Where Are My Eagle Wings?

I'm working hard on CAST #2: Restoration, an event for women focusing on both brokenness & God's restorative vision for creation. My personal drama is this: I'm currently in a complicated relationship with restoration. 

As I've previously written, I recently went through a confusingly dry season of waiting & clinging.  It's been jet-black darkness at countless times, with equally innumerable false-starts of returning to daylight.

All the while, I've been holding to the hope-inflating notion that when I reach daylight there will be a tangible sense of restoration. I'm not expecting much, just the emotional equivalent of a homecoming parade. And maybe some fireworks, the kind that create shimmering hearts inside of circles and change colors.

But now that I appear to be standing in the sunshine again - grief, health issues, sleep deprivation, and family concerns relatively resolved - I still feel residual numbness. And not that tingly-numbness that your foot does to say, "Okay, okay, I'm waking up!"

Just basic, anticlimactic numbness. 

My counseling background keeps tapping me on the shoulder with, "Well, you know, you've been through some trauma recently," and, "Hey, grief takes many forms." All that is true, and I have been giving myself heaping shovelfuls of grace daily.

But shouldn't there be some kind of surge of joy upon reentry into the land of the living? Couldn't there at least be a small float or one marching band?

I waited on the Lord, Isaiah, so where are the eagle wings and superhuman running capabilities you talked about in Chapter 40, verse 31?

Then again...could it be that I am mixing up restoration with resolution? Because, come to think of it, I know a lot of folks who have seen an end to the storms in their lives, but still no rainbow.

If that is the case, how do we summon the rainbow?

Until the answer comes, you can find me sitting in gratitude in this new sunlight. Because, irrespective of the numbness, I am deeply grateful to be out of that darkness. And so I will choose to praise even when I don't feel it.

("Joy" by Page CXVI)

Uncle Mark's Troublesome Toy Car

For those of you who have set a boundary with a loved one and need a way to communicate about it to your young children, feel free to use the story below which I wrote for our little ones. Due to the tragic passing of my brother after his battle with addiction, we no longer need it; still, I want to share it with anyone who may.

 

Uncle Mark’s Troublesome Toy Car:

When a Loved One Is Absent Due to Addiction or Untreated Mental Illness

By Jessica S. Marquis

I have an uncle named Mark.

He has a toy car.

I don’t see Uncle Mark very often.

That’s because his toy car is troublesome.

Mommy says he got the car when he was younger.

It wasn’t so troublesome then.

He liked to play with the car,

But he always left it at home.

Uncle Mark started playing with the car more and more.

He spent lots of time with it.

He spent less and less time with people and things he cared about.

Now, he brings the car with him everywhere he goes.

Sometimes, the toy car causes Uncle Mark to make bad choices,

Like when it rolled into the street and he tried to chase it.

Other times, the toy car makes Uncle Mark loud and mad,

Like when it got stuck under the sofa and he couldn’t reach it.

And other times, the toy car makes Uncle Mark not show up for things,

Like when he was too busy playing with it, and he missed my talent show.

I am sad when Uncle Mark makes bad choices or doesn’t show up.

I get scared when Uncle Mark is loud and mad.

One day, Mommy told Uncle Mark he could not visit us anymore if he brought his car.

He was unhappy.

So was I.

So was Mommy.

She gave me hugs and told me Uncle Mark doesn’t want to be this way,

But he has chosen to keep playing with the toy car, which hurts himself and others.

Mommy wants me to be happy.

It is her job to keep loud and mad people away from me.

I miss Uncle Mark,

And I can still love him a lot…

…even though I don’t see him because of his troublesome toy car.

Parent discussion points:

·      Use this story to normalize your child’s experience of having an absent loved one due to poor choices or safety concerns. The toy car can be a direct metaphor for drugs, alcohol, gambling, and other addictions. It can also represent an untreated mental illness, where the individual is choosing not to engage in counseling, take medication, etc.

·      Discuss feelings like sadness and fear that can result from the individual’s choices. Did the child witness hurtful behavior? What was that like? If the child hasn’t met this person, be very simple in your explanation of your own feelings.

·      Emphasize at the end that is still possible to love the individual, even if you have had to set a boundary with that person. You can end the story by inviting the child to take an action with you, such as writing a letter that will not be sent to the individual, talking about nice memories and qualities of him/her, or praying for him/her.

·      Here is an example of a way to discuss this story: “Like Uncle Mark, your aunt has something that makes her act in a way that is not always nice. It is an illness, and she has decided not to take medicine that would make her feel better and be safe. When she isn’t feeling well, she says things that hurt people’s feelings, including mine. Because I love you, I want her to make better choices in order to be around you. I still love your aunt very much, and I hope she decides to take her medicine so we can spend time with her. Would you like to pray with me that she will?”

Jessica S. Marquis holds an MA in Counseling with a specialization in Couple and Family Studies from Oakland University. In addition to her professional experience, she has experienced the consequences of a loved one's addiction within her own family. She is the author of Raising Unicorns: Your Step-by-Step Guide to Starting and Running a Successful - and Magical! - Unicorn Farm (Adams Media). 

Snowflake Vigil: A How-To for Grief and Young Ones

I mentioned in an earlier post that I may do a "snowflake vigil" with my kiddos, all under age 4, regarding the tragic mass shooting at Pulse, a gay club in Orlando. It's critical to start an ongoing conversation with them even now about loving others, respecting all, and advocacy. If we claim to love Jesus, whose heart was all about justice, we need to also claim verses like this one: 


Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves; ensure justice for those being crushed.
Proverbs 31:8 (NLT)

I talked with my twin 18-month-old sons first, holding a piece of pink paper (it was the only color I could find) and folding it into quadrants. I talked about how good love feels, and that love helps others. I said that someone had made a bad decision that had hurt a lot of people. Each person is made by God and important to Him, so they are important to us, too. 

If someone says, "I love God," and hates his brother, he is a liar; for the one who does not love his brother whom he has seen, cannot love God whom he has not seen.
1 John 4:20 (NASB)

As I talked, I cut the paper. One of my boys even ripped a piece for me. I then opened it to show them the snowflake we had made, emphasizing again that each person is unique, and Mommy was sad today because these unique people were hurt by someone who was scared and did not show love toward others. "We won't let hate or fear in this house, okay?" They were squirming, so we said a prayer together for the families, and that God will help us to love and help others.

I did a snowflake with my almost-4-year-old daughter on her own, because I knew she'd want to take over the process. We talked about how it hurts when others don't like us or are mean. I repeated that everyone is created by God and loved by Him, and I told her some of the names of the people who "got hurt" by the person who made a bad decision. When I finished talking and praying with her, she wanted to make her own snowflake. We hung up all three snowflakes in our living room so we can point to them and talk about how everyone matters.

It was all very quick, but it established that we are a family who talks about things and how we can take action. It also gave me a chance to grieve these lives lost - and to let my kids see me care, because they need to know what that looks like.

Presumptive Pain-Sharing

Lesson I've witnessed over and over: It may seem the same to you, but don't assume you know what the other person is feeling. Doing so is like a slap to the face.

Here is the Hierarchy of Face Slaps that tend to commence once someone has made that assumption:
1. They say, "I know what you're feeling."
2. They hijack the conversation to share their story.
3. Their story is nothing like yours.
4. Their story is not nearly as weighty as yours.
5. They try to justify it.
6. You're given the responsibility of ending the conversation they forced upon you.

Pay it forward: Don't claim another's pain as yours. Just listen.

Forgotten Storylines: How Sitcoms Taught Me that God Has a Grand Narrative

In my mind, there are two types of comedy shows: The kind that build a cohesive storyline throughout the episodes, and the kind where each episode is its own story. I'm sure they have industry terms, but I don't want to stop my brain dump to research them. Let's just call the former Arrested Development and the latter The Simpsons.

If you watch an episode of Arrested Development and then jump ahead a few episodes, you may be confused by why the lawyer is a different guy, or find yourself asking what happened to Marta or Gob's puppet Franklin or Charlize Theron and her fantastic fashions. However, you can go for years without watching an episode of The Simpsons and have no glitches upon reentry. I know - I've tried it.

I say all this to explain that I default to a perspective on my spiritual growth that is more The Simpsons than Arrested Development. My Teacher leads me into a new truth, and I marvel at it and may even apply it, then file it away for posterity. A while later - perhaps even a short while later - I'm given a chance to apply it in a new way, and I've completely forgotten the truth.

My husband often remarks at my repeated revelations: "Didn't you learn this before? I remember you telling me about this already." And each time, I look at him blankly for a bit, then start to recall the episode of my life to which he's referring.

It only makes sense that the Designer of the circulatory system and photosynthesis and outer space would also have a design for our individualized spiritual curriculum, especially if we're attentive students. So why do I keep going back to square one when faced with a new challenge?

The most recent example of this occurred a few days ago, when I was reflecting on my current season of life. It's no secret that I have three young children, and the common thinking seems to be a mom in my situation is exempted from service outside the home. This doesn't jive with me; I have too little gifting in domestic living to spend all my energy there. But I had begun to resign myself to the idea that common thinking must be God's thinking.

And then I stumbled across my birth story of the twins, which I wrote in 2015. Yes, one year ago. In it, I talked about how God isn't interested in simply doing things the safe, established way. He likes risks and leaping out of the boxes we try to put Him in.

Smack!

As I pulled this truth rock out from where it had lodged itself between my eyes, I was saturated with excitement at the prospect that He had something adventurous (and probably unsafe) in store for my family. I relished the concept of taking action that matters - that also includes my kiddos.

I was also admittedly embarrassed that I needed a refresher course so soon after the initial lesson. But, hey, I'm sure I'll need it again, because my short-term memory loss is impeccable. And I'm so grateful I serve and am loved by a God who has grace with this glaring imperfection.

Snowflake Vigil

Sadness isn't an easy feeling for us. Anger is easy because it's in motion. It helps us feel like we're doing something. But sadness has a purpose - if nothing else, 'Inside Out' should have taught us that.

Yes, we need to be angry about what happened yesterday in Orlando. I'm pissed like a bee-stung mama bear that anyone would so brutally harm my fellow beloved creations of God, that my LGBTQ brothers & sisters yet again feel victimized.

But, my friends, we still need to mourn! We must not rush past this moment to reflect on each of these unique lives lost or compromised in this tragedy.

In less than a month, we have been outraged by restrooms, a gorilla/parenting controversy, a rapist, and now this mass shooting. And all this anger eventually leads to outrage fatigue - AKA apathy & inaction. We owe it to our fellow humans today to mourn, to grieve each of their lives, to not bypass our sadness, running straight to anger and - as we flawed creatures often do - careen into hatred (no matter how we righteously justify it). Anger & action can then follow, but our hearts need to feel the weight of the loss first to guide our next steps.

Today, I will be teaching my kids to hold space for these lives, to sit with the sadness as I would want others to do for us. They're too young for candles, so maybe we'll make snowflakes and talk about loving one another. Please take time to grieve with us today.

Confessions of an Idol-Worshiper

Once upon a time, people worshiped idols. They were made of wood or clay or stone. They looked like creatures, and they couldn't do anything. These ancient people were silly for thinking the idols could help them. Now, we are so much better and smarter, and we don't have idols.

This was the story I told myself growing up in the Church.
And then my Sunday school teacher informed me TV could be an idol. That didn't quite jive with my definitions of idols. TV didn't look like a monkey or a human with extra appendages. So she explained it to me.
Thus, I expanded my definition to be something to which you give lots of time and attention.

And then my pastor told me work could be an idol.
Okay, I could understand the TV thing, since it was a physical entity. But work was intangible. How could people bow to it? So he explained it to me.
Thus, I expanded my definition to be something to which you give space in your heart where other life-giving things have more claim.

And then an author told me family could be an idol.
What the...?
This one was a bit too out there for my operational definition. Wasn't family a thing the Church loved, a thing that brought life, that embodies love and exemplifies community? How could it be an idol? So the Spirit explained it to me.
Thus, I expanded my definition to be anything that can become my prime motivation, crowding God off His throne in my life.

That revision caused just about everything else in my life to light up as potential idols: Approval, fear, helping others, knowledge, grudges, dreams, theology, identity, exercising (okay, not really, but I kinda wish exercising was something I struggled with idolizing).  Anything that occupied my thoughts and informed my goals more than my Savior would end up in His crosshairs. He's a jealous God; He wants all of my heart.

Family is a beautiful thing, but it must never get in the way of what God is calling us into. We need to regularly surrender our spouse, kids, parents, siblings - or our desire for these things - to the One who gives them to us. We need to keep a loose grip so He can slide His hand in there at any time (for all of our best).

When my son was ill and eventually ended up in the hospital, it rocked me. No mom wants to hear the pediatrician say, "We've tried everything. It's time to admit him." But having him in my open hand, knowing he was on loan to me by his Creator - our Creator - made the journey one where I was walking alongside that Creator instead of fighting Him. It made it a sweet adventure even amidst the uncertainty, and the healing that much more dynamic.

We all struggle with idols, no matter how self-aware, humble, or God-focused we are. Once we accept that basic truth of our humanity, we can then begin to identify what needs to be dethroned. 

Jessica's Idol Identification-and-Removal Routine:

1. Ask, "What, if taken from me, do I believe would ruin me irreversibly?"

2. Once the Spirit answers and shows you an idol, don't deny it. You'll eventually have to let go of it anyway, so my recommendation (from experience) is to do it sooner and voluntarily, rather than later and with a lot more discomfort. It's like tending to a splinter: Pull it out when you see it, rather than letting it stay, start an infection, and require surgery.

3. Invite the King back to His throne. What makes an idol - thinking it can help you, time, attention, space in your heart, being your motivation - is also what restores your King to His rightful place.

4. Repeat. Regularly.

Of Obstacles and Birdsongs

In all my experience with obeying Christ - and with disobeying Him - I have become convinced that when we get serious about following Him, things get harder. Life gets uglier. Obstacles appear out of nowhere, and we wonder if maybe we messed up or maybe it isn't worth it to keep going.

This has become all the more true since I've fully committed to the ministry my Shepherd called me into. A friend of mine recommended I write about it, but I'm in the middle of it all right now, so all I can do is give a brief description of where I'm at in this dark valley.

I had a dream when I was in my early 20s that I had two blond children, a boy and a girl, whom I loved very much. Often when I gaze at my towhead daughter and son, then over at my brunette boy, I wonder where he was in my dream. Perhaps that slight superstition has made me more vulnerable to concerns regarding him, which came to a critical point this past week.

After three weeks of nighttime sleeplessness, crying, screaming, and thrashing about in his crib, last week he developed the inability to walk on his left leg. As a mom getting fewer than five hours of sleep per night - all non-consecutive - I was running out of both sanity and options of providers to visit.

By God's incredible timing, He brought Bob's aunt into town for a scheduled visit just as I was going into a fever, and my parents into town for a conference just as she left. Even when I felt most desperate, I knew I was not abandoned.

And as I futilely tried to calm my sweet, hurting boy one night at 3:00am, I gave up my "Shhh"-ing and "Nighty-night"s, and just started sighing, "Jesus. Jesus. Jesus." And he finally slept. I knew my God was stronger, that He was in control even in this interminable storm.

When the pediatrician announced it was time to admit him to the hospital, I wept. I felt like a failure, but even more so I worried we were wading into an ocean of uncertainty. At least at home we had control over what could happen to him, what we would consider for disorder and treatment; at the hospital, they may want to explore avenues I wasn't ready to walk down.

But it was time. I hadn't been able to fully rest for way too long, and our family's collective health was suffering. So when he awoke with screams and wakefulness just before midnight, I packed up an overnight bag, waited an hour for the police situation and circling helicopter in our neighborhood to resolve, and then drove to Phoenix Children's Hospital. We were a direct admit, and within an hour my boy and I were semi-comfortable in a crib and recliner, respectively.

Over the next two days, I heard a lot of screaming, but I also began to witness healing - for him and for me. After six days of leg pain, he began to walk again. When he awoke at night, there was someone else to help so I wasn't alone in trying to observe and provide care for his ambiguous pain. The hospital provided the food, the cleaning, and the space, and we just had to get better.

I got a text from a friend reminding me to listen to the birds, something I often forget to do when I'm stressed. I stepped outside the cafeteria for a few moments and soaked in their harmonies. "Thank You," I silently prayed.

Bob was amazing with the other two kids, who were also incredible in coping with this strange situation. We were lifted up by family and friends. And when the final test - an MRI of our little man's head - came back perfect, we were able to go home.

He still awoke at night, but it didn't induce a panic attack in me as it had before our hospital stay. I now had medicine and hope. We had walked down some avenues I'd previously labeled "off-limits' and spelunked some dark caves, and I was able to cling to the Shepherd's hand throughout and trust His heart for us.

I've had to put some ministry stuff on hold, but it has allowed others to step into their giftings in my absence. I love that. I love how the Body works together, and it never depends on just one member. I love being part of a system, not a satellite or a cornerstone. And Daddy has been reminding me of this as I have rested and received renewed strength.

There isn't a good way to end this post. As I said, I'm still in the middle of it. It's still messy and uncertain, and I don't have a clean moral to the story. But maybe that's the point. This is where I am simply supposed to "Be still, and know God is God." And then listen for the birdsongs.

Casting CAST

The general consensus was that no one's husband thought they should be there.

With a theme like "Busyness", it's hard to find a woman who can speak to the topic as an expert at managing it. And even if she does exist, none of us could relate to her, which was what the event was about.

These women were sitting in confession via a stage in front of a couple dozen of their sisters. We were assembled for CAST (Coming Alive, Scheming Together) #1: Busyness at Campus Christian Center in Tempe. In between soul-centering and vision-adjusting worship by Kerri and Donielle, each presenter arose to share her journey and unique perspective on the topic that linked them all.

I started the day by stating that our Creator wants us to be busy, but with what is best, not simply what is good. I referenced Dallas Willard's charge to eliminate hurry (an internal state), not busyness (an external state).

We witnessed Kristen's original animation of two plants, one choosing to succumb to the temptations provided by weeds, and the other enduring sun and rain to grow.

Noel reminded us of the significance of rest, using Matthew 11:28 as a springboard. Charith told us about how she's working to become more present and intentional. I recounted a story about experiencing the results of tithing time, referencing Luke 6:38. Mollie reinforced the need for boundaries so we don't miss out on what we're really here for.

But it wasn't just the words. It was the fact that we all nodded at the realizations, the feelings, the feelizations. It was the communal coming alive and being called forth by our loving Daddy out of our individual, isolated comfort zones into something great, something bigger than any of us. We didn't know each other, but we needed each other, and the Spirit was cracking us open so we could truly own that.

The first hour ran late because of technical glitches (the video for the newly-launched Verses 3 to 5 website being one), and the natural expansion that happens when we feel safe to share. But that is what the second hour was for, so it was an effective segue into the conversational spaces. Women broke off into rooms to pray together, share their lives, and link up with plans for accountability and action.

Before the event started, a group of guys were in the worship center finishing up their ministry. They helped me get the A/V working and asked what we were doing. I told them it was an event for women: "A bunch of us are going to present on busyness, and then sit and talk about it." They rolled their eyes and remarked, "That is definitely for women."

And I love that we have this.

Too Close to Define

You know that experience when you're so close to something you can't really say anything about it? When it's feels like you're trying to build something and discover you're using water instead of packing snow? When you're afraid a remark about it would only touch part and miss the whole?

I remember someone joking that if you need the definition of "psychology", you should [counterintuitively] ask the first-semester psych major, not the PhD clinician.

That is where I am right now: Too close to define.

I'm in the process of putting together an event called CAST (Coming Alive, Scheming Together) for women in the metro Phoenix area who are passionate for Christ. A friend asked who my demographic would be, and I couldn't come up with much more than, "Any woman who loves Jesus and is open to the movement of the Spirit."

Queue eye roll.

I admit it's vague, as are many of the goals attached to it. Every time I've tried to come up with measurable outcomes for CAST, it seems as if some cosmic gameboard shifts and the rules invert. For this strategic-planner, that is unacceptable. I like mission statements, I like five-year plans, and I like knowing what I'm asking people to sign up for.

This has been a humbling time of challenge for me, to say the least.

And yet I know it has been a project our loving Daddy has gifted to me, and I have no doubt He has his own plans for it, even if they won't fit in a binder with tabs and timelines.

Even though I'm way too close to it, I'm going to attempt to describe here what He put in my heart a few months ago. CAST is meant to be an event where multiple women present (speak, sing, or perform) on a common theme during the first hour, and in the second hour the participants meet with the presenters and each other to pray, discuss, and dream together how to use their own passions and gifts to take action. It's what we as women do all the time, but don't often have the encouragement to follow through on it. It's an opportunity to come alive, to exit our isolation and enter connection, to engage in conversations on social justice and the global church and personal growth and serving and leading and the heart of our Lord, to be transformed and then do some transforming to expand the Kingdom.

Because we as women are powerful when we join together. Our Daddy knows this. He longs for us to be the healers, the dreamers, the activists, the advocates, the creators, the defenders, the warriors He designed us to be, and to have each others' backs as sisters.

As my planning team - yes, team! He has taught me to bring on a team, not just do it myself, which is so appropriate for this event about joining together - encountered yet another obstacle to birthing this creation, I spent an evening poring over scripture. I was feeling discouraged after yet another major plot twist in our saga, and I needed to know He would be faithful. And then He allowed me to stumble across this:

~So here’s what I want you to do. When you gather for worship, each one of you be prepared with something that will be useful for all: Sing a hymn, teach a lesson, tell a story, lead a prayer, provide an insight... And no more than two or three speakers at a meeting, with the rest of you listening and taking it to heart. Take your turn, no one person taking over. Then each speaker gets a chance to say something special from God, and you all learn from each other. If you choose to speak, you’re also responsible for how and when you speak. When we worship the right way, God doesn’t stir us up into confusion; he brings us into harmony. This goes for all the churches—no exceptions.~
1 Corinthians 14:26, 29-33 (MSG)

Right. Between. The. Eyes.

To have this level of specificity without having encountered this passage anytime recently - that's the way the Spirit works, my friends! I'm still awestruck with a few lingering goosebumps.

So we press forward in faith and newfound obedience.

I find it a magnificent "coincidence" that my fast for Lent was from relying on my own resources, because there have been many times when I was so tempted to activate my superpowers to solve our problems. Of course, it wouldn't have worked anyway, but the decision to preemptively step aside and fully rely on Him and on others has taught me new discipline, trust, and interdependency.

As a result, when this is a success (by His standards, not mine), all the glory will be His. And that puts my parameter-craving psyche to rest.