Happy New Year? Oh Me of Little Faith!

The ball has dropped, the children packed off to bed; almost three hours have passed since we rang in the new year of 2010. And I've been sitting here, mindlessly watching television, playing computer games -- anything to avoid feeling.

This year has not been the best year in certain ways. I know. I said that last year. At this time frame last year, I was having constant panic attacks following the discovery of that friend who committed suicide. I know -- you must get tired of seeing that in writing. I know I must talk about death alot; when you see it up close -- and you don't want to see it up close -- it does something to a person. You realize that life can change in single heartbeat. Life is as fragile as a butterfly's wings.

It was the year of my high school reunion. I enjoyed that night more than I ever imagined. It made me realize how quickly this life of mine is flying by. What am I doing to improve the world around me? What have I contributed to it? One of my friends teaches special ed. She is changing lives daily in such a positive and powerful way.

I've had problems with my eldest born son that I never dreamed our family would ever face. He is somewhere else at the moment, getting help for his problems, and I miss him so badly, my chest cannot bear the weight of it at times. I see on Facebook where his friends are enjoying youth group, birthday parties, dances, and even though I am joyful for them, my heart mourns my son's choices that took him where he is. I could blame his father's influence for the reason why my son has done the things he's done. Even though what my ex-husband has done in this young teen's life has been wrong, my son made the decisions he did. His biological father was not in the room when my son did what he did; if I would have been in the room, he certainly would not have done what he did which landed him where he is right now. Sometimes it has been all I could do to get out of bed. It was a monstrous feat that got the Christmas tree up this year.

I miss my son. I miss him horribly. I know he's getting help, but I still worry about him. What will stop him from repeating the behavior which got him into trouble? Will people accept him? Can his step-father, the rest of the family, and I truly know that we honestly forgive him and trust him again?

To top all of that off, the day before my son was taken away to one place, my father had an aneurysm burst in his abdominal region. We were told that 97 % of those who have one burst, die before they get to the hospital, and half of those who make it to the hospital die from complications from the surgery. Things were touch and go. He's battled infections, a discovery of colon cancer, all with a very weak heart to still tell me on the phone that he's going to walk again and make it home; my dad is one heck of a fighter! He's still with us; better yet, he's given his heart to Jesus.

It has been a heart-wrenching journey, coming to grips with the possibility that you may have to say "goodbye" to your father, and soon. Growing up, my father possessed a LOT of faults; but I adored my father in spite of -- and maybe because of -- his many foibles. I always knew a call would come, telling me some bad news of my father; I never expected it would hit me this hard. I have talked to my Heavenly Father many a night regarding my earthly Dad.

Then I berate myself. Oh, me of little faith! Why am I worrying about everything so badly? Where is my undying faith in my Lord and Savior? Why do I stay awake so late, crying out to God to hear my prayer, when I should be sleeping safe in the arms of Jesus? My favorite disciple is Peter; he was able to sleep in prison, facing death, itself. No worries, mate. I used to emulate him more. I don't know who I'm like at the moment. I'm angry with myself for letting little grains of fear fester in the crevices of my mind. I did not know what fear was at one time; as long as I knew Christ was before me, who could be against me? Then I get the gentle nudging that I am not alone. Others have walked the path I am walking, and I need to know that my Abba Father loves me in spite of me.

What good has happened this year? Well, I reconnected with old friends and made new ones with the help of Facebook. These friends and family members have bolstered me up in so many ways, through encouragement, cyber hugs, prayers, and their love. My step-sons have become my friends on Facebook. I cried tears of joy -- seriously -- when they became my friends. If you would know what my husband and I have endured for nine years, then you'd understand. We never stopped loving them, not one minute. And God is paving the road. We need to be more patient until God completes every bit of His work in this endeavor.

It's almost like giving birth -- I want the good things to happen now. However, we have to push through the labor pains. Joy may come in the morning, but you have to endure the darkness of night to see the beauty of the sunrise.

So I look at the fractured pieces of this year, and I will ask God to help turn those shards of glass into a stained-glass window to the shine beauty into my soul. Help my life be a thing of beauty for You, O Lord, to show the world how you take the lowliest of the low and transform them into a thing of beauty. Who else but God can take an insect that looks like it's little more than a worm and metamorphose that creature into a glorious, colorful winged delight? May You turn me, the worm that I am, into that iridescent, velvet-winged butterfly. Help me to be more like You, Lord Jesus, and less like me in this year, and the years to come!

I'm just sooo perfect... uh, don't stand close to me or the lightning will strike!

I signed up my children to participate in 4-H. It's a good program, with good people in it. Fortunately, the leaders have been in 4-H since they were children, themselves. I am hoping the children meet new friends and learn new things.

Last month, a demonstration about how to give a demonstration was held. It was alright. Afterwards, the leader asked for volunteers to give a demonstration of their own. My boy said, "I'm not gonna do it." I walked over and signed him up, along with his sister, to do a demonstration for the very next meeting.

Cruel, I know. After the initial screeches of "What'll we talk about?!" were heard by me, I said, "We'll figure it out. It'll be fine, you'll see."

We sat and thought about what they could do, when we decided upon creating Christmas ornaments. That's an easy enough demonstration, as that is a craft we take on almost every year for Christmas. Our tree is nothing but home made ornaments, lovingly crafted by my Gram, my children, and me. We bought the wood, we planned out what they were going to say, and we put together the poster boards. Everything seemed to be perfect.

We went to 4-H, sure that everything would go as planned.

We sat through a very informative and interesting demonstration. Then it was the children's turn. Maybe I had the items set up in the wrong place, maybe I should have had index cards for the children. It all started out wonderfully. I did notice that we should have written larger on the poster board, but that was okay, the children were doing great. Then it happened. Whatever happened, I'm unsure, but it appears as though one of the children went out of turn. Then the other went out of turn. The next thing I knew, one of the children started doing ALL of the talking, and the other got very frustrated and started crying. Not only that, but the crying demonstrator tried to rip ribbon out of the time-hog demonstrator's hands. The time-hog did NOT budge. As an observer, I could only stand there, hoping and praying to God that it would all end soon.

Why is it that parents always feel an obligation to think that the actions of their children in a situation such as this is an excuse to label themselves as "bad parents who had to have done SOMETHING wrong?" Because that's what I did. The children did not have a perfect demonstration, so I decided to blame myself.

As I sat later contemplating all of this in front of a game of Bejeweled -- the game I always seem to gravitate to when I want to do "veg-out", a certain memory or two flooded my tired mind.

Sixth-grade Sunday school class, 1977 or 1978. We were all given Bible verses to memorize for something going on in the church. I was given a very long Bible verse. I think I actually volunteered myself to take on that long verse. I worked hard at memorizing that verse. I wrote it out, said it to myself, as well as my family members. We finally had a practice session right before we were marched into the sanctuary. I said it PERFECTLY. I was so puffed up about it, I could not WAIT to say that verse, and make everyone so proud of me and my abilities!

We all walked single file into the sanctuary. All of my fellow classmates said their verses perfectly. They were great. Then, me having the longest verse, the "piece-de-resistance", I opened my mouth to say my verse. I looked around the sanctuary. There were TONS of PEOPLE! And there, three-quarters of the way up the church, sat my mother. My mother, with a proud smile plastered across her lips. And then, as if in the movies, it seemed as though my mother's face was transported mysteriously into a close-up! Oh, my GOODNESS -- I could NOT let HER down! I HAD to get it right, I just HAD to!

Every single word of that verse FLEW straight out of my brain! I stammered, I stuttered and flustered. I felt like crying and running to the bathroom, all at the same time. Everyone in the class was disappointed. The teacher was very disappointed. My mother was extremely disappointed. But no one was more disappointed in me, than me.

That tended to be my "mode of operandi" when it came for me to do something in front of a large group of people. During practices, I'd SHINE. But to then perform in front of a group of people would cause me to forget lines, to say something out of line that was not in the script, to throw a Frisbee at sixth grade field day in such a way that it would not soar gracefully, but would rather hit the ground and roll.

I've tried so hard all of my life to be PERFECT. And you know, it just doesn't work. I'm NOT perfect. And thank God, neither are my children. I think the Lord allows me to fall flat on my face to keep me honest, so that I don't puff up and say, "Oh, look at ME!" It would be so very easy for me to do that. I need to be pleased with my children and love them -- no matter if they get a blue ribbon in something, or if they fall flat on their faces. It's the times when you fall flat on your face that you truly learn.

The question is, will you let your times when you fall flat on your face to be a time to get up, dust yourself off, look at what happened, and learn from that experience, or will you sit in a corner and be afraid to never try again unless you're perfect coming out of the shoot?

Lord, help teach me to find joy in my imperfection, and help me teach my children find the joy in their imperfection, for You are made perfect in my weakness, and we learn to rely upon You as our source and strength!