Cocooning

FOUR MINUTES before our scheduled hearing, and no attorney in sight. . .


FOUR MINUTES of just sitting at a long table, in a small hushed room, before the "so-serious" trustee. . .


FOUR MINUTES more, and a whole week of worrying--FINALLY OVER.


I feel light hearted. Glad it's all over.

Thanks to everyone who lifted us up in prayer! We're ready to start a new leg of our journey -- with a slate wiped CLEAN!

Tomorrow we head to court to petition for bankruptcy. I'm edgy and nervous, wanting to have all important papers in order, our ducks in a row. I want to be ready, prepared, in control. But, once again I'm reminded. . .control is mere illusion.

Ryker's sickness has flared again. He's got another fever. His fever from last week disappeared the day before his birthday--probably because so many were praying for him. And now it has reappeared along with agonizing ear pain that kept him up last night. Tonight, as I put the kids to bed, Jennifer announced that she, too, has a fever. It's starting to feel a bit unreal--how persistently sick my children have been!

We have lined up friends to watch the kids after school so we can make our 2:30 hearing. But all this newest sick-stuff makes me feel like I've got a bunch of wild rattlesnakes in my basement. Is it asking too much to leave fever-ridden kids with friends? All I can do is wait until morning, see what happens, and hope solid answers appear. But I can't help turning the possibilties over and over in my mind. Would it be horrible to drag sick kids into a courtroom? We'll probably have to take Ryker to the doctor. . . again. . . mere hours before we're due in court.

I feel so vulnerable. Dependent on God's mercy.

Lord, please show us your mercy. We don't know what to do. . .

A poem
by Steve Doughty

Eyes touched by grace look personally on me, and they look
personally on each one of us, not to see what is missing.
Nor do they look to see what, with great effort and much
improvement, we might become, They simply look,
and they love.

Looking and loving, the eyes touched by grace are not then
glazed over with sentiment. Seeing deeply, they awaken
in us a response that lets us grow stronger within, more
open to others, more mature in our love.

Eyes touched by grace are eyes that look outward on the
world's harshest pain and, in the process, teach our eyes
to do the same. And eyes touched by grace then tutor us
that we may respond to the pain even as the possessors
of those eyes, with great sensitivity, already have done
and continue to do.

Eyes touched by grace possess the wisdom to pause before
the most common scenes of loveliness, to trace the gentle
contours of a laugh, or of another's hand, or of the
fresh breeze that marks a season's change.

Eyes touched by grace belong to those who have heard the Grace Giver say, "Behold, the reign of God is in your midst!"
and then have dared to pray,
"Let us see! Let us see!"

Earlier today, my mom and I were corresponding by email, and I told her that I feel as though I wear a big scarlet B on my chest.

Exactly one week from today, Rich and I will go before a trustee and petition for bankruptcy. If you want to stir up fears of judgment, just think about the very real possibility of appearing before a judge! I've been tearful the past few days. And I find myself covering up in that old, familiar cloak of shame.

At the same time, I've been furiously knitting my new swing-jacket. The back panel is finished, and I'm hard at work on the front right. Yesterday, I was 10" into the pattern when I realized I had dropped a stitch, back at the very beginning of my work. For you non-knitters, this means I have a big ugly gaping hole in my jacket. A hole that will only continue to come undone if not fixed.

So, I had no choice but to unravel several hours of work. Easy to do. But when I tried to loop the stitches back onto my needle at the repair point, the loops were so tiny that the mess became even worse. I'd get one stitch on, and the next one would drop. So, I started over. Completely.

Fine with me. I want a jacket that lives up to its design.

Two hours into my new start, I looked back again and found another, YES another, dropped stitch! More work: Unravel again. Try threading stitches back onto my needle. No luck. Unravel some more. Try re-threading. Yes, got it. . .finally!

All the while I was thinking about persistence. My mistakes were unfortunate, but I didn't mind starting over to get it right. I just kept thinking about the end result, and how lovely the finished jacket would be.

I wish I could see my life this way.

Please pray that I will not hang my head in shame over finances.

I have probably over-exaggerated a sense that others are judging me. There are only a few who have suggested that Rich and I have chosen an "easy" way out, and that we're unwilling to work hard to remedy our problems. I wish I could defend myself, show them the numbers, the range of options we've considered, and prayed about. . . and how we've arrived at where we are today.

But I can't.

And so somehow I need to make peace with the fact that God knows, and that his judgment is perfect and loving.

Psalm 34: 4-6, 18

I sought the Lord, and he answered me; he delivered me from all my fears. Those who look to him are radiant; their faces are never covered with shame. This poor [wo]man called, and the Lord heard her, he saved her out of all her troubles. The angel of the Lord encamps around those who fear him, and he delivers them. . . . The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears them; he delivers them from all their troubles. The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit."

My good friend Margie, on her blog, shares the deeply difficult and Christ-infused journey of living with a husband who has been diagnosed with terminal cancer. Recently, Margie posted an entry about reading the biblical "Noah" story to her daughter:

I read the story of Noah to the kids this week. The Lord opened that scripture to my heart and mind in a way I had never known it before. I can't describe it fully, I just know it fed me. One thing I took away was imagining what that time in the ark must have been like. Noah had spent over one hundred years and probably his life's savings building the thing.

And then once they got in, there was a long wait before anything happened. I thought of John and me sealed up in our "ark" of marriage and waiting for the journey that God has prepared for us to begin. And then it begins with a bang. Imagine how terrifying it must have been to hear the storm and feel the unleashed waters of the deep lifting and tossing the ark in a tempest. We, too, are in a tempest. We are warm (except for the ice on the door) and dry, our basic needs are met, but we are, nonetheless, in a tempest.

But God remembered Noah and all the wild animals and the livestock that were with him in the ark, and he sent a wind over the earth, and the waters receded. (Genesis 8:1) God knows we are huddled together in the ark waiting out the storm. He is in complete control and we are waiting for him to send a wind so that the waters will recede.

I have imagined the details of Noah's journey in a similiar way, and I can relate to Margie's description of being fed somehow. Over the last six years, the story has provided profound sustenance during stormy days. In light of Margie's entry, and thoughts about storms, I find it interesting that today I received an email with the following excerpt from You Were Made For This, by Clarissa Pinkola Estes.

One of the most calming and powerful actions you can do to intervene in a stormy world is to stand up and show your soul. Soul on deck shines like gold in dark times. The light of the soul throws sparks, can send up flares, builds signal fires, causes proper matters to catch fire. To display the lantern of soul in shadowy times like these -- to be fierce and to show mercy toward others; both are acts of immense bravery and greatest necessity. Struggling souls catch light from other souls who are fully lit and willing to show it. If you would help to calm the tumult, this is one of the strongest things you can do.

I love that image of soul on deck. It calls to me somehow. Perhaps I will adopt it as a motto for moving into midlife:

Soul on deck: a lantern fully lit. May I burn. . . brave, fierce and merciful!


To share in Margie and John's journey, check out their blogs: www.margiefawcett.blogspot.com www.johnfawcett.blogspot.com It blesses me to know that people world-wide are praying for them!

Ryker has been sick all week with the flu, and I've been trying to survive TWO boys at home with "nothing to do." All the extra tube-time, rough-housing, and testosterone-revving Playstation games have pushed me to the edge. And so when Ryker invited me to a quiet, sit-down game of Monopoly the other day, I was thrilled!

Monopoly is Ryker's favorite. Whenever we play, we create a "fast-forward" version, where properties are dealt out like cards. Only a few properties are set aside for actual purchase. And then we negotiate between the two of us for some win-win monopolies. "I'll give you Park Place if I can have your Railroads" kind of thing. Starting with an excess of cash also gives the game a kick start.

Ryker has a knack for acquiring premiere properties fast, and building hotels even faster. He whoops my butt, even when I'm not "letting" him. When we pulled the board out yesterday, it wasn't long before I owed him big money. Of course, more than I had. For awhile, he celebrated his mountains of cash, jumping up like a football fan every time I landed on his big, money-sucking, red-rising monopolies.

But then suddenly, after much whooping and hollering, Ryker's whole demeanor changed. His body slumped down into his seat. "Here," he said, handing me a $500 bill.

Even with upbeat assurance from me that I was having a blast, and that this was simply the "name of the game," Ryker seemed moved with compassion. Concern rippled through his body like a wave (literally) whenever I owed him money.

It seemed that he couldn't stand to see me selling houses, or mortgaging properties to come up with a balance due. He'd shiver with emotion, grab another $500 bill (from his stacks of thousands), and hand it over to me as if trying to ward off that awful feeling of seeing his mom in such a vulnerable position. (Sad, because I guess this suggests he's more in touch with our financial reality than I want him to be.)

I would laugh and say, "You have a good heart, Ryker, but I don't need your money. Really! It's okay to win!" The more I resisted, the more he insisted. He'd let me out of jail free. He'd overlook my obligation to pay taxes. He'd even ask me to "roll again" when the dice didn't show doubles. I'd laugh some more and think, "Maybe mercy is one of his spiritual gifts???"

Today, while Sean napped, we gave Monopoly another whirl. This time, though, Ryker built his properties a little TOO fast. Soon, he was low on cash, and the person he "owed" was ME. I tried to help him sell hotels and mortgage properties where he could--practicing his math skills while we were at it. And all the while I was sitting on a stack of money, thinking, "He always wins. Don't create a sense of entitlement by cushioning this loss. It's good for him to learn that one doesn't always win in games or at life."

Obviously, Ryker didn't acquire the gift of mercy from me.

It took several rounds of play before my heart softened. "Ryker, I'd like to help you rebuild your properties on this side of the board," I said, forking over a large stack of money and grabbing a handful of recently discarded hotels.

"Why are you helping me, Mom?" he asked, truly unaware of the obvious answer.

"Because you helped me, Ryker. You showed me mercy so many times yesterday. Now, I'm showing mercy to you."

And then I thought to myself, How is it that a game is never "just a game?"

"He has showed you, O man, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love MERCY, and to walk humbly with your God." Micah 6:8