The Idols of My Heart

“Son of man, these men have set up idols in their hearts and have put sinful stumbling blocks before their faces. Should I be consulted by them at all?”—Ezekiel 14:3

I recently asked God to reveal the idols of my heart—a dangerous prayer to pray, I know. However, I realize that those idols are stumbling blocks which prohibit my growing intimacy with God. As usual, God responded quickly and I’m still not sure I like what He has revealed to me. This idol is one I never would have recognized without the Holy Spirit’s revelation. In fact, I was so comfortable with this idol I believed it was “holy unto the Lord.” And perhaps if I did not spend so much time and energy devoted to this idol it would be. The idol—which is really an idealization of sorts—is not sinful in and of itself. But my devotion to it—obsession really—is.

So, what is this idol? My children’s success.

Long before Woody’s death, I spent the majority of my time trying to ensure the success of my children, which is not wrong. However, over the years, my idea of how success is defined has become an idol. I never wanted my children to make the same mistakes I did. I held their purity up to the world as a badge of success. “Look at my kids,” I seemed to gloat. “They will not date until they are ready to marry. They will not engage in illegal activity or addictive behaviors. They will never get a divorce. They will marry their one true love who will also be a committed, unadulterated Christian. They will remain pure in all ways because we have raised them in a Christian home and have prayed with and over them. We have covered them in prayer, which will shield them from ALL sinful activity. My kids are perfect!” I could not see how self-righteous and boastful my behavior was. I tried to shield my children from engaging in a sinful world by controlling who their friends were and where we lived. I was such a pompous ____ (you can fill in the blank)! I am sickened by my sanctimonious behavior! What was I thinking?

Actually, I know what I was thinking. I was thinking sin is a set of behaviors not recognizing that it is a heart condition. I should have been more concerned about my kids’ hearts than their actions. Trust me, I thought I was because I thought I had the whole parenting thing down to a science. I had read every book on biblical parenting, had attended parenting seminars, and had read the Bible in its entirety several times. I had a relationship with God and had been redeemed from a life of sin. But I was legalistic and hypocritical. I did not understand God’s grace and mercy. I did not understand the doctrine of sin. I did not recognize how sinful my legalism and judgmental attitude were. I had set up an idol in my heart which I would never recognize until it was smashed to pieces.

My children have made every mistake I did and then some. Divorce? That is on the horizon. Illegal behavior? Yep, that too. Addictions? Adultery? Lies? You name it and we’ll claim it. The perfect life I had dreamed for my children’s future has been completely obliterated. The idol of my heart has been revealed and continues to crumble as I type these words. All that time and energy I spent trying to perfect behavior should have been spent devoted to my God and trusting Him with the hearts of my children.

Since Woody’s death, God has slowly been revealing the nature of my heart to me, and this idol is part of the refining process I have been in since May 10, 2015. Although I am sickened by what I see I am also thankful. I know when all the dross is burned away my life will be a reflection of who God is. Yes, it is painful. Nevertheless, I praise God for answering my prayers even when I do not like what is revealed.

On the Eve of Another Birthday

This morning I held my man child in my arms while he sobbed. “I’ll never get to do anything with my dad again,” he wailed as I tried unsuccessfully to soothe him. You see, tomorrow is Woody’s 47^th birthday, a day  we will not celebrate with him, just as we have not been able to celebrate his 44^th through his 46^th. The harsh reality of a life taken too soon slams us in the face every March 21, and there is no way to escape the pain. There are no justifications for a young man who was just a child when he lost his hero. There will never be an explanation good enough no matter how you wrap it up and redefine it. Yes, he has faith; and yes, he knows God is good, but this is not good. This aching for a daddy to help him find his way into adulthood is unbearable. I can offer little assistance in this area because I am not a man. Try as I might to be the best mother and father, I will always fall short. He needs his dad here, wrapping his strong arms around his shoulders and giving him advice about college, girls, and what the future might hold. I am inadequately equipped, I know that; and although I know God is on this journey with me there are moments when I feel terribly alone—moments like this morning as I watched my child sob.

But I continue on in faith, believing that someday this journey will not be so lonely and treacherous, believing that someday this heaviness will cease to exist and in its place peace will reside with comfort close by. Someday…we’re just not there yet.

Motherhood

Motherhood is a privilege, so they say; but what about those days when it feels like bondage riddled with psychological torture? If you are a mother and you are honest, you have had one of those days. They sneak up on you like a ninja when all seems to be rolling along peacefully. “I’ve got this!” you think, patting yourself on the back for good measure; and then Wham! You find yourself face down on the floor with tire marks stretching the length of your backside from the truck that just ran you over. “You’ve got what?” the driver shouts back at you. Yes, one of those days.

I love being a mother; however, I swear that most days motherhood doesn’t love me. “Okay, God, remind me again what I was supposed to learn from that?” I find myself asking for the 32nd time of the day; and it’s only 10:00 a.m. What is the purpose? 

If I have learned nothing else from parenting, I have learned that I am completely incapable of doing it on my own. I do not have the power or patience to pull it off. I may be full of love, but sometimes the frustration of three young people who refer to me as “mom” and who have very opinionated personalities and lives full of “problems,” leaves me banging my head up against the kitchen wall wondering what in the world am I supposed to do with that! “How in the world did you shoot yourself in the mouth with your airsoft gun?” is not a question any mother should have to ask of her twelve year old son. But I have. “What were you doing that you rear-ended the man in front of you?” also not a question you want to ask your seventeen year old son, but I have. As a mother of multiple children, I find myself investigating crime scenes and mending broken items (from wrecked cars to relationships) several times a day. And I am thoroughly convinced every step of the way that I am not equipped for the job God has called me to do. 

Or am I? Most days I may be convinced that I am pretty hopeless at this whole parenting thing, but then I am reminded of the fact that I am not alone. God has promised to be with me every step of the way. Psalm 73 states that He is holding my hand, guiding me when I am “senseless and ignorant” (verse 22-24). In Philippians 4:13 I am told that “I can do everything through him who gives me strength” (NIV). And somehow, after the truck has bulldozed me over, I am able to stand up and try again. Somehow, the trauma and drama that unfolds in our household day after day is resolved and lessons have been learned. Believe it or not, we are becoming better people, more compassionate, less judgmental. We are learning that success comes through surrender. What is the purpose? Learning to trust in the Power of God. I am not equipped, but I am living for the ultimate equipper.

Motherhood may be the most difficult thing I have ever experienced in my life, and not every moment feels like a blessing. But I know that ten years from now when my children have moved from adolescence to adulthood, I will look back at this time and know with complete certainty that every day was a privilege and they were ultimately my purpose.

There to Catch Me

Tomorrow it will be five years since we lost my dad. This is a blog post written over four years ago to honor him. It seemed fitting to post it again today.

“Kim Annette, you need to come down from there. You’re high enough.” I heard my father’s voice call up to me. I turned my head to search for him, and found him standing on the ground below, about twenty feet from the tree in which I was climbing, making my way steadily to the top.

“It’s okay, Dad. I won’t fall.” I shifted my focus back to the tree. There was another branch, slightly smaller than the one that I now grasped, just about two feet higher and to the left. If I stood up straight and reached with my left hand, I knew I could reach it. Then I would be able to pull myself up until I was standing on the limb that I now held onto. I took a deep breath and stretched up until the fingers of my left hand curled tightly around the branch. Got it! Now, for the right; but just as I grabbed hold with both hands, snap! Suddenly I found myself hanging upside down.

Somehow my feet had swung around until I was hanging from my toes. The branch was on the top part of my foot and my toes curled up, keeping me from falling.

“Kim Annette!”

“I’m okay, Dad!” I started to reach up in order to grab the limb I was hanging from. As my hands reached it, I dropped my legs below me, and then, crack! This time I fell to the ground in a heap. I lay on the ground for a moment, trying to catch my breath. My dad slowly walked over until he was standing over me. 

“Well?”

“I’m okay,” I responded weakly.

“Then stand up and come inside now.” I rose slowly until I stood beside him. “You’re lucky.”

“Yeah, I know.” I reached over and curled my fingers around his index finger. I knew he wasn’t happy with me. I hadn’t listened to him and as a result, I had fallen hard to the ground. He didn’t say a word but kept walking. He knew words were not necessary.

I now look back upon that memory and as a parent I appreciate the anxiety he must have felt as he watched his 40 pound ten year old in the canopy of an old oak tree, farther above the ground than he would have liked to have seen. But at the same time, he respected the independent, fearless spirit that took me to the top of that tree. And although I had fallen hard, it didn’t stop me from climbing more trees, and eventually climbing through mountains. Yes, I had fallen, but his complete lack of anxiety gave me confidence to continue striving. There was no fear. Even through the fall, I felt serene because my daddy stood close by ready to come to my assistance if need be.

Isn’t that what a father’s love should look like? Was my dad perfect? No, but no one is. I forgave him for his imperfections years ago, because he forgave me for mine. Now, however, I feel a little more fearful about the stumbles I may take in life, because my dad isn’t standing nearby to pick up the pieces. I must remember, however, that my heavenly Father has always been with me, and He will knit me together with unconditional love every time I fall.

Parenting Through Grief

How do I parent from a point of grief children who are grieving? We are all stumbling through the dark trying desperately to find our way. One child seems to be functioning quite well. Another has uncontrollable anger and the urge to rebel. And the third child has thrown himself into a sport he loves and refuses to discuss what happened. I am attempting to put the pieces of our family back together when I feel completely broken and inadequate. How do I mend something which will never again be whole?  

Tears are like raindrops falling at the most inopportune times, soaking the soul, leaving behind a muddy mess. Our pain is raw and all of us are experiencing it in different ways on different levels. Can I allow my children to fully grieve when I have not allowed myself to do so? How do I give myself permission to let go and wallow in my sorrow when I know I must be strong for the three young people who look to me for strength and wisdom? I cannot even see past the day in front of me let alone into their futures. I am failing. And failing at parenting is not something I can afford to do.

I look to God for wisdom, yet sometimes His words are barely audible. Last night Haley told me that she cannot be strong although she feels she needs to be.  I told her that she does not need to be. Her job right now is to become weak so that God can carry her in His strength. Perhaps I need to take my own advice. God’s power will be made perfect in my weakness. Perhaps parenting will best be accomplished when I completely trust God to bear my burden and accomplish what I cannot.

Parenting through grief. My new “normal.” Still, I do not parent alone nor do I suffer in solitude.  Although I no longer have my partner in parenting to physically carry me through these trials, I have my spiritual companion to lift me over every obstacle. I need only remember where my strength comes from.