Jesus at 3:00 a.m.

Here we go. Six days into January.  And, day 5 was a horrendous mess. A difficult situation with one of my kids that blindsided me on a day when I was already emotional because of exhaustion. Me feeling helpless and misunderstood. And wanting to control it all, even though I'm powerless in it. So, I ran from Jesus instead of to Him. And ran to friends and looked for comfort from them. Looked for comfort in human words and reassurance. And then God used a friend to remind me of how much I need Him. And that He is in control of the crazy whether I like it or not, and that ultimately the outcome of conflict is His to determine. And, am I going to trust Him that He.knows.best? So then finally I tried to pray, and tried to hand it all over to Jesus, but it's a process, you know?

The day dragged on yesterday. Before the tough-kid-situation popped up, I was already exhausted from an incredibly loooonnnng week of the cold from h-e-l-l that had plagued our entire household.We hadn't been sick like that in a loooonnnngggg time and I was reminded of why I became such a germ-a-phobe when Marshall and Eliza were toddlers. Because having a toddler who is whining incessantly all day long because they don't feel good, and you can't have playdates or go to church because of their gross green nose, and then Mommy gets the virus too and feels like her head is going to explode but can't get the sleep she needs to fight the bug because she's up with said toddler while he can't sleep at night, and you swear that this child has an ear infection and won't the pediatrician please say its true so that amoxicillin can fix it all, but oh nope its just a virus, a stupid horrible evil virus that makes me feel like i'm going to lose my ever-loving mind. And everyone is cooped up inside. And it's too cold for them to stay outside longer than 15 minutes. And the bickering - oh the bickering -and the only place you can go is the Starbucks drive thru. And then let's drive out to the drive-thru dry cleaner. And maybe the drive-thru donuts (wait, did I really just say that?). But the beauty is that everyone is strapped into their car seats and Morrow can't climb any shelves, flood any bathrooms, color on any walls, or continuously ask for snacks that he will then leave all over the house.

Seriously. I would not have made it back in Little House on the Prairie days. Bless Ma's heart. I have no freaking clue how she held it together in that covered wagon with measles, diphtheria and typhoid fever.

So, here I am. Up at 3:00 in the morning realizing my deep need for Jesus and that I don't need to lie to Him. I can be real with Him that the past week has sucked and yesterday was the proverbial cherry on top. And let's just admit it. I have had a shiztastic attitude this past week. I have yelled and snapped. I've been grumpy and emotional. Content is not a word I would have used to describe me. I've been less-than-kind and no, in fact, I haven't been in the Word or praying so much.

But what matters is that at 3:00 in the morning, He pulled me back to Himself. Prone to wander, Lord I feel it. Yet He never loses sight of the treasure which he has placed in my earthen vessel. So good is His Grace which pulls me back to Him and beckons me to cling to Him. To cling to Him in the long, tedious monotony of sick toddlers. To cling to Him in the loneliness of doing this as a single mom. To cling to Him when I feel overwhelmed by guilt and shame over my less than perfect mothering. Just to cling to Him. And know Him. Which means He has given me gold out of this valley of the shadow. 

Confession: I Worship Idols

Want to know a secret?

Hitting "publish" on my blog often makes me cringe. Those closest to me know my struggles. And they know that walking out the words I write isn't a given for me. A lot of the reason I blog is so I can go back and read my own words and remember what the Lord is teaching me. I am just so quick to forget.

I don't have faith figured out. A lot, okay most, of the time I would venture to say I don't trust Jesus with my life or my kids. Clinging to stuff, people, and my own way tends to be more my thing. Oh yes, I know I trust Him more than I used to. But there is going to be a lifelong struggle against my own idol-creating heart. 

Ugh. 

This past week I have been reading Exodus 32-33, where the Israelites are creating and worshipping the golden calf. Just forty days earlier, the Israelites had promised "All the words that the Lord has spoken we will do." (Ex 24:3). Yet, here they are mobbing Aaron saying "Up, make us gods who shall go before us. As for this Moses, the man who brought us up out of the land of Egypt, we do not know what has become of him." (Ex 32:1). 

The Israelites forgot that it was God who brought them out of Egypt. God could have done without Moses. He could have used anyone he pleased. He is God in Heaven; He does whatever He pleases. (Psalm 115:3). It wasn't about Moses. It was about God. 

The Israelites could even see God's presence on the mountain. The appearance of the glory of the Lord was like a devouring fire on the top of the mountain in the sight of the people of Israel. (Ex 24:17) Evidence of Him was right there in front of their eyes. But, they didn't care. They were restless because Moses was gone and their focus was in the wrong place.

And I am an Israelite. As I studied, I felt myself shrinking with shame. God has carried me in miraculous ways in the last six months. I have seen his presence in the things He has done. And I have said yes, I will follow and do everything you command. 

But 
I 
turn 
my 
eyes. 

And I demand a god I can "see." As if a god small enough to be seen with my eyes would actually be powerful enough to be God and accomplish the things I really need my God to do. In practical ways, I abandon worship of the Creator and begin worshipping the created. It is flat-out idolatry - loyalty to anything or anyone that leads us to disobey God. (Did I get that definition right, Lori Cavell?). I use things and people to feel secure or to be distracted from feeling restless or down. Idolatry of relationships and carbs and coffee and daily habits and sugar and shopping and wasting time - just to name a few. 

“Man's nature, so to speak, is a perpetual factory of idols.” (John Calvin). And I am in no way exempt from this. I don't know about you, but I am a rebellious and idol-loving person. Ironically, the person I sin against in my idol-worship is the only person who could pay the penalty for my sin. So, I am thankful that if I confess my sin, He is faithful and just to forgive my sins and to cleanse me from all unrighteousness. (1 John 1:9).

I am thankful that I don't have to shrink down with shame over my idolatrous heart. Oh, my idol worship is flat out wrong. It might look more acceptable and presentable than worshipping a golden calf. I can dress it up and make it look moral, righteous and respectable. But, my idolatry is just as wrong as the golden calf.  It will continue to be a struggle for the rest of my life, which leaves me grateful that I can always have confidence as I approach the true, living God on His throne of grace. Instead of running away and hiding from the God who I have offended, I can turn and run to Him, cast down my idols, and turn back to the living God again and again. 

Trust

There is beauty in the broken, even for my children. As I have walked out the last six months, I have known Jesus more and seen beauty for ashes over and over again.

The other night, I snuggled up with Eliza while I read her a story and prayed before bed. We've been talking a lot about worry and how to handle worries. And, this night was no different. We started talking about the divorce and how she is handling all of the change. I got to share with her that this was my biggest worry - being a single mom of the four of them. But that once I was walking through it, even my biggest worry wasn't nearly as terrifying as I had imagined because I am walking through it with Jesus.

We talked about the fact that God promises to work ALL things for good for those who love Him. ALL things. Even divorce and broken families.

And she asked the questions of how and why. And all I could say was that this is trust, sweet girl. You trust His character. The Jesus that we read about in the Bible kept every promise. Starting in  Genesis 3, God promised a savior. Then, eventually, He provided Himself as that Savior. So, everyday you choose to be confident that He is the same God today as He was then. One worthy of your trust. And then you trust that He will keep his promise, even when you can't see how or when.

As I spoke these words to my daughter, I thought, Oh Lord, please come through for me and for them on this. Please show her the way you work all things for good. Please let her faith not waver because of her pain, but let the suffering produce perseverance and hope.

Right along with Eliza, I'm learning what real trust is. It's in trusting Jesus for my children that my faith really gets tested everyday. Trusting Jesus that my kids are going to be okay growing up in divorce. That my kids are going to be okay going to school, instead of being homeschooled. That my kids are going to be okay when I (eventually) go back to work. That my kids are going to be okay in their suffering.

And, really, it's not trusting that they will just be "okay." But, instead, trusting that none of this mess thwarts God's good plans for any of them. That, even in incredibly difficult circumstances, God is going to carry to completion the good work that He started in each of them. It's trusting that my kids are getting God's best for them rather than something that is "second best."

Just when I thought maybe I had this trust thing all figured out, the Lord has been gracious to show me (yet again) that trusting Him is not something I will achieve or a milestone that I will reach. It is relating to Him. It is depending entirely on Him through every single thing this life brings, not just to me but to these little people who are the most precious thing to me. It's handing my children over to the Lord, loosening my grip on them so that they can truly know the beauty that comes from knowing firsthand what Jesus does with their suffering. It's trusting that for my kids, just like for me, knowing Jesus (even when it requires suffering) is far better than any comfort this world can offer.

No Really, I'm Going to Start Blogging Again

Two months.

Two months ago I said that I was going to start blogging again, and I did. Three times.

Then I didn't, because life has been raw, and messy and a lot of it doesn't make any sense to me. If my life doesn't make sense to me, then I can understand how it makes even less sense to anyone and everyone else. And I have an incredibly difficult time when I am misunderstood. Plus, I have been committed to be real, honest and vulnerable. I wasn't ready to change that, but I also wasn't ready to be vulnerable on here about what I was walking through.

For two years, I had written about having a redeemed marriage. In the midst of dealing with extreme difficulty in my marriage I found Jami Nato's blog. Actually, the Lord found it for me. Jami and I had almost exactly the same story, and after reading her words I felt a strong nudge from Jesus to be similarly honest on my own blog.

Eventually that honestly went from being incredibly scary to being almost comfortable. It was life-changing for me. It changed my friendships, my family and my walk with Jesus. Taking the risk to be vulnerable was one of the most significant decisions I have ever made and I would never go back to masking who I really am and trying to protect my image.

But, all of a sudden I didn't have a redeemed marriage anymore. On May 22, my entire world flipped upside down and I began life as a single mom of four kids. I think I haven't written lately because I haven't really wanted to type that out. Seeing those words in black and white on the screen in front of me means that they are real and that this is my life.

Everyday I wake up and walk it out. It looks nothing like I thought it would. I can get up and get dressed and love my kids and do the things that Jesus has called me today because he goes before me, with me and behind me. He has hemmed me in on every side, and because of that I have been able to live abundantly in the midst of the thing I was most afraid of in this life.

In Exodus, the Israelites were told to take steps. To leave Egypt, to wander toward the Red Sea, to cross the Red Sea, how to get water, and exactly how much (and when to take) manna and quail for food. (See Exodus 12-17). Yet, in Exodus the Lord tells them to "be silent" or to "be still." Reading this, I realized that the only way the Israelites would know whether to move or to be still was to listen to God. They had to relate to Him in order to know what steps to take.

Now the Lord is telling me to write. He's calling me to be silent about the nitty gritty details of what all transpired in my life this past May. But, He is calling me to write about living life as a single mom to four of the most beautiful, sweet, fun, loving kids ever. He is calling me to continue to write about the things He is teaching me and the ways He is leading me by His Word. He is calling me to continue to write about the ways He nourishes me as the true Bread of Life as I walk into unknown territory, just as He nourished the Israelites with manna in the desert.

When I was writing about persevering in marriage and surviving trauma in my marriage, I had a few women who, unbeknownst to them, had gone ahead of me. Often, they had expressed everything I felt in more eloquent words than I could muster. They had given me something to follow.  Now, I am following God's lead more than ever. I know I am his workmanship, created in Jesus for good works, which He prepared beforehand that I should walk in them. (Ephesians 2:10). But trust me when I say that I would not have chosen being a single mom as the "work" that I would walk in! Writing about life now is requiring relating to God and trusting his lead. I'm sure that I am going to mess up. I might offend some of you and you know, I might say too much sometimes. Which means I am going to need grace - something that I have a difficult time with because I would rather be able to do it all on my own.

Okay - I am off to pick up my sweet red-headed oldest baby from school, so I will sign off.  I'm not even going to proofread!!  Love and grace to you all.

State Fair 2014 and Go Ducks!

This afternoon, I pulled up a recipe on my blog for an amazing cake that Marshall wanted for dessert before his first day of school. (Yes, my oldest is going to school. Not homeschool. But that's a post for another day). And, yes, I keep my recipes on my blog because I lose them when they are on paper.  I've never claimed organization to be one of my spiritual gifts.

Anyway - I had this recipe up on the blog. I put the cake in the oven, looked over, and all four of my kids are around the computer looking at old blog posts. This is why I blog, people. I love to write. I love the creative outlet, especially since I have no artistic or crafting ability. But, I started my role as a mommy blogger so that my kids would have a record of what we did. I want them to be able to look back in 2030 and see where we went, trips we took, what we did in the day to day, and the horrendous outfits that they wore in 2014. I love their joy looking back at younger versions of themselves and each other, and hearing their perspectives on days gone by.

No explanation for Eliza putting a bow directly on top of her head.
Or for Morrow's extremely dirty shirt (except that he is the 4th child. So goes his life)

To keep the memories rolling, I'd better get a few photos up of our trip to the Oregon State Fair. We hadn't gone since 2010, when I was pregnant with Jameson. So Gram and I piled the kids in the car, in the rain, and headed out to the fairgrounds. It really was so much fun. 

Watching Morrow love the animals was in itself worth the price of admission. Feeding baby cows was almost too much joy for him. And, he gave the pigs a serious talking too, with hand motions and all, even thought his vocabulary consists of about five words.

The best part is that my kids don't know that r-i-d-e-s exist at the fair. Ssssshhhhh - don't tell them! They loved the animal barns, the fair food, pig racing, the petting zoo and even the quilt exhibit. All without having to put them on the rickety rides that get taken apart and put back together every few weeks. 

And . . . we got to end the day watching the Duck game together on the couch. So sweet to have four little ducklings to snuggle up and cheer with. (I know it looks like I have three little ducks, not four. Eliza was painting her nails yellow and green, putting green & yellow hair chalk in her hair and making treats in her EZ-Bake oven). Nothing better!

Deepest Crisis and Highest Praise

So, the writing continues.

In January 2011, I sat in the lecture at Bible Study Fellowship, eight-week-old-Jameson asleep in my lap, just weeks after receiving utterly devastating news. I remember one of my best friends turned around from the pew in front of me as our teaching leader said "from our deepest crisis comes highest praise." My friend knew those words were meant for me. I was in the deepest crisis I had known in my then 32 years. It was dark, disorienting, and lonely. I was at the bottom of a pit so the only place to look was up to the Lord.

About 10 months before that time, I had providentially read a book by Dr. Ligon Duncan titled Does Grace Grow Best in Winter? Dr. Duncan says the following about suffering:

"Since we live during a time in which some of the sufferings of this world have been mitigated for us, we are lulled to sleep sometimes and are surprised by suffering. When pain comes into our experience, our initial reaction is 'Oh, this shouldn't be happening!' But if what I am saying is true (that suffering is, that suffering happens, that suffering is the norm for this fallen world), none of us should ever be surprised by suffering. Instead, when it comes our way, we ought to be saying: 'I've been waiting and preparing for you. I knew you were coming, because this fallen world is full of the likes of you. I've been preparing, by God's grace and by God's Word, to glorify God as I experience you.' We must get it ingrained into our minds that suffering is an essential part of the Christian experience. You will suffer. That's the first thing you need to know. The question remains, will you suffer in a way that honors Christ?" 

When I received the utterly devastating news, I was pressed but not crushed, struck down but not destroyed. The Holy Spirit brought Dr. Duncan's words to mind, and I knew. I knew that this was the suffering I'd been waiting and preparing for.

And the Lord used that suffering to do a work in me that I never even knew needed to be done. Just recently, I came across the words of the prophet Hosea:

And, I can say without a doubt that the Lord tore me so that He could heal me. The Lord struck me down so that he could bind me up.

You see, my identity had become completely wrapped up in the things that Jesus had called me to do as a wife, a mom, a homeschool mom, a servant at church and Bible study, a friend. When this news hit me, I was stripped down to nothing. I was like a house ripped apart by a tornado. The only thing left was my foundation. Praise God that in His Grace, Jesus had laid a foundation of His Word underneath the things I had been building.

Jesus wanted me to know that I am His and that therein lies my identity. That He died for me and redeemed me just because I am His child. Not because I am perfect (Lord knows I'm not!). Not because I have a law degree. Not because I weigh less than xxx-lbs on the scale or finally fit into size-X clothing. Nor because I listen to Matt Chandler and read John Piper. Not because I followed the newest Christian author's wisdom on being an amazing wife. Or drove an SUV full of carseats and little people. Or implemented Shepherding a Child's Heart to perfection. Or was a leader at an amazing Bible study. Or brought dinner to a family from church. Or watched my friend's children when she needed help.

At Hope Spoken in February, my friend Jami Nato described her experience in a way that I tracked with 100%. Before her own suffering, she thought that following a formula meant God would give you a perfect life. Kind of like: Jesus, I follow your "rules" and then you give me the American Dream wrapped up with a bow and dropped off on my front porch.

Amen.
Thank you.
See you in eternity, Jesus.

But Jesus said, "not so fast." He stripped away everything but Himself. And he began rebuilding my identity in Him.

God did not want to let me rest satisfied in the American Dream because He didn't want me satisfied in anything less than Himself. Augustine of Hippo captured it well in his Confessions stating, "You have made us for Yourself, and our hearts are restless until they find their rest in You."
I was torn and I was struck down, but none of it was without a purpose. It was so that God could heal me and bind me up - so that I could be healed from my desire for (what I thought) was the perfect earthly life and instead find my rest in Him. So that I could start letting go of my formula for perfection and instead find my identity in Him and Him alone.

As I have walked through this next chapter of suffering, Jesus has used every bit of what He taught me in that last season of crisis. None of it has gone to waste.  Jesus knew that I would need my identity to be entirely in Him because other pieces of my identity were disappearing. Through the previous season, He taught me to be vulnerable and live pressing into biblical community - two things that have made this present season bearable, and even fruitful, yielding an abundance of depth in my relationship with Jesus, in friendships and family relationships.

Closest to my heart is that in 2010-2011, God proved Himself faithful to keep every last one of His promises to me. He gave me a blessed assurance that He is who He says He is. This assurance has given me confidence when I tell my children that God won't let them down; that He is their ever-present, all-knowing father in Heaven; and that He will keep all of His promises to them. They have to be able to sense that this isn't wishful thinking but instead a rock solid confidence based on experience. It is a work that God did in me when He healed me after I was torn and struck down. I never would have chosen to walk through suffering. I never would have hand-picked the trials I've faced. Yet God is taking the deepest, darkest trenches and is working them for my good, the good of my children, and for His Glory. From deepest crisis, highest praise is rising.

Sunriver, Birthdays, and I'm Blogging Again

And so it begins . . . a new chapter in the life of the Comptons. Many of you know the heartache and craziness that were brought about in the past few months.  Many of you don't. Someday I will be ready to write more, but for now suffice it to say that Jesus is faithful and by God's grace we live and breathe and have our being. As we have walked through the storm I feared most in this world, the Lord has done immeasurably more than I ever could have asked or imagined. He has continued to make me fearless, and as long as I keep my eyes on Jesus and off of the waves I'm okay. More than okay.

In all of this, my oldest baby mentioned that I haven't blogged since the start of this mess. I asked him why it mattered to him, and he said he missed having a record of everything we've done. That he wanted our life in writing and pictures that he could read about later. He suggested that I start with these past few days of vacation at Sunriver. So, here we go!!

Thursday morning I packed up my four babes and headed over the mountain to Sunriver to meet my in-laws. The house there has become a place of comfort and joy to me as much as to my kids. We spent four days playing to a state of exhaustion and filth!

Secretly, my fave part of Sunriver is that Morrow will only nap with me!

These two are becoming best buddies!

Riding bikes,

Cutest bike rider ever! He rode to the Village and back!!

swimming, water slides,  time with my big kids who are growing up WAY too fast,

football, brotherly bonding,

ice cream, riding the chair lift at Bachelor for the first time ever,

snow, ladder ball

Clash of Clans & Minecraft,

tubing, bounce houses,

bumper cars, mini golf, donuts,

hot tubbing and train rides!

Oh . . . and we might have celebrated my birthday. Bless my sweet friend Sara for thinking it was my 32nd - I wish! Thankful for Randy and Robyn who gave me an awesome birthday weekend. Including getting to go running TWICE and an hour of laying out in the sun with headphones in!!

All I wanted for my birthday was a picture with my four kids. I can't say we got a good one, but they definitely depict real life.

So glad to be writing again . . .