But... what if it doesn't get better?

You know all the trite and clichéd sayings:

"This, too, shall pass."

"It can't last forever."

"Chin up! Things will get better."

(Does anyone actually say "Chin up" anymore?)

"It's only a season."

The list goes on. All of them about being positive while you wait for the inevitable change. I have been guilty of reciting these, and others, to hurting people in the past.

This morning, on Facebook, I read this quote attributed to a famous "prosperity preacher" (I refuse to acknowledge his name, because I don't want to bring him extra glory.)

"Don't wait for your situation to change to be happy, 

be happy while God's changing your situation."

I usually get upset when I read the tripe he (and other prosperity guys and gals) spews, but for some reason this one really dug into me today.

Here's the thing. I don't discount the encouragement that is supposed to go along with these sayings. I don't argue that we (specifically Christians) should maintain joy in all circumstances. (Philippians 4:11-12) What bothers me is the promise of "better." The promise that things are changing, so you can hold onto the hope for when this season passes.

But, what if it doesn't get better? I know, I know, God has promised joy in the morning. (Psalm 30:5.) But, what if the "morning" doesn't dawn until we have exited this life and fully embraced the eternal? What if, no matter how many hours we spend in prayer and how strong our faith is, our earthly situation never gets "better"? 

Currently, I am in a difficult season of life. It has been difficult for quite some time now and has had repeated moments where it seems I can see the light at the end of the tunnel before being further pushed down into the darkness of the situation. In the present, it feels as though we can see the light again, but my weary heart fears the push is coming.

These statements of clinging to hope because change will come do little for a weary heart that has been beaten down again and again. The reality of our world is that sometimes, things don't get better. Sometimes, they even get worse. And worse. And worse. And the only "better" is when death ushers us into an eternity in the presence of our Savior. (Oh, how my heart aches for people who have not accepted the Gospel.) 

Paul wrote of his own "thorn in (his) flesh" that wouldn't go away in 2 Corinthians. He said he prayed numerous times and was still stricken with the thorn. To our knowledge, he died with this thorn. Most would not contest that Paul was a faithful man, fully committed to Christ and spreading the Gospel. Where was his "better" in that situation? A study on his life would reveal that he did not receive much "better" in his life (especially the way we Americans would define it.) His situation didn't change, does that mean God wasn't working?

Habakkuk (one of my favorite Old Testament books, easy to miss if you aren't looking) revealed a heart of one who cried out to God for change that he didn't get to see. Though he was unable to see the answers to his prayers, God responded that He was, in fact, working behind the scenes, so to speak. 

Poor Job lost everything. Every. Thing. He was a boil-covered, homeless, broke, lonely mess before he ever saw his "better."

What if Habakkuk or Paul had their cries met with answers of, "This too shall pass" or "...be happy while God's changing your situation." (It's been a while since I've read Job, but I think he was met with some trite "encouragements" and we see how that worked out for him...)

Hurt and struggle are very real things that afflict many. For some, the hits just keep coming. It makes me think of a line from a Metallica song (how often do you see the Bible and Metallica quoted together...) "Then it comes to be that the soothing light at the end of your tunnel Is just a freight train heading your way." When you are met by a freight train in your dark tunnel, hearing encouraging quotes about life getting better often elicits feelings other than joy.

So, what do you do if it isn't getting better? What do you do when you keep getting hit by that train and being told the secret to making it out of the tunnel is a happy disposition? You cling to TRUE hope. Don't know where to look for that? I'll give you a hint: it's at the foot of the cross, covered in a blood shed by grace. 

This is mostly a note to self, but if you are reading this and find yourself in that never-ending dark tunnel, there is hope. I can't tell you life will "get better" any time soon, but I promise, it is the only hope that cannot be shaken. Christ came and suffered so one day you may be FULLY relieved of your suffering. There is a perfect peace that can only be found in Jesus; this peace trumps any dark tunnel you may find yourself in. Look to the cross and cling to Jesus, it's the only sure-fire way to get out of this messy, heart-breaking life alive.

I don't want to be a good mom.

I remember when I was growing up, dreaming about one day being a mommy. I always thought of all the things I would do that would make me a "good" mom. When I was in middle school and high school, I baby sat. Parents and kids loved me, that was affirmation that I would one day be a good mom. When I was pregnant with my first, I heard more times than I can count that I would be a good mom. Since having my children, I have been told I am a good mom.

Can I make a confession? I'm not a good mom. At least, not the way I measure myself. I cannot even begin to tell you all the times I have failed as a mom. I have been irritated in the middle of the night when my child(ren) won't sleep and I have tried everything I can think of to get them to rest. I have had so many mornings where my children's smiling faces are ready to start the day and all I can think about is another hour of sleep. I have yelled and gotten angry too many times. I have allowed my emotions to rule me. I have placed unrealistic expectations on my children and been upset when they don't rise to them. I haven't baked enough cookies, colored enough pictures, read enough books or played enough games. I have allowed my children to wear mis-matched socks. I have skipped bath nights and not kept nails neat and trimmed. I have let them eat junk for dinner. I press "play" on the DVD player too often. I spend too much time looking at a screen myself. I have told my child(ren) to just wait until I finish dishes/laundry/whatever chore has presented itself as more important. I have allowed my idolatry of self-worship to take precedence a shameful number of times. 

My failure to be a "good" mom has worn hard on my heart. I have spent a good portion of the last couple years lamenting about my failures. I have climbed aboard my pity train and refused to get off. I have struggled day after day, telling myself, "Today, will be the day I am a good mom." Every day, I fail in some way. I have come to the conclusion that I will never be a "good" mom. Last night, I had an epiphany, I don't want to be a good mom anymore.

I want to be a grace-filled mom.

I don't want to measure the success of my mothering by all the things I always thought I should and shouldn't do to achieve "good" mommy status. I don't want to feel as though my life could be cataloged in beauty on Pinterest. I don't want to be a super mom who always has her home shining, clothes folded and put away, freshly baked cookies on the counter and a smile on my perfectly make-uped face. 

No, I want to be a mom who fills my home with love and joy. I want to be a mom who can grab a roll of paper towels and clean up the spilled paint water without gritting my teeth. I want to be a mom who rests in Jesus when I am weary from another sleepless night. I want to be a mom who clings to grace, each and every moment of every day. I want to be a mom so full of the love of Christ that my children will come to know Him, not through the pounding in of Bible verses but through daily seeing grace in action. I want to be a mom that is always a safe place. One who teaches my children that it's okay to make mistakes, because His grace is big enough to cover them. I desire my path of motherhood to be one that points to the cross. 

Yep. Forget being a "good" mom. I want to be a grace-filled mom.

e(STRANGE)d

es·trange

verb\i-ˈstrānj\ : 

: to cause someone to be no longer friendly or close to another person or group

: to cause someone to be no longer involved or connected with something

es·tranged||es·trang·ing

transitive verb

1:  to remove from customary environment or associations

2:  to arouse especially mutual enmity or indifference in where there had formerly been love, affection, or friendliness :  alienate (source)

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I remember the first time I heard the term "estranged". It was on a show, talking about an actress and how she had been seen in public with her estranged father. I was still fairly young at the time and had to look up what it meant. Even after looking it up and understanding its definition, I always felt it an awkward term. It felt peculiar to refer to a family member (or other relation) as "estranged." Wasn't there some other term to explain such a situation?

In my thirty years on this planet, I have unfortunately seen this verb in action in my life. For numerous reasons throughout the years, loved ones have been distanced. For the most part, wounds have healed and relationships were mended (to some extent or another.) At the moment, there are some relationships in my life that have been wounded and ties severed (or mostly severed,) intentional and unintentional. Through experiencing this verb in action, I get it.

I get why estranged is such a perfect term for these relationships. Not just because of the denotative meanings. While the definition fits the moment, the feeling of strangeness is overwhelming. How strange it is to desire to reach out to someone you love and care for, but not allow yourself out of necessity of self-preservation. How strange it is to look at pictures of moments where you were once so at home, yet see yourself missing from the new memories being made. How strange it is to long deeply for the connection you know will only bring hurt. How strange it is to feel like something is missing, unresolved. How strange it is to feel torn between desiring healing and desiring even more distance.

I don't believe it was God's design to have families estranged. I am pretty sure that was Satan's naughty little idea, to come in and corrupt something sacred and beautiful with the kind of hurt and pain that makes people want to turn their backs on the very people who are part and parcel of their being.

The thief comes only to steal, kill, and destroy... John 10:10(a)

I know this. I have lived it. I still live it. And yet, it all feels so strange.