A Fickle Gut

A short post today. This is what I was thinking about in the wee early hours as I lay in bed...

My gut is broken.

And by gut, I don't mean my intestinal insides that be can fixed by changing my diet and ingesting more probiotics, or my changes in appetite throughout the nine months of pregnancy. I mean the instinct inside me that is supposed to guide me through life. Somewhere along the way, during my childhood years, between moving so often, being bullied, not feeling affirmed enough, growing up in the Chinese tradition–a myriad of things–my "guide" broke.

Sometimes "following your gut" is a good thing, but in my case, I would be in a world of trouble, because my gut is not always trustworthy. 

I would take my small revenge–my gut tells me,"You deserve it. He/she owes it to you."

I would be fearful of everything–my gut says, "Something out there will hurt you or your child."

I would doubt myself all the time–my gut whispers, "Don't try it. You'll probably fail." or "Rita, you made a mistake... again."

I would avoid conflict–my gut screams, "Run away! Protect yourself!"

We are broken people living in a broken world. Life happens–the good and the bad–and most of the time, my jerk reaction to the bad is just not reliable. This is a lesson I need to learn again and again: trust in the Word, trust the Holy Spirit's promptings, and trust people I know in the family of God. When I get lax and overly confident in my own abilities, I go with my emotions; then without realizing it, I may choose to take the easy route, the route of self-preservation. But that route is not always the right route. 

Overriding my natural responses and emotions is not easy. It's an uncomfortable place to be–sometimes it's downright painful!–but it's better than listening to the fickleness of my gut.

Let there be light!

Wow, this post becomes more relevant to me with each passing day, even though I wrote the first draft almost one month ago.

At that time, I was 39 weeks pregnant and feeling more discouraged, more tired, more sore, and more anxious that I had ever felt while pregnant. I was having strong contractions on and off for several weeks and all I really wanted was to have my baby, but at the same time, the fear of labor pains and my new life afterwards loomed over me at all hours of the day and night.

All I could do was try to stay busy. I excused myself from the family to run to the Chinese grocery store (Chinese food– my biggest craving) and heard this song coming through my van's CD player:

In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth

The earth was without form and void and darkness was over the face of the deep

And the Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters

And God said, "Let there be light"

And there was light

The lyrics are straight from Genesis 1:1-3. As I sat listening to the soothing melody, I was reminded that God is the ultimate Creator. He has been there since the beginning, creating and holding the universe together. And He was still creating now, in me! There was a whole new person inside me! How amazing that I can be a part of God's creation process.

And even more encouraging was the fact that God brings order to chaos, light to the darkness. I picture God's great hand giving shape and meaning to the turmoil and confusion of the uncreated universe. Similarly, anytime I am feeling unsteady and fearful, God guides me through it.

And guided me He did.

That very night, just a few hours after I started writing this post, my water broke. I then experienced my hardest, most painful labor ever because the baby was posterior facing. But after laboring through the dark night, the baby was born at 6:49am, March 4th, healthy and whole. And how perfectly fitting that her name is Nariah, which means 'God is my light'!

But we are still in the midst of the chaos. Nariah is having trouble nursing, so I pumping around the clock, supplementing, and trying to teach her to like the breast again, which also means I can't pay as much attention to my other children or keep up with daily chores. I still have moments of darkness, even more so now because sometimes I feel like I'm failing as a mother, to the baby and all my other children...

Then I remember God's words, "Let there be light!" And I am reminded (again and again) that this present darkness is not forever, not when God is in charge. I may feel inadequate as a mother of eight, I may not know the reason for the timing of this baby, I may want to think that God has made a mistake (or more likely, that I have made a mistake), but those are all NOT true. God is sovereign. God is present. God is orchestrating all the details of my life, and Nariah's young life too.

So be encouraged as I am being encouraged. Maybe you are in your first trimester, or your 39th week. Or maybe you just lost a child. Or you are going through illness. We all have periods of darkness, when we wonder if God has abandoned us or if this time will never end. Remember that God was there at the beginning and that He is in charge. Only He can make something out of nothing and create beauty out of the ugly.

One more thing, if you are looking for uplifting music with lyrics straight from the Bible, check out Seeds Family Worship (and hear the song mentioned above, 'God is Creator' from Genesis 1:1-3). I am so glad my friend Ariel gifted our family with the Character of God CD. Listening to the Seeds Family albums are also a great way to memorize Bible verses!

Living By Example

A few weeks back I read an article that basically said, "The worst thing you could ask of your daughter is to be an example for her friends." According to the author, the pressure your daughter feels from this kind of request pushes her to put on a good face, but to never feel like she herself can admit her fears, hurts, or shortcomings.

"Oh my gosh! I've ruined my children!" was my initial emotional response. My husband and I often ask our children to be good role models for their younger siblings. We encourage our children to be leaders among their friends and their peers at church. Have I been wrong this whole time in asking them to do that? Doubt raced through my mind and robbed me of my confidence. I didn't know what to think. I didn't know what to write. Guilt bubbled in my core. 

When my emotions finally settled down, I tried to think through this author's words with a clear head. I had written before on something similar to this. We are role models, whether we want to be one or not. Our choice is to be good role models, or bad role models. 

Similarly, I can ask my children to be an example for their friends, though I should explain clearly to them what type of example they should be. After all, Paul wrote these words to young Timothy: Let no one despise you for your youth, but set the believers an example in speech, in conduct, in love, in faith, in purity (I Timothy 4:12). My children can be examples of perfect, happy people, or they can be examples of people who know that they are saved by grace, people who know that their greatest example is Jesus Christ (see Philippians 2).

So what it comes down to is this: The worst thing I could ask of my daughter is to be an example without being the right example for her. And if I am the kind of mother who cares more about appearances, then I will teach my children to do the same. If I am the kind of mother who pretends to have it altogether,  then my children will grow into that mold.

But if I am the kind of mother who can say, "I'm sorry. I was wrong," who can share about the lessons she is learning, who gives grace and freely admits that she is in need of it too, who cares for those who are weaker and smaller, whose goal is not to be an example but to bring healing to people, who looks to Jesus, then I want to say to my children, again and again and again,

"Be an example. For your friends. For your peers. For the world."

Daily Trust

I don't like not knowing. And I especially don't like waiting while not knowing.

Which makes it surprising that I have (almost) six children, because with every child, I reach the point where anxiety begins to creep in as I near the expected due date and there is still so much I do not know. I don't know when the birth will happen. I don't know how the new baby will change the dynamics of the family. I don't know what surprises will come, so I cannot prepare for them. 

That said, I admit that I'm feeling a little tense right now. I want this baby to come NOW, because I'm tired of being pregnant, but more than that, because I want to know what my new life will be like. I'm a person of action, and God is teaching me (constantly) that sometimes action is not the answer. No, TRUST is. Trusting Him when I first find out that I'm pregnant. Trusting Him when people ask "Did you plan to have six? Are you going to have more? How are you going to take care of all these children?!" Trusting Him whenever the unexpected comes my way.

Living the life God intends for me is sometimes about charging forward with courage, and sometimes about resting in Him with patience and faith. Every morning, I have to to trust that He will give me what I need to face that day. So I will wait-- for this baby, for God's timing, and for the courage to face the unknown and tackle it when the time comes to do so.

Desert Heartaches

I have some rough days, but I wouldn't consider my life the 'desert' right now, especially after reading the story of the Zeller family. All in one year, the Zellers lost one baby at 37 weeks of pregnancy, had two more miscarriages, possible cancer diagnosis for Misty (the mom), toxic mold found in their house-- which meant moving and throwing away most of their belongings-- and hospital debt that led to them losing most of whatever belongings they didn't already lose. Like Job, Misty has had heartache after heartache and no time to heal.

If you need perspective, you should read Misty's blog, Charlie's Song.

If you need encouragement, you should read Misty's blog, Charlie's Song.

If you need an example of true faith, you should read Misty's blog, Charlie's Song.

If you are grieving, you should read Misty's blog, Charlie's Song.

Her writing is beautifully and brutally honest. There are moments of joy (though Misty would probably tell you that she feels like she's scraping the bottom of the barrel sometimes) but most of her entries drip with her tears. If you have a moment, pray for them. And if you would like to materially bless this family, click on the links below to find out how you can.

Medical Fundraiser for the Zellers
Zeller Family Amazon Wishlist

Obedience

Obedience

by George MacDonald

I said, "Let me walk in the fields;"

He said, "Nay, walk in the town;"

I said, "There are no flowers there;"

He said, "No flowers but a crown."

I said, "But the sky is black,

There is nothing but noise and din;"

But He wept as He sent me back--

"There is more," He said, "there is sin."

I said, "But the air is thick

And fogs are veiling the sun;"

He answered, "Yet souls are sick,

And souls in the dark undone."

I said, "I shall miss the light,

And friends will miss me, they say;"

He answered me, "Choose tonight

If I am to miss you, or they."

I pleaded for time to be given;

He said, "Is it hard to decide?

It will not seem hard in heaven

To have followed the steps of your guide."

I cast one look at the fields,

Then set my face to the town:

He said: "My child, do you yield?

Will you leave the flowers for the crown?"

Then into His hand went mine,

And into my heart came He,

And I walk in a light divine

The path I had feared to see.

Born in Scotland in 1824, MacDonald was a minister who also loved to write fairy tales and poetry "not for children", he wrote once, "but for the child-like, whether they be of five, or fifty, or seventy-five." His writings of fiction such as "The Golden Key" and "The Light Princess" have influenced G. K. Chesterton, Mark Twain, J.R.R. Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, Madeleine L'Engle, and E. Nesbit. If you love the stories of Narnia and Middle Earth, then you will love how MacDonald's worlds are full of wonder and fantasy, yet remain grounded in God's truth. In one such story, titled "The Princess and the Goblin", the Princess is given a magical silver thread that can guide her to safety. The only problem is, no one, not even the Princess, can see the thread. She has to follow the thread by touch, even though she can't see where it is leading her, or where it will end.

Obedience is like that thread. God sometimes gives us only the information we need for the moment. He sheds light on the first step we must take, but the journey itself is in the dark. I think about my friends in Papua New Guinea, who have committed at least three years of their lives to work with a people group there that has never heard the Gospel. One of their tasks is to learn the language of these natives, and though the natives have been accepting of them into their village, no one knows how they will receive the Gospel. But like the person in the poem, my friends have chosen to leave the fields and flowers. They have said goodbye to their friends and family and the comforts of American suburban life because they believe that His crown and the souls of people are worth more. And though it is difficult for them, like it is difficult for you and me, to obey when the thread they are following is invisible, it is not impossible. It will not seem hard in heaven to have followed the steps of your guide.

To Guilty Moms Everywhere

My kids ask me on occasion to sing them a song at bedtime. Sometimes I say 'yes', but most of the time, I don't. As much as I would love them to have memories of being sung to sleep by their mother, I just don't have the energy (or voice) to sing after working twelve hours. I kiss them all, say "I love you, good night!" then look forward to a movie on the couch with my husband.

I know there are parents who cuddle with their children at bedtime, or ask each and every child about their day, or pray over each child, but I don't. And I do feel guilty sometimes. We cuddle (all of us) on the couch for read-aloud stories before bedtime. We hold hands in a circle with Dad and pray. We talk at dinner, we sing songs at lunch, we have dance parties in the morning... and I still feel guilty.

This post is in response to the article about the guilty mom on the iPhone. All I have to say is, if you're going to point your finger at the mom on the phone, you also have to point your finger at the teenager who can't sit still for fifteen minutes without checking for texts, or the man who interrupts your conversation with him to 'get that call'. If you want to write about the abuse of technology, don't just write about moms. Because moms already feel guilt, whether someone points it out or not. All moms are guilty: of not being able to give our children ALL that we want to; of not having more arms, hands, laps, heads, ears, mouths, etc...; of being limited by our talents, personalities, energy levels, budgets, and basic human needs.

Like the basic human need to feel like a person, not a robot. I'm always looking for a creative outlet, because sometimes I feel like I'll scream if I have to wash one more dish! That's why I'm here typing on the computer while my five kids are doing... I don't know what. Actually, it's relatively quiet here: my three-year-old is singing and coloring with his big brother, the baby is pounding on the floor with a plastic rolling pin, the older girls are probably crafting in their room. If one comes to me with a non-urgent need, I would say, "Give me ten minutes to finish this" or "Ask your sister to help you with that" (while telling myself not to feel guilty). If all of a sudden I hear, "Give that back!" or "The baby's eating dirt again!" then I'll reluctantly leave my thoughts at the computer and refocus on my mothering task. 

Moms are on-call around the clock. Taking a break from cooking, cleaning, and playing is legitimate. Put the baby in the crib and take a five-minute shower. Put on some make-up and feel pretty. Videos help you get other things done. Tell your older child to watch the younger one for a few minutes. Call a friend and chat. Or better yet, ask that friend to babysit so you can have some desperately-needed alone time. Children need to learn to play by themselves, take care of others, and work through disagreements. They need to hear, "Please don't interrupt while I'm talking to Mrs. So-and-so" or "I can't play right now" from time to time. It's okay if they don't always have your undivided attention, and it's okay if you're not always 'in charge'.

So, to guilty moms everywhere, remember that in order to do your best as a mom, you need to balance it with other things: time with friends, a date with your husband, an hour a week to indulge in a hobby. These things won't detract from your mothering, they'll enhance it! If you're rested, you'll have more energy for going to the park, and patience for dealing with a tantrum. If you've had adult conversation, you're more enthusiastic about singing the 'Bob the Builder' song for the fifteenth time!

I will say that if you interact more with your phone than with your kids in a 24-hour period, you might want to makes some changes, or if most of your quality time with your kids is spent in the car, you might want to restructure your day. But in the end, we all do what we can, and we all take little steps in growth.

Extravagant Love

I am NOT an engaging conversationalist. Oftentimes, I speak before I think, and I say the wrong thing at the wrong time.
I am NOT a hilarious comedienne. And sometimes I'm too slow to get somebody else's joke.
I am NOT a wise counselor. I want to be an advice-giver, but I am not gifted with discernment and don't always give sound advice.

Oh, I could go on. Everyday, I waste at least five minutes of my life wishing I was more like someone else. Though I am now much more mature than I was ten years ago, or even five years ago, I continue to wrestle with questions about my identity.

"Why did God make me this way?"

"How do I fit into God's kingdom?"

"Why can't I be more like HER?"

But I learned something this past weekend. While researching for a children's book idea and being guests in the home of my friend's grandparents, I learned the secret of being content with myself: take the little I've been given and make much of it. Just as God is extravagant with His love, I can be extravagant with mine. 

Before the trip, I baked pies and cookies to share. 
Once there, I listened with attentive ears and soaked up stories from the past. 
I serenaded my hosts with music on the piano. 
I enjoyed delicious, home-made, German food.
I raked leaves in the backyard and delighted in the beautiful, autumn landscape.
And when I came home, I painted my new friends a painting that reminded me of the dogwood trees in their yard. Inside the card, I will express my abundant thanks for their hospitality and kindness to me and my family.

And through all this, I never once found myself wanting to be someone else. I was enjoying myself so much by focusing on who I was rather than who I was NOT, that I did not waste my time envying others and doubting God.

So, my thirty-fourth birthday was a good one. I am another year older, and I can honestly say that I am another year wiser. And here's to a new year of unexpected joys, abiding contentment, and extravagant love.

Why I Write, part 2

After my last post, a friend wrote me a little message saying, "Thank you for your honesty." It was a very encouraging note.

Because after years of NOT being honest with others or myself, I said, "It's time." I had grown up thinking that to be a Christian meant smiling and always looking joyful.  And I thought faith was always knowing what to do, how to do it, and of course, smiling while doing it.

But the world needs to know that this is not true. And Christians who feel like they are alone in their feelings of doubt and uncertainty need to know that they are in good company. Faith is not saying through gritted teeth, "Thy will be done." Faith is not a nice suit or dress that one puts on in the morning and takes off at night. Nor is it a mask. Faith, like courage, is light in the darkness. It is more, not less, present when one is fearful.

And this is why I write, to document my tiny steps of faith, and to encourage others to walk with me, though the road is sometimes hidden, often unpaved, and always narrow.

Him Who Gives Me Strength

Sometimes I hear parents say, "I could never homeschool, I don't have the patience for it."

As far as I'm concerned, if you're a Christian, that's no excuse.

Just like there's no excuse for "I could never speak in public, I'm too shy."

Or "I could never teach Sunday School, I'm just not gifted that way."

Or, in my case, "I could never be a mentor, I'm not wise enough."

Is our God so puny that He could not grow us?

Is He so weak that He could not change us?

Is He incompetent, that He could not work through us, in spite of us?

What ever happened to the God who helped a little boy defeat a giant?

The God who helped a girl become a queen and save her people?

What ever happened to "I can do all things through Him who gives me strength" (Philippians 4:13)?

If God called you to do something, He WILL give you the strength to accomplish it.

Giving It Up

It's hard to give things up.

You're probably thinking about how you gave up Facebook for Lent, or refrained from chocolate cake last night, but I'm talking about really giving something up.

I'm talking about Abraham preparing to kill his only son Isaac, Esther putting her life at risk to face the king, the widow who offered two copper coins, the last of all she had.

Did they sleep the night before?

Did their hearts beat a hundred times a minute until they almost broke?

I imagine that the widow didn't waltz into the temple and drop her coins into the temple offering like a little girl in Sunday School.

No, she walked slowly, hesitating a few times before reaching the temple treasury with the coins in her fist. With all her will, she released her grip and dropped the coins into the collection plate or box. And maybe she wept all the way home because she didn't know where her next meal was coming from.

The word is sacrifice.

In the Old Testament, the Israelites sacrificed animals to temporarily cleanse them of their sins. In the New Testament, Jesus became the ultimate sacrifice. Sacrifice draws us close to God once more. It means stripping away the things that are barring us from God.

I remember three sacrifices I've made for God: breaking up with a man whom I thought I was going to marry, working through fear to become a youth group leader and eventually high school and junior high teacher, and moving out of our home when my husband was unemployed.

I spent nights crying, reevaluating, looking for a way around it. Then I finally surrendered, just to spend more nights crying. Deciding to make the sacrifice didn't mean it was over. There was the pain of going through with it. My heart felt shattered, so shattered that I was sure it would never heal.

But giving something up does not mean you're abandoning it. When you give it up, you are "giving it up." You are handing it over to God, allowing him to take care of it for you. God says, "Lean on me instead of this. I will turn it into something beautiful."

And He has. I have three stories proving so.

(I dedicate this post to my dear friend Fern. I love you.)

Doubtful Moments

Lately, I've had voices in my head telling me that I'm not good enough.

When a mom says, "I find your house a bit chaotic," I can't help but think, Am I not trying hard enough?

When a well-meaning stranger comments, "You must have your hands full," the thought that runs through my mind is, I must look like a crazy and stressed person.

When a friend jokes, "Haven't you guys ever heard of birth control?" I interpret it as, You are stupid and have no idea what you're doing.

And sometimes, all it takes is a look from a person in the store, and the voices in my head will fill in the rest.

Believe me, I am not blind to the mess in my house, I am well aware of the fact that my toddler is strong-willed and stubborn, and I still don't know how I will handle homeschooling, housework, and a new baby when I already work thirteen-hour days, but what I don't need are the voices in my head telling me that I'm not good enough. They make me feel hopeless and weak, completely naked and vulnerable.

So, what do I do now?

This week, I was rereading the last chapter of Ephesians, the section that describes the armor of God. Perfect timing, as always. I was reminded that the comments may come from people, but we are not always fighting against flesh and blood. More than that, what I realized in my reading was that I can fight naked, or I can fight clothed. If I am naked (as the Enemy wants me to be), I cannot win. But clothed in God's armor, I have His protection, His strength, and His victory.

P.S. Sometimes, it is better to think twice about a comment or joke. If it's not entirely encouraging, maybe you (or I) shouldn't say it.

Trust in the Author

Did you ever read "Choose Your Own Adventure Books" when you were young? The way they work is you read the story until you come to a page with a choice. Either choice will tell you to turn to a certain page, from which 'your' story continues. Sometimes you end up with a bundle of treasure, and sometimes... you're eaten by sharks. As much as I enjoyed the books, I was always frustrated when what I thought was a good decision led to death. I'd flip back through the pages to see what I SHOULD have chosen instead. But either way, I don't really have control, because I didn't write the book.

You probably know what I'm getting at. Life... the greatest book ever written. But who is the author? We'd like to think that it's us, but no, we're not, not really. I make my choices, hoping to end up with treasure and not sharks, but there is, in reality, very little control I have over the story.

And now my story is taking an unexpected turn. A new character is being introduced.

Some of you have read the previous blog entry "Playing Jonah." In a matter of three days, I had three conversations about babies and birth control. What I didn't mention was that each of those conversations included my saying, with a laugh, "We're not having any more children. Unless God wants us to." All along, I half-joked about God giving us another child, but what I was really thinking was, "I don't want another child."

Little did I know (if you've seen 'Stranger Than Fiction', then you know that this phrase is ripe with premonition), I was already pregnant.

The unexpected reveals a person's true self; it turns out I'm a weak and whiny wimp. I argued with God for days. It couldn't be happening, I thought, You wouldn't do this to me! My family was perfect: two boys, two girls. We already gave away our baby clothes... we were moving on! I was making plans for the summer, for Christmas, for my writing, for my tenth anniversary... not for having another baby! And of course, my vanity comes into play. With each pregnancy, my figure is less shapely, my hair falls out until I'm almost completely bald in some spots, and the veins in my legs look more and more like a road map.

But God won the argument (He always does). He reminded me of the mom I saw at the mall. She had two sons with her, and the elder was mentally retarded. He acted like my eighteen-month old, but the difference is, that boy will never grow out of it. His mom is truly a woman of grace, courage, and patience. I admire her. Then God says, "Rita, you can be like her. You can handle this. Trust me." He has a plan for this child, and this child will bless me as much as he will bless the world.

So I'm taking a step again, day by day, small steps of faith (and if I have twins, they'll have to be slightly larger steps of faith). Here begins a new chapter. I do not yet know the name of the chapter, but I'm ready. 

And I'm already falling in love with my new little one.