into my driveway because I felt like the neighbors might actually expect me to keep up with that standard, when my intention was just to pull a weed out now and again.

And every time we have tried to plant sunflower seeds—rows of them—animals have come along and dug them up. So, it was almost a burden to have this seed come home. I knew it was like already breaking a hope of Little Man’s. It felt like a letdown already in motion. Really, teachers should have to ask if it’s okay if things like seeds come home, just like they ask about frogs and goldfish. My answer on the permission slip would have been a resounding: “No, thank you!”

That said, the seed did come home, and with it, an enthusiastic Little Man. Considering that joy had rarely visited his sweet face in the months leading up to this and that he was slowly emerging from a diagnosed depression,* I decided to get a pot and some soil and half-heartedly toss the seed in there. After all, growing and tending something could be therapeutic for Little Man.

Oh, God, please don’t let this thing be a dud. Please don’t let me be a dud, God. Little Man needs this to grow.

At first, three feet into it, I really was convinced I was naively growing a weed. It was five weeks in, and that green stalk produced nothing but leaves. And since I’m not known for distinguishing weeds from real plants, I thought maybe the joke was on me, that somehow a determined squirrel had found its way onto the table and that some old weed seed ended up in my plant instead. We saw the “stalk” climb and climb with absolutely no bloom. Four feet. Five feet. Really, how patient can one be? And I had no idea this was the six feet variety. This isn’t Kansas, after all!

But watching this sunflower all summer has been a gift only God can give. It means so many things to us, and we have stewarded its life with tender care, eagerly awaiting its announcement that it is time, time for a tiny sun-bloom to wow us with hope, growth, and the incredible and unending love of a Father Who let a little boy grow something beautiful out of a year of many struggles and a few triumphs.

It was also a summer of great change in some ways. My father battled his fifth tumor and lost his bladder. It was a time when my first book, Not Just on Sundays, was inching ever closer to publication, and so was the stress. And it was a season of watching Little Man tentatively approach the world again and occasionally crack a smile.

The sunflower meant so much to all of us that, unbeknownst to each other, my husband and I each took pictures of it, which I just now found on my camera.

Fast-forward to Day 1 of the new school year, and this was my journal entry:

Little Man’s sunflower is starting to bloom today, and I find that so ironic, because he planted it on his way out of a difficult first grade year, and on this day, his first day of second grade, after growing tall all summer, protected on our patio table from gnawing critters, it is about to burst forth.

I had one enter high school for the first time today, one new to middle school, and a Little Man not sure if this whole school thing was going to go well this year.

And I’ve battled my own anxiety and self-worth because there are always voices trying to tell us we’re not at all worthy. They are voices on rewind-and-repeat cycles. And I just have to remember to push “off.”

Because God loved me, my kids, and Little Man so much to send His Son Jesus, but also—to open that flower up when the time was right.

And it’s right now, Jesus, thank You.

I went out with the dogs, and I saw that bloom readying itself to announce created life. I can’t wait to show Little Man! This year will be different, Little Man.

As surely as God put the rainbow in the sky, He grew this sunflower:

For you, for me, for love, and for fresh hope to wearied hearts.

Where does your heart need some hope today? His “word sustains the weary.” We can start by talking to Him, and then it slowly becomes a process of learning how to listen and to open our eyes, allowing Him to show us His goodness, love, and encouragement each day. It is often deeply personal—the way He reaches us—because He is a deeply personal God.

Isaiah 50:4, Isaiah the Prophet speaking

The Sovereign LORD has given me a well-instructed tongue, to know the word that sustains the weary. He wakens me morning by morning, wakens my ear to listen like one being instructed.

*Yes, eight year olds can experience depression. For more on this story, kindly refer to the Anxiety/OCD/Depression section of this blog.

**This post been shared at Mom 2 Mom Monday Link-Up, Make a Difference Mondays, Pick Your Pin Tuesday, A Little R & R Wednesdays, Christian Mommy Blogger, Grace & Truth, Women With Intention Wednesdays, RaRa Link-Up, So Much at Home, and Coffee and Conversation.

More anecdotal stories about faith, family, and relationships can be found in Not Just on Sundays: Seeking God’s Purpose in Each New Day (includes Book Club Discussion Questions).

22 Comments

Posted by Bonnie Lyn Smith on September 15, 2014 in Anxiety/OCD/Depression, Grace in Big Gulps, Tweens/Children

Tags: bloom, depression, God's promise, hope to wearied hearts, isaiah 50:4, not just on sundays, sunflower, sustains the weary

“And on the Seventh Day He Rested…”

14 Sep

Espressos of Faith observes Sabbath rest. Here’s why:

Rest was built into our week, and day, by a loving Father and Creator Who knew our needs and that we could not go nonstop without melting down. He knew we had a tendency to be workaholics, obsess, think everything that has to be done can somehow fully be managed by us if we pretend each day and week has more hours in it.

Obviously, someone’s “seventh day” may not always be the same as someone else’s. Emergency personnel, law officers, and pastors (among other professions) have to work on Sundays. So do parents! But, if you’re not taking your “seventh day” somewhere in your week, you are missing the holiness and blessing of the day of rest. I have found it to be true that when I rest, I am better able to focus on the days when there is plenty of work to be done. In the middle of all the stress that piles up by Day 6, Sabbath rest resets me for the non-Sabbath days.

God took a day of rest. He set the precedent. Do we need any more justification or legitimacy than that?

Genesis 2:2-3, Moses narrating

By the seventh day God had finished the work he had been doing; so on the seventh day he rested from all his work. And God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, because on it he rested from all the work of creating that he had done.

1 Comment

Posted by Bonnie Lyn Smith on September 14, 2014 in General Website Posts

Tags: Genesis 2:2-3, God's rest, sabbath, sabbath rest

Grace That Changes: One Forgiving Moment at a Time [Excerpt]

13 Sep

Today, Espressos of Faith offers an excerpt from the upcoming Not Just on Sundays: Seeking God’s Purpose in Each New Day, due out this month.

Cover design: Traci Carmichael Art

—————————————

I performed an interesting social experiment in the past year at a favorite establishment in my town. Folks working there weren’t very friendly, to the point I dreaded going in. So, I tried being very kind every time I went, going out of my way to clean up any mess we left, saying something encouraging at the counter, and in general bringing in a consistent smile, no matter what attitude came back at me. I went in more regularly with my kids, having them do homework and lingering, looking for opportunities to bless. It took a few months, but then suddenly, the staff not only knew me by name, but they started going out of their way to also be kind: They brought my kids free food, helped me more with questions I had, and apologized for mistakes even when I didn’t complain. Although I’m sure I’m not the reason the entire establishment is friendlier, I was able to show my kids that kindness begets more kindness. Even they have noticed a difference.

So, I keep thinking how deliberate the choice is to love and bless. It doesn’t always flow naturally; it is a minute-by-minute choice, but if we employed this same idea everywhere—the car that cuts in front of us for a parking space, the tired clerk at the market counter, the pharmacy technician who doesn’t need one more prescription coming in when she’s already so behind—how many people could we each reach with love and grace? Too much in this world tears us down. What if that pharmacy clerk was going to go home and drink herself into a stupor again tonight because of problems weighing on her unbeknownst to me? What if the impatient car parker is also impatient at home with his kids, snapping at the least little annoyance? Do we need to cause him more angst, or could grace perhaps make a small dent, leading to bigger dents, in the way he daily functions? Could our choice to extend grace turn around a despairing, tense, hopeless attitude? All I know is grace changed who I am, and the people who offered me grace in my own bad attitudes deserve so much credit; they overlooked the ugly in me and encouraged the beautiful. Grace changes things, one forgiving moment at a time. My mouth can’t hold poison and antidote all at the same time. James, brother of Jesus, said it best:

James 3:9-12

With the tongue we praise our Lord and Father, and with it we curse men, who have been made in God’s likeness. Out of the same mouth come praise and cursing. My brothers, this should not be. Can both fresh water and salt water flow from the same spring? My brothers, can a fig tree bear olives, or a grapevine bear figs? Neither can a salt spring produce fresh water.

And here is a fun one for you. I thought it was amazingly descriptive to wear cursing as one’s garment and have it enter one’s body like water and bones like oil. Hello, songwriter! Modifiers and analogies make my heart jump!

Psalm 109:17-18, David (not yet king) speaking

He loved to pronounce a curse—
may it come on him.
He found no pleasure in blessing—
may it be far from him.

He wore cursing as his garment;
it entered into his body like water,
into his bones like oil.

Summertime presents some nice opportunities for learning how to relate better to one another. I bet if you’re a parent of kids still at home, it does in your house too. One of the rules of my house is: “If you come to any of us with accusations, anger, or emotional response of any kind, you may not walk away when you are in the middle of receiving a response. If you are not prepared to hear out a response to a problem/accusation you put forth, you should not present it in the first place.” I told my children that I know adults who do this to me all of the time. They drop their emotion down but run off and sulk without sticking around to hear another perspective. Any issue or relationship worth working out deserves to have both people heard. We better ourselves with stronger, committed relationships if we learn to develop this one important concept. I see this as part of the blessing/curse idea. Working through misunderstandings or upsets needs to be approached from a stance of blessing. Blessing invites openness and vulnerability. Cursing shuts relationships down. I don’t want cursing to enter my body like water or my bones like oil as the Psalmist depicts for us, which suggests to me a “soaking in.” Toxic interactions have a way of soaking in and permeating so many areas of our lives. Grace and love do just the opposite; they cover us:

1 Peter 4:8, Apostle Peter speaking

Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins.

Along the same lines, I had a difficult “issue of character” discussion with one child at bedtime one night. It wasn’t a huge deal, really, and it was only one area of correction, but this child struggles to receive constructive criticism no matter how delicately it is presented. I waited to make sure it sank in and shared that we all have to be able to take feedback and ask God if it’s something He wants us to correct. Then, because this child bruises easily from feedback, I spent the falling-asleep moments listing all of the things this child does well, areas where I am very pleased, and at Item Number 20, the slight smile gave way to slumber, and peace climbed beside us and laid its head on the pillow as well, a welcome companion. That is not how I conduct myself every day, but when I consult God and come from a standpoint of blessing, informed by His living Word, it is a much more peaceful way to do life.

Just as mourning comes in waves, so does His grace. It rides in on constant tides like a covering of love that soaks into every pore until it fills the heart. There is never grief without grace, if we’d only learn to keep our feet in the Living Water, facing the oncoming surf, not fearing the raging storms, but instead standing steadfast to receive as He gives. If only we stood there in great faith and expectancy, we’d quickly find He never ever stops giving. We’re the ones who lose hope or courage and walk away from the source. His waves of grace chase us and lap at our feet, desiring to heal, to nurture, and to be received, but if our backs are to those waves as we walk away, we never even know what was there for us, what we failed to discover as we walk back inland to where discouragement and fear are ready to take hold and plant roots—only because we gave those dark thoughts permission again. I don’t want to give them permission anymore. I want to sit in tide pools of never-ending grace at the feet of Jesus. If you trust Him, you can sit there too!

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Posted by Bonnie Lyn Smith on September 13, 2014 in Grace in Big Gulps, Journey to Publication: Excerpts from "Not Just on Sundays"

Tags: 1 Peter 4:8, bless, blessing, body like water, bones like oil, forgiveness, grace, James 3, Living Water, love covers over a multitude of sins, out of the same mouth come praise and cursing, Psalm 109, social experiment

Lunches and Little Friends: The Deep, Deep Love of God for Us

12 Sep

Today, I went to pick up my youngest child from his school a few minutes early to get him to an appointment. While there, a school staff member stopped to tell me a sweet story. I had to cover my mouth and hold my breath because I almost dropped to the floor in tears.

My 8 year old, Little Man (LM), still sits at the peanut-free table at school. His food allergies are all gone except for low levels of skin testing response to peanut showing up now and again. He can touch it, sit near it, and smell it. He has no desire to eat it. And really, I’m not forcing it. When you put previously severe allergies together in a cocktail with obsessive anxiety, I really don’t see the point of pushing too many adventures into freedom at once. He already eats all tree nuts, dairy, and egg now after years of being allergic to those as well. Big, brave, victorious steps—each and every one of them.

So, four years into school, when I asked him this year if he wanted to finally give up the security of the peanut-free table, he wasn’t sure. Starting school was enough to process. I told him it was fine that we ease into change. When you have lived so long in fear of foods you put into your body threatening to harm you severely, you develop some security blankets. One of his is this safe-zone cafeteria table.

In my mother’s heart, I was ready to toss this chain off his neck last year. I wanted to open up his social world. Not many kids sit at that table. They take turns being with him if they buy lunch. Otherwise, he can often be alone. For an extreme extrovert, that is a special form of torture.

But then in came one of his little buddies. This child and Little Man were sitting back-to-back, chairs pushed against each other, facing into separate tables—one peanut-free and one not. The staff member initially thought one was not giving the other space—a conclusion I might easily make myself. As it turns out, when she told them to please move a bit apart, both boys turned around and told her that it was okay because they did this on purpose. They knew they had to sit at separate tables, but if they sat back-to-back, they could hear each other and face other friends and yet still be in each other’s world. They cleverly adapted their circumstances to find a way to still hang out. And she affirmed them for it.

Wow.

I drove for 45 minutes to the appointment feeling the full weight of that—and the complete brilliance of it. And the simplicity. It made me think of my dogs when they were new puppies in our home; they would push their tiny furry bodies against matching ends of the crate to touch each other through the bars. To get warm. To know companionship and comfort.

It’s an incredibly powerful thing to see what lengths the human heart and spirit will go to in order to find and keep that connection.

Another one of Little Man’s close friends has spent the past several years getting a school lunch as often as he could to sit together so LM wasn’t alone. When he can’t sit with him because he didn’t get a cafeteria lunch (approved as peanut-free), he makes sure to let LM know he’s still thinking of him even though they can’t sit together that day. He always offers a smile and encouragement, even a hug.

When she shared the same school with him, still another friend regularly checked on Little Man to make sure someone was with him at lunch, if possible. Her heart looked out for his. She understood the potential isolation of a separate table and took care of her friend. She shepherded, protected, looked out for him. She is 8 years old.

Not only is this a culture of kindness I so appreciate in these 7 and 8 year olds—and don’t we all need to see more of that: kindness in the next generation?—but it also reminds me that God does that for us. Wherever we are, whatever our struggle, handicap, issue, frustration, trial, or something otherwise holding us back, He pulls his chair up to us right where we are. He is with us. We may feel lonely in our trial or circumstances at times, but He is always looking out for us, caring deeply that we have someone to sit at the table with—Him. If we talk to Him and trust Him, we will always find Him there to rest our backs upon. He keeps us company.

I also see that, just like Little Man, sometimes we are unable or unwilling to let go of something, to trust, to take a great step forward in faith. And God is still there, providing for us, patiently coming alongside, gently coaxing us toward that new step of faith. LM wasn’t ready to leave the table, so God sent his friends to sit with him until he was ready. They loved him through it.

The Apostle Paul reassures us that nothing can separate us from the love of God—not our rational or irrational fears. Not our need to hold on to something. Not even the few places we struggle to trust. If we yield to Him and ask Him, God’s love is a powerful force to sustain us. Little Man’s own inability to fully let go of the peanut-free table did not keep him from the Lord’s presence. God sent LM reinforcements so he didn’t have to go it alone.

Is there anything more beautifully reflective of a deeply loving Father than sending His smallest sheep to care for each other?

I truly can’t think of anything more precious, and I have much to learn of God as I watch the youngest of His flock.

Romans 8:35-39, Apostle Paul speaking

Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? As it is written:

“For your sake we face death all day long;
we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.”

No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

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Posted by Bonnie Lyn Smith on September 12, 2014 in Living in Food Allergy Prison, Ministry Moments

Tags: able to separate us from the love of God, deep love of God, food allergies, for I am convinced, God meets us where we are, love of God, peanut allergy, peanut-free table, romans 8

Count It All as Pure Joy: A Tale of Heartache and the Gift of Adoption

11 Sep

Espressos of Faith welcomes another guest blogger today. I don’t know Joan. I was sitting at breakfast the other day with a very dear friend sharing my vision for this blog site, which was to feature stories of hope, faith, healing, and endurance in tough trials—at the end of them, or even in the middle. From time to time, this involves bringing in guest bloggers/writers, or even just courageous non-writers willing to send me sketches of their personal stories to share God’s hope with the world. Upon hearing this, my sweet friend shared Joan’s story with me, and I knew, if she was willing, it could touch others who have walked, or are walking, a similar path. We live all the way around the world from each other; I will likely never meet Joan in person. But, I am honored to meet her in this space and share a piece of her inspiration with you. I think you will find her heartfelt honesty refreshing. She begins with a poem she wrote during her struggles with infertility. Without any further introduction, here is Joan…

————————————–

Treasure

Treasure the flutters of first life
For those whose wombs will ever be empty.

Treasure your bump
For those whose bellies will never swell.

Treasure that sleepy 3 AM hug
For those whose sleep will never be disturbed.

Treasure every “Mommy, I love you!”
For those who will never hear the words “Mommy” or “Daddy.”

Treasure your mad and cluttered house
For those whose house will ever be tidy.

Treasure your children
For those who dream of having children every day.

With celebrating Nicole’s adoption day on Monday, I wanted to write about our adoption story and what I learnt about God along the way.

Our journey began Oct 1, 2001. That seems so long ago. We decided as young married couples do, we would start trying for a baby. So full of optimism and hope, we started trying. In December, I was convinced I was pregnant, so off to the doctor I went. The result was negative. I remember thinking, oh this was not how it was supposed to be. But, it was it how was going to be.

Many months of negative results, wondering, hoping just maybe this month will see me pregnant. The niggling thought: What if I never do? In the end, I was diagnosed with unexplained infertility. In other words, there was nothing wrong with me; I just could not fall pregnant. And so began a journey of tears, heartache, and shattered dreams.

We began fertility treatment. Every cycle I would pack up my broken heart, put it a box, go for the treatment. For two weeks, we would hope. Then, my heart would break, I would be angry with God, cry and pick up myself up again.

And we would try again.

It was one of the most difficult times of my life. I know some people wonder why infertility is so hard. If you are a parent, close your eyes. Imagine your child comes running to you calling you “Mommy” and gives the biggest hugs. Every couple dealing with infertility dreams that dream, but in their world, it’s just a dream. Never becoming reality. You have a monthly reminder you are not pregnant. Everyone around you is falling pregnant, and your body is not doing the one thing you were designed to do: carry life. It is heart-wrenching and devastating.

For many, it is a silent pain. What I learnt about God is: God knows our pain. It might feel as if He is far away, distant, but He is right there holding us in our darkest hours. His plan is not our plan, but He holds us in the unfolding of His plan as a mother eagle holds her babies. He sends His angels to watch over us. I count several dear ones as our angels during this time. They cried with us, prayed and ultimately celebrated with us.

Two turning points occurred. One was that I suffered a miscarriage. During that hard time God gave me a glimpse of eternity. And the second was my final treatment. After it was negative, I was broken and empty. I let go and let God. When we can longer carry on ourselves, God can. We get in our own way, and when we let go of holding on with our own strength and let Him carry some of the weight, we can rest and just breathe. When James mentioned the option of adoption, for me it wasn’t a second choice; I knew it was God’s choice. I knew this was the way it was supposed to be.

After several months, we were matched with a little girl. When we held her for the first time, it felt as if our hearts were lit up from the inside. I am the picture of the girl standing in front of the Cross holding her suitcase full of her hopes and dreams for her King, not knowing that what He has in store for me is far more than I could ever have imagined!

At Nicole’s dedication, I stated that if God had given me a choice, one road with happiness and biological children and a road with suffering and Nicole at the end, I would choose the road with suffering and Nicole.

Because God’s plan is perfect. And because He loves us.

Psalm 121, King David speaking

I lift up my eyes to the mountains—
where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord,
the Maker of heaven and earth.

He will not let your foot slip—
he who watches over you will not slumber;
indeed, he who watches over Israel
will neither slumber nor sleep.

The Lord watches over you—
the Lord is your shade at your right hand;
the sun will not harm you by day,
nor the moon by night.

The Lord will keep you from all harm—
he will watch over your life;
the Lord will watch over your coming and going
both now and forevermore.

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Posted by Bonnie Lyn Smith on September 11, 2014 in Guest Bloggers: Sharing More Stories of Hope and Courage

Tags: adoption, cross, fertility treatment, God's plan, God's plan is perfect, I lift my eyes up, infertility, let go and let God, my thoughts are not your thoughts, my ways higher than your ways, psalm 121, where does my help come from

Eating the Mail: The Daily Intake of Negative

11 Sep

I know to quickly investigate whenever I hear a certain sound in my family room: a mad shuffling of padded feet and hyped-up puppy energy that exceeds moderate enthusiasm about food being poured or a toy being fought over. My 11 month old Shih Tzus, Samson and Delilah, have a unique way of expressing their angst or frustration after a morning in their crates when I have to leave the house.

They eat the mail.

You may ask why I am dumb enough to leave it where they can get to it. That’s a legitimate question. Really, I would ask it too.

But to answer it, I first have to paint a little picture that so many people who have children or work with kids will understand.

You walk into the house for the first time in hours, carrying bags of groceries, laptop bag, mail in your mouth, sunglasses maybe on your head or hanging from your collar, having just fought your way through the madness of three poorly timed traffic lights at your town’s main intersection after parking-driving on highways at 5:30 PM in your very densely populated part of the country. And as soon as you walk in, you hear this from the other room from the kid working on a project with no supervision whatsoever since you were just in traffic, remember?: “Mom! So glad you’re home! The glue gun is stuck to the couch, for some reason, and I think there may be a black mark where it was sitting.”

Okay, so that’s not the exact scenario. I am taking some creative license to protect the (not-so-) innocent, but it was close enough.

What do you do in that moment? You drop the mail currently in your teeth. With any luck, you drop it on the end table and not the floor, but you’re only human…

So back to me, and not the hypothetical you…After dealing with hot glue gun fun, I heard the crinkle and jittery excitement of two dogs getting away with something, completely delighted with themselves—until I walked in. Then, Samson did the guilty shake-wag, demure Delilah pranced cockily past me but away from the paper, and he dove in one last time to get another mouthful of the energy bill, the medical insurance’s twelfth notice about seeking annual information that hasn’t changed, and the political mail of people I don’t know and don’t care to read their slander-marketing (in most cases, not all).

So, you know what, Samson and Delilah? Go ahead: Eat the mail! Nothing in there really feels like a loss to me. If the bright, photo-quality flyer from the local fitness company appeals to you, chew away. Do I look like I’m ever headed there, third latte of the day in hand, elliptical machine used as a coat rack?

But really, there is a lesson in this silly tale, besides the fact my unruly Shih Tzus could use some training classes.

We eat the mail every day.

We take in the negative reports from nonstop news feeds. We suck in gossip. We assume the worst without fact-finding first. We take what the media feeds us and swallow it whole because we get so much information at once, we don’t have time to sort it, like partly chewed morsels of sludge. Not that it’s not important to inform ourselves. But we honestly feed on a lot of negative every day. You can’t check out of a pharmacy without the latest celebrity mishap, fifth marriage, 15th botox treatment, recent infidelity.

If we aren’t careful about what we take in, it can make us pretty skeptical, nervous, disillusioned, and even bitter. We can start to believe that no marriages work, everyone cheats, all politicians lie, suicide and pills are the only answer, hope doesn’t exist.

It’s a luxury for us to sit at the table, or desk, and feast on this stuff. If we lived in a war-torn country, we’d have plenty of reality to more than match the nonstop ticker going across the screen of a world news channel. How do we stay in touch with events around us without getting sucked under into complete hopelessness?

The world we live in now tells us within 30 seconds of news going on around the world with live streams of current events. I’m not sure we were meant to know all of this at once. It’s almost like building the Tower of Babel again and seeing out all around us, giving us a sense of all that’s going on but we’re really not in control of it (but often think that we are).

Technology is an awesome thing, and certainly we’ve made advances in being more prepared and informed. It is extremely helpful to know a current crisis in the Middle East where we can send aid, pray, promote causes, rally volunteers. That’s the hope to spread into the dark. But the intake can be too much at times. It needs balance.

When the Boston Marathon bombing occurred, I had several friends engulfed in unrelated personal circumstances or depression, and reading the updates on that was just too overwhelming. I encouraged them to get a quick dose of news, only if they felt they had to, and stay off the news feeds. It’s not about making us comfortable and not having to think about awful events going on around us. It’s more about not letting darkness move into our heads and start hanging up pictures.

My husband can watch it and stress on the level of world political events, while I sit and tremor that there is always another murder victim, human trafficking story, Christian martyr, scary virus, genocide, school shooting.

But for every act of evil, good still rallies. People rise up to fight against it.

What do you think? How do you find balance?

For me, I have to look up. This world just doesn’t make sense to me without looking up and understanding it in the context of man wanting to be God so long ago in the Garden of Eden. We are still trying to be God and take control, and it has erupted all over in the form of violence, war, and atrocious acts of abuse and enslavement, because, unlike God, we are not all good. We do not handle power well. We don’t have the big picture. So, I watch moderate amounts of the news. I’m not afraid to discuss current events. But I also measure each piece against my faith that God is at the helm and “has the knowledge of the Holy One,” and that I lack all-seeing understanding and wisdom, no matter how much this modern culture, with its endless live streams, thinks that we can see all things from the top of our imagined tower.

Proverbs 30:1-16

The sayings of Agur son of Jakeh—an inspired utterance.
This man’s utterance to Ithiel:

“I am weary, God,
but I can prevail.
Surely I am only a brute, not a man;
I do not have human understanding.
I have not learned wisdom,
nor have I attained to the knowledge of the Holy One.
Who has gone up to heaven and come down?
Whose hands have gathered up the wind?
Who has wrapped up the waters in a cloak?
Who has established all the ends of the earth?
What is his name, and what is the name of his son?
Surely you know!

“Every word of God is flawless;
he is a shield to those who take refuge in him.
Do not add to his words,
or he will rebuke you and prove you a liar.

“Two things I ask of you, Lord;
do not refuse me before I die:
Keep falsehood and lies far from me;
give me neither poverty nor riches,
but give me only my daily bread.
Otherwise, I may have too much and disown you
and say, ‘Who is the Lord?’
Or I may become poor and steal,
and so dishonor the name of my God.

“Do not slander a servant to their master,
or they will curse you, and you will pay for it.

“There are those who curse their fathers
and do not bless their mothers;
those who are pure in their own eyes
and yet are not cleansed of their filth;
those whose eyes are ever so haughty,
whose glances are so disdainful;
those whose teeth are swords
and whose jaws are set with knives
to devour the poor from the earth
and the needy from among mankind.

“The leech has two daughters.
‘Give! Give!’ they cry.

“There are three things that are never satisfied,
four that never say, ‘Enough!’:
the grave, the barren womb,
land, which is never satisfied with water,
and fire, which never says, ‘Enough!’

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Posted by Bonnie Lyn Smith on September 11, 2014 in Renewing Our Minds, Shih Tzu Shenanigans

Tags: boston marathon bombing, garden of eden, hot glue gun, i do not have human understanding, Lord, negative news, proverbs 30, Shih Tzus, those who take refuge in him, tower of babel, two things I ask of you, who has gone up to heaven

A New Stitch Nurse at Plush Toy Med Center

10 Sep

Lately, I feel like God is on a campaign to break me free from parts of the control freak, Type A, personality in me while simultaneously delighting me with new ways my children can shoulder some more responsibilities. Delegation and letting go of control can be hard at times. I’m grateful for what He is teaching me. First and foremost, He is teaching me I can’t possibly—and don’t have to—do everything that needs to be done. Can any of us?

Particularly in the past few months, as we grow ever closer to publication of Not Just on Sundays, I look around and cry out: “God, please help me! Who is going to do that part of it, because You and I both know that isn’t my skill set.” And then I looked over, and one of my kids was smiling at me. “That’s Your provision, God? Can we both laugh right now?” But the last laugh was really on me. He makes us strong where we are weak, but only when we give Him the reins. The decision part is all us, consequence and all.

So I was sitting next to a pile of stuffed animals that needed mending, but I really needed to make my writing deadline, and yet that pile (and my 8 year old waiting on repaired toys) was quietly causing me guilt. And my 11 year old daughter (affectionately named Chickie—but just in our house) came and sat next to me.

She then quietly asked: “Can I do it?”

“Do what?” was my response, as I wondered what on earth she was referring to? Write my blog for me? Answer emails? Sit next to me and guilt me that I wasn’t offering amazing quality parenting time right then? What? What? Whaaaattttt?!

And she replied: “Sew the toys.”

And my heart melted because she didn’t come to suck up more of my resources (don’t we parents feel that way some days—do they really have to eat three meals a day?). She came to be with me. To offer help.

Wow! Jesus does that. He sits with us and waits for us to notice Him and ask for help.

I was so humbled by my daughter that I quickly encouraged her: “Yes, yes, yes, yes! You want to take over stitch nurse duty? I have waited 14 parenting years for this! I don’t have to sew another plush toy? Yes, yes, yes!”

And I was so filled with gratitude not only for her but for God Who sent someone so obvious to help me. That He cared enough to send her to me when my face was still locked in a screen. She found every torn stuffed toy and clothing item she could find, and she sewed her heart out that night. I didn’t even know she could do that. She didn’t even know she could do that. I never taught her. She just sat down and did it. By my side. We were able to be together, and she felt like a grown-up sewing for me.

I hate sewing but deeply admire, and am in permanent awe of, those who love it, so in that one moment, every cub scout and martial arts badge I had to ever sew was winking at me.

Every ripped-open plush howler monkey,
mouth-stitch-drooping Pooh bear,
tail-hanging-by-literally-one-thread puppy,
hat-tearing Smurf in retirement, and
overdressed Build-a-Bear reopening its back contents all over the floor

—in that one instant—

changed primary care providers!

Turns out Ugly Smurf (my name for him) wasn’t alone! I was in retirement too!

There was a new stitch nurse at Plush Toy Med Center, and I wasn’t it!

And I still have a lot to learn about His provision, about my personal control issues, about my often wrong assumptions, and about a growing young lady’s heart to come alongside me and help. I’m fully convinced He sewed using her hands because He loves us both that much. And if we’re listening, He has a beautiful thing to teach us both.

Where can we each learn to let someone do something for us, delegate, let go? I bet there would be more room in our lives for sweet moments and that we’d learn a lot in the surrendering.

2 Corinthians 12:9-10, Apostle Paul speaking

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

Psalm 46:1, Sons of Korah speaking (singing)

God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.