Heart Ache on Valentines

The fire rages here in Humphrey and my mind races.

We have hands-down had the worst, WORST illness-laden Winter in the history of the Joel Royalty family.

Two bouts with stomach flu,

Too many colds to count,

And recount per child.

And even one stint with the Caribbean carpet cleaners.

(That was after the second wave of “I’m-not-gonna-make-it-downstairs stomach virus.”)

And if you know me, I have NEVER had someone come clean my carpet so you have to imagine just how bad it was here.

Ok stop imagining, it is making me feel sick again….

And you know that the devil sets up his mine fields when your back is turned to spray yet another light switch with some horribly foul smelling toxic germ fighting can of something or other.

He works on your mind telling you that you, all eight of you, have some VERY RARE disease that in its LAST STAGES eats your stomach for breakfast.

Even though everyone you know has the same thing.

And in one of these occasions while I was spraying and my mind was wondering, the Lord placed His arm on my shoulder and whispered,

“Some trust in chariots and some in horses……”

I smiled.

“And some in germicides.” I added.

“But we will remember the name of the Lord our God.”

Alright Lord. I get it. You give life, you sustain life, you control everything.

I made peace with the germs.

Which to this post are still enjoying our home and noses and throats.

It’s all good.

And tonight my heart is racing.

You know how you get caught up in yourself, your own stresses?

Last night Joel was trying to show me “Orion’s Belt” pointing over our driveway and all I could think about was me.

I was in a “Who cares about his three -star belt, I want help with the dishes!”

He showed me and I smiled and nodded.

And then today some silly pain in my back has had me all up in arms.

How quickly I vacillate from faith to fear.

Shameful really.

And tonight while I was worrying about little ol’ me, news came of our dear friend’s sister.

She was disabled mentally when she was very young.

She lives in a group home.

And for 6 months now has been picked up everyday by a sweet bus driver and taken to a life skills center.

A bus driver who would carefully take off her hat and reposition her arm so as not to bump it getting her in and out of the bus.

She could not respond, only moan here and there.

And he cared for her.

And we didn’t know until tonight that out of nine busses in the area,

She rides my husband’s bus.

And she is the sister of a friend that means the world to me.

God put her on my husband’s bus because He wanted her to have my husband’s loving care.

And when we all in talking tonight found that out, put two and two together…

We didn’t just cry.

We wept.

Because God is that good.

So lovingly personal.

This sister has been struggling.

In and out of the hospital.

And tomorrow her parents must decide whether it is best for her to struggle or to begin the process of sending her to heaven.

Now let it be known that this is out of my friends hands. It is only in her power to pray and to give her parents sound Biblical advice.

I believe that life comes from God at conception and He carries each of us home.

In HIS time.

My sweet dear friend believes this too.

We left her house after praying sincerely for her and for her parents, and her sister.

And while in my nightly routine of preparing for bed I found my sore spot again and the Spirit moves and says,

“Again with your small pain?”

“Again?”

“And someone close by may not even comprehend that their choice to live, to breathe, to hear, to see, may be gone tomorrow?”

The pain in my back moved to a severe ache in my heart.

Tonight friends, my heart aches with my own selfish pride.

It is good, as Ecclesiastes tells us, to go into the house of mourning.

To mourn for your own spiritual condition.

It doesn’t matter that my life has been turned upside down in more ways than I can share.

It does not matter that I feel spent emotionally and physically.

It does not matter.

What matters is what I am doing with Christ in all of this.

What matters is what He is doing in me in all of this.

I am His child. Redeemed. Loved. My future is settled at the right hand of God the Father, Creator and Sustainer of ALL LIFE.

Why do I fear?

He has given me all things in Christ. He has even given me the “want” to please Him.

Why don’t I access that more?

A learning night for me friends.

Life is not about me.

It is about Him in me.

And He only doeth “Wonderous things”

How much I miss…..

Spare room specialty

It all started with the cleaning out of the spare room.

Try to sell that line to some publisher for a real cliff hanger beginning…….. (snicker, snicker…)

But it’s true, that is where it all started.

And pile after pile of loose papers and cards and letters that had fallen out of a plastic storage tub, compliments of one of the Royalty littles.

I almost halted our “Operation gut the spare room” when I saw handwriting I hadn’t seen for a long time.

That of friends, family, even notes from a special friend of mine who used to call me “Deen” when we first were getting to know one another.

BUT, because my sweetheart ‘s love language is “Acts of Service,” we pressed through the mess. Even as I type I chuckle at God’s goodness to me. After all, how can we go through one day and not clean and teach and make dinner and such. So without even thinking about it somedays I am filling a tank of love.

And when the last crumb was swept I indulged in my shoebox of memories.

I went through each piece of paper and some I kept, some I did not, and the ones I kept went into something my Father-in-law taught me about.

He calls it his “Encouragement File.” Well my file is a shoebox, but its purpose is the same: To lift you soul and spirit when you are low.

With some letters I laughed.

With some I cried.

With some I literally held them as if they were the deed to a million dollars.

And to me, they are.

One in particular was from a friend. An old friend who I haven’t spoken to in over 12 years. Probably since my wedding she was a part of.

She and I traveled in a singing Ensemble together and knew each other’s foibles and shortcomings like the back of our hands.

I loved being with her because she was so easy, so free and you could be yourself. I don’t have too many friends like that today and had even less of them then.

For my 30^th birthday almost five years ago now, Joel did something for me that still reaches my heart.

He wrote to more than thirty people that my life had crossed paths with, sent them a family picture and asked them to send me a card or note telling me a memory that we shared.

I wept at the surprise birthday party held for me that year, my first one ever, on my Golden Birthday, when he handed me the basket of these memories.

And again I held one of them in my hand reading and re-reading it just because it is so precious to me.

My long-ago-friend mentioned things we did and things she remembers most about me, saying that she loved to hear me talk about something I felt passionate about because of how I would use such expression to talk about it, and some other things that probably would mean nothing to anyone but us.

Then there was a paragraph that today came back to me.

She said that in all of our traversing state after state, in all of our imagining what our lives would be like, she said that she so remembers how I told her that more than anything I will want my children to know that I love them, and I will tell them often.

And I sit in bed typing this and smiling at the beautiful morning sun lighting up my bed. Yes I am in bed, with my nightgown still on, surrounded by my Bible, notebook and Bible study book.

When the day began I felt little arms and legs crawl into my bed on Joel’s side and attempt to cover themselves up. She drifted off the sleep with me and we enjoyed just being together.

The older kids laughed outside the bedroom door playing and chatting way past time for breakfast.

But we here on Humphrey don’t mind.

Some mornings are for lying in bed, or laughing with your brothers and sisters.

I glance at the clock and my little bundle half covered and think to myself how very much I love this sweet little girl, my last little to cuddle in the morning like this…..and I forget the clock and bagels are easy to fix, and decide to wrap her up and hug her while she sleeps.

And I slip down for a bagel and tea and big brother says he would like to take over so I can go have my devotions, and he has already had his and showered and I smile.

And I creep into bed and life could not be sweeter with tea and my Bible and my little babe of two.

And as I stroke her hair and she smiles with eyes closed I remember the words from a letter from an old friend who I could be myself with.

“I wuv you Mama.” She says.

I feel her cheek and feel the love of an amazing God and whisper back, “I love you too, so much, and you are safe and I will take care of you.”

She nods as if she understands and I thank God for a perfectly wonderful very very late morning.

More like the Master.....

Life is just so…..daily.

It begins.

A fight with the old.

Nothing new here.

And the older kids get their school work done and I try to distinguish between a “P” sound and “B” sound to third son and tutor second daughter while she attempts another letter “M.”

And I sigh.

And kids come to play from down the street and I lose my temper while snowballs fly and catch myself telling them that for goodness sake if they cannot find something productive to do the neighbors are going to have to go home. And with a turn of the heel I am inside stoking the fire and feeling bad that I will be the bad Mom on the block from now until eternity.

And we run out of diapers and she should be beginning potty training but diapers are easier.

Sorta.

And I feel it coming on.

Again?

Again.

And I am nervous and anxious and beyond tired today.

And one cries because the “M” is not happening and I am ready for the rapture to start happening and I see one of the kids devotional books and read the word “Maranatha.”

“Christ is coming.”

And for a minute I breathe and feel solid and overjoyed at the thought.

My life is all about His work. His coming.

And I fold laundry.

Joel knows me.

He sends me upstairs to rest until we leave to take the kids to AWANA and grab a short coffee date.

We head to AWANA and I am short in the van and feel too sick and anxious for coffee and can I just go home because I am a mess and leaving mess every where I go.

The kids are in bed and I am on the couch and Joel brings me my contact case and offers to make me tea for the sore throat that makes me scrunch up my nose while scanning my email.

I mumble something about any kind that doesn’t have caffeine and he brings me a cup of steaming peppermint with a broken candy cane sticking out of it.

And I melt along with the candy.

And I crouch by the fire in the otherwise dark kitchen.

Everything still including me.

Finally.

And I remember.

I remember something I read this morning about Amy Carmichael from the book, “The Promise” by Robert J. Morgan.

Amy took some children to see a goldsmith refine gold.

“He was sitting by a charcoal fire and had made a small crucible from two roofing tiles. Into the crucible he placed a gold nugget surrounded by salt, tamarind fruit, and burned brick dust. Every now and then he would take it out, let the gold cool a little, rub it between his fingers, then place it back in the flame and blow the fire hotter than before.

It could not bear it so hot at first, but it can bear it now,” he explained to her children.

Finally Amy asked, “How will you know when the gold is purified?”

The refiner answered, “When I can see my face in it, it is pure.”

And I watch the logs burn and the words burn in my heart.

The aches, the discomforts of life are purifying me.

And it will come and I will be in the fire and He will take me out and let me rest for a while.

Before heating me again.

And again.

Each time knowing what I can and cannot handle.

And he will do this until He sees His face.

Until He sees His image reflected in me.

To the neighbors.

To my homeschoolers.

To my Husband.

Tonight I love Mono.

I love it because it is making me into the image of Christ.

The inevitable Un-date

You know how you see those silly infomercials and think to yourself, “Now why didn’t I think of that and market it and make millions?”

I have.

But then again, who wants to have their face attached to “The Perfect Omelet” maker for decades?

C’mon, think with me..

Thigh master.

It inevitably evokes an overly friendly blonde, Susan Sommers to be precise and possibly even one or two flashbacks from a really bad “Three’s Company” episode.

Then again, were there any good ones?

I digress.

Anywho I have something that I think I came up with.

I haven’t a good way to market it so here on the ole blog is about as close to fame as I will get.

It’s the undate.

No that’s no typo. It’s called the “Un-date.”

And if you have been married for more than a year than you have most likely had one.

And tonight as I type I am headed out to one myself.

The smell of aftershave mingled with perfume he picked out just for you fills the car, and visions of Mexican dance in your head but alas! You know what is coming.

Now on average I am a pretty happy go lucky person.

After noonish.

But about sixish I become a realist.

And it is the realist in me that reminds me that it has been tooo long since our last time out, for even five minutes alone.

This added too many diaper changes and hamburger helpers to count spells out u-n-d-a-t-e.

It looks like a date. It smells like a date.

But it’s not.

It is a fancy family debriefing.

Usually with a lot of sighs and small cafuffles.

It is the result of human pressure and love tanks running on empty.

Now, before you boo hoo me, I love being out with my husband anytime anywhere.

I love talking with him, laughing with him, and most of all praying with him.

I just do not cherish the long talks over bills and home school dilemmas, which undoubtedly have to be talked about, figured out, and the all around home plan brushed up.

So tonight as we undate we know that we will leave happier and lighter…..

And ready for a real deal “date” in another week or so.

But we must unload, d-stress, and mottle thru tonight.

Over delish Mexican.

Adios friends.