Prayers of the suffering

Yeah, it's been a while since we wrote last time, but come on - it was December!

We've been in the midst of a great deal of sorrow and tragedy lately for some reason. Matt said the other day "I feel like God is trying to get our attention." The journey feels heavy and sad right now. We just keep walking and trust that Jesus knows what we can handle - although it's hard not to think he might be wrong on this one.

I got an e-mail from my always insightful brother Matt the other day that included two prayers written by 19th century Christian philosopher and writer Soren Kierkegaard. They have been an encouragement to me, so I wanted to share them with you:

WE BELONG TO YOU
O God, when at times our strength is taken from us, when sorrow overcomes us like a kind of fog in which our vision is plunged as into a dark night; when our hearts do tremble with our loss: then teach us and strengthen the conviction in our hearts that in death, no less than in life, we belong to You.

YOU ARE NEAR
We are grateful that You are present everywhere, O God. You are near should anyone call upon You from a bed of sickness, or cry out in great need upon the sea. All are drawn to seek You, the Friend of the thankful, the Consolation of the weak, the Refuge of the anxious, the Confidante of the suffering as You count their tears, the Comfort of the dying. We are grateful that You give Your gifts to everyone who needs them.

I swear that one of these days we'll get back to posting about our goofiness around here. Stick with us!

Love, Natalie

Quiet

It is a beautiful rainy morning here in Arizona. My roses are blooming and "Bennett's Garden" is doing well. I'm not having a panic attack or feeling particularly down. The kids are both at school. There's a slight lull in my work (although I do have a couple of calls to make but I'm ignoring them for now). It's quiet.

I've learned to appreciate quiet, maybe because it's so rare in our busy household. So I'm just sitting here listening to Bella's gentle breathing. The breathy buzz of the computer. The occasional drip of the toilet in the hall bathroom. My own fingers tapping on the keyboard. And nothing else.

I know the noise is coming, but this moment is good and I savor it like I would biting into a chocolate brownie or being in the presence of a Renoir or reading a poem by William Stafford. Or even a long hug from one of those noisy boys.

Obedience

"But I have found that whenever I have surrendered in obedience, impossible things have become simple.... May he who has helped me with even more difficult things than this one help me now. Into his mercy I deliver my trust."

- St. Teresa of Avila from The Interior Castle

I've just started reading this book and it is blowing me away already. It's "heady" as Matt would say - St. Teresa was a 16th century nun and mystic - her wisdom and obvious intimacy with God is apparent in each paragraph, almost each sentence. I'll keep you updated.

Much love,
Natalie

Hope

Well, considering that we've been delinquent for fully two months, I'm surprised you're here. But I'm glad. It has been a dark couple of months for me personally, struggling with major depressive disorder, panic attacks, and associated medication issues. It may surprise you to know that I've actually struggled with it for more than two years, but it's not one of those things you talk about much, and I've discovered an incredible ability to put on a smile when I have to. These last months have been particularly dark, though.

Anyway, there's the reality. But God has been here with me, even when I haven't been able to talk to him. There's no end to the story wrapped in a nice shiny bow, except for taking steps day by day and looking for God's faithfulness in the midst of it all. To close, I'll share something I wrote recently that reflects pretty accurately my state of mind.

Thanks for finding us again.
Natalie



Hope

There are parts of the journey
so dark that you wish life was
a movie and you could cut
to the scene three years later
where you’re happier and
wiser for all you’ve been through
and the next tragedy has yet to come.

But life isn’t a movie, although
I keep looking for the musical
montage where I am made over
from housewife to supermodel
within the span of a three minute song.

And I’m waiting for the climactic
moment when all life’s troubles
disappear as a long-lost uncle
leaves us a small fortune and a
magical potion allows my husband
to read my mind and no one I
know gets a cold or strep throat,
much less autism or cancer.

But life isn’t a movie. The darkness
is real, along with bills and silence
and neurological disorders. Besides,
my long-lost uncle is a retired barber.

There are parts of the journey
so dark that we finally look past
the futility of wishes and scan the
horizon for that pinpoint of light
in the vast darkness and find Jesus in
both. Then we hope, hold on and walk.

And when the house lights finally come
up, we see that God’s purpose is not
happiness or all the answers but our
obedience despite not having a script.

Where have we been?

Oh my gosh! Somehow I checked and it's been about two weeks since we last posted here. I have no idea how that happened ... we've been distracted by life's challenges lately, I think. Anyway, I don't feel much like writing, but I did want to share some recent photos of our beautiful boys (and just a few of their beautiful cousins!) from our midwest trip.

A little hint: you can click on each photo to view it much bigger in your browser, if you feel like it. Love to all!