LIVING ON THE FRONT LINES

This year was the most unusual Remembrance Day I have ever witnessed. It was, to my recollection, the first time our family did not attend an official Remembrance Day ceremony together. Instead, I took our youngest child to church, were we observed the traditional moment of silence; the remainder of the family each observed the day independently.

I spent some time today thinking about how to present the subject of war to my 7-yr-old. He knows there were soldiers who died, but he has yet to see any videos or historical literature of the subject. Although I could easily turn on the TV and choose an appropriate show to share with him, I wondered if it would just seem like a movie to him. That's not how wars are fought today; it looks like a movie scene to our youngest generation.

So what do you say when your child asks if they will ever have to go to war? I have to be honest - my mind reels at the thought of my children ever being near an actual war zone. Yet, more importantly, we fight a war every day which we rarely talk about. It is a battle for our souls, our minds, our joy, and all things good and precious; we live on the front lines of a spiritual warfare every. single. day.

In any war, the first thing you must know is: Who is my enemy, and who is my ally? It is not so different in the war for our mind and soul. Besides Satan himself, I consider anyone an enemy who tries to sabotage my joy, my confidence, or my family. Allies are people who cheer for us, even when others would believe the worst of us. If you are unsure whether someone is for you, odds are very good they're not; true allies are vocal - not unlike parents on the sidelines of sporting events.

The next important thing to know in war is: What is my mission? I imagine in wars past the soldiers often questioned, "Why this hill?" Lives were lost claiming small pieces of land at a time; aren't we still like that today? We will risk a relationship to claim the small hill of being right. We will sacrifice our contentment for the prize of keeping up with our neighbor. Be careful which hills you choose to battle for; always consider the cost versus the reward.

If I were in a physical war, I would want to know what my weapons are. It is no different in the war for my well-being, or the war for my eternal life. Key weapons I have identified thus far are the promises of God, the power of prayer, the current of friendship, and the lantern of hope. Any one of these may get us through the day, but the combination is enough to carry us all the way to a victorious finish.

Perhaps the key question we can ask is: What am I fighting for? Our veterans fought for justice and liberty. Many wars today are about power and money. The war that is relevant to each of us, waged on our minds every day, is for eternity. There is no enemy attack where there is no prize to be gained. Rest assured that if you are feeling weary, battle-scarred and wounded, the enemy of your soul is trying to shift your focus to things of today so that you ignore all thoughts of eternity.

Show up to the front lines of your life today! Is your joy being robbed by fear, jealousy or bitterness? "Stand against the devil, and the devil will run from you." (James 4:7 NCV) Are you convinced that you don't have the strength to fight? "...And after you have done everything, to stand. Stand firm then..." Just stand. Your weapons - prayer, promises of God, friendship and hope - will serve you well if you do nothing but stand. Just show up.

Life is a battlefield, but there will be a winning side! I choose today to rebuke anything that would steal my peace. There will be days of loss and hardship, but the big picture says there's a big reward for just standing my ground. I'd love to have you standing beside me.

Please leave a comment below if I can pray for you today. None of us fight alone. That's the one beauty of a war zone.

Hugs,
Vicki

A DECADE OF DECISIONS

Today marks 12 years since my baby girl was taken from me. Twelve years of tears and tough decisions - of healing and hoping and praying and pressing pause.

The emotions of that night have never left me. I remember the shock, the fear - and the sting when I stopped at the church campgeound for prayers and comfort. I remember the buried needle on the dashboard, my mother-in-law wringing her hands, and the sound of my husband's voice. And I cry anew.

I remember little of the days that followed, yet all the rawness is fresh. Like a smoky sky, the haze of depression hung low and heavy. I remember the tears of her siblings, the feeling of helplesness, the inability to sleep, and the waves of nausea.

This memory surfaces even as I mourn a friend's failed adoption this week. This was the one - the first time in 12 years I was able to see the beauty in adoption again. This was the adoption restoring my hope that Heaven has a Master plan, and all things are redeemed.

I received very personal promises from God in prayer for this adoption. And while I have a head knowledge that His Word is sure, my shattered heart again begs the question: Why, God?! And what about Your promises?

If there is anything I have learned in the last 12 years, it is that God is close to the broken-hearted. You can't ask questions of someone if you're not speaking to them. So the more questions I have, the more time I spend talking to God. While it may not change the situation, prayer always changes me.

So I bring all my broken pieces, all my shattered hopes, and all my regrets to the Master. He is the weaver; I'm just a dreamer. And I dream of the day where mothers hold babies close to their hearts while being held close to the Heavenly Father.

I continue to live in hope.  And if you're reading this, my singing cuckoo bird, I pray that you are hearing His whispers of hope, sensing His healing hands, and know you are loved.

The Lull

Lull. The very word is soothing, isn't it? And I love its association with stillness or respite. It conjures up an image in my mind of a time of refreshing, like an oasis in the desert.

It has been slow in my workplace this week. I commented to my direct supervisor today that we are either experiencing the proverbial calm before the storm, or I have missed something really big! His words were so reassuring: "It's the calm. Enjoy the lull."

What does this look like in the office? For me, it looks like arriving before the lights have been turned on and brewing the coffee. I pull a stack of coffee filters so it's easy for people to grab one at a time, and spend some time with my Bible while my e-mails load. I invite Jesus to walk through this day with me. Slow, easy starts to days that are steady, but not driving busy.

The busy days are coming. In a matter of weeks, there will be hundreds of registrations and warranty claims demanding my attention. Phones will ring off the hook, meetings will require attendance, and my daily devotional e-mails will be buried under hundreds of messages that may appear more important. I will struggle to find my balance some days. Until then ... enjoy the lull.

Confession: I wrote the above paragraphs a week or so ago. I was going to talk about how life in general was also on pause in my world. I would have told you that my word for 2018, "Refresh," has really summed up the first two months of the year for me. Winter is a season of hibernation, but a season nonetheless; I have found myself in a season of stillness. Sometimes the most refreshing thing we can do is to rest.

Today, though, the lull is over. In speaking to God aloud a couple of weeks ago, I thanked Him for the pause. I recognized my tendency to worry so much about what's coming next that I neglect to enjoy the moment. I apologized, and praised God for the fact that no matter what's coming, I do not face it alone. Then came the storm - both physically and virtually.

We had known the snowstorm was coming. It was a rare weekend where no travel was required, so I took full advantage of the opportunity to spend a whole Saturday in my pajamas with a book. It's easy not to worry about impressions when nobody is moving. A good storm can be anticipated in this part of the country, where you are required to drive for everything except your mail. Snowplows are a commodity reserved for parts further north, so a good storm can halt traffic for days at a time here.

Saturday, though, came and went without a single flake falling. Sunday morning arrived with light drizzle, but salt trucks were already on the highway as I drove to church. By the time I headed home, the commute was a challenge best met by restrained speed and whispered prayers. Still, it was early evening when the skies opened and the house across the street from ours seemingly disappeared.

Internally, I made no connection of how fitting it would be for physical and emotional storms to collide. So it was that I was blindsided. First by the letter in the mailbox, dated an entire year ago. Then by the letter in a social media inbox, advising me to have my Goodbye talk with my dad. Then by the discovery of a social media account under an alias name, belonging to someone who once meant everything to me. It has called me to question everything I thought I knew, and has cast a huge question mark over the future.

I am so grateful for the peace that passes all understanding! I am grateful that no matter what happens in coming days, I do not face this storm alone. Mostly, I am grateful for the lull. There is always a time of rest: a time to gather and restore strength. I will need another one when this time of turbulence has passed; how grateful I am to know that God's vision and His plans for me far exceed my own!

How blessed I am to have spent my time in the hallway, the lull, praising Him! This, too, shall pass. It's just another test becoming a testimony.