A Mending House

Sometimes, I get in a funk. I feel oppressed, and I know not by what. I sigh deep heavy sighs just to breath and let out pent up anxiety. I go through causes in my mind: Did I drink caffeine today (an instant anxiety creator for me)? Have I spent time with the Lord today (a usual suspect)? Is anything hanging over my head that can be handled right now (maybe)?

After that fast assessment, I usually will do the same thing each and every time (I'm not perfect. I did say "usually"). I pray. I ask God to reveal the weight that's weighing heavy on my chest. I ask Him to give me a servant's heart to do the things that are on the docket for the day, and give me the heart to not think of them as burdens but opportunities. Finally, I pray through what that day is supposed to hold. People I'll interact with, whether it's just the children and my husband, or neighbor kids, friends, etc. Places we are to be at, things we are supposed to accomplish. All things need the Lord's blessing and permission. So I give the day to Him to do as His will intends, for His glory and my good.

Then, feeling a little more buoyant, I'll write if the pressure is still there. Spilling my brains out is the graphic version of what I feel I'm doing. It's more like a methodical pouring, deciphering, and putting back into place. It's like praying to God on paper. I ask:

What is stressful? (But it looks more like: "Lord, I need help. I have this and this and this...")

What of that is needful or necessary?

What can be stopped immediately or what has an end date at least?

Then I turn it to the positive side:

What is enjoyable?

What do I want to do more of that is edifying, encouraging, and/or helpful?

What helps has God given to get things accomplished?

What can I give thanks for?

What do I feel God has called me to in this time and place? (Marriage, parenting, and homeschooling get the first 3 slots without question)

Now is one of those times. We've had a roller-coaster of a month, and while I did drink that unhelpful cup of coffee (I didn't want to waste what I made for visiting family), it is causing me to pause, reassess, and then move forward with more purpose. Then in the back of my mind, I was reminded of a sweet woman at a camp we recently went to. She asked if I blogged. I said, "Not in years!" She thought I would have many interesting adventures to write down. As a homeschooling mama of 4 and a pastor's wife, I don't necessarily think of my life as interesting, but definitely colorful. 

So I came back here. I resurrected my Blogger account (who knew I still had one), and began a new blog with the title I've given our current house. Yes. I name our houses. I told Joe once on a very long trip where I needed to keep the driving hubby awake that I wished people would name their houses again. I had been reading all of Jane Austen at the time, and each home had a name. A personality. A reputation. It wasn't just for grand estates, like Netherfield Park or Pemberley. Everyday middle-class people named their homes and acres (or lack there of) too, like Longbourn. So we spent an enjoyable few hours in the middle of the night on the lonely highway with sleeping kids, giggling back and forth until we came up with Maple Gray Howdy for our house back then- Maple for the tree out front we loved, Gray for the house color, and Howdy because we thought it funny and wanted people to feel at home. But this house we moved into 2 years ago is different. We came a little bedraggled (to say the least), needing respite and healing emotionally and physically. We prayed for this new ministry, this new home, this new city. We wanted God to use this house, as S. D. Smith writes in "The Green Ember" series, "for the Mending". For God's kingdom here on earth as it is in heaven. So, we dubbed it the Mending House.

Slowly but surely, we're making it our own, although in my artsy eyes it desperately needs paint. But as we continue to live here, the biggest thing I've noticed is it's open door. We tried hospitality in our last home, having friends and family over, neighborhood bible studies, psalm sings, even a worship service on a very snowy Sunday when people hadn't gotten the message that church was cancelled (thankfully we lived around the corner). 

Yet here is different. There's a few more strangers that God has called to our door. Neighbor kids flock over here to play games during the afternoons and on summer days. Book studies, meetings, overnight guests, and parties just for the sake of parties happen more. Cultures come together as we recently had a Japanese foreign exchange student stay with us for just short of a month. It's the same in many ways, but feels so different. Support and prayer from beloved friends changes everything. My children, too, are growing and maturing, becoming more into the men and woman that God is making them to be. He is growing and maturing me with them. A mother of a teen is WAY different than a mother of a toddler. I'm not who I once was, praise be to Him.

It reminds me of the Japanese art of Kintsugi, taking broken things and putting them back together, but making something even more beautiful with them. The Japanese artist would take powdered gold or silver, and where there was breakage, they would mend, allowing the breakage to show, but in a beautiful way with a seam of gold or an alternative complimentary pattern. God is mending me. Taking my broken pottery with chips and dents and scratches, and allowing those to form me through His word into something more beautiful. Something more like Christ. And so it is as I had hoped and prayed for it to be. This is a Mending House. Slowly but surely being knit back together in a new and more Christ-like way.

So welcome to my ramblings. Welcome to the spot where I'll pour out a bit of my thoughts that it may help you as you work "towards the Mending" as Smith wrote. May it bless you as God has blessed me, and build you up for His glory.