For God has not given us a spirit of timidity, but of power and love and discipline.2 Timothy 1:7 NIV
Well, sister, that is some good news, right? Now, if I could only live it out!
I often lack confidence. Timidity sometimes gets the best of me. And, I bet you know exactly what I’m talking about. Timidity, fear, and a lack of confidence aren’t what our Father gives His daughters.
When I was pregnant with our first son, I thought that baby would never be born! I was so late delivering him that I actually dreamed I was an old woman — gray hair and all — still pregnant, panicking in my doctor’s office, begging him to do something!
Weird dream, I know. The point is, near the end of a pregnancy, a mama feels worn out. It’s easy to feel like the whole thing is lasting just a little too long, and that’s even when the baby comes on his due date!
Sixteen very long, swollen, puffy, unattractive, exhausting days after we expected our son Clayton to be born, the doctor used a steady stream of Pitocin to coax him out of the womb and into the world. I was so relieved!
Funny how those late arrivals seem to take their time and run late even when they’re teenagers. Too bad a Pitocin drip doesn’t work on them!
There is a reason a baby is supposed to stay in his mama’s womb for 40 weeks — he needs that time to grow, develop and be nourished. A baby born prematurely is at risk and a baby who is very late in arrival is at risk, too.
In case you missed it, I’m officially a GiGi! I am just beside myself with joy, and I have no time to write because I am holding a sweet baby boy. So I asked my smart, fun, lovely friend Margaret Feinberg to help me out — she’s going to share with you on the blog today. She’s hung out with us before, and I know you love her as much as I do.
But, girl, today, she is going to share with you how to not only live the life you long for, but write about it, too. I have met so many of you who say you want to write a book or a blog and my girl, Margaret, can help you do just that — in the most brilliant way. So, enjoy what she has to say and let me know what you think!
My husband, Leif, is from Alaska. We spent the first five years of marriage living in his hometown of Sitka as well as the capital, Juneau. In each of these towns, cruise ships arrived throughout the summer.
On the busiest days, more than 20,000 people would disembark those ships and fill the tiny towns. The majority of visitors were in their 60s, 70s, and 80s. Many were barely able to walk. Some dragged an oxygen tank behind them.
I found myself welling with admiration for these feisty travelers. They fought hard to realize their lifelong dream of visiting Alaska. Way to be courageous. Way to overcome obstacles.
But the longer we stayed in Alaska, the more I heard these amazing visitors repeat the same story: They had lived their whole lives with a bucket list. Alaska was always in the top five things they wanted to do, but it never reached number one.
By the time they arrived, they physically couldn’t participate in the activities, tours, and hikes that reveal Alaska’s most splendid beauty. They couldn’t hike into the ice caves of Mendenhall glacier to see the mesmerizing sapphires of ancient winters’ beauty. They were unable to kayak along the shore with seals splashing alongside. They couldn’t hike the mountains’ crest to behold Alaska’s rugged coastline while munching on sweet wild salmonberries.
I admit it — the only way I got through high school math was because of Todd Williams! Almost every morning before class I was in a state of panic until I found him in the hall and begged him for help with my homework. I gave him gum and candy and a thousand thanks and he tried his best to help me survive algebra. I squeaked by with a C and I give Todd the credit for lifting me to the level of my glowing mediocrity.
It’s not any better today. If I have to count, I still use my fingers and break out into a sweat if one of my kids asks me a math question from their homework.
Here’s what is totally weird — I can do retail math. Give me a clearance rack in Macy’s and I morph into a mathematical genius — I can tell you exactly how much that cute blouse costs if it is 20% off the lowest price with an additional 15% off, subtracting the $17 from my gift card — in less than five seconds! It’s freaky. I am like a living, breathing retail calculator!
But, there is a math I am learning now while I am in the glorious middle of my life — a math I am trying to get really good at by doing it every day. I’m learning to number my days.
Call upon me in the day of trouble; I will deliver you, and you shall glorify me. (Psalm 50:15 NKJV)
God promises He will deliver us. So… how is that promise working out for you? Have you asked God to deliver you, but still find yourself sick or sad or scared or stuck? If He is our Deliverer, why isn’t He delivering on His promise?
Sometimes the way God keeps His promises is painful for us. And sometimes we don’t even realize He is delivering us because we don’t recognize the way He does it.
If you are sick or sad or scared or stuck, I want to show you the ways God delivers you.
We all have stuff in our lives that we could easily define as problems. Go ahead, insert yours here! The car breaks down. The roof is leaky and it’s been raining since Tuesday. Your dog… well, you know what dogs do to the carpet! You get it, problems.
Then, there are some things in our lives that we think are problems, but in actuality, they are facts which create problems.
Okay, okay… stay with me. This will make sense and it can really make a difference in your life.
When I went to China, I got to meet some of Phil’s students. Oh, I guess I should tell you that was the reason we got to go on such an amazing once-in-a-lifetime trip; Phil was invited to teach at Liaoning Normal University in Dalian, China. While we were there, I got to visit his Venue Management class and meet his students.
Phil had told them I was blind and they were curious and asked lots of the usual questions like, “How do you ___?”(fill in the blank). There are a million “How do you do___? ” kinds of questions when you’re blind, but one young woman’s question totally blew me away — it was very revealing.
In broken, but very good English, she asked: “When you became blind, were you afraid people would be ashamed of you or your family would not love you?”
We all have it. It’s that thing in us that we don’t talk about because we don’t know how to put words to it. It’s that feeling that rises in us and makes our throats tighten and our voices tremble.
It’s the disquiet in our soul, the ache we always feel but never get used to; the silent companion who takes up too much room in our hearts. It’s our unspoken broken.
The mom who tries to manage her mentally ill adult son — she feels the sting, the ache. When you see her on Sunday and she smiles and hugs you and asks how your week went, can you hear what is not said? Can you hear her unspoken broken? It is there, screaming to be heard and held and helped.