Virago

One of my screen savers is a succession of floating vocabulary words. Lovely letter combinations in fading shades of blue and white cascade across the screen, one stopping now and again to be joined by its dictionary definition. Who doesn’t need to expand their vocabulary, right?

One particular morning the defined word resting in view when I sat down was “Virago.” It is defined as follows:

vi·ra·go

vəˈrägō,-ˈrā-/

noun

noun: virago; plural noun: viragoes; plural noun: viragos

1. a domineering, violent, or bad-tempered woman.

   synonyms:

   harridan, shrew, dragon, termagant, vixen; More

   • archaic

     a woman of masculine strength or spirit; a female warrior.

Origin

Old English (used only as the name given by Adam to Eve, following the Vulgate), from Latin, ‘heroic woman, female warrior,’ from vir ‘man.’ 

The initial definition saddened me. Do you ever feel that way, like a “domineering, violent, or bad-tempered woman”? I do - more often in my own mind than out, I hope. But in or out, the masked spirit is still ugly. 

But it was the deeper definition that struck a cord. In its origin, THIS was the word given to Eve BY Adam Vir ‘man’ - originally it meant a heroic woman, a female warrior. My English version of the Bible says he named her this because she would be the mother of all living. It takes a hero, a woman warrior to mother all of humanity - ha even ONE of humanity. 

Can you imagine this definition? Can you embrace it? Envisioning us at the beginning of beautiful creation, before we had fallen to the first of many missteps in which we would trust our own minds over the heart of God?

And is it that action, the taking of matters into our own minds, into our own hands, that transforms us from “heroic, woman warrior” to the harpy creature defined as “domineering, violent and bad-tempered”?

My prayer is that as I daily submit my heart and mind back to the One who designed it, like Gomer choosing finally and forever to stay faithful to Hosea, my heart and countenance will shed their warts and rantings, letting them fade into the lovely, yet fierce image of a woman at the dawn of creation. The crown jewel of all God had made. 

Who knew vocabulary could lead to spiritual transformation?!

Teaching me . . .

She’s in there. Her soul. If you can catch her ever-shifting focus and hold it just long enough, you can slip behind the veil and draw her out.

There’s that smile! There’s my girl! But, boy, she makes me work for it. She’s got places to go . . . if she could just get those appendages to obey. She’s got people to see! Well, not so much because she just wants to get to those places and touch those things and see more, do more, grab more, drool on MORE!

I enjoy her every minute, but the thing that makes my heart thump is that SMILE. Her eyes light up, and I get a peek into the girl I’ll spend the rest of my life getting to know - a little piece of her daddy - a little piece of me - everything she was made to be.

And as I chase her darting eyes, push past those cheeks, lift that chin, make ridiculous noises, I’m saying, “Hey! Hey! I’m here. Check me out! I want to know you. Let’s be friends (aside from the whole parenting thing ;)! Let’s do life!"

It’s not so different with you and me, is it? I see so many women driving - driven - sullen-browed and focused, their eyes darting across faces and souls in order to GET THE NEXT THING DONE (pant, pant, heave, sigh, huff). People to compete with, places to go, pinterest projects to. . . ogle. (Maybe just me - hee hee)

Am I missing the living for the life? Like the forest for the trees...

Because I’ll bet if I could just push past your agenda and follow your frantic, darting gaze until we lock eyes (creeped out as you'd probably be) I might just see into your soul. And you might recognize mine. And it might feel good to be known, to be friends, to do life.

Only two months old and she already teaches me. Every day.

Psalm 133:1 How good and pleasant it is    when God’s people live together in unity!

Between Faith and Fear

Tears gushed, relentlessly, carving red, saline paths down my cheeks, splashing salt across my tongue and smudged wet and sticky across the back of my hands as I flailed to wipe them away. "Idiot! You're in a supermarket parking lot! Turn it off!"

I was waiting for my mom. They had come into town after Christmas to celebrate the holidays. She was buying the necessary items to fondue at my sister's house that evening. It was also the week we had found out we would be having a baby girl and that she had genetic complications which could mean as little as a few extra digits or as much as a non-viable trisomy - ending her life moments or days after she left the womb.

I had traversed all the stages of grief in a short time. The last couple days had been spent threatening God - that if He were to take my baby from me I would walk away from ministry, from His call. I had informed Him that I had endured enough for ministry, and this would be the last straw.

But as I sat in the car that afternoon, the song "Oceans" by Hillsong United came over the radio. It was the line, "I am Yours, and You are mine," that opened the floodgates. So many times over the years as I have faced trials or fears He has whispered, "You are mine." And in that moment His heart said, "Wouldn't I be enough? Even if she were taken from you, am I not enough? Are you mine?" And I broke under the truth that He would still be my God - even if I had to go through the worst pain I could imagine. I would still serve Him and He would be ENOUGH. Big enough. Strong enough. Present enough. Patient enough. Loving enough. Healing Enough. Lord enough to take me through. "I am Yours. You are mine." And so there, in that supermarket parking lot, waiting for my mother, I surrendered my baby girl to the will of my loving, sovereign Abba Father.

Little did I know that just months later my heart would walk a similar path, this time with my mother.  Stage 3 mesothelioma. Rare - incurable. Months they gave her at first, but the specialists knew more and were performing cutting-edge surgeries. They could offer her years. YHWH has opened doors and gone before us. He has given us hope and assured us of His hand. And yet, the flames of fear lick the bottom of my heart, searing my psyche. Ten hours of surgery is a long time for any healthy person. Tomorrow will feel like forever. But today I heard it again - the song. "I will call upon Your Name, and keep my eyes above the waves. When oceans rise my soul will rest in Your embrace. I am Yours and You are mine."

This time the words that stood out were, "You've never failed, and You won't start now."

Tonight thunder shook the world outside my tiny window and lightning traced lines across the sky so bright I wondered if one might not enter the room and leave an angel standing at the foot of my bed. I felt the heart of God reminding me of what He has done, who He is and whose I am. So, holding my healthy baby girl in my arms, I surrendered my Mommy to the hands of my Savior.

For, just as I, she is His. He has never failed. He has never abandoned. He has never betrayed. And He is enough. Holy. Worthy. The final step in the dance between faith and fear is surrender. We take it many times in this life - but the first breath after that seeming defeat is sweet, sweet peace. And He is still on His throne.

By the Seconds

"Mommy! I can't tell time by the seconds because they keep moving on!" Dezdin uttered in frustration toward his watch.

Dusty and I shared a knowing look over the dinner table at the profundity of his statement - no doubt lost on his five-year-old perspective.

Seconds ticking by. Monumental moments passing.

Six: The number of months we waited to meet our little girl - not knowing fully what that would mean.

Three: The number of days after my mom was supposed to be here for Taelyn's arrival that we found out she had rare and terminal cancer.

Twenty-six: The number of nights (sometimes LONG) we have held our little gift, praising God for how healthy she is.

Eight to Ten: The number of years they now say Mom could live if her surgery goes well.

When life, and eternal life are laid on the scales and the line, one starts to count time differently. It becomes less about accolades, accomplishments and entertainment. EVERYTHING becomes about moments when you know not what the next one holds or how many remain.

Counting time by seconds. By breaths. By glances and meaning. Then releasing each one to the promise of forever and cherishing the fact that you were able to hold it in your hand - in your heart - for any time at all.

Infinite: The depth and height, length and width of God's love for YOU - for me - for each of us.

Eternal: The moments we will have to rejoice in His presence if we will receive the gift of His grace through Jesus, by the Spirit.

Life is a precious vapor and a dim reflection of what we hope for. May it be that we, by our hearts though not our watches :), begin to "tell time by the seconds."

A Tribute to my Mom

Happy Mother’s Day Mom!

Been thinking about you so much in preparing for this little girl. I think about how young you were when you lost your mom - physically. How much younger you were when you lost her, as a mother, to her illness.

It makes each day we have had and will have that much more precious. I remember the times in helping us conquer new milestones (weddings, births) when you would humbly say, “I’m not sure how to handle this. I didn’t really have a mom.” She was sick so much of your life. You took your care of her and turned it into a career of compassion.

She wasn’t able to experience so many things with you. You took that and turned it into a life of absolute involvement in your kids’ and grandkids’ lives.

You raised 4 girls. We’ve all raised boys. And now this little anomaly. . . I think you’re going to need to write me a manual. :)

Thanks for loving my dad and honoring a vow you made for 49 years now. Thank you for holding up the standard of Truth and doing ministry even when it hurt. Thank you for loving the unlovely and teaching us to have compassion for those who go unseen. Thank you for working the background when few others would. Thank you for doing right even when there was no glory, no credit, little hope.

God has pulled so much out of your heart because you surrendered it to Him. You have fought demons and insecurities then promptly handed us the tools to take the battle farther.

It’s a truth we have always seen, but today I need the rest of the world to know. Your children rise and call you blessed. Your husband also, and he praises you. (Proverbs 31:28) Glory to God for the amazing mother you are. I love you. 

Tammi Lynn

Anticipating Arrival

She is supposed to be here soon.

It was not our plan. I had finally told God I was content with my 3 (even though something in my spirit had always felt like we would have 4).

It was not our timing. I had hoped to be finished having kiddos a few years ago - DEFINITELY before 35.

It has not been our way. From the shocking moment when they revealed she would be a little girl (What? We don't MAKE baby girls!) to the quieting realization moments later that not all was "normal" on the screen we have fallen more and more on unanswered questions and the faith that sustains just beneath.

The beautiful reality surrounding this little girl, though, is that all along she HAS been and WILL be . . . HIS.

The reality that he put #4 in my heart so many years ago... The truth that we would not have pursued having another... The absolute discomfort of not knowing, yet having no option but to look into His eyes and focus on His voice, "Do not fear."

I have never been so overcome with anticipation for the unknown. Lost. Excited. Anxious. Waiting. Resting. Wrestling.

We still have little idea what to expect. Genetic tests would not have changed our course and weren't a real financial option. AND we didn't have peace to pursue them. All I know certainly is that she is coming, and she is HIS.

Her room is being made ready. She is on our tongues at every other conversation - already a part of the family and our hearts. And yet she remains ... with us and not simultaneously.

For the first time I feel a practical understanding for how we are to watch and prepare for the return of Christ while still LIVING in this world. Being in but not of - "One foot in heaven," a friend has said.

Of course she is no messiah - no savior. And yet, there is something - a promise - a purpose - more we will see once she is here.

Thank you to those who have been praying. We ask continued prayer for her, God's will concerning her and for peace. As we wait in anticipation . . .

The "No Complaints" Challenge (For Women Only)

Here it comes! February. A month of hearts and chocolate, flowers, the color red and, for many of us, disappointment. If you’re single, this month can make you feel flawed, broken or abandoned. If you’re in a relationship, you may face the sting of unmet expectations as the culture around you pumps harder the “need” for the high they insist should come from “romance.” 

This year, spurred on by the story of my good friend Laura in a book she has written, I feel led to pursue the challenge of contentment. A.K.A. the “No Complaints” challenge. How many times a day do we notice, point out or pout about what is wrong with the picture of our lives - even if that’s in the mirror?

What if the greatest Valentine we could give to a spouse, our kids, friends, Savior and even OURSELVES is to stop complaining and truly seek to be content?

Here is how it works:

1. I’m going to choose a bracelet, or maybe a ring.
2. Every time I allow something negative or critical to come out of my mouth, I slip that ring or bracelet off and move it to the other hand.
3. I’m even bringing my kiddos in on the challenge because sometimes what I think is constructive or factual is actually critical. They can help me see that. (The husband? Maybe asking him to ride along will be his Valentine. I’m a little more sensitive to his scrutiny. Baby steps people. Baby steps!)
4. My hope is that every time I execute that switch I will become more aware of my thought patterns and as I look at and touch that pretty, little ornament, I will choose to pursue the beauty of contentment and encouragement.

Now, I still plan on being honest! It’s ok to say, “Today has been rough,” or “I’m really hurting.” But those are vulnerable statements and a far cry from, “This house is always a mess,” or “No one listens to me,” etc. 

Think of a day in which every word from your mouth was a blessing and not a curse (Deut. 30:19-20). Can you imagine the outcome? Sweeter than candy! More fragrant than any rose!  So, join me if you’d like love to outlive February.

Here’s the link to our facebook group. (Click anywhere on that last sentence.) Find the page, then private message me if you’d like to join.

"I know how to live on almost nothing or with everything. I have learned the secret of living in every situation, whether it is with a full stomach or empty, with plenty or little. For I can do everything through Christ, who gives me strength" (Philippians 4:12-13).