Sacrifice

I have had this particular blog whirling around my head for awhile now, time to attempt to write it out. So pregnancy being a nine month process is no doubt part of the Lord's divine preparation process. Just when I think I have learned the biggest/heaviest lesson I think I will ever learn, I learn another. First, a little brutal transparency (something which I have been desiring for this blog, yet now it seems a little terrifying). Growing up with a sister with special needs definitely shaped my life and character and without Kristen, I would not be the person I am now. However, seeing the weight and responsibility those special needs carry at times, it's not a situation that I ever HOPE to be in as a parent. I have more respect and admiration for my parents then words could ever describe. Now, with little baby Lyric growing in my tummy, I have spent many-a-night falling asleep just praying that Lyric will develop "normally." Of course I will love my son immeasurably regardless of his needs, be they "special" or "normal." So...all this to say that one fateful week as I was preparing for the high school small group I help lead, I was hit with a big huge ugly brick. I was consumed with fear and resistance. So fearful in fact, that filling in to help with a little girl who had special needs one Sunday morning had me driving home in tears. What I thought was a normal week of reading the given scripture and jotting down some notes, knocked me straight into the Truth. The main passage for the week was Genesis 22. The story of Abraham sacrificing Isaac, a story I knew since my felt board days. And yet, new things jumped off the page. Abraham had to travel for THREE days with Isaac before they reached their destination, that's alot of time to stall or even bail on the plan. Also, there were two servants with them (young men at that), capable scape goats as I would see it. So when they finally reach Moriah (geez I have a lump in my throat just typing this), Abraham had every chance to change his mind and head home. But instead, he was obedient. He was sacrificial. "Then Abraham reached out his hand and took the knife to slaughter his son. But the angel of the Lord called to him from heaven and said, 'Abraham, Abraham!' and he said 'Here am I.' He said, 'do not lay your hand on the boy or do anything to him, for now I know that you fear God, seeing you have not withheld your son, your only son, from me." Gen. 22:11-13. As I read this I knew why God had brought this scripture before me. I had withheld my son, my only son. The Lord could not have been more clear. I could nearly audibly hear Him "I did not withhold my only son, why are you withholding your son?" My fist was clenched so tightly to the dream of a perfectly healthy son, that I was separating myself from the beauty of sacrifice. Granted, nothing physically changed in that moment, but I began to see a more full picture of the love and grace that the Lord has for me and what is required from me as a mother. Right now, I am called to love Lyric blindly and unconditionally. If he wants to be a jock or an artist, if he is funny or awkward, if he is normal or if he has special needs; I will love him just as much. I will continually strive to be a model of Christ's love. I will continue to pray for my son's health, but now I pray that his life will glorify the Lord, and that my parenthood will glorify Him --even in these days of preparation.

A little of this a little of that.

Sitting down to drink my hot tea, eating my bowl of cereal and listening to Death Cab...this is a blogging moment. Its slightly gloomy out, but still bright. This is the perfect. Sitting here I feel like right now, at this very moment all my fears and failures are colliding with my hope and excitement. Normally I would feel like the previous sentence was just one big cliche, but now its all too real. I have had a full helping of each of these: fear, failure, hope, and excitement. My heart leaps inside my chest just writing this. Its almost like writing out the recipe to your favorite meal and not realizing it until you are finished. In all the spiritual and emotional growth spurts in my life all these things were present. There is a very prominent part of me that just wants to feel the blissful cloud of happiness, but I know that where I am is better. I know that this season is a season for learning the hard lessons and learning about myself.
A couple of weeks ago I had a crazy pregnancy moment, at its fullest. If you have ever visited us here in Arlington or visited my old DBU apartment, you know about our table. It was an awesome First Monday find. It is a big, old, beautiful table. Its off white with hints of a little gold (or yellowing over the years...but either way). It has its flaws. In one corner, it looks like someone took a saw and just cut a line straight down, in the middle there is a huge scuff-like black mark, and in a few places it looks like someone set a newspaper down on the paint before it was completely dry. So, in my craziness, I decided that I needed to paint this table. I wanted it too stand out, but also still look kinda worn down. I took out some of my acrylic paint (yes thats right, you can already tell this is going to be bad) and mixed some green and white (to what I thought was a nice light shade of green) and started painting. I completely ignored any voice in the back of my head that was saying "hey shouldn't you sand this thing down? Or at least investigate what type of paint you should be using?" I gleefully painted away. My sweet husband just stood back and let me have my hay day. He even asked those questions that were already in the back of my mind, but I assured him it would all turn out perfectly. And some part of me also thought "I'll just paint the top." Dumb. So now, everytime I look at this, once precious table, all I see is a bad (seriously bad) paint job that is easily scratched to reveal the off white color and all too closely resembles a billiards table. I wish I was exaggerating.

Thats all for now, and yes, those two paragraphs are disconnected from one another. Maybe somehow they relate, because both thoughts were screaming at me to be blogged. Oh, and if you know how to fix my table and make it cute again, or even how to properly paint it I would be so grateful to hear it.