Since I am not able to get on the boards as much these days, I will be posting updates here for the time being...

We are now 8 minutes into 2009, and I find myself aching to express what this past year has meant to me, but unable to find adequate words.  As I write this, the greatest blessing of 2008...indeed, of my life...is curled up sleeping, and I am reminded that whatever 2008 brought me, he was worth every bit of it. 

I remember New Year's Eve last year.  I was so aching for 2008 to bring great changes. I thought those changes would come if I moved away...far away.  I remember sharing with my family that I wanted to move to Portland, Oregon and be part of "Imago Dei" there. I remember telling them that, before 2008 drew to a close, I would be gone.  Of course, my desire to move was not so much about the move as it was about a desire for change. 2007 had been brutal to me, and much of that carried into the early days of 2008. I needed to start over, somehow.

I won't recap my entire story. Most of you know how 2008 played out for me.  It was a rough year, to be sure, but also the year that gave me the greatest rewards.  My faith was challenged, and changed. I discovered a deep well of personal strength that I never realized I had, and it helped me overcome tremendous obstacles.  I learned about love...what it is, and what it isn't. I learned the value of community, and the meaning of true friendship that stays with you regardless of the storms it may weather.  Painfully, I learned who my friends are, and which of those I thought of as friends are really just some nice people I happen to know.  I learned about God's endless resources and His miraculous provision for my every need. I learned about making the hard choices, and sticking with them even though they are frightening.

As 2008 drew to a close, I was given one final gift. My son came into the world on December 27, a way of saying that, no matter what else may have happened, God's plan truly is to prosper us and not to harm us, to give us hope and a future. My son is a symbol of that hopeful future.  He is the greatest joy I have ever known, and is indeed the greatest blessing of my life. My son does not fear the future.  He trusts me to provide for him and protect him, and never doubts that I will. He trusts me to hear him when he calls.  Such simple lessons. My son has already taught me much. 

I never imagine this kind of love.  The love I have for this child is like nothing I have ever known before, and I feel it so intensely sometimes that I can hardly contain it.  He is a miracle. He is a blessing.  He is an answer to prayer, God's gift to me.  This gift was the perfect way to wrap up a year that has been wrought with trials, heartaches, broken dreams, and yet...in the midst of it...unspeakable joy.  For this reason, 2008 was the best year I've yet seen, and it gives me great hope for 2009.

 I have been thinking a lot about forgiveness in the last few weeks.  In particular, I’ve been thinking about how hard it is to do.  To forgive goes entirely against the grain of our most basic elements of human nature.  We want vengeance. We want retribution.  We want the person or people who have hurt us to know that they hurt us, and to feel a measure of our pain.  We don’t want to forgive. We want “justice”. 

 Yet, forgiveness is also a crucial element to our own health and well-being.  When I choose not to forgive, I cease to grow and thrive.  I cease to be an open recipient of God’s grace, and I stop being a vessel He can use for His purposes.  An inability or unwillingness to forgive is in all ways paralyzing to my own existence.

 As I get closer to the day I will give birth to my son, I find myself wrestling with memories of his father.  I remember the cruel words spoken to me.  I remember being referred to as an “f---ing invalid”. I remember the constant comparisons to his ex-girlfriends and his ex-wife, and how I never measured up favorably.  I remember when he told me that he sees marriage as a “legal and binding contract” and that he now had rights to every aspect of my life, and my privacy and identity as an individual was no longer valid. I remember that I was no longer in any way my own person, and I was reminded of that every day, in a multitude of ways.  I remember the yelling. I remember the anger. I remember being treated terribly by a man who would, in literally the next breath, tell me he loved me. I remember being treated as though I was the one with the problem if I saw anything wrong with any of this.

 When these thoughts come to mind, my immediate reaction is to desire some sort of vengeance.  I want him to hurt, because he hurt me. I want him to experience something that will let him know that nothing he did to me was in any way right, and will expose him for what he is in the eyes of those who are seeing him as a victim.  I want…anything but to forgive.

 I guess that, when thinking of things like this, it feels like “forgiveness” is a way of saying, “I’m letting you off the hook.”   It is a way of letting the person who so deeply hurt me, get away with hurting me. 

 I read “The Shack” this past summer, and it was very difficult to read.  God’s love for everyone, His grace extended toward everyone, His forgiveness of everyone, and His desire to redeem everyone are overarching themes throughout the book. As I read it, I remember thinking….but what about HIM??? Is God saying, then, that what he did to me is okay? Is He saying I have no right to feel hurt or angry or to want some sort of retribution for what happened? Is He saying that my ex’s façade of being an innocent victim of horrible circumstances is acceptable? Is He saying…well, what is He saying?

 Of course, “The Shack” is a work of fiction, but it does present some very big, very real questions regarding what we are to do with deep wounds we have suffered at the hands of another individual.  As I read the book, I can’t say there was one bit of it that went down easily for me.  Yet, it did illuminate some aspects of forgiveness that have become helpful to me.  That is not to say I don’t struggle with it anymore, but it is easier.

 First, I understand…or, I’m coming to understand…that forgiving someone does not mean that what they did to me was right, or that I’m letting them off the hook for doing it. It means that I am not going to hold their feet to the fire anymore.  It means that I am not going to seek retribution. I am not going to attempt to collect from them whatever debt I may believe they owe to me. 

 As I struggle with forgiving my ex, I can hear God saying, “Give him to Me.”  What God does with him beyond that point is not my concern.  The things in my ex’s heart that lead him to do what he did to me, and others, are far too big for me to tackle.  There is truly nothing I could ever do that would bring to him the ability to understand what he did to me, or to care. Withholding forgiveness from him would do nothing but perpetuate my own unhappiness regarding this situation.

 I also understand that forgiveness does not happen in one fell swoop.  I have known this for awhile, but it is really hitting home now.  It is beyond my ability to look at the entire relationship and say that I forgive my ex for everything he ever said or did that left these lasting wounds. What I can do, though, is forgive little by little, with every memory that comes to mind.  When painful memories surface…which they do more and more lately…I repeat, “I forgive you” until the thirst for retribution passes for the moment.  That urge will come back, with another painful memory, and I will repeat the process again.

 I am not sure that absolute forgiveness ever happens.  At this point, I cannot imagine that the day will come when I will be able to think of my ex without feeling any desire at all for some kind of retribution.  I have made the choice not to vilify my ex in my son’s eyes.  As he gets older, he will probably have questions about his father, and he may even someday want to establish some kind of relationship with him. Should that day come, I know that my son will see his father for who he is, and that there are conclusions about his father that he will eventually need to come to on his own. 

Still, even with the commitment to remain as positive, or at least as neutral, as possible in terms of how I discuss my son’s father with him, it is hard to imagine that I may someday be able to discuss him with some empathy and compassion, rather than feelings of contempt.  It is hard to believe that, someday, uttering “I forgive you” will not simply be words I am saying in hopes of giving them meaning, but they will be words of truth.

I wish it was an easier process, though.

"after the storm comes the calm; after crisis sometimes it is as if we've been reborn...the birth of your son will be another BIG change...As you hold him in your womb, perhaps you are realizing how you've been held in God's womb, and as you hold and care for your vulnerable little one, Jesus' words about only being able to enter the Kingdom as a very small child or infant, will have a newer and richer meaning. As you hold him, I pray your knowledge and experience of being held also grows!"

-From Brother Dan, in response to "Having a Baby Changes Everything"

"As you hold him in your womb, perhaps you are realizing how you've been held in God's womb..." 

Those words have stayed with me in the last few days since I first read them. As I've considered the events of the last few months, and looked over the many things that have happened that have far exceeded my hopes, I can say that I have known the warmth, shelter, and protection of being in "God's womb".  I can say truly that, as with the child growing in my womb, nothing has come into my life that is not directly from God.  Nothing that was devised to harm me or my son in any way has come to fruition, and my son and I have been abundantly blessed.

As I look back at the last few months, I can see that it has indeed been as much a time of growth for me as it has been for Jaden.  Like Jaden, my faith was definitely in existence, but in a somewhat embryonic stage when I first left my husband and faced the horizon of the unknown.  With time, nurturing,  and experience, my faith has grown stronger and more viable, just as my son has. 

I remember making a "vision board" a month or so after I left my husband. On this board, I glued a couple of prayers that meant something to me, as well as images that symbolized the life I wanted for my son and me.  There were two things that were important to me at the time, and I put them on the board and trusted that if they were meant to be, then they would be.

One, I wanted Jaden and I to have a place of our own.  I knew we had a haven with my family, but it was important to me that we have a place that is ours, where we could start our own life together.  Part of that was pride...I did not want, at the age of 33, to be living with my parents again. Part of that, though, was also the simple fact that it was important to me. That alone was enough.

I became connected with a few resources in the area, and through them, I learned about the apartment I am now living in.  It's a nice apartment, very cozy, perfect for the two of us. It is one I can afford even on my limited budget, and it is one that came to me in the most wonderful of ways. When the security deposit and rent were presenting an initial hurdle, my landlord told me that she believed I "needed to be here", though she couldn't say why.  She was more than willing to work with me on the financial issues, and knowing that I had left an abusive marriage and now had a restraining order on my husband did not scare her off.  We made arrangements, I signed the lease...and money came through that allowed me to pay both the first month's rent and the security deposit in one fell swoop.

As my pregnancy progressed, it became more and more important to me that my son and I were safe from my now estranged husband.  I had heard, and witnessed, many horror stories about abusers who just do not go away, and they live to make the lives of their exes, and the children, difficult.  The abuse continues long after the relationship is over.  I feared this.  I dreaded it. I feared for my safety. I feared for my son's safety, and for the future he would have if his father were part of his life.  Day in and day out, I prayed...pleaded...for God's continual protection and intervention on our behalf, and that the day would come when we would not have to deal with my ex at all.

I am happy to say, we have once again been well insulated against the hardship that could have so easily been ours.  All threats made against me by my ex came to nothing.  He is not part of our lives in any capacity, and I am saying in faith that he never will be.  My son has a Father in heaven, and He has been our advocate and defender throughout everything that has happened.  Things have transpired in the last six months that I never would have imagined, because I had been told they were next to impossible.  Yet, I have seen these things happen...things that not only kept danger at arm's length, but removed it entirely...and I can attest to God's sustaining and miraculous grace.

I can tell you, we have lacked for nothing in these months.  Certainly, there have been some obstacles, but none that have been insurmountable. I have been given everything I need to nurture the life growing inside of me, spiritually and physically. From the beginning, my son has thrived, despite my health issues of the last year, and the stress that existed early in my pregnancy. I have had the joy of being immersed in a wonderful community of believers and friends.  I have learned to pray for my son, preparing the way for his entry into this world and laying the foundation for his spiritual health. 

Another item on my vision board was a car.  When I put the picture up there, I had no idea just how badly I would come to need it. A couple of weeks ago, upon taking my car into the shop for an inspection to explain a "weird grinding noise", I learned that my car was essentially a death trap waiting to be sprung.  The cost of repairs far exceeded what I could afford, so the car was parked, and I've been driving my mom's car.  I needed a vehicle of my own, though. I shared this need with some friends at my home fellowship group, and just waited to see what would happen.

Once again, God came through in ways I would not have foreseen. My friend and pastor, Tim, called me today and told me he had found a car for me.  A car was being provided for me, and the only cost I needed to be concerned with was the cost of plates and insurance. Amazing! I spent the better part of the afternoon in awe of how God had once again provided for my son and me, humbled by His grace. 

As I consider the idea of being kept safe and secure in God's womb, I can say with certainty that I do feel a sense of being insulated, nourished, protected, and sheltered, all the while given everything I need to grow stronger and become the woman He made me to be.  I will be giving birth to my son very soon, and I believe God is birthing something in me as well.  These last few months, difficult as they have been, have also been months of exquisite joy as I've been bathed in God's grace and love.  I wouldn't trade these times for anything.  I needed to grow and prepare for my son, as much as he needed to grow and be prepared for this world. We are both all the better for the time spent in the womb.

I recently received a video through Facebook which featured the legendary story of the USC professor who was a dedicated atheist and used his position as a professor to subject his students to his teachings.  This professor taught a class that was a requirement for nearly every student, and allegedly took advantage of that fact in order to systematically pick apart belief about God, and attempt to prove to his students that God could not possibly exist. At the end of the semester, the professor would ask if there was anyone in the room who still believed in God.  If they did, they were supposed to stand up, at which point, the professor would shout, "You FOOL!!", and proceed to explain that if God existed, He could prove His existence by stopping a piece of chalk from hitting the ground and shattering to pieces. The professor would then drop a piece of chalk, it would be shattered, and he would say that he had just disproven God's existence, because God would not do something so simple as stop the chalk from falling and shattering.

This challenge was presented to every class for twenty years, and no one ever stood and professed a belief in God at the end of the semester, for fear of what the professor would do to humiliate them...until one fateful day, when a student did finally stand up.  As one would expect, the professor called him a fool, did the chalk routine, the chalk did not break, and the faith of the young student was strongly validated.

The person who sent this to me was clearly pleased with the results of the student's bravery, and believed it validated our Christian faith.  There was only one problem.  It never happened.  A quick check of Snopes revealed the history of this legend, and that there has never been any evidence that this incident, or many other legends like it, ever occurred. (http://www.snopes.com/religion/chalk.asp)

Why am I writing about this? Well, it's simple.  It has been very bothersome to me for quite some time that many Christians will cling to the legend and fantasy presented by fables such as this as a means to validate our faith.  Not only do we collectively choose to believe them, despite all logic to the contrary, but we pass them around the internet and present them as fact.  How foolish we must look to people who are able to read such a legend, see it has all the earmarks of being fictional, and yet here we are, saying that these fictional stories are perhaps the greatest validation of our faith that we can find.

Not long ago, I also received another forward about the "new" dollar coin that our government was issuing, which would not feature "In God We Trust" anywhere on the coin.  This particular forward intimated that this was our government's way of finally getting God out of our country, and we should not stand for it! Not only were we not to accept the coins, but if we did receive one, we were not to spend it. 

Once again, this was not true. Not only did the coin feature, "In God We Trust", written on the edge of the coin rather than its face, but this "new" coin had been in circulation for quite some time by the time I received the email. Snopes cleared up this rumor, as well. http://www.snopes.com/politics/religion/dollarcoin.asp

What is interesting to me is that the rumor itself will spread like wildfire across the internet. Yet, on the many occasions in which I have emailed the originator of the "FW:", and shared with him or her that the story they are sending is not true, even providing links to the information that disproves it, it never gets beyond their inbox.  This amazes me, particularly for a group of people who believe that knowing the truth sets you free.

What I am getting at is this...As Christians, we need to be a whole lot smarter about how we are presenting ourselves. I am sometimes amazed at the collective Christian chagrin over being so marginalized in the public eye, being perceived as lemmings who are uneducated and cannot think for themselves. Yet, we collectively circulate bogus stories to bolster our faith and our political points of view, without bothering to check the facts or even remotely consider that maybe....just maybe....the fantastical story that some well-meaning person sent to us is not true, and we should look into its source.

I suppose the belief in urban legends is not exclusive to Christians.  In fact, I know its not. However, when we are relying on legend rather than fact and experience to validate our faith to the world, I believe it makes us look foolish.  Faith is very much an experiential thing, and it is going to be different for everyone. But is our faith really so shaky, or our shame in that faith really so great, that we need to cling to the ubiquitous "FW:(insert grandiose story about God here)" in order to validate it?