Lost - That is how I have been feeling lately - adrift, directionless, getting through the days, one by one, but lacking intentionality. My years in the military provide me a wealth of experiences and resources to draw from - an in this case I knew what I needed as an azimuth check.
When finding your way on land with a compass and map, you determine your route with two factors, direction, and distance. The direction is expressed in degrees, which you then convert to an azimuth on your compass. So for example you may determine you need to go 500 meters at an azimuth of 240 degrees. You then pick some key feature or landmark on that azimuth and set out, keeping track of your distance by counting your steps and applying what you know your step measures.
If you try to go the entire 500 meters, without verifying your location along the way, you are likely to miss your goal. So you do an azimuth check, or checks, along the way, to ensure you reach your desired location. One degree wrong at 10 meters makes little difference. But one degree wrong over 500 meters and you end up in the wrong place.
So it is with my life. Every so often I need to do an azimuth check to make sure I am still on course for the life I believe God has called me. In my recent azimuth check, I realized one of the things I have not been doing, that I feel is central to the life God has for me, is writing. So here I am again, after way too long, sharing my thoughts through the written word. It is baby step, but at least I am on the correct azimuth.
Friday, June 27, 2014
Friday, September 7, 2012
Racquetball and Motherhood
Racquetball and Motherhood - they seem at first to be an unlikely pairing. However, there are many more parallels than I would like to admit. I usually play racquetball twice a week with a group of men, all of whom are better players than me. I feel out of my league motherhood wise at least twice a week, if not more often. Most days, I play racquetball hard, give it my all, and still lose. Every once in a while, I win, usually in doubles, every now and then in cutthroat (3 players) and very seldom in singles. When it comes to mother hood, every once in a while. I feel like I have a great mommy day, where I gave it my all, my emotions didn't rule me and I was successful in handling Emma's unexpected behavior. I win more often in parenting doubles as well. John brings the balance and sense of perspective that I often lack. Three player parenting is where we have the most success - remembering to include God in the everydayness of our lives - the mundane and the miraculous.
Every once in a while, on a really bad racquetball day, where nothing goes right, it brings me face to face with my very worst self. My inner voice tells me to quit, I am stupid (among other things), and I am wasting everyone's time by playing. I plunge into a downward emotional spiral that easily bleeds over into other areas of my life. I recognize that voice, but can't always silence it. I am certain it stems from building my self esteem at an early age from performance, both athletically and academically. On my worst mommy days, that inner voice would have me believe I am failing miserably, that Emma deserves so much more than I have to offer and so does John, for that matter.
I could walk away from racquetball and at least avoid the confrontations with my very worst self, but it wouldn't really solve anything, just remove the outward circumstance that reveals a soul still so in need of changing, maturing and growing in my dependence on the Lord. Walking away from motherhood isn't an option. Even on my worst days I take great comfort in knowing God knew these days were coming and He still chose me to be Emma's mommy - me - flawed, broken, incomplete, imperfect me. And I do trust Him, even when I don't trust me.
Better days always come, both in racquetball and mothering, when my perspective is right and I am able to enjoy the journey and not worry about keeping score. I realize anew my identity is Christ, not my performance, whether it be racquetball or motherhood, or a number of other things that I somehow try to use to measure my worth. I have worth, eternal worth, for one reason alone: because God loves me. That's it - He loves me. I can't add to it or take away from it - just learn to accept it and revel in it. He loves me.
Every once in a while, on a really bad racquetball day, where nothing goes right, it brings me face to face with my very worst self. My inner voice tells me to quit, I am stupid (among other things), and I am wasting everyone's time by playing. I plunge into a downward emotional spiral that easily bleeds over into other areas of my life. I recognize that voice, but can't always silence it. I am certain it stems from building my self esteem at an early age from performance, both athletically and academically. On my worst mommy days, that inner voice would have me believe I am failing miserably, that Emma deserves so much more than I have to offer and so does John, for that matter.
I could walk away from racquetball and at least avoid the confrontations with my very worst self, but it wouldn't really solve anything, just remove the outward circumstance that reveals a soul still so in need of changing, maturing and growing in my dependence on the Lord. Walking away from motherhood isn't an option. Even on my worst days I take great comfort in knowing God knew these days were coming and He still chose me to be Emma's mommy - me - flawed, broken, incomplete, imperfect me. And I do trust Him, even when I don't trust me.
Better days always come, both in racquetball and mothering, when my perspective is right and I am able to enjoy the journey and not worry about keeping score. I realize anew my identity is Christ, not my performance, whether it be racquetball or motherhood, or a number of other things that I somehow try to use to measure my worth. I have worth, eternal worth, for one reason alone: because God loves me. That's it - He loves me. I can't add to it or take away from it - just learn to accept it and revel in it. He loves me.
Friday, April 27, 2012
Grandad's Lap
another poem from years gone by that touches on the substance of part of our discussion in Weds night Bible Study.
Grandad’s
Lap
one
of the best memories
that
i hold
is
as a three year old
climbing
up on Grandad’s lap
while
he sat in the rocking chair
he’d
wrap me up
in
my favorite beach towel –
the
pink one with the seahorses on it –
and
we’d rock
i
don’t remember
whether
we talked or not -
it
really isn’t important
what
i do remember
is
the security and love
and
well being with the world
i
felt
as
i sat there
with
my Grandad
and
we rocked
even
now
it’s
that picture in my mind
sustaining
me
as
i bring my hurts
as
well as my joys
to
You
and
climb up on Your lap
and
from that perspective
learn
what real security
and
love are
©
1978 kathy jo schramm
The Pruning Time
Discussion at our weekly women's Bible Study reminded me of something I wrote several years ago. I decided it might be worthwhile to share it here.
the pruning time
there are times
when i feel
i have to work so hard
and grow so much more
than others
just to be me
i am tempted to rebell
and say it's unfair
and then i remember
You are working
towards perfection
with me
You are working
not for the moment
or for the day
but for eternity
this is
one of those times
there are also times
when i feel i have grown
so much
and You make me realize
if i am going
to look back to
where i've come from
i must also look forward to
where i am going
and who i am called to be
i get so discouraged
because it looks so far away
so impossible
out of my reach
then You remind me
that the only reason
i've come so far
is also the only reason
i can go on....You
this is
one of those times
i've made
a commitment to grow
and You are showing me
that for healthy growth
there's a need for pruning
it's necessary
to cut back
the places where
scars have formed over wounds
in order for a full blossoming
to come
i know You would
have me fall short in nothing
through You
and i thank You
for this time of pruning
@1978 kathy jo schramm
Friday, February 3, 2012
Five Minute Friday - Real
Flawed, humbled, joyful, frustrated, interrupted three times in six words - that is the texture of my life these days - and also unpretentious, authentic, impacting. Motherhood is the most real life experience I have known, amid a wide variety of life experiences. Even marriage has not taken me to the deep places within that motherhood has. I have found and seen some not so nice places within me that I never knew existed, but I have also found a depth of joy, compassion, contentment that I had never known either. Even on the worst days - there is no where else I would rather be ... (interrupted again as my daughter plays cymbals on my arms..)
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Natalie's Walk of Hope
I had the joy and privilege of participating in Natalie's Walk of Hope this past Saturday. It was a fundraiser to help Natalie's family with her medical expenses. Natalie and her twin brother, Evan will turn two this week. Two months ago Natalie Osborn was diagnosed with tumor wrapped around her brain stem. The tumor was successfully removed and she began her 3rd week of radiation treatment this week. Her recovery has been filled with challenges of many types. The Walk was a fundraiser to help with the enormous costs involved in Natalie's care and treatment, but it was so much more than that.
I have been hard pressed to understand, let alone articulate well, why I have felt so compelled to come alongside Natalie's family in this journey on which they find themselves. I know the family through Natalie's aunt, my friend, Tracy. I had never met Natalie or her parents, Sarah and Brian, before Natalie's Walk, yet I have felt so connected to them through Brian's tweets (Twitter) and Sarah's online journal at CaringBridge.org . The Walk included refection points along the way with scripture and prayers taken from Sarah's journal, all well marked and a poignant reminder of why we were there - a journey much longer than our symbolic two mile trek.
It was a joyful sight to see Natalie and Evan and their cousins playing and enjoying a beautiful Colorado morning at a local park. Strangers would never have known to look at Natalie what she has been through and continues to battle through. She seemed to simply and deeply enjoy being with her brother and her cousins and feeling the sun on her face.
I expected to be an outsider of sorts at Natalie's Walk of Hope. I imagined a close knit group of family and friends, and friends of theirs, gathering together to visibly show support of the Osborns and rally around them and give their time, support and whatever donations they brought. I busied myself taking photos, as I often do, and tried to blend into the activity. As I had opportunity to visit with other people I was so surprised to learn that all were not close friends of Sarah and Brian's. The women who organized The Walk were part of a Bible Study that Sarah sometimes attends. Sarah and the sister of one of them are in MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) together.
One woman that I visited a long time with only learned about The Walk three days prior, when she attended a Bible Study for the first time. She too felt compelled to be there. She told me about her cousin, who was diagnosed with a tumor similar to Natalie's when he was seven years old. She shared his struggles to re-learn normal activities again. She said he is now 24 and his parents are still paying on his hospital bills. She understands all too well the financial challenges that accompany providing medical care for a child with a life threatening disease.
I tried to find another woman who had organized a wristband fundraiser for Natalie, but no one I asked knew who she was or if she had even come to The Walk. I knew she planned to come. We had been sharing fundraising ideas via e-mail and I just wanted to put a face to a name. It wasn't until later in the day, when she tagged one of my photos of The Walk on Facebook, that I knew she had been there.
Clearly there were close friends and family there, but it was also clear that even Sarah and Brian did not know everyone. There was a greater call for people to come and be part than just friendship or family ties, at least earthly family ties.
I came to feel a deeper sense of purpose and belonging than I anticipated with these 85 or so people on The Walk and the others they represented. I got a glimpse in a new and different way of God orchestrating His people, His family, to come together, not just on this day, on this Walk, but on the journey that Natalie and her family are on. For me, it became a Walk of Hope, not only for Natalie, and her family, but for me, and for the family of God. In a world that seems focused on differences, grudges, unforgiveness, and revenge, it refreshed my soul, revived my spirit and breathed hope into my life about what can be done when we listen to God and obey, even when we don't understand - maybe especially when we don't understand.
I have been hard pressed to understand, let alone articulate well, why I have felt so compelled to come alongside Natalie's family in this journey on which they find themselves. I know the family through Natalie's aunt, my friend, Tracy. I had never met Natalie or her parents, Sarah and Brian, before Natalie's Walk, yet I have felt so connected to them through Brian's tweets (Twitter) and Sarah's online journal at CaringBridge.org . The Walk included refection points along the way with scripture and prayers taken from Sarah's journal, all well marked and a poignant reminder of why we were there - a journey much longer than our symbolic two mile trek.
It was a joyful sight to see Natalie and Evan and their cousins playing and enjoying a beautiful Colorado morning at a local park. Strangers would never have known to look at Natalie what she has been through and continues to battle through. She seemed to simply and deeply enjoy being with her brother and her cousins and feeling the sun on her face.
I expected to be an outsider of sorts at Natalie's Walk of Hope. I imagined a close knit group of family and friends, and friends of theirs, gathering together to visibly show support of the Osborns and rally around them and give their time, support and whatever donations they brought. I busied myself taking photos, as I often do, and tried to blend into the activity. As I had opportunity to visit with other people I was so surprised to learn that all were not close friends of Sarah and Brian's. The women who organized The Walk were part of a Bible Study that Sarah sometimes attends. Sarah and the sister of one of them are in MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) together.
One woman that I visited a long time with only learned about The Walk three days prior, when she attended a Bible Study for the first time. She too felt compelled to be there. She told me about her cousin, who was diagnosed with a tumor similar to Natalie's when he was seven years old. She shared his struggles to re-learn normal activities again. She said he is now 24 and his parents are still paying on his hospital bills. She understands all too well the financial challenges that accompany providing medical care for a child with a life threatening disease.
I tried to find another woman who had organized a wristband fundraiser for Natalie, but no one I asked knew who she was or if she had even come to The Walk. I knew she planned to come. We had been sharing fundraising ideas via e-mail and I just wanted to put a face to a name. It wasn't until later in the day, when she tagged one of my photos of The Walk on Facebook, that I knew she had been there.
Clearly there were close friends and family there, but it was also clear that even Sarah and Brian did not know everyone. There was a greater call for people to come and be part than just friendship or family ties, at least earthly family ties.
I came to feel a deeper sense of purpose and belonging than I anticipated with these 85 or so people on The Walk and the others they represented. I got a glimpse in a new and different way of God orchestrating His people, His family, to come together, not just on this day, on this Walk, but on the journey that Natalie and her family are on. For me, it became a Walk of Hope, not only for Natalie, and her family, but for me, and for the family of God. In a world that seems focused on differences, grudges, unforgiveness, and revenge, it refreshed my soul, revived my spirit and breathed hope into my life about what can be done when we listen to God and obey, even when we don't understand - maybe especially when we don't understand.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Because of Natalie
For the past several days my heart has been gripped with Natalie Osborn and her story. I have not yet met Natalie, but I know her through her aunt, Tracy. Tracy and I are friends. We met through a MOPS (Mothers of PreSchoolers) group to which we both belong.
Natalie is 22 months old. On July 21st an MRI revealed a tumor on her brain, wrapped around the brain stem. Last Wednesday, July 27th, surgeons successfully removed the tumor. Natalie remains in ICU, where her parents, Brian and Sarah, have kept nearly round the clock vigil since the surgery. Brian has been tweeting updates to over 100 family and friends throughout the long days and nights. People around the country, and maybe around the world, are praying for Natalie's recovery and for her parents, her twin brother, Evan, her grandparents and close family who comprise the support team for Natalie.
Natalie's story touches my deepest fears as well as my deepest pain. My deepest fear is that of something happening to my daughter, Emma. Maybe that is normal. I really don't know. She is my only child - a miracle in many ways. I can't imagine life without her. I know she is a gift from a loving God and I know her life is ultimately in His hands. We're called to raise her to know Him and trust Him for herself. I recall a phrase from a book I read recently, "Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart walking around outside your body." (Elizabeth Stone) That is so true. I can empathize deeply with what Brian and Sarah are experiencing. I cry often as I read Brian's tweets or the online journal entries from them and as I pray for Natalie and for them. I know they would take Natalie's pain on themselves if they could, just as I would do to spare Emma pain. But they can't do that. They must watch and pray and hold her and rock her when they can. And cling to memories and hope for the days that lie ahead.
Natalie's story also touches my deepest pain - the loss of loved ones. Though I am a person of faith and I truly believe in a glorious life after this one on earth, grief has carved deep places within my soul. Two months before I turned four and ten days after he turned two, my brother, Vic, died from pneumonia and complications from a fire at our home. I really don't remember everything that I thought and felt, but life was never the same - not for me, or my parents, or for the siblings to follow, who never knew "little Vic". Two months before Emma was born, my sister's youngest son died, at age 22. It all seemed surreal. I still have no words to help heal my sister's broken heart.
I continue to pray for Natalie and her family several times a day, though I long ago ran out of anything unique or original to pray. I ask God for her complete healing and recovery. How could I ask for anything less? "You have not because you ask not" (James 4:2). The updates help me pray for the specific needs of the moment. I rejoice at the good reports and cry with the not so good ones. I am so glad she has a family that not only loves her, but loves God and truly knows Him. It really all comes down our utter dependance on Him. We are called to pray in faith and we do our best. I find myself vacillating between "without faith it is impossible to please Him..." and "Lord, I believe... help my unbelief." We give however we can to lighten the burden on Sarah and Brian and support them. I believe there is an Army of prayer warriors of all descriptions surrounding Natalie and them, concentric circles from those closest to Natalie to those who only know of her. But ultimately God is the one who holds Natalie and all our lives in His hands. He is the Healer, Abba Father ("Papa Daddy", and El Shaddai (more than enough).
Natalie and her story have helped so many of us regain our perspective about what really matters. I hug my daughter more often and hold her a little longer whenever I can. Brian was right when he wrote in the online journal "Stuff is stuff, money is money, work is work, annoyances are not so annoying...." I thank God for the privilege of prayer. I still don't really understand why a sovereign God chose to unite Himself to us in prayer, but He does and our prayers matter. "The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective" (James 5: 16). So we pray and will continue to pray. If you have not joined us, will you? Natalie needs you and you need Natalie.
http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/nataliebrookeosborn
http://twitter.com/#!/NatalieBrookeOz
Natalie is 22 months old. On July 21st an MRI revealed a tumor on her brain, wrapped around the brain stem. Last Wednesday, July 27th, surgeons successfully removed the tumor. Natalie remains in ICU, where her parents, Brian and Sarah, have kept nearly round the clock vigil since the surgery. Brian has been tweeting updates to over 100 family and friends throughout the long days and nights. People around the country, and maybe around the world, are praying for Natalie's recovery and for her parents, her twin brother, Evan, her grandparents and close family who comprise the support team for Natalie.
Natalie's story touches my deepest fears as well as my deepest pain. My deepest fear is that of something happening to my daughter, Emma. Maybe that is normal. I really don't know. She is my only child - a miracle in many ways. I can't imagine life without her. I know she is a gift from a loving God and I know her life is ultimately in His hands. We're called to raise her to know Him and trust Him for herself. I recall a phrase from a book I read recently, "Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart walking around outside your body." (Elizabeth Stone) That is so true. I can empathize deeply with what Brian and Sarah are experiencing. I cry often as I read Brian's tweets or the online journal entries from them and as I pray for Natalie and for them. I know they would take Natalie's pain on themselves if they could, just as I would do to spare Emma pain. But they can't do that. They must watch and pray and hold her and rock her when they can. And cling to memories and hope for the days that lie ahead.
Natalie's story also touches my deepest pain - the loss of loved ones. Though I am a person of faith and I truly believe in a glorious life after this one on earth, grief has carved deep places within my soul. Two months before I turned four and ten days after he turned two, my brother, Vic, died from pneumonia and complications from a fire at our home. I really don't remember everything that I thought and felt, but life was never the same - not for me, or my parents, or for the siblings to follow, who never knew "little Vic". Two months before Emma was born, my sister's youngest son died, at age 22. It all seemed surreal. I still have no words to help heal my sister's broken heart.
I continue to pray for Natalie and her family several times a day, though I long ago ran out of anything unique or original to pray. I ask God for her complete healing and recovery. How could I ask for anything less? "You have not because you ask not" (James 4:2). The updates help me pray for the specific needs of the moment. I rejoice at the good reports and cry with the not so good ones. I am so glad she has a family that not only loves her, but loves God and truly knows Him. It really all comes down our utter dependance on Him. We are called to pray in faith and we do our best. I find myself vacillating between "without faith it is impossible to please Him..." and "Lord, I believe... help my unbelief." We give however we can to lighten the burden on Sarah and Brian and support them. I believe there is an Army of prayer warriors of all descriptions surrounding Natalie and them, concentric circles from those closest to Natalie to those who only know of her. But ultimately God is the one who holds Natalie and all our lives in His hands. He is the Healer, Abba Father ("Papa Daddy", and El Shaddai (more than enough).
Natalie and her story have helped so many of us regain our perspective about what really matters. I hug my daughter more often and hold her a little longer whenever I can. Brian was right when he wrote in the online journal "Stuff is stuff, money is money, work is work, annoyances are not so annoying...." I thank God for the privilege of prayer. I still don't really understand why a sovereign God chose to unite Himself to us in prayer, but He does and our prayers matter. "The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective" (James 5: 16). So we pray and will continue to pray. If you have not joined us, will you? Natalie needs you and you need Natalie.
http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/nataliebrookeosborn
http://twitter.com/#!/NatalieBrookeOz
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