This past week a good friend and I were talking. I was sharing that I have been struggling lately-God seems so far off. It’s during these times that I wish I could hear his voice. Even a gentle whisper would be satisfactory to nothingness.

One thing that makes this time of life so tricky for me is the fact that listening for God’s voice, at least audibly, is what got me into trouble the night I was hospitalized. Up until my hospitalization, I felt like God was speaking to me. But as I began to come out of a state of psychosis, I realized that all the visions and voices of the past several days were simply a mirage—a promise that turned out to be nothing. I was left brokenhearted.

As I began to recover, I realized that if I wanted to hear from God, I would have to depend on something more reliable then a voice in my head. From that point on, whenever I needed to hear from him, I turned to his word, the Bible, for confirmation, guidance and direction.

Since that time eleven years ago, I’ve dabbled with the whole “listening” for God. In fact, there have been many times when I’ve longed desperately for a concrete sign or a clear distinct voice to guide me. But for me, it’s just not a viable option—too much of what I “feel” like God is saying to me has been tied up in lies.

My experience is an isolated one, and I am by no means saying that God can’t speak to us audibly if he so chooses. But when I want to hear from God, I go to the letter he’s written. When dealing with all of life’s ups and downs, the Bible is my compass.

While I understand that this is how I need to function, it doesn’t make it any easier when it seems like God is far off.

As I was explaining all of this to my dear friend, inspiration struck. I realized that life is kind of like a puzzle. You know how when you do a puzzle you group pieces according to color—whether the pieces are dark or light or in between, they all have their place. There are pieces that are sunny in nature and others that are deep and dark and rich. It’s the contrast that makes the puzzle so beautiful.

My mom used to say, “If you never experience the bad days than how can you appreciate the good.” That advice used to drive me crazy and, quite frankly, it still does. But when I look at life as a puzzle, I realize that part of the beauty of the picture is the balance between light and dark, shadows and sunshine.

When the puzzle that is my life is complete, I have no doubt that the result will be beautiful. And though I don’t understand these times, I won’t wish them away. Each day is a valuable, intricate part of the bigger picture.

On the darker days, I remind myself that the shadowy pieces balance out the luminous ones, making for a picture that is both rich and complete.

Whether yours is a day filled with sunshine or shadows, I wish you peace and leave you with the reminder that the gloomy days of life are just as important as the bright ones. Accept the bad as well as the good realizing that when your days on this earth are done, the picture that God has made of your life will be both a complete and beautiful work of art.

*Originally posted May, 12th 2014 on poolsofblessing.com

Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.

You've heard the saying, right? Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans. Interestingly enough, I looked this quote up, via google, and found that this idea of life happening while we're busy planning is attributed to many people including John Lennon, Allen Saunders, and many others whose names you probably won't recognize. But regardless of whether you recognize their names, you understand the sentiment. Life is what's happening to us right now . . . while we're making other plans. 

I never took much stock in this saying . . . until quite recently. You see, I’m anxiously searching for a teaching job for the 2017-2018 school year. It has been a frustrating process to say the least. I’ve put in several applications at surrounding school districts, but what I’m really waiting for is for specific positions to open so that I can apply for those jobs. In my opinion, it is a process that is taking entirely too long. Meanwhile, I find myself becoming increasingly annoyed with a God who seems to be way too slow in handing me the future I think I deserve.

But the other day, my husband, ever the voice of reason and truth in my life, made a comment that brought my complaining, whining and dissatisfaction with my current life to a screeching halt. “You realize, Nici, that while you are busy looking for jobs for next year, you forget that you already have one.”

Ouch. He’s right. I do have a job. A pretty great job, in fact. I get to be a teacher’s associate in my kids’ school. It’s a great environment where I work with a fun-loving, hard-working, supportive bunch. In short, it is a fun and friendly place to spend my days.

Not only that, but every day after lunch, my son comes up and gives me a hug. My soon-to-be 6th grader gives me a hug every day with all his friends and classmates looking on. How amazing. What a gift.

And as if that weren’t enough, every day on her way to recess my daughter pokes her head in to the room where I work, smiles and says, “Hi Mom, I love you,” while her gaggle of girls looks on and giggles behind her.

What amazing, incredible moments. Ones that I am wishing away while I pine for my future—a future that is really unfolding one day at a time if I were just wise enough to realize it.

Life is what’s happening while we’re busy making other plans.

So, true. Too true. So, this week I’m making a resolution. I’m going to enjoy the gift of the present. I’m not going to waste the small moments of joy God lays at my doorstep every day by looking ahead into a future that I have no control over.

No, I’m going to let my future unfold one small moment at a time and take the course that God has given me one step at a time. I challenge you to do the same this week, to find joy in the gift that is the present. No matter how big your future plans are or what you're waiting for, remember that life is really about what's happening to you right now. In that knowledge, enjoy and embrace every single moment of every single day.

This morning as I was taking a shower, I was practicing a little artistic composing (as in shower singing and doodling.) Just call me the Mozart and Picasso of the showering world. Anyway, after I’d been in a while, I began to doodle on the shower wall. I drew a heart and a cross and that simple image stirred something in me. Some fond memories actually.

John 3:16 For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.

If there was any verse ingrained in my brain from the beginnings of my Christian upbringing, it was this verse. The gospel verse. Pure and simple. So when I doodled a cross inside of a heart, I thought about this verse and how simple and sweet the gospel message is.

Oftentimes, when I write “Christian” posts I wonder what others will think about it, especially those who don’t subscribe to the Christian faith. Even as I type this, I wonder who thinks I’m being foolish by sharing my simple beliefs. But no matter what you believe, you have to admit this, the gospel message is a simple one, as simple as a cross inside of a heart.

Because it was a God who so loved the world that reached down to save us. Save us from ourselves,  from our world,  from our pain and loneliness and so much more. He sent his son, Jesus, down to this broken world to guide us back to our Father--a Father who never stopped loving us, even when we were the farthest from him.

I wish I had fancier words to put down onto paper today. I feel like I should have more to share, more to write, but maybe that's the point. The beauty and truth of the gospel is that it's pure and simple. As simple as a picture of a cross inside of a heart. So the next time you're doodling, draw a heart and a cross and see if it doesn’t stir something beautiful in side of you, something more beautiful than even a blog post can describe.

Last night, I fell into bed exhausted. As I collapsed into a heap, I felt as though I’d expended every ounce of energy within. Honestly, I felt like a rolled-up tube of toothpaste, like all the stuff inside me had been squeezed out, even to the very last drop.

Do you remember learning that lesson as a kid—the proper toothpaste-tube-squeezing procedure? My parents taught it to me early on, “Don’t squeeze the tube in the middle, it’s a waste. Start at the bottom of the tube. Then roll it up every time the tube runs low. That way, by the end, you’ve squeezed out every drop of toothpaste you possibly could.”

Believe it or not, as I was falling asleep last night I felt an analogy coming on and honestly, it kind of cheered me up. It encouraged me. I thought to myself, ‘Maybe living the Christian life is a little bit like using up a tube of toothpaste. By the time you’ve lived it, every single drop of life within you has been used up . . . in a good way.’

4:6 For I am already being poured out like a drink offering, and the time for my departure is near. 7 I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. 8 Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day—and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for his appearing.

These words were the ones penned by the Apostle Paul in his 2nd letter to Timothy. What’s amazing to me about this portion of Scripture is that Paul knew the end was near. He knew nearly all the toothpaste was gone. And he was proud of that. He had run a good race, the race he was meant to run.

Can you say the same? When you come to the end of your days, will people say of you that you spent all your energy making the world a better place? Did you give all you could? Love all you could? Share all you could? In other words, did you give of yourself until the very last drop of goodness within you had been squeezed out and used up for the building of God’s kingdom?

If you can say, “Yes,” to all the above, then good for you. I know it’s something I aspire to do, live every day to the fullest, even if it means that sometimes I fall into bed exhausted and spent. There’s something nice about knowing I didn’t waste my day. In other words, I didn’t squeeze out a sloppy mess that left something inside of me wasted.

When God’s Spirit lives in us, we have everything we need for life and godliness. All the toothpaste is there. So, don’t be afraid to pour out your life for Jesus. Let every breath within you be expelled in sharing the life-giving, life-changing Word of Christ. Then when you come to the end of your days, you’ll know you spent every amount of yourself for the good of the cause—a pretty good thing to feel proud of, if you ask me. Even if it does leave you feeling a little bit exhausted.

Hebrews 11:1 Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see. This is what the ancients were commended for.

I don’t know about you, but on a Super Bowl Sunday, I want to read a post about the Hall of Fame. Well, I hope I don’t disappoint, but I’m talking about a Hall of Fame greater than any sports one. I’m talking about the Hall of Fames of all Hall of Fames, the one in the Bible.

Now, before you close this post and shut me down, hear me out. Of all the places in the Bible I most went to when I was struggling with depression, or anxiety or just bipolar, in general, it was this chapter in the Bible, Hebrews 11. Why? Because I could relate to the people who were in this Hall of Fame.

See, I’m not much of a sports fanatic and admittedly, if you asked me to name someone who’s been inducted into any sports hall of fame, I’d be hard pressed to come up with even one name.

But when it comes to the Hall of Fame in the Bible, I know their stories well. I bet you do to:

There’s Abel, who got killed by his brother Cain. Nice happy ending there, right?

There’s Noah who was ridiculed by everyone around him when he built a boat in the middle of nowhere . . . as in nowhere close to an open body of water.

There’s Abraham who lived in a tent. Not a house, a tent. If you’ve ever been camping, tent dwelling isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

Hebrews 11:13 All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised, they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance.

Shall I go on?

There’s Moses who dragged a bunch of whiny, bratty might-as-well-have-been children around with him for 40 plus years.

How about Daniel who got thrown into a den full of beasts with particularly sharp teeth?

Or David who waited around fifteen years to claim a throne that was rightfully his whilst being chased around the countryside by a madman worried about job security.

And what about the New Testament Believers?

Peter who was crucified upside down.

Paul who was likely beheaded by the Romans.

Why, am I naming these sad, sad people and their incredibly sad, sad stories. Because it helps me to stop feeling sorry for myself. Or, in the very least, it helps me to know that I’m not alone. Not alone in my struggles. Not alone in my suffering. Not alone in my faith.

Hebrews 11:1 Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see. This is what the ancients were commended for.

It’s about faith, people. And if we had in our grasp what we hope for, it wouldn’t be called faith. See, faith is what got me through the hard times. It’s what I still cling to now when I wish I could shed this life for a happy-tent-free-dwelling-one. A life worth waiting for.

So, don’t give up. Don’t get discouraged. And don’t feel sorry for yourself. Most of all, know that you’re not alone. Read through Hebrews 11 and see if it doesn’t cheer you up just a little bit. And wait for the day when your name will be included with those great Hall of Famers who have gone before you. It’s a story with a happy ending worth waiting for—better than any Super Bowl commercial, no matter how much the hype.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about the Christian life and what it means to keep in step with the Spirit of God. Here are some of my thoughts:

Galatians 5:25 Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the sinful nature with its passion and desires. Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit.

In my faith-life I sometimes feel like it’s all about extremes. For example, when it comes to living the Christian Life, it’s all about me or God. Either I’m doing all the work in becoming more the person he wants me to be or he is. But, as I’ve reflected on the last forty-two years of my life, I’ve begun to realize it’s not a “me or him” thing. It’s really a matter of “us.”

I grew up Lutheran and one of the things I appreciate most about the Lutheran church is the emphasis on salvation by grace and not through works. In other words, I can’t save myself, nor should I try to. I can’t get to God on my own. Rather, God brought me back to himself through Jesus Christ.

But, and here’s the big one, I do have some responsibility in the Christian life—not to put out the Spirit’s fire, his work in my life. See, I do believe it’s possible to hamper the Spirit’s power by not falling in step with how he’s leading me.

Living the Christian life on my own would be impossible, there’s no two ways about that. But because I have the power to succeed through the Spirit, the one Christ sent when he left this earth, I have no excuses. I can’t live life for myself anymore, nor should I want to.

It’s not about me or God, him or me. It’s about us working together in harmony as he makes me more and more the person he wants me to be. And here’s the deal, I can either conform to those changes or I can resist them.

Galatians 5:25 But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law.

If I’m truly keeping in step with the Spirit, then the above qualities and traits should be flowing out of me.

Are they flowing out of you? If not, you might want to take some time and reflect on if you are keeping in step with the Spirit of God. If you’re not, what’s the point of being a Christian? Being saved is the beginning-not the beginning, middle and end of the Christian Life. Remember that truth and keep in step with the Spirit not just today, but always.

Galatians 5:25 Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the sinful nature with its passion and desires. Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit.

I’m mad tonight. Mad because you’re all making me stay up late when all I want to do is go to sleep. But here’s the deal, I can’t and here’s why, because you are all behaving badly, very very badly. I don’t care what side you’re on, you’re all being like petulant children who don’t get their way or do get their way and then rub it in everyone else's face.

See, I was going to write an encouraging blog this week, a blog about peace and love, and brotherhood and friendship. But not tonight. Tonight I’m just mad.

When I wrote the entry for Not My President, I didn’t think I’d go down this road again. I didn’t want to. I hate getting into politics. I hate talking politics. I hate even being political. But here’s what I don’t hate, when people get along and are nice to one another.

All right, now that my blood has cooled down a degree or two, here are some thoughts:

A few weeks ago or so, my husband and I were in a pseudo-disagreement. He has had a weight problem his entire life. As his wife of nearly fourteen years, I’ve been along for what has not always been such a fun ride. We’ve tried several diets and exercise programs, all of which have required, at one time or another, me to change my habits too—my cooking habits, my eating habits, my grocery shopping habits. I’ll just be honest. It hasn’t always been fun, but I want to be supportive and I want him to lose the weight.

So that night when we were arguing over how I could or could not be supportive of him, or what I should or should not be bringing into the kitchen, he looked at me and calmly said, “Look we both want the same thing. I don’t know why we’re fighting about this. We both want to be healthy for ourselves and for our family.” And the light bulb went on.

He was right. We do both want the same thing, a healthy family. We may have different opinions about how to get there, but in the end there’s a better way to reach our goal than to sit there and bicker with one another.

I’m taking a master’s class on collaboration in the world of education but there are some good lessons I’m learning from it. In the book collaboration is defined this way:
A style for direct interaction between at least two coequal parties voluntarily engaged in shared decision making as they work toward a common goal. (And yes, I felt boldface type was required there.)

But you know what you need to have to reach that level of adulthood? First, you need to grow up and realize that your side is not the only side that’s right all the time. Thinking your views, your ideals, your opinions are the only ones that matter is a completely shallow and selfish way to live.

You really want to make America great or great again? Then put down the sand and stop throwing it at one another. Stop acting like bratty children. And if you’re not going to do it for each other or our country, then do it for me, because I’m tired and I want to get some sleep.

I’m just going to put this out there. I have gained some weight. Admittedly, not a huge amount but enough that I notice the extra lumps and bumps, the less give in my pants, the tighter fit around my derriere. It’s the kind of weight that leaves me wearing sweat pants more frequently than I ought.

So yea, it hasn’t been a lot of fun. Actually, it’s been kind of depressing. And when I’m depressed, I go into my not so favorite mode: self-loathing.

Wikipedia describes self-loathing this way: Self-hatred (also called self-loathing) refers to an extreme dislike or hatred of oneself, or being angry at or even prejudiced against oneself.

Though Wikipedia isn’t the most reliable of sites it’s accurate as far as how I’m feeling about myself these days—extremely disliking myself, being angry, even prejudiced against myself.

Self-loathing is nothing new for me. In the past, it’s been something I’ve excelled in. Back in the day, pre-diagnosis, it manifested itself in many ways. One of my least favorite phrases repeatedly banging out in my head? “You’re so stupid. You’re so stupid. You’re so stupid.”

The thing is, self-loathing has never done me any good. It’s certainly not helping me now. It’s not making me eat healthier. It’s not improving my outlook on life, and it’s definitely not making my pants fit better. It’s just weighing me down—more than the extra pounds, really.

2 Corinthians 7:10 says, “Godly sorrow brings repentance that leads to salvation and leaves no regret, but worldly sorrow brings death.”

The thing is when I’m practicing self-loathing I’m not practicing godly sorrow, because, you see, godly sorrow leaves no regret. No regret over that extra piece of chocolate cake, or that extra helping of chips, or forgetting to work out today. It’s not that I don’t need to learn self-control, it’s that I need to learn to stop hating every bad decision I make and, in the end, hate myself.

Godly sorrow leads to repentance with no regret.

God doesn’t loathe me. He doesn’t loathe every bad decision I make. He loves me. So me loathing myself isn’t healthy, it isn’t true, and it isn’t right.

My grandpa used to play a “game” with me called, Stop Hitting Yourself. In the game, he would take my hands in his, make fists out of them, and pretend to hit me, all the while saying, “Stop hitting yourself. Stop hitting yourself. Why are you hitting yourself?” Though I hated the game, nevertheless there’s a good lesson hidden in it. I need to stop hitting myself.

Are you practicing some downright mean self-loathing? Stop it. Stop it. It’s not doing you any good. In fact, if you’re anything like me it’s only making everything worse.

If you’ve got some things to fix, things to get right, then get before God and start fixing them. But get with God first, because part of turning things around is getting power from the only Source who can truly fix things, truly redeem things, Jesus Christ.

And while you’re at it, stop loathing yourself, stop playing the hitting yourself game. Remember that God certainly doesn’t loathe you. He loves you. Find the truth and beauty in that statement and live in faith, not in fear.

Creativity usually strikes me on the weekend, but it’s 8:00 pm on a Wednesday, and I’m feeling particularly inspired. I’ve been watching a new show, This is Us, which airs on NBC. It’s an inventive new drama with many story lines taking place simultaneously. The central theme of the story is family, more specifically growing up—how what happens to us when we’re younger carries over into adulthood.

As a parent, it’s a theme that scares me to death—this idea that so much of what my children will become is happening right now. Right under our roof. Right under our very noses. It gives me pause. What we’re doing now as parents will stay with our kids for a lifetime.

The Father figure in the story, played by Milo Ventimiglia, is a character named Jack. Jack is an amazing dad; full of patience, kindness, rolling with the punches, loving his kids unconditionally. He’s the kind of parent you’d want to emulate, but he hasn’t always been that way.

There’s a pivotal scene during which Jack must decide what kind of parent he’s going to be. It’s kind of like a “come-to-Jesus moment” for him. I wish I could have found a clip for it, but I’ll do my best to describe it:

Jack has been getting home later and later, spending more time at the bar than he does with his family. One evening after he gets home, his wife, Rebecca, played by Mandy Moore, has this conversation with him.

Sitting next to him on the couch she asks “Hey, how do you think we’re doing as parents?” Before he can answer, she responds, “I think we’re at a 6. On a sliding scale of 1 through 10, I think we’re at a 6, and I think I’m being generous.”

She continues, “I’m trying really hard to get us to a 9, because they are cute kids and they deserve 9 parents.” She pauses, “The thing is I feel like I’m there. I feel like I’m operating at a 9, because I do individualized lunches, and I do individualized tuck-ins so nobody feels jipped.”

Finally, she concludes, “But when you’re home and you’re you, you’re way better than I am. You’re a 10 . . . when you’re you, Jack.”

She confronts him about the drinking and gives him kind of an ultimatum about it concluding with, “Fix it, because I’m done letting you lower our score.”

Have you ever thought about it that way—that you’re in it together when it comes to parenting? You’re in it together. Divorced. Married. Separated. And here’s the deal, the stakes are high. Very high. High enough to scare the living daylights out of you, at least they should be.

I don’t know what’s going to happen in the show. I know what I hope will happen—that Jack and Rebecca will make it through the rocky parts and parent together for as long as they have. They’re a couple I’m rooting for.

But I’m going to root for myself and my husband even more. I want our kids to look back with fond memories on their childhood. I want to be the kind of parents that they look up to, the kind that they want to emulate someday.

More importantly, I want to parent with the end in mind. I want to intentionally raise our kids to be the kind of people we want them to be: smart, capable, caring, responsible, resilient. You get the gist.

Who do you want your children to grow up to be? What kind of legacy do you want to leave behind? Parenting is serious business, and it should be. After all, children grow up to be adults. It’s up to us to determine what kind of adults they’re going to be.

The topic for this week’s blog came to me as I was listening this morning to the pastor share his thoughts about Joseph and how God “changed his story.”

 If you’re not familiar with the story of Joseph let me give a summary. Joseph was engaged to Mary, a binding commitment stronger than the one we call engagement these days. When Joseph discovered that Mary was pregnant he made up his mind to “divorce her quietly,” so as not to publicly humiliate her.

After the decision was made, before he could set the wheels in motion, an angel came to him in a dream reassuring him that Mary had not been unfaithful. Rather, the infant growing in her womb was a gift of the Holy Spirit, Jesus, who would become the Savior for us all.

This morning when the pastor mentioned that Joseph seemingly had his own story, his own plan as to how things were “supposed to go,” it reminded me of me.

See I’m not sure how my family and I ended up in Ankeny, Iowa. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a beautiful and lovely community—a place where we’ll make many happy memories, I’m sure. But here’s the deal, this wasn’t how my story was supposed to play out.

You see, my husband and I are Nebraskans at heart. And I liked my life there. I liked where I worked out. We had our favorite restaurants, places to shop. Most of all, we called it home, and as a girl who doesn’t like change, I was content to spend my days in Gretna for many years to come.

So, when God interrupted and seemingly “changed my story,” it made me a little mad, a little bitter, a little, well, angry. What right did God have to change my story without consulting me?

I felt sad, alone, in limbo, so here’s what I decided to do, walk with him. Literally. This past week as I was struggling with these feelings of sadness, I went to my local Y and walked on a treadmill. My goal was to walk two miles each time and spend time in prayer—religious speak for just talking to him. As I walked I shared my confusion, frustration, my pain.

And I prayed for the change in my story, the one that was leaving me unsettled. Because the fact of the matter is that the change in my story wasn’t really a change to God. He knew where he was leading me all the time. The change was only news to me.

I know I’m at a crossroads and that I can either fight with God, or continue to walk with him—not just on a treadmill, but all the time, without props, or people, or places that are familiar but with him, the author of my story.

Change is hard. Accepting it is even harder. It seems fitting this time to end with someone else’s story whose world was rocked with change. The story of Mary, who was told she was to become pregnant with the greatest gift the world has ever known, Jesus.

When she received the news, Mary didn’t flinch, didn’t shrink back, didn’t complain. Here’s how she accepted the change given to her by an angel, “I am the Lord’s servant. May it be to me as you have said.” Mary embraced the change in her story because she knew the author of her story. May we accept the twists and turns in our own lives taking a cue from her.  

So my friends, walk with God this week and let him show you how the twists and turns in life can be beautiful. Most of all remember that the ending of our story will be very happy, very happy, indeed. Merry Christmas!