Seasons of Soccer

Single mom raising a passle of boys = a hair-raising (or should I say hair-graying) experience!

Especially in the area of sports.

But God provides, sometimes in ways I don't expect, but I can certainly glory in.

Alex's second soccer season, he had a coach named Scott who had a daughter a bit younger than Alex on the team.  He was a great coach--nice, good with the kids, the right amount of praising them and driving them.

We were blessed when two seasons later, Matthew had the same coach.

Right after that season, Keith died.

I called one of the moms on the team to tell her.  Keith had been sick and in the hospital during part of the season, so they were somewhat in touch with what was going on.  This mom took it upon herself to call the whole team.

Imagine my surprise when, right with the family, Scott walked into the funeral home for the viewing.  I was gratified that he chose to come and express his sympathy, but what he did next quite literally floored me.

He sat down, prepared to stay the whole length of the viewing, and talked sports with my big boys.  Just talked.

Since then, this family, mostly Scott, has become a part of our lives, showing up just when my boys need them.

The next spring, Scott showed up between his kids' games to watch Alex play.  Matthew, wanting to get his attention, went over and started talking to him.  Then another adult came to talk to Scott.  Scott had the conversation with the adult, but kept him arm around Matthew for like twenty minutes.  Matthew gloried in the male attention.  I thanked God for His provision (and asked Him when he was going to fill that dad spot, but that is another story).

Later that same season, Matthew scored his first goal.  I was in the car with the little ones at the time, avoiding a drizzle.  Alex ran back to the car to tell me Matthew had scored, and I was bummed that I had missed it.  Once again, however, God provided.  Scott happened to be again between games and saw it and was able to whoop and holler for him.

Fast forward a few seasons until Jackson starts playing soccer.  We were blessed once again to have Scott be our coach.  More time for him to speak into my kids' lives.

Jackson did not score his first goal that season, but when he did a season later, it was against the team Scott was coaching, and even though he was the opposing coach, Scott hugged my son and told him what a great job he did.  He also witnessed Jackson's second goal (again, I missed it, being on the field with another son--story of my life).

(I have told Scott several times that I wish they had four kids so that there could be one Tanner's age that he could coach as well.)

Do you notice a theme here?  God providing through a precious family, a precious man, who just loves on my kids when he gets a chance.  He takes the opportunity when it is presented to him, and God has used that mightily to comfort my boys, to strengthen them, to fill in part of that missing "dad" piece.

Here is the part that amazes me.  This is not a believing family.  (My boys here want me to say...NOT YET!)  God is using someone who is not even on board with His general plan to speak so mightily into the lives of my boys.

Provision, my friends, provision!

The LORD remembers us and will bless us - Psalm 115:12a

What's a Cross?

Recently my dear friend Judi asked me if I felt losing Keith was my cross to bear.

Here is the long and short of my answer...it's not a cross, it's a blessing.

About 4 weeks after Keith died, a dear friend who is a fellow widow called the place we are in "a privilege."  Now, at this point in my journey, Keith had been gone just a bit of time and Christmas was around the corner.  I was not feeling privilege, I can tell you.

But I did remember; I did ponder those words.

For years.

I gotta be honest.  Some days stink.  It is really hard to be a single mom.  Some days, even now, I ache for Keith's arms around me.

But, yes, I believe it.  It is privilege.

Joy in the journey.

God is there.  At night.  When I have tough decisions to make.  Raising the boys.  When hard stuff happens.  When good stuff happens.  When I am hurt.  When I am happy.  When I am scared.  When I am confident.

The boys have learned things about the provision of God, the sovereignty of God, the love of God that Keith and I could not have taught them together.  They know that they know that they know.  They have seen and tasted that the Lord is good.

I have gotten to see God work in the lives of people simply because He gave me this great need and the foresight to let them in to help.

I have gotten to cry with others on this journey, knowing what they are feeling.  And also to laugh with them.

I have grown and changed...a butterfly out of a cocoon, able now to go different places than I could go before.

I know my Lord better...closer...dearer.

And that changes my whole perspective.

I have always thought of the cross as a place of pain and suffering, and it certainly was that.

But...maybe...it was also a place of joy because Christ knew that through it, the redemption of the world would happen.  He could see beyond the moments to the big picture.

I don't compare my suffering to that of Christ in any way, shape, or form.  That would be pure arrogance.

But the changes wrought in me...and I do mean wrought...have made a difference.  And in that I can glory.

I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.- Romans 8:18

Groaning

We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies.- Romans 8:22-23

Even as I write this, a dear friend is in labor.  She is waiting, expectantly and anxiously, for Baby #3 to make his/her appearance.  Water broken, hard labor not started yet, she is in a holding pattern and has been since last evening.  Nothing to do but wait, watch, and pray.

I am there, too.  Certainly with this sweet sister, as all night I kept waking and dreaming of her, praying for her well being and that of my coming "niece" or "nephew." 

But also in my own life.

I wait, not too patiently at times, for the things of my life to work themselves out, to be born in me and my family.

I long to be the creature I was created to be--me, but different.  Not so sinful, more patient, more loving, more focused on God instead of me.

I want to see the bigger picture, know how to lead my family on the path God has laid out for us.  Sometimes I feel like I am right there, hiking along as I should be over the rough terrain; other times I feel lost in the weeds, tripping over little rocks.  I hasten to what I think is the right way to go, but forget to look where I am going, forget to take all the steps necessary to get there, forget to follow my Guide.

Other times, circumstances totally beyond my control have me laboring.  The world steps in, clouding my vision in the rainstorms of life.  Well-meaning people, and not-so-well-meaning, provide distraction and confusion.  I stumble, I fall.

But I get back up.

Like my sweet friend who cannot escape her labor pains right this minute, I cannot escape mine.  Nor would I want to.

I eagerly await the temporary prizes and successes here on earth...many that are quite meaningful for a season.

But even more, I look toward my forever-prize in eternity.

Labor is hard, but I know that with that first cry, the first look at that sweet little face, it will be all worth it for my dear sister.

With my first cry of hallelujah before my Lord, so will mine.

Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.- Philippians 3:14-15

Of Puzzle Pieces and Memories

A few weeks before Keith died, our preacher, Mike, preached a sermon involving puzzle pieces and wholeness in the body of Christ.  It touched Keith deeply.  He set his puzzle piece on the makeshift desk he had on the main floor.  It was constantly in view during the last weeks of his life.

We buried that puzzle piece in the time capsule we created for him.

I have thought of that puzzle piece often over the past 4 1/2 years, nearly every time I find a stray piece around the house.  Keith still thought of himself as a viable piece of the body, even as an ill man, weak and at home.  And he was.

Even in death, my faithful husband was, and is, a piece of the puzzle.  There are still the fingerprints of his work at our church, and at his office.  And definitely here at home, in us.  I am a better mother, daughter, and child of God from having been married to this Godly man.

Since Keith's passing I have often thought of my own contribution as a puzzle piece.  How do I "fit" now that he is not here?  My puzzle is jumbled and I can't seem to find where the edges meet.

I don't fit as a wife any more.
Yet I am an important part of the puzzle.
I don't fit in the couples' gatherings any more.
Yet I am an important piece in the puzzle.
I don't fit with the women talking about the husbands (or complaining about them).
Yet I am an important part of the puzzle.
I don't fit in at boy scout meetings or with the soccer coaches.
Yet I am an important part of the puzzle.

When doing a large puzzle, if I have trouble finding where a piece goes, I try turning it, looking in a new section of the puzzle.  That is what I need to do with this new life.  I may not fit in the old places where the puzzle piece went, but I need to find new ones.

And the cool thing is that the Master of the Puzzle will give me insight as to where that is.

Here is the lesson I take from Keith's life:  puzzle pieces have a purpose, they complete things.  If I neglect to add my piece to the puzzle, it is incomplete, not what it was intended to be.

I can't help but think of my own contribution as a puzzle piece.  Can God's fingerprints be seen as clearly on me?  I pray so!

I also think about the Puzzle Piece of Eternity, our Risen Lord. 

By His death, we are healed.  By His stripes, we can forgo ours.  By His love, we have eternity waiting.  Praise Him for His indescribable gift!

Drippy Romances and Dreams

I read Christian romances.  There, I said it.  They give me...hope.

Sometimes they give me life lessons as well, all wrapped up in a cover and characters.

Tonight I was reading about a romance and these words skittered from the page into my heart:  " ...but I realize that in the Lord all things are perfected.  So when things aren't humanly perfect, we can give them to God who'll make them better."  (Gail Gaymer Martin, Loving Care, 2004, Steeple Hill Books)

As a wife who had a pretty "perfect" life, I have been afraid of the future.  Afraid of not finding perfection if there is time #2.  Afraid of comparing, of trusting, of losing again, of making a mistake, of so many things.  I trust God, but do I trust me?

I guess the message for me in these lines was that as long as I trust God, and follow Him, I can trust me.  He loves me and my kids more than I love me and my kids.

If there is another real-life romance in my world, I need to remember that it will not be perfect, and neither will the guy.  He can't be.  But God can and is.

And in His perfection, I can stand.  I can be scared, but can move on, knowing that He's got it.

As I mentally prepare for my first date in this millennium (some of you are saying, "'bout time!"), I can honestly say that as scared as I am to try, I am equally scared not to.

Praise God that He has got my back...and my heart...for this whole tumultuous ride!

Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight. - Proverbs 3:5-6