motherhood – Page 6 – painter's daughter (a work in progress)

What happens in the desert…

May 12, 2014by Pam AndersonLeave a Comment

The child grew up and became spiritually strong, and he was in the wilderness (desert) until the day of his public appearance to Israel. Luke 1:80

We’ve all heard it… “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.” Basically, keep it to yourself… no one has to know about it, whatever it may be. But for a woman who wanders the desert, so to speak, this doesn’t quite apply. In fact, the opposite is true. Because if what God purposes to transpire in our hearts actually takes place, then we’re meant to take that with us. We’re not supposed to keep it to ourselves. This is epitomized by something Helen Keller said, “I thank God for my handicaps, for through them I have found myself, my work, and my God.” Amazing story… at 19 months old, Keller lost her ability to see and hear but through the tireless efforts of Anne Sullivan she learned to communicate. Not only that, she went on to be an activist and a writer. Wikipedia includes the following statement made by Keller, “I was appointed on a commission to investigate the conditions of the blind. For the first time I, who had thought blindness a misfortune beyond human control, found that too much of it was traceable to wrong industrial conditions, often caused by the selfishness and greed of employers. And the social evil contributed its share. I found that poverty drove women to a life of shame that ended in blindness.” In this last portion, Keller was referring to prostitution which often led to syphilis (a leading cause of blindness). So Helen Keller, a woman who traversed the desert so to speak, overcame her obstacle. And once she emerged on the other side, she didn’t keep what she learned to herself. Instead, her affliction became her life work. Her ministry. She was a living testament of beauty for ashes.

But the more they afflicted them, the more they multiplied and grew. Exodus 1:12

The Israelites and their forty year desert journey holds a prominent place in my heart. But it was something I recently read that shed new light on their plight. It’s what took place before they even set foot in the desert. They were under Pharaoh’s rule in Egypt and because they were growing so large in number, he decided to oppress them with harsh labor. Their ruthless slave drivers made their lives bitter. Nevertheless, the more the Israelites were afflicted, the the more they grew. Hardship didn’t decrease this people as Pharaoh so intended, but rather, affliction increased them. They multiplied. Hardship did not stop the nation of Israel from spreading out. And over time, when life became too difficult, they voiced their distress. Their cries for help ascended to God and He remembered His people. At the right time, He interceded.

In steps Moses, who had been away from Egypt for forty years. By now, it’s no surprise that God appointed a wayward wanderer for His purposes. It seems as if Moses was a desert sojourner long before God appointed him as leader of His people. For when Moses first encountered God at the burning bush, he had been on the far side of the wilderness (desert). That’s when he came to the mountain of God called Horeb. Does it astonish you to know that Horeb means desolation or desert? At one time, I think that may have struck me as odd… that the mountain of God means desolate. I would have imagined the literal meaning to be glory or majestic. But now, I’m not so surprised. Because it’s becoming clear that seasons of desolation and barrenness are necessary for all of God’s people. Often, it’s that dry season that drives us to His mountain to begin with. We know that at our individual Mount Horebs, we can cry out and He’ll observe our misery and oppression and suffering, just as He did with the Israelites so long ago. We have confidence that He’ll rescue us in the same way. And when He does, we’ll have our own stories. Like Helen Keller, and Moses, we’ll be living testaments of beauty for ashes. Our affliction (even if it be a small one) will become our own life work. A ministry. But first, we have to traverse the desert to get there. On the backside of our deserts is where we find our God.

“You have stayed at this mountain long enough. Resume your journey and go to the hill country…” Deuteronomy 1:6

I just love that. You have stayed long enough… unfortunately, these words were spoken to God’s people before their forty year trek. He had rescued them from Egypt and performed miracles before their eyes. He was right there with them, the LORD God in their midst. And yet, when He said it was time to move on, they were reluctant. Their faith wavered when they saw the inhabitants of the land of promise. And so, fear kept them out. God’s promise delayed because of His peoples’ disbelief. But see, they should have been strong enough. They should have grown by this point. Spiritually, that is. Why the distrust when He proved Himself strong on their behalf over and over and over…

In steps me. I came home to live three and a half years ago and let me tell you, I thought I had arrived. For at that time, I had already served my time of slavery in Egypt and traversed desert lands (or so I thought). I found God (or so I thought). And when my foot made contact with home soil, with all my heart I believed I was emerging on the other side of barrenness into my land of promise. It was there for the taking… I simply had to reach out and grab it. I can’t tell you the shock it was when I realized this is not my land of promise, after all. How dismayed I was when I figured it out… the desert journey had just begun.

Now, I just have to laugh over my naivety. Because in looking back, it’s all so clear. I was Born and raised in this small town, but left at a young age. And when I returned, I thought I was a new creation. But I wasn’t, really. I was so much the same girl who left at 19. And so, what’s crystal clear today is that God brought me home to bring me back from the dead. For here He fills my lifeless form with spiritual breath. He covers me as a newborn babe and nurtures me as I feed on His word. And so, I begin to thrive under His care for He raises me up as His own. And the utter miracle (to me) is that I am being born and raised all over again. In my hometown. I’m growing up all over again where I did it the first time. The only difference is this one’s spiritual. Here I am, a 41 year old woman raising my own child while God raises me, His child. So often, I am in the very place my son is. God teaching me through the little one I’m teaching. Isn’t that amazing?

Here I grow spiritually strong. For in my hometown, I’ve traversed the back side of the desert. But you know what? I’ve also trekked up Mount Horeb. It’s a fact that I have encountered the living God. So now, only questions remain. Have I stayed on this mountain long enough? Have I allowed my affliction to transform me? Has what God purposed to transpire in my heart taken place? Am I ready to take what I’ve learned and use it for His good? Can I be a living testament… one of beauty for ashes. Like Helen Keller? And Moses? And the answer to all these questions… yes. I think, perhaps, it’s a yes. It’s time to resume my journey and go. Which leads to perhaps most important question. How strong is my faith? Do I trust my God enough to walk out of this desert? Because if I don’t, I won’t go any further. For the first step into the land of promise takes faith… just one step.

The miner strikes the flint and transforms the mountains at their foundations. He cuts out channels from rocks, and his eyes spot every treasure. He dams up the streams from flowing so that he may bring to light what is hidden. Job 28:9:11

http://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=up+the+mountain+patty&qpvt=up+the+mountain+patty&FORM=VDRE#view=detail&mid=227E0CE8A0C65B05D7B3227E0CE8A0C65B05D7B3

The other side of motherhood.

May 6, 2014by Pam Anderson2 Comments

This picture makes me smile. Because she’s just like me. I don’t know how many of you are familiar with Seinfeld and the crazy characters the show portrayed over the years, but this girl sticks with me. I refer to her as the “frankfurter girl.” Because that was her ultimate breakdown. She would cry at the drop of a hat. Literally. And when she dropped her hot dog, tears ensued. She cried over just about everything. Another episode that hasn’t left me is the one where Jerry, the comedian, tried to be utterly serious and dark at his friend’s request. And it’s these two, the frankfurter girl and serious Jerry, of which I cannot help but see a resemblance to me. Way too serious and too much waterworks. Not enough joy and laughter. And I so miss my laughter. It used to burst forth from the depths of my belly. My mom even had to tell me to stop once. She thought I was choking. Often, I’d laugh so hard tears sprung from my eyes. But now, it’s another kind. Frankfurter girl tears. Evidently, I’m not as dry as I thought. But rather than springs of living water flowing from within, it’s wellsprings of tears that spew forth.

But you know, I already know why the tears. And I’ve known for quite some time now. Basically, I cry because dying is hard. That’s what I’ve been trying to do. Die to self. But it hurts. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever tried to do. And despite progress here and there, pieces of me still hold to what I consider my own. And as I read in the book of Luke, I find this is a killer. For whoever tries to keep their life will lose it, and whoever loses their life will preserve it. Holding too tightly to my wants, my agenda, is killing me. I’m snuffing the life right out of me and quenching the Spirit. And the fight has been lengthy. In truth, the battle began in earnest over seven years ago. Coincidentally, that’s when I had my son.

I love my child, it’s true. I ache over his own struggles. I long for him. And I’d do anything for him. At least I think I would. But in consideration of doing anything for him, I have to honestly say that I don’t think I have. Not completely. Because the truth is that at the birth of my child, someone else was birthed too. For an incredibly self-seeking woman drew breath the moment my precious, baby boy first drew his own. That’s when selfishness rudely inserted itself into my heart and soul. Which is so surprising. I always thought I was generous at heart, but the truth began to emerge in 2006. That’s when the very real battle of self began. It was then, when I had my son.

Before my child, I had no cares in the world, really. It was just me and my husband, and we did whatever we wanted. But then, there was a baby. And my son needed me unlike anyone had ever ever needed me before. And I just have to say, this was a bit overwhelming to me. For I’m not a natural. I didn’t slide gracefully into motherhood. I was terrified and couldn’t sleep for fear that he would stop breathing. And I was never sure of what he really needed. Never. I believe I spent that first year guessing. And juggling because I began to work from home. God blessed me with both a baby and a new home-based job within months but these gifts also became my biggest trials. It was hard to balance a new baby with work because it was always there in front of me. And being the type-A person that I am, I had my own ideas about how and when I should work. But nothing ever went according to plan. Every day was different as the cries of my hungry infant rivaled the blip of incoming work emails. And this is where darkness began to fall.

Those first years were hard and now I have so much regret. Because my little boy learned way to early what it means to be happy and sad. This was evidenced by a visit to my hometown when he was about two or so. I felt happy, so I called him to me for a kiss. Afterwards, he waddled over to his me-maw and pulled out his pacifier to say, “Mama’s happy.” Even at that tender age, he could tell when I was up. I can’t tell you how many times I wish I could go back there to get my priorities straight. How often I’ve wished I could undo things I’ve done. Or not done. Because now I see it clearly. Despite love for my baby, there was also the love for myself. And so, I began to cling. I began to construct, but walls consisted of agenda and structure and rigidity and organization. These flimsy walls never lasted. And because my wants seemed to fall by the wayside, I became stingy with my time. I began the game of comparison… my list of to-do’s seemed more lengthy than my dear husbands (at least through the inward glasses I wore). And resentment deposited its seed. Bitterness flourished while I diminished. As I said, I have regret. So much I wish I could un-do. Or re-do.

So many moments that started off like this…

Turned to moments like this…

And sadly, there’s no turning back time. But I do have today. Not surprisingly, I find myself in pretty much the same place. Almost eight years later, I’m still fighting the same fight… building flimsy walls made of agenda and structure and rigidity and organization. The only difference is the ping of an incoming work email is rivaled by the wail of a seven year old. But you know, there is knowledge. You do learn as you go. For I know that I’m the very one who boxes myself in. Today, I see that the self-imposed rules and timelines I’ve surrounded myself with will not hold me up. This semblance of a schedule I try to maintain actually contributes to my downfall. For the foundation and structure I’ve so carefully laid out is in fact unsteady. And clinging to these unsound walls paves the way to instability.

Today I have realization. I have clarity. And often, revelation comes through the face of the little boy who stares back at me. In him, I see me. Oh, he loves to laugh. He loves to be silly and his laughter wells up from deep within. Wellsprings of mirth. But also, there’s another side to him. There are frowns and creased brow. There are sighs. And my fear is that I’m turning him into a mini-me. Because I box him in. I impose my agenda and rigidity and organization upon him. And rightfully so, as I’m his mother. But see, I’m a type-A personality. And as I tend to do, I go over-board. This past Sunday the perfect example…

The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit. John 3:8

It was picture day. Little league baseball boys all in a row having their picture snapped. But, oh, the wind. It was so gusty. They laughed and giggled as the wind made their eyes tear. They grabbed to their hats to keep them from blowing away. They were delighted. And sure enough, the wind blew hats half way across the field. I could hear my son’s laughter floating on the air as he sank down to his knees, grabbing the rolling hat. I went after him. I didn’t enter his euphoria, though. Instead, I focused on his grass stained pants. See, rather than embrace the moment and cling to the joy that was set before me, I saw only what had to be done. I saw how another load of wash would affect my carefully laid out plans. And so, I utterly missed the moment. What could have been a blessed memory becomes a dark spot in my past. Yet one more regret… one more time I wish I could have a do-over. Why, oh why, didn’t I just laugh with him?

You know, structure is a good thing. But if it controls you, it can have the opposite effect. If rigidity boxes you in, then it’s time to tear down the walls. And if life is snuffed out and the Spirit is quenched because things just don’t go your way, then priorities need to be evaluated. At least this is true for me. I know I am not meant to be boxed in. God wants me to be fluid, malleable, and yielding. It’s almost as if what God said to King David, He says to me:

Are you the one to build me a house to dwell in? I have not dwelt in a house from the day I brought the Israelites up out of Egypt to this day. I have been moving from place to place with a tent as my dwelling. Wherever I have moved with all the Israelites, did I ever say to any of their rulers whom I commanded to shepherd my people Israel, “Why have you not built me a house of cedar?”’ 2 Samuel 7:5-7

God moves. His Spirit moves. And I’m supposed to be the same. He did not order me to construct my rigid walls. He did not tell me to box myself in by unattainable goals. And He did not say to chain myself to self-imposed rules and regulations. Because He knows that will be the death of me. The wrong kind of death… Spirit quenched. And because I hold to the wants and desires that drive my laid out plans, I am still holding to my life. I’m still battling myself. This is me putting myself first. Not my son. And if I say I would do anything for him, wouldn’t I do this one thing? Why can’t I just surrender? God help me.

Yes, it’s true. Dying is hard. It’s been a seven year battle. And there have been tears and failure… skirmishes lost. But the battle is not yet over. I still have today. Despite more regrets than I can count, it’s not too late. But rather than dwell on days gone by, I can live in the moment and look to the future. Because as my son wisely put it, “There’s no reset button.” And he’s so right. I may not be able to un-do or re-do what’s done, but I can surely redeem the time that’s left. For life remains within my son. The Spirit bubbles up alongside giggles of delight. Oh, he may frown from time to time, but he hasn’t lost his smile, or his laugh, yet. And the good news is, through him, I think I’ll find my own. I shall laugh again. A spring of living water flowing from within…

http://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=blowing+in+the+wind+peter+paul+and+mary&qpvt=blowing+in+the+wind+peter+paul+and+mary&FORM=VDRE#view=detail&mid=919DA53E567AEBAFCD92919DA53E567AEBAFCD92

A Dry Spell

May 1, 2014by Pam Anderson4 Comments

I’ve been dry. Which is funny because we’ve had so much rain in the past few days that it’s been dripping through the cracks in my kitchen. While a stainless steel pot sat on my floor collecting rain, and I went through multiple towels soaking up standing water off my stovetop, the jar of clay that I am proved to be a leaky vessel. For I seem to hold no water. I feel empty with nothing to offer. Inside, I’m dry. Thus, the dry spell. Dry in every way.

I read from John chapter 4 recently and the words caused me to inwardly moan. Because what I read caused a stirring of the remaining stagnant water within me. But also, it prompted me to consider why I feel the way I do. Because what Jesus promises to a woman of Samaria applies to me, too. And honestly, I just don’t feel it today…

“Everyone who drinks from this water will get thirsty again. But whoever drinks from the water that I will give him will never thirst again- ever! In fact, the water I will give him will become a well of water springing up within him for eternal life.” John 4:13

So what of that? I’m a Christian woman, so shouldn’t I be filled with this living water? Why the dry spell? And in truth, the dryer I become, the more deadened I feel. Kind of a numbness. It takes a lot to make me laugh or cry at this stage. Like I’m an empty shell. And so, activity ensues. I begin to feel frantic and so I try to quench my thirst by feeding on heaping helpings of God’s word. And yet, nothing. Dry as a bone. An empty cistern. But then, I hear Him. He says to me, “You pore over the Scriptures because you think you have eternal life in them, yet they testify about Me. And you are not willing to come to Me that you may have life.” John 5:39-40.

And so, I’m baffled by this statement. Because Jesus is the Word become flesh. And God’s word is powerful and transforming. His words are life. How is it, then, that devouring the Bible in mass quantities leaves me devoid of life? That’s when I hear Him again. I am reminded of Hagar of the Old Testament. She was a woman who had her own dry spells. See, she wandered through the wilderness not just once, but twice. And the wilderness of the Old Testament is not what we think of in our land. No, the wilderness was a desert, barren, wasteland. In fact, one definition shows the wilderness land to be desolate supporting little life. And so, it was amidst Hagar’s dry spells that she encountered the Living God.

The first time she encountered God was when she ran away from home. Circumstances were unfavorable as she was tired of being mistreated by her mistress. So she took off. And that’s when she met Him. But rather than encourage her on her way, God sent her back to her old life. And furthermore, He told her to submit to the mistreatment. But then, He made her a promise. For she was to have a boy child who would grow into a man. Poignantly, this visitation took place at a spring of water. And Hagar named the place Beer-lahai-roi, which means “A Well of the Living One Who Sees Me.” So, Hagar in her dryness, must have stopped at a spring to quench her thirst. But instead, she received a word from the Living One who heard her cry out. Thus, the name of her child was to be Ishmael (God hears).

Hagar did go back to her old life. And it was some years later that she had to go away again. But this time, it wasn’t her idea. Her mistress threw her and Ishmael out. It seems as if she was meant to go away all along… just the timing was not right. And so, Hagar and her boy were sent off with only some bread and a waterskin. And they wandered through the Wilderness of Beer-sheba. Alas, the water didn’t last. And so here was a woman, dry as a bone, trying to sustain both herself and her child in a desolate land that supported little life. She must have lost all hope, for she placed her child under a bush and went and sat nearby. See she couldn’t bear to hear his cries anymore. And tragically, she was waiting for him to die. It appears that Hagar forgot her previous encounter with the Lord. It appears she didn’t recollect what He told her years before. For He said she’d have a child. And He said when Ishmael’s a man… but in her dryness, she didn’t remember. Circumstances seemed too dire. Her unfavorable circumstances loomed before her and that’s all she could see. That’s all she could dwell on.

But you know, Hagar may have forgotten, but God did not. And He heard the boy’s cries and answered. God called out instructions to Hagar, “Get up, help the boy up, and sustain him, for I will make him a great nation.” That’s when God opened her eyes and she saw. There was a well of water. It must have been there all along for she simply needed to get up and fill the waterskin. She just didn’t see it. Her despair and her fear and her hopelessness filled both her heart and her vision. She didn’t know what was right there for the taking. And the sad thing is, I don’t think she even asked God for help. I don’t think she said a word. Because it was the voice of the boy that God heard. Not hers. Unlike Hagar’s first wilderness wandering, she didn’t cry out the second time. She had lost all hope.

And so, today I hear Him. I’ve been wandering my own desert land yet again. And it appears I’ve been digging my own wells. It seems as if I’ve been trying to quench this thirst my way. I’ve been doing more, trying harder, digging deeper in God’s word, and yet, dryness. It was yesterday, my mom said that people sometimes mistake hunger for thirst. And you know, I think there’s something to that. See, I’ve been cramming myself FULL of God’s word. Hours of it. And yet, there’s still this emptiness. Perhaps what my mom said stands spiritually, as well. Perhaps I’m confusing this thirst for hunger. And as powerful as God’s word is, I need something more. I see it through that Samaritan woman in the 4th chapter of John.

A woman of Samaria came to draw water. “Give Me a drink,” Jesus said to her, for His disciples had gone into town to buy food. “How is it that You, a Jew, ask for a drink from me, a Samaritan woman?” she asked Him. For Jews do not associate with Samaritans.Jesus answered, “If you knew the gift of God, and who is saying to you, ‘Give Me a drink,’ you would ask Him, and He would give you living water.” “Sir,” said the woman, “You don’t even have a bucket, and the well is deep. So where do You get this ‘living water’? You aren’t greater than our father Jacob, are You? He gave us the well and drank from it himself, as did his sons and livestock.” John 4:7-12

Jesus asks the woman for a drink, which initiates a dialogue. And so, she asks questions of Jesus. See, He pointed out that if she knew who He was, she’d ask Him for a drink. But she pointed out the obvious. Circumstances were clear to see as Jesus had no bucket and the well was deep. How could He give her water? Furthermore, she had Jacob’s well. And Jacob was a great man… a patriarch. People had been drinking from his water for years. And that’s when Jesus pointed out the obvious. Whoever drank of that water would thirst again. He offers her to drink from Him.

“If anyone thirsts, let him come to Me and drink. He who believes in Me, as the Scripture has said, out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.” John 7:37-38

And so, I hear Him today. I hear Him through the lives of Hagar and an anonymous Samaritan woman. For through them, I see a picture of me. They too, had dry spells. And like them, my faith is running low right now. It’s as if I had forgotten my last encounter with the Living One Who Sees Me. It seems as if I had forgotten what He promised me. And so, my belief has waned. And despite the ceaseless wells I dig by means of activity and busyness and tasks, I remain empty. And despite my drinking from wells that many have drank from before me, I thirst again. And so, it’s here in this dry, barren place that I have no other choice. I just stop what I’m doing. And God opens my eyes to see what lay right before me. For the well of the Living Water has been here the whole time. I just didn’t see it. And because I know I don’t have it in me, I look at Him. It’s clear that despite my best efforts, I cannot satisfy this endless thirst. And so, I do the only thing I can do. I echo the plea of a Samaritan woman of long ago…

I say, “Sir, give me this water so I won’t get thirsty again…”

And then, I’m able to get up. It’s then, I can help my own boy up. It’s then I can sustain him in a dry and desolate land. But first, I must be filled myself.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WA92O0hxYNw

The significance of a bracelet…

February 5, 2014by Pam Anderson3 Comments

“Set up signposts,
Make landmarks;
Set your heart toward the highway,
The way in which you went.
Turn back, O virgin of Israel,
Turn back to these your cities.
How long will you gad about,
O you backsliding daughter?
For the Lord has created a new thing in the earth—
A woman shall encompass a man.” Jeremiah 31:21-22

I lost a bracelet Friday. It wasn’t valuable monetarily and it was really quite simple. Nonetheless, it was priceless to me. For this wasn’t just any bracelet. It was the one I had worn for nearly twenty years. I was twenty-one when my friend, Carmen, gave it to me. And sadly, I lost touch with her long ago. But then, we were inseparable. She gave me the thin, silver band as a parting gift before she moved to Germany. And I was delighted with the piece of jewelry. For many reasons, I guess.

Me and Carmen… Oklahoma… 1994

In think one reason I adored that bracelet stemmed from my high school days. I just didn’t have a lot of jewelry. Unlike my best friend, who had amazing jewelry. A lot of it. I confess, I was nearly green with envy. Oh, how I coveted her silver collection. Not to mention her make-up, stuffed closet and CD collection. Yep. I did a lot of coveting my junior and senior years. I wanted what she had. And so, when my friend gave me a lovely piece of jewelry, I don’t think she knew how much it would mean to me. I added it to the few pieces I already owned… some inexpensive earrings, a few bracelets, two silver rings and a class ring. Oh, there was one diamond ring. However, one of the diamonds was missing. That’s a story for another day.

And so, there was a bracelet. A thin, silver band. At first, although I wore it often, I didn’t wear it every day. But over time, I began to wear it more and more. Eventually, I began to sleep in it, bathe in it, swim in it. I lived with that bracelet attached to me. It became a part of me. Oh, I may have added another bracelet to my wrist alongside the first. But Carmen’s bracelet stayed put. It was rare that I didn’t have it on. In fact, it was a few months back when I thought I should remove it. I took it off for a while, but it felt unnatural. I felt naked, and so the piece of silver quickly made its way back to its rightful home. And there it stayed. A piece of me. Until Friday when I lost it.

In thinking back on my journeys, I realize that bracelet did some traveling, too. It was such a part of me, in fact, that it’s attached to many significant moments in my life. It was there when I went to Korea…

Korea… 1994-1995

The bracelet adorned my wrist when I moved to Savannah and fell in love.

Savannah, GA… 1996

It was there when we dated, when he proposed to me, and during our engagement.

Fall 1996 October 1997

Winter 1998

Then there were the days before the wedding. Look closely and you’ll see the bracelet remained. Through the shower and the day before I said, “I do.” The bracelet was a part of me. A part of my life.

Spring 1998

Me & mom, June 1998 My mother-in-law made my dress

The bracelet held fast to my arm through the honeymoon… and even when the honeymoon was over, for we had our first marital tiff.

June 1998 Scowl on face, July 1998

The bracelet endured… through our first two moves.

Pennsylvania, 1999-2000 New York, 2000-2001

There were special occasions… like my high school reunion. By the way, this is me and my dear friend. She had all the cool jewelry when we were seniors. And I know for fact that she still does as we just had lunch recently.

Virginia, 2001

There were more moves, more occasions, more events, more life. Me and my bracelet…

North Carolina, 2001 Another part of NC, Karaoke party for one, 2003-2004

First (only) cruise, Spring 2005 Labor Day weekend with Daddy, 2005

The bracelet was always there. Even for the miracle of new life.

2006… expectancy

2006… sheer exhaustion 2006…. baby dedication. More exhaustion as evidenced by bags under eye.

And then, the tiredness waned. The fun began. The bracelet stayed put.

2006, laughs 2007, sips

2007, walks

I wore that bracelet on vacations…

2008

2009

2010

And I wore it when my deepest desire became reality. God sent me back home. After six months, we settled in a house in my home town. And within a year, we put down roots.

2010 – 2013

All these pictures evidence the journey of my life. And the significance of a bracelet? It was a part of me. Always. It was there for everything. From Oklahoma to Korea to Georgia to North Carolina to Pennsylvania to New York. Back to multiple locations in North Carolina and ultimately… Virginia. My home. And so on Friday, when I looked down and found the bracelet wasn’t where it should be, I was surprised. It was as if part of me was gone. But rather than sadness that something valuable to me was lost… I felt expectant. Rather than grieve over a thin piece of silver that held so many good memories… I look forward instead. Because I believe I’m supposed to.

You know… I haven’t written since January 17. It was just before my birthday and I wrote about the significance of the date… January 22, 1973. Roe v. Wade. And then, eleven years later came sanctity of human life Sunday. The day of my birth is fraught with significance. And so, I shared about my past. I told of things I had done that I wish I hadn’t. And I realized it’s those things I’ve been carrying with me all this time. Along with the good, it’s regret that’s been attached to the bracelet… attached to me. I just didn’t know it. Because for so many years, I thought I was fine. And in looking at these pictures, I look fine. I look happy. But smiles are only skin deep and brokenness can be hidden. And all of this has come to the forefront of my heart and mind these past few weeks. And I find that through the insignificant act of losing a bracelet, I find a promise. I find significance.

So much has taken place in a matter of days… so much deep within that words fail me. And so, all I can do is tell about a bracelet. A bracelet… fraught with significance. Priceless in that it held so many memories. All those good ones displayed above. And yet, the rest of my past was attached to the thin, silver band as well. From a covetous heart to a couple of years I wish I could undo. See, the bracelet was a part of me. It held fast to my arm before I returned home, before I had my baby and before I met my husband. The bracelet was there for those things I don’t want to remember. All that regret. And yet, I wore it always. It was part of me. Until Friday. And so, January 31, 2014 becomes significant. As significant as the bracelet I lost. Because in the removal of a silver band that held me to my past, I find that I am now free to move forward. Expectant once again.

Look, I am about to do something new;
even now it is coming. Do you not see it?
Indeed, I will make a way in the wilderness,
rivers in the desert. Isaiah 43:19

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January 22, 1973

January 17, 2014by Pam Anderson8 Comments

Your eyes saw me when I was formless; all my days were written in Your book and planned before a single one of them began. Psalm 139:16

Abortion. I hate the word. And it’s a topic I like to avoid because I’m one of those cowardly folks who avoid conflict. I always have and sometimes I wonder if I always will. Because when I look to the root of it – why I avoid conflict – I see it’s because I’m a people-pleaser. For some crazy reason, I want to be liked by everyone. Always have and sometimes I wonder if I always will. And so obviously, with abortion being such a sticky subject and the cause of great division, I avoid the topic. But my realization for today is that as long as I continue on my present course, hoping to please everyone I encounter, I will never fulfill God’s purpose for my life. Oh, hiding out from the abortion debate may gain me a few friends, but at what cost?

Last year about this time, I had an epiphany. I was struck with the realization that I was turning 40 along with Roe v. Wade. See, we share a birthday. On the day I was born, January 22, 1973, history was made. The day the Supreme Court made abortion legal in the United States was the first day I drew breath. The day I uttered my first baby cry was the day countless other cries went forth in disbelief and anguish. The lusty howls of a newborn baby must have mingled with cries of outrage that winter day. Surely they reached God’s ears at the same time. January 22, 1973. And so, last year I thought, “What am I supposed to do with this?” Because it seemed significant. My birthday. I felt it was no accident that my birth coincided with the birth of death. In fact, it seems as though its shroud has covered me and followed me my whole life.

The battle cry of pro-abortion folks is, “My body, my right!” It must have been about ten years ago when I heard it firsthand. I was riding along with a friend when we passed by an abortion clinic. There were people standing outside with signs. Pro-lifers. She screamed out with fiery passion, “F * * * you! It’s my body. It’s my right. Don’t tell me what to do!” She was incensed for she had had a couple of abortions. And the truth is, so had I. But despite my doing what I did as a young woman, I no longer felt the same. I didn’t agree with my friend and felt incredibly uncomfortable. But rather than enter a debate about such a hot topic, I kept my mouth shut tight. I let no cry escape my lips. Because as I said, I’m a people-pleaser. I didn’t want anything to change between my friend and I. I wanted her to go on liking me, so I avoided the drama of heated words. I kept silent.

To keep silent or to use my voice. That’s the choice that stands before me today. In past years, I chose silence. It’s easier. But today, I think God calls me to use my voice. I find several synonyms of voice to be interesting especially in light of the abortion issue. For voice can mean “right to be heard,” and “influence,” and “vote.” And today this all hits home. For pro-abortionists use their voices daily. Loudly. They utilize their right to be heard and influence many and votes are cast. God calls me to do the same. He expects me to utilize my right to be heard, no matter the consequences. Because in truth, people just won’t like me for this.

I had two abortions as a young woman. And when I went to the facilities, not a lot of information was provided to me. But in truth, I didn’t want to know. Ignorance is bliss, right. Why did I do what I did? Because to me, it seemed like a problem. I was not ready for kids. I was unmarried and unstable. And so, I did what the world says is okay to do. However, deep down I knew it was wrong. For I set out before sunrise not telling my dad where I was headed. And incredibly, I had planned a lunch with him and family later that day. Incredibly, I went to lunch afterward. And when my aunt asked, “What have you been up to?” with a glint in her eye, I said, “Nothing.” I hid what I had done. I hid what I knew to be shameful. And now I know why I did it. Because I was selfish. I had dreams and a baby would interfere with my plans. So without any thought, I did the unthinkable. And ever since then, I’ve been journeying through the valley of the shadow of death.

What does abortion do to a woman? For me, the affects came later. Because as I began to walk with God, and delve further into His word, I began to see. But, because I am a woman who avoids conflict, I shoved it down. I wasn’t going to go there. I don’t like conflict with people, and that includes conflict with myself. So I ignored it the issue. And the fruit of that was not trusting God. Because I had two abortions and never dealt with it, I waited for the day that God would pay me back. And I thought it would be through my son… I didn’t trust God with my little boy at all. The first six years of his life, I lived in fear that he would die. As a matter of fact, it was one year ago that I had a crisis of faith over this issue. In January of last year, I believed with all my heart God was going to take my son.

Abortion. It’s a hot topic I usually avoid. As I said, I hate conflict. But when Roe v. Wade was brought to my attention a year ago I knew God had a reason for it. Because I thought… “What am I supposed to do with this?” Not long afterward, this blog was birthed. And today, I just wonder… is it for this purpose? Is it for today? Because I am quite surprised to be writing this. I can assure you this is not my plan. For I was going to write about something altogether different. Something safer. Something that wouldn’t cause such a divide. Something that wouldn’t cause people to dislike me. But these words flowed, instead. His plan, not mine.

You know, despite all I’ve done and the mistakes I continue to make, God is so good to me. Because I learned something new today. It comforts me. See, I may have made my entrance into this world on the day that death was made legal. I may have felt that my destiny was to roam the darkness because of the significance of January 22, 1973; however, some years later, my birthday came to be about more than just Roe v. Wade and me. For in 1984, President Reagan designated January the 22nd as the first National Sanctity of Human Life Day. The date was chosen to coincide with Roe v. Wade’s anniversary, but today, I feel it’s God’s birthday gift to me. Because He knows how I’ve been feeling. He knows how the darkness of my past has hung over me. But today… today I have real hope. Today God gives me the hope of life. Sanctity of Life.

Sanctity of Human Life day is designated to be the third Sunday in January. That’s this Sunday. And so today, I am utterly amazed at how God moves in my life. Because this blog is not my choice. I was going to write about names, and cathedrals, and the tower of Babel. Abortion was not part of the outline. But instead, God moved me to use my voice… my right to be heard… to influence… to vote. Today’s writing was His choice, not mine. And that right there is key… His choice. For it’s God who places new life within a woman. He is the one who gives and takes away life. The choice is not ours to make. It’s not our right, as the world so loudly proclaims.

For it was You who created my inward parts; You knit me together in my mother’s womb. I will praise You, because I have been remarkably and wonderfully made. Your works are wonderful, and I know this very well. My bones were not hidden from You when I was made in secret, when I was formed in the depths of the earth. Psalm 139:13-15

Today God gives me the gift of life. He shows me it is not my destiny to walk in the darkness of death. My bad choices of yesterday do not have to color my world of tomorrow. No, God has another destiny for me. One of light and one of life. Sanctity of life. And He wants me to use the voice He gave me to proclaim this life.

Today I choose to exercise my rights in this way… to speak out against abortion. And the truth is, people won’t like me for it.

This day I call the heavens and the earth as witnesses against you that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Now choose life, so that you and your children may live… Deuteronomy 30:19

Say Something!

January 15, 2014by Pam AndersonLeave a Comment

Listen, my son, to your father’s instruction, and don’t reject your mother’s teaching, for they will be a garland of grace on your head and a gold chain around your neck. Proverbs 1:8-9

There are times when I go back to read something I’ve written and feel amazed. And I can’t even believe it was me. Like today. I just read my “About” page and see that I had total focus and clarity. I knew the goal of the blog this past February. Because at that time I felt such a connection to God. I was absolutely sure of His plan for me. For I heard Him through His word, life circumstances, people, nature and song. The God of all creation spoke to me and I found that to be incredible. But as with life, there are ups and downs and highs and lows. And when January rolled around, I found myself low. Again.

I have to say that over the course of the past few years, I’ve had more lows that I care to mention. In fact, there have even been a few times when I just wanted to give up on God. Once or twice, I felt that following God was just too hard, and even muttered aloud, “I quit!” But inevitably, I always found myself pulled back into His embrace. In the end, I always ran back to Him. Because in truth, I can’t imagine Him not being a part of my life. How could I possibly think I could move forward without Him? For He is my heavenly Father and I am His child. I’m His. And what comforts me today is that even during the dark times, when I think I’m leaving Him behind, He never forgets me. Never. For His word reminds me…

“Never! Can a mother forget her nursing child? Can she feel no love for the child she has borne? But even if that were possible, I would not forget you!” Isaiah 49:15

And so for today, I stand amazed in His presence once more. For I understand. And with increasing regularity, I find that it’s my own child who leads me into understanding. See, my son and I have gone around and around with one issue. His listening skills. In fact, it was last week that I was so incensed I had to hold back until I could gain control. I called out to him while he wasn’t more than three feet away. But rather than his turning to me with listening ears strapped on, he began singing out, “La, la, la, la,” over and over again. And for some crazy reason, I tried to talk over him rather than grab him by the shoulders and make him turn and listen. Can you imagine? And it’s no surprise that I was LIVID when he didn’t hear what I said. And so, we had a not so fun moment and tears ensued as he tried to explain that he didn’t hear me.

And today, I am quite certain, God feels the same with me. Because ever since the beginning of January, I’ve been crying out to God over and over, “Oh, I need a word. Please speak to me. Show me something new. Talk to me, Lord.” And Psalm 5 and 6 penned by King David seemed to point out the obvious. For David emotionally cried out to God as well. He asked that God hear his groaning, his tears, his weeping, his plea, his prayer, his words, his sighing, his cry and his voice. That’s where I noticed it. Through all my moaning and groaning and pleas and cries, my clanging in God’s ears must sound the same as my son singing out, “La, la, la.” How in the world can I hear him if I never shut up? How can I focus on His words when I’m too intent on my words?

My Son, if you accept my words and store up my commands within you, listening closely to wisdom and directing your heart to understanding; furthermore, if you call out to insight and lift your voice to understanding, if you seek it like silver and search for it like hidden treasure, then you will understand the fear of the LORD and discover the knowledge of God. For the LORD gives wisdom; from His mouth come knowledge and understanding. Proverbs 2:1-6

Yesterday, I heard Him. I had been pleading, “Say something!” But God had already said it. Not only that, it was something He’s spoken to me more times than I can count. How weary He must be of repeating Himself. Just as I feel when I have to tell my son four times to put away a pair of shoes. “Please say something, God!” His response, “I’ve told you again and again. Put this away. Until you stop this behavior, we can go no further.” Basically, my heavenly Father is saying, “Enough! Listen to me and do as I say.” Like I say to my own son.

Today, I’m thankful. I’m thankful that God made me a mother. Because I love my child. I love him. There is nothing he can do that will ever change that. And he can pretend he’s upset with me and turn his back on me and tell me he doesn’t want my hugs and kisses. But I know he wants them. Even those times when he says he doesn’t want to make up. Oh, he may try to leave me behind, but in truth, he can’t go on without me. In fact, he can’t imagine a life without me, for I’m his mother. And this right here is how I can understand God’s love for me. It’s through my child that God has taught me so much. He shows me how I need to grow and how I should be disciplined. But more than that, He shows me how He loves me.

…and a little child shall lead them. Isaiah 11:6

Today, I’m so glad that God repeats Himself. Like I do with my own son… over and over and over again. I know that God will never give up on me. He will never stop loving me. And because He’s my heavenly Father, He will never stop instructing me. He will tell me what I need to hear as many times as I need to hear it. Because one day, I’ll stop la-la-la-ing and really listen! I’ll hear Him when He says something. And then, I’ll obey my Father. As every child should.

Bitter Fruit

January 14, 2014by Pam AndersonLeave a Comment

Youth

I’ve been duped. Deceived. And oh, how crafty he is. For he first introduced himself to me when I was tender and naïve. Young and awkward and so incredibly shy, I would hide behind my mom’s skirts avoiding eye contact with most people. Money was not flowing, so my clothes were hand-me-downs or from thrift stores. My home was an apartment on the backside of the store with a cow pasture as my view. And at first, none of this bothered me. But as I grew, shame set in. It was when I began school and saw all the other kids that the serpent planted his seed deep within me. It was then that he smiled at me, offered me his hand along with a taste of his bitter fruit. And I eagerly placed it to my lips swallowing it down whole. All of it. For he knew what would hurt me the most. And so, he told me his name. I first came to know the evil one as comparison. He peppered me with lies as I grew and I consumed every tidbit.. You’re so shy you can’t even talk. That means you’re stupid! You’re so ugly… look at your friends. How much prettier they are. Look at how she talks and laughs and attracts other people. You’re so dull, I don’t even know why she’s your friend. Look at your clothes… You can’t even afford nice ones.

And so, the sly one knew just when to introduce me to another of his attributes. For when I was a teenager, I encountered him in the form of desire and craving and ambition. Another of his lies gobbled down and tucked away into my heart. Deeply entrenched. I hated myself. I didn’t want to be me anymore. And so, because I didn’t really know what else to do, I joined the military. I got as far away from my home land as I could. I wanted a fresh start. Perhaps there, I would become what I was not. Perhaps elsewhere, I would become successful and desirable and knowledgeable like the friends I grew up with. Anywhere would do as long as it was as far away from my humble beginnings as I could get. Shedding my family and my mistakes and my old skin, I set out for adventure. I set out to be more than I was. I set out to become a new person.

Who is wise and understanding among you? He should show his works by good conduct with wisdom’s gentleness. But if you have bitter envy and selfish ambition in your heart, don’t brag and lie in defiance of the truth. Such wisdom does not come down from above, but is earthly, sensual, demonic. For where ever selfish ambition exist, there is disorder and every kind of evil. James 3:13-16

The Garden

Oh, his tricks are not new. It was deception he used in the very beginning and still works like a charm today. He knows how to speak and he covers up the truth. For although wisdom calls out in the streets and she raises her voice in the public squares, the deceiver’s smooth voice silences godly instruction. And he uses a language that God’s creation readily identifies with. He’s fluent in the tongue of desire. His speech tickles the ear…

God took man and placed him in the garden of Eden to work it and watch over it. And the LORD God commanded the man, “You are free to eat from any tree of the garden, but you must not eat from the tree of good and evil, for on the day you eat from it, you will certainly die.” But, the serpent! He was the most cunning of all the animals that the LORD God made. He spoke to the woman. “Did God really say, ‘You can’t eat from any tree in the garden?'” And the woman knew God’s command for He had instructed His creation. But the serpent lied. He deceived. And so, the woman saw that the tree was good for food. It was delightful to look at. And it was desirable for obtaining wisdom. So she took some of its fruit and she ate… (from Genesis 2 and 3)

Not only did Eve swallow the serpent’s deception along with the fruit, but she offered the same to Adam. The deceiver interjected a lie into the garden and it spread. And after both ate what they were commanded not to, their eyes were opened and they knew what they didn’t know before. Nakedness. And shame. And fear. For they ignored God’s commands. Rather than hold to His instruction they embraced foolishness instead. For when they disobeyed the LORD, they left wisdom in the dust…

The fear of the LORD is the beginning of knowledge; fools despise wisdom and instruction. Proverbs 1:7

Adulthood

I’ve been duped. Deceived. And oh, how crafty he is. And his tricks are old ones. For deception is the language he’s used from the very beginning and unfortunately, it still works like a charm today. And when the serpent speaks, he covers up truth. I’ve been reacquainted with the sly one recently. He subtly interjected his voice into my thoughts. And increasingly, it’s him that I hear over all other voices. Even the voice of truth.

I left home at nineteen and indeed, I came home a new person. I am not who I once was. But in truth, some of my insecurities remain. And incredibly, over the course of the past few months, I’ve allowed myself to dialogue with the devil. He reacquainted himself to me through the form of one of his greatest tools… Facebook. And there, comparison speaks loudly. For it’s there I see images of happy, beautiful people. It’s there that I see women making tasty treats for their children and ruing the day their kids set off to school. It’s there that I see friends linking with friends. And so, an old familiar voice whispers in my ear. He offers me a taste of his bitter fruit… and I eagerly place it to my lips and swallow it down whole. Not only do I listen to his lies, but I believe them… Look at you! You’re a horrible mother. Other women can’t bear to let their children walk out the door and you do a happy dance when you get a few minutes alone! You’re awful! Why weren’t you invited to that? They must not like you. In fact, you don’t have any friends. You’re too dull. A prude. Why would anyone want to spend time with you. Not only that, you’re overweight. And boring.

And his lies are endless… his fruit inviting. And so, I fill up on its bitterness leaving wisdom behind. I embrace folly as I leave God’s wisdom in the dust. And as I compare myself to other women, I feel less and less and less. And the more I believe I am less than, the more I remove myself from a world I was once a force in. I hide away in shame. In guilt. In fear. And the serpent dances with glee. For he’s won the game with me.

It’s incredible. I cannot believe I find myself here today. And honestly, I’m a bit surprised. How could I let myself get back here? But you know, I’m also thankful. Because today, I see it. I see the truth. I’ve been feasting on the bitter fruit of the deceiver. But God offers me another fruit. His fruit. His peace. His truth. For wisdom calls out in the streets and she raises her voice in the public squares. I find that wisdom in God’s word. And there, I find His voice. In time, if I allow it, His voice will silence the lies.

Today, I turn to God and His instruction. And as His voice becomes entrenched in my heart and mind, the slippery one becomes more muted. As his lies fade, I gain strength. I decide to shake hands with the devil no longer as I instead cling to God’s outstretched hand. But it’s up to me. Every day the choice is mine… His hand or the serpent’s hand. The voice of truth or the voice of lies. Wisdom from above or wisdom from below. My choice. Because the fruit is there for the taking.

But the wisdom from above is first pure, then peace-loving, gentle, compliant, full of mercy and good fruits, without favoritism and hypocrisy. And the fruit of righteousness is sown in peace by those who make peace. James 3:17

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Trash to Treasure

December 23, 2013by Pam AndersonLeave a Comment

After Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea in the days of King Herod, wise men from the east arrived unexpectedly in Jerusalem, saying “Where is He who has been born King of the Jews? For we saw His star in the east and have come to worship Him.” After hearing the king, they went on their way. And there it was-the star they had seen in the east! It led them until it came and stopped above the place where the child was. When they saw the star, they were overjoyed beyond measure. Entering the house, they saw the child with Mary His mother, and falling to their knees, they worshipped Him. Then they opened their treasures and presented Him with gifts: gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Matthew 2:1-2, 9-11

The wise men offered gifts to Jesus. And so, the focus of Christmas shifts from what God gave men, to what men can offer Him. The Magi opened up their treasures to pull out gold, frankincense and myrrh. But what about us regular folk who don’t have a surplus supply of these highly valued substances lying about. Where, then, shall we find treasure fit for a King? And so, God’s word sheds light as Matthew 12:35 tells us where lies our treasure… a good man out of the good treasure of the heart bringeth forth good things.

What then, shall I say to this? Because at least once a week you’ll hear me mutter “crap” when things do not go accordingly. Does this mean that my heart is filled with crap because of what comes out of my mouth? Why doesn’t a song of praise fill my heart and bless the ears of all those in my company? Most likely, there’s no song of praise because it’s been covered up by the refuse (or crap) that surrounds it. For more often than not, complaint and bitter and other various negative feelings permeate my heart. And unfathomably, despite all that God has done for me, it appears my heart is a storehouse of trash, rather than treasure.

What then, shall I offer the King? If all that I contain is trash, would my gift be acceptable? And contemplating this, I have to think yes. Because Christ came for everyone… especially those who have trash. If I turn to the King in all sincerity, and offer Him all that I have, which is trash, I believe He would receive my gift. And because He is in the business of transforming souls, why, I believe He could take my trash – the baggage, the mistakes, the flaws, and the imperfections – and make something beautiful out of it. I think He could turn my trash to treasure. If I dare let Him.

Therefore, I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God—this is your true and proper worship. Romans 12:1

And so, I dare. This year for Christmas, I offer myself to Jesus. Because I have a heart full of belief that He will make something beautiful out of the mess of my life.

This is what I look like on the outside. It’s how I look before I cover up with make-up. I’m not happy that my nose is crooked or that my skin is flawed and beginning to sag. In truth, I have never been satisfied with the way I look. Honestly, I’ve felt ugly more than pretty, and have always struggled with feeling less than, insecure, insignificant and second-rate. And so, I do my best. I usually overcompensate. Before walking out the door, I cover up what I can.

Then, there’s my inside. I have more bad days than good, and am usually a mess. I fight depression, which I now know to be the side-effect of perfectionism. My house stays nice one or two days a week, but usually resides in a state of chaos. Yes, sometimes my counter is covered with dishes and laundry is heaped to the ceiling. Like yesterday. I overeat. I let curses fly at least once a month when my computer acts up. I let things totally, utterly consume me and I care way too much about what people think. I get completely frustrated with my son at least once a day. Raising him has been a struggle, and overall, I feel like a failure as a mother. I can be bitter. And this is just what I can think of right now. There’s more… so much more. And this? This is my treasure? This is what I can offer Him?

Yes. If it’s all I have, yes. Because what will Jesus do with gold and frankincense and myrrh? For those substances are already treasure. And He who is our treasure hardly needs more. No, what He desires is someone who is imperfect. Perhaps a woman with a crooked nose on the outside and bitterness on the inside. And that’s me. Flaws and all. For when I come to Him and lay myself at His feet, He accepts me. When I finally have those moments when I can’t stand myself another minute, and try to turn… from me and all my trash to Him… He takes me. He accepts my gift. He takes my trash. For it’s all I have to offer.

You know… I don’t step out of the house until I take certain measures. I use make-up to cover up the things I don’t like about me and use a hot curling iron in an attempt to coax my hair into unnatural waves… and this takes time. The end result isn’t great, but to me, I look better than I did.

And so, I realize that it will take some time for my insides to get ready, too. For it’s Christ who’s being formed in me. And ever so slowly, over time, I rid myself of such things as these: anger, rage, malice, slander, and filthy language. I try not to lie to another soul as I take off my old self with its practices. And I put on my new self, who is renewed in knowledge according to the image of Him who created me. I clothe myself with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience, and bear with others as I forgive, for Christ forgave me. And above everything, I put on love, which binds all these together in perfect unity (from Colossians 3). And then, I am ready to face the day.

For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God’s glory displayed in the face of Christ. But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. 2 Corinthians 4:6-7

Me alone, I don’t house much treasure. But because He lives in my heart, there is something of value. And over time, more of Him begins to shine through for the heat of His light coaxes my insides to form curls of virtue that at first feel unnatural. And then, as Christ is formed in me, I become more and more beautiful in His sight…

The Magi offered Jesus treasures of gold, frankincense and myrrh because they were able to do so. And Christ accepted their gifts. Me? My treasure is different. And as His light begins to burn brighter than all my darkness, my trash diminishes leaving behind only treasure… my gift to the One who is treasure already.

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A Christmas Heart

December 5, 2013December 7, 2015by Pam Anderson3 Comments

Is any merry? Let him sing psalms. James 1:13

What puts you in the Christmas mood? What can make a soul merry and a countenance cheerful? For some, seeing the twinkling lights against a dark skyline usher in the beginning of the season. Others may rock around the Christmas tree, hearts glowing brighter with each careful placement of an ornament.

What does it for you? Is it the Christmas baking or a roaring fire (when the weather’s cold enough)? Or is it when Christmas cartoons make the scene? Do the Christmas songs you hear bring a pep to your step? For in stores and in cars and in homes we hear all about the joys of Christmas, but…

Does the joy really penetrate our exteriors?

Tis the season to be jolly and chestnuts roasting on an open fire may be coming out of our mouths, and the halls may be decked out with boughs of holly, and silver bells may be ringing in our ears, but what really lies within our hearts?

That’s the question I ask myself today.

This morning, I can honestly say Christmas has not reached my heart. And in truth, I don’t know that it ever has. See, in yester years, I’ve always felt a bit gloomy by the time Christmas rolls around. Because there is always great build up and excitement of what will come but then, Christmas is over in a flash.

The opening of presents has always been anticlimactic in that they cannot fill the emptiness inside. Gifts, no matter how wonderful, can fill a hollow heart. And so in days of yore, I would inevitably find myself sitting on the floor gazing at a mess. As the tissue paper and boxes and too many gifts piled higher and higher, I would think, “There has to be more to it than this.”

That’s why this year, I really want Christmas to be different. For once in my life, I want for all the clichés I hear to be real. I will not again proclaim, “Jesus is the reason for the season” and “Keep Christ in Christmas” unless I can say it in all sincerity. Because in years past, I haven’t done so.

No, in the hustle and bustle, I’ve always forgotten the real reason. And past behavior proves I did not keep Christ in Christmas.

And so, He becomes my goal this year. Jesus. More than anything, I want to focus on the true reason for the season and put Christ back in. For amidst all the activity, He all to often gets left out.

But this year will be different. For I hope to give my family the best gift I can offer. Yep, this is the year I hope to cultivate a Christmas heart. And my prayer is that my Christmas heart will last beyond the lights and the trimmings and the trappings. For years to come…

Unfortunately, I didn’t get off to a good start. See, Monday evening was not a good night in our household. Coming off the heels of a busy weekend (traveling for Thanksgiving), I thought it would be a good idea to put up a tree and do some decorating after a long day. And so, after leaving a dinner mess upon my kitchen countertop, I made an even bigger mess in my living room. I brought up box after box of ornaments and began my task.

My hopes were high as the right music played in the background. However, as evening turned to darkest of night, I found myself feeling less than joyful. And quite frankly, my patience wore thin.

For there were lights and ornaments and stockings strewn about, and the kitchen was a disaster. It was past my son’s bedtime, but no matter… the Christmas tree had to be completed. Because once I begin something, I have to finish. It’s one of my flaws.

And so, as my son’s interest began to wane and toys became his focus, I snapped at him. “BEDTIME!” I hurried him off to bed and when he asked for a story, I said impatiently, “No, you cannot have a story, it’s past your bedtime! I let you stay up to help with the tree, but you didn’t want to!” My tone oh so ugly. And then with an action that didn’t match my demeanor, I kissed his forehead and scurried off in a flash.

My sighs were heavy as I set out to finish my agenda. And much later, when last ornament was hung and the messes were shoved into corners, I had time to reflect on the evening. That’s when regret came knocking, for I was utterly sorrowful at the way the night turned out. My regret ran much deeper than the Christmas tree…

It was about the way I treated my son and the memories he will carry with him. Would he reminisce fondly about our Christmas times together? I think not.

Instead, my son will remember a mother who was frustrated with tangled lights, who repositioned his ornaments because of spacing issues, and was more concerned about spending time with a dead tree than about spending time with him. He’ll remember a mother who showed more concern over three broken ornaments than she did over his own broken heart.

And so, as I stood there thinking about three broken ornaments, I thought they were fitting. The first was a baby blue bootie, purchased in honor of my son. The second was a cross that broke in two as it hit the floor. And the last was a delicate angel, its wings roughly pulled loose. All broken. Like us. My son and me…

Monday night, three hearts broke alongside three broken ornaments. My son’s as he lay in bed, mine when I had time to think, and God’s. Oh, how His heart must have broken at the sight of a mother much too hurried to care about the weightier issues. Mercy and love. For I had forgotten the entire reason I was decorating that tree.

And as the reality of the evening set in, I found myself as broken as the cross I threw in the trash. And so, I lay down with my son weary with exhaustion. I clung to him, hoping somehow he’d feel my love through his slumber. And as I drifted off to sleep, my heart was as heavy as the boughs laden with ornaments. Monday night, a Christmas heart eluded me.

Yes, it’s true. It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas inside my home. There are trees, and lights, and nativity scenes, and a gingerbread house. And my insides have been somewhat better the past two evenings as I’m trying to remember…

…the reason for the season.

See, deep down, I know it’s not about tangled lights and musings on what an awful mother I am compared to the ones I see in picture perfect scenes on Facebook. I know it’s more than losing the internet connection while uploading photos to a website for calendars. It’s deeper than straightening the gifts the kitties have knocked about for the umpteenth time through their playful antics.

It’s more, so much more, than what lie on the surface. And so this year, I pray it will be different. This year, I hope to find what I’ve been looking for. More than anything, I want it all to be real. Every bit of it. I want to say, “Jesus is the reason for the season,” and mean it with my whole heart.

And as for my son, I want to lavish him with love. So that’s where I’ll start, for a Christmas heart begins with love.

You know… up till now I’ve always found Christmas to be a bit of a let down. Oh, you’d see a merry countenance and a song on my lips. But that was all surface. And deep down, I felt hollow. But now I know why…

I overlooked God’s gift to me though He’d been offering it all along. So distracted was I, I never saw His gift of love. His reason for the season. But truth is, it’s always been there. His gift was always there for the taking and it always will be.

Christmas and every day.

So in reality, the only gift that matters this season is a Christmas heart. Cultivating one that bursts with love. And that’s His gift to us. A present ready to be opened.

I’m looking for mine now. That Christmas heart…

Have you found yours?

What Mary Knew

November 25, 2013December 8, 2016by Pam Anderson1 Comment

This time two years ago, I was walking on air. I just finished writing out my life story and knew it was going to be published immediately. Also, I just knew I was going to have a baby. God was going to bless me with another child.

Through select passages of Scripture, and life events, I could feel it coming. And so, I voiced it. I spoke it. And I believed it. I told my husband, “I’m going to get pregnant.” And in going through my writings from that time, I can see I was reading the very passages I’m reading now.

I was in the book of Luke two years ago. And on December 6, 2011, I wrote out a verse encircled by a heart. To me, confirmation a baby was on the way…

“Blessed is she who believed, for there will be a fulfillment of those things which were told her from the Lord.” Luke 1:45

One week later, a test confirmed what I already knew to be true. And I thought it amazing that six years earlier to the very day, I found out I was pregnant with my little boy. December 13. It had to be a God thing. A child destined to arrive on my little boy’s birthday.

So, you can imagine my utter surprise when the sonogram revealed there was no heartbeat. The baby I just knew I was going to have was not going to be after all. I was heartbroken.

The following month, the manuscript I submitted to a writing competition failed. It wasn’t even in the top 66. And so, I spiraled downward into a pit of doubt, depression, and unbelief. Total confusion, for I didn’t understand. I thought I knew what was going to happen… but things just didn’t pan out the way I believed they would. Not with the book and most especially, not with the baby.

And here we are at Christmas time. Thus, I wonder about Mary… the mother of Jesus. Do you think she fully understood what was going to happen in her child’s life?

This morning I have to wonder about that. Because when the angel appeared to her, he brought good news…

“He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Highest; and the Lord God will give Him the throne of His father David.”

Do you think this good news eclipsed what she knew to be true about her child’s destiny? Do you think the excitement of carrying God’s own Son diminished what lie deep in her heart? Because Mary had to know. She was Jewish and familiar with the prophesies. Being a daughter of Abraham, she had to have known what would befall Jesus.

But Mary simply inquired how her pregnancy could be for she was a virgin. In reply, she received more good tidings. He said, “Consider your relative Elizabeth-even she has conceived a son in her old age, and this is the sixth month for her who was called barren. For nothing will be impossible with God.”

Mary’s cousin, Elizabeth, was old. And even she, a barren woman, conceived. Like Mary’s own, an absolute miracle. So she did what any woman would do. She hurried off to greet her cousin, eager to share her own good news.

Or you know, just maybe Mary wanted to witness an impossibility with her own eyes. Because the impossible was about to take place with her. A barren woman and a virgin, both with child. I imagine the sight of the old lady’s belly, swollen with life, comforted Mary. And assured her. And confirmed what was to be…

See, John leapt within his mother’s womb at the sound of Mary’s voice. And Elizabeth, filled with the Spirit, proclaimed, “She who has believed is blessed because what was spoken to her by the Lord will be fulfilled!”

Mary’s response was a hymn of praise… “He has helped His servant Israel, mindful of His mercy, just as He spoken to our ancestors, to Abraham and his descendants forever.”

Yes, it’s clear. Even then, Mary must have known Jesus’ fate. For as she remembered her forefathers, she must have remembered God’s promises, too. The ones proclaimed through the mouths of prophets. She had to realize her child was not her own. Instead, He was sent for all mankind.

Even so, the old woman and the virgin spent close to three months together. And oh, what they must have shared. Delicious anticipation. And hope… wrapped up in the fate of their unborn children. For their destinies were intertwined from the beginning.

Before Zion was in labor, she gave birth; before she was in pain, she delivered a boy. Who has heard of such a thing? Who has seen such things? Can a land be born in one day, or a nation be delivered in an instant? Yet as soon as Zion was in labor, she gave birth to her sons.” Isaiah 66:7-8

The time came for an old lady to give birth. And according to law and custom, the child was circumcised on the eighth day. He was given a name and at that moment, the promise of John became reality… the forerunner of Christ.

Not long after, there was another birth and another eight day. Mary’s Son. God’s own.

I imagine Mary to have been bittersweet. Filled with joy at one moment, only to be brought low within a blink of an eye. No doubt, the prophetic words of Simeon penetrated her soul and darkened the joyous day. For he told her, “Indeed, this child is destined to cause the fall and rise of many in Israel and to be a sign that will be opposed – and a sword will pierce your own soul – that the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed.”

A sword would pierce Mary’s own soul, is what he said.

Was it then she fully understood? Did all the prophesies come crashing down upon her at that very moment? Yes, her Child was the One to come… He was the salvation and the light of the world.

But at what cost?

“He was despised and rejected by men, a man of suffering who knew what sickness was. He was like one people turned away from; He was despised, and we didn’t value Him. Yet He Himself bore our sicknesses, and He carried our pains; but we in turn regarded Him stricken, struck down by God, and afflicted. But He was pierced because of our transgressions, crushed because of our iniquities; punishment for our peace was on Him, and we are healed by His wounds. We all went astray like sheep; we all have turned to our own way; and the LORD has punished Him for the iniquity of us all.” Isaiah 53:3-6

How hard it must have been for Mary to release the hold she had on her child. What was it like for her, transitioning from one who taught to being the one He taught?

At the first miracle when Jesus told His mother, “My time has not yet come,” were His words stinging? Or did relief flood her soul. Because Mary knew when His time did come, His death would be that much closer.

See, the prophets of old pointed to it. Thus, Mary knew when her Son’s time came, there would be great sorrow. And grief. As Simeon said, her own heart would be pierced.

What child was hers, and God’s, but a child destined to die…

… because He submitted Himself to death, and was counted among the rebels; yet, He bore the sin of many and interceded for the rebels. Isaiah 53:12

Mary knew a lot. More than any mother really wants to know, for she knew the pain of watching her child die. However, Mary also knew the hope that lie within His death.

Thus, Mary was blessed among women. For she was fully aware of God’s mercy and compassion because mercy showed up in the form of a child, knit together in her own womb. Mary intimately knew the hope of a child.

Just like her forefather, Abraham, knew the hope of children. And promises God made to Father Abraham were promises for her. And through faith, the promise of children God made to a man long ago becomes a promise for us all… today.

Like Abraham, we are promised children.

As many as the stars.

Even if we’re old, and even if we’re barren, and even if we feel like it’s too late for us, there’s still time. There is still the hope of a child. If we can believe.

“Rejoice, barren one, who did not give birth; burst into song and shout, you who have not been in labor! For the children of the forsaken one will be more than the children of the married woman,” says the LORD. “Enlarge the site of your tent, and let your tent curtains be stretched out; do not hold back; lengthen your ropes, and drive your pegs deep. For you will spread out to the right and to the left, and your descendants will dispossess nations and inhabit the desolate cities.” Isaiah 54:1-3

As for me, the picture becomes a little clearer today. Two years ago, I didn’t fully understand. For I thought there would be another child in the Anderson brood. I thought my arms would once again carry a nursing babe. But now, I see. I can still have more children… just not as I imagined.

There is still the hope of a child. For my husband is my Maker and the Word is His seed. And as His word is implanted into a fertile heart, a miracle takes place… conception. And that which conceives gives birth to new life. And behold, there is one more child with a destiny to fulfill. This is what Mary knew. And now, I know it, too. I know that there is always the hope of a child.

“Will I bring a baby to the point of birth and not deliver it?” says the LORD; “or will I who deliver, close the womb?” says your God. Isaiah 66:9

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bg0-n47JQFM