Be still and know that I am Mom

     All the boys who live in this house were sleeping; I was trying to be quiet, walking around them swiftly while cleaning the house and finishing laundry; soon it would be time to get ready for mid-week service at Church, and for some odd reason, instead of using that quiet time to relax, read or simply enjoy, I was busy, not only with my housework, but also in my mind.

     In one of the trips back from the basement bringing laundry, I was welcomed into the living room by a foul smell; I mean, it almost knocked me backwards; the air was thick in there; I kept walking and dismissed it as one of those things my boys are good at: farting.

     I finished putting away the clothes and sat down for a little facebook time; time flew by and now it was time to get the kids going; Nathan was already up so I gently sat next to Danny, who was sleeping on the couch, and gently rubbed his back while softly speaking his name prompting him to wake up and get ready for Church.

     Suddenly the memories of the foul smell of earlier became a reality; memories of the way he was crying before nap time complaining of stomach ache; memories of how I had taken time out of my busyness to rub his belly; memories of how he had fallen asleep while I massaged his stomach.......and memories of that nasty smell again.

     I was immediately overwhelmed by the thought of what lay ahead for me.

     I knew I was getting into a messy situation.

     I begged my other self to remain gentle and treat the little tyke with dignity, love and respect; I mean, is not like he decided he was going to make my day a little more miserable by soiling his pants; obviously he was sick before nap time, and the reason for his malady had come rushing out sometime during his time in dreamland.

     I took a deep breath, then quickly realized that was a mistake; I shook my head and prompted him to get up and walk with me to the bathroom; he was still half asleep; somewhere in his stupor he felt something was not right and he opened his eyes wide, while looking at me, fully expecting to be scolded for such inconsiderate action.

     I'm convinced he expected the worse from me, because when he realized I was talking to him with the sweetest voice I could muster, he gently rubbed my face and with the sweetest voice that could ever come from the mouth of a four year old he said "thank you, mommy".

     I smiled at him, trying to hide my gaging reflexes. Then I went back to the issue at hand, trying to figure out the best way to take his pants off without making the mess even bigger. He must have read my facial expression, and suddenly he tried to "help" me clean the mess; he hurriedly tried to pull his pants down and then his underwear; before I could say peep the mess had rubbed all over his legs; he looked at me and I could tell he was proud for helping me; I look down and quickly realized that the mess had expanded to the legs, the floor and, had I not been careful, to my own legs and arms.

     In a split second I realized that every time my kids spill their drink, I always scold them into cleaning it for themselves; lately I don't even have to do that; even Aaron runs to the kitchen and brings a towel and starts cleaning the carpet; is just second nature to all of us; you spill something, you clean it.

     I knew that was exactly what little Danny was trying to do: clean up his own mess. But this time I did not want his help; this time all I wanted him to do was to freeze and don't move until I was done; I could tell the dam of emotions inside me was ready to burst open; now I not only had a child to clean, but the bathroom floor too.

     Only by God's grace I was able to remain calm; or it could be the fact that I know well enough not to be the nastiest person alive right before going to Church; I mean, I've done it many times and it does not feel good at all, sitting in Church, trying to sing, knowing that just a moment ago I fell as low as I could for that day and mistreated the children God placed under my care.

     Back to reality.

     As calm as I could I told Danny to stop moving; he was already reaching for toilet paper to help me clean the floor; as calm as I could I told him that I was going to take care of everything, all he had to do was to stand still and let me work.

     In my head I was screaming "Be still and know that I am mom".

     Seriously.

     With patience and love many things can be accomplished. After a little while the only thing that was left from the messy episode, was the memories; I'm sure I will laugh about it some day; some day far, far away.

     Fast forward two days.

     Today is Friday and I am here, sitting alone in a quiet house; I feel such an emptiness inside, such turmoil; I feel overwhelmed by a sea of emotions; my mind rushes back and forth in time, regretting the past, fearful of the future, unsure about the present. 

     There are so many ways in which I have let life overwhelm me, crush me under its weight; there are many things I should have done and I didn't; there are many things that could improve, if only I commit myself to them; there are many things I could do better, but choose not to, all the while the list of excuses for my lack of action is getting ridiculously long.

     I quickly realized I'm in a mess of my own making and hurriedly tried to come up with answers, with action plans, with schedules, with options. There was a great whirlwind in my mind and heart. I felt dizzy, and afraid. I yelled at myself. "C'mon Nilda....how long are you going to keep this up???? Get ahold of yourself!!!!! You are thirty-five-freaking-years-old!!!!!! Act your age!!!!!!@#$%#$#%^^&"

     In the midst of my sobbing I remembered a few words that I keep forgetting, despite the self promises I make never to forget again.

"Be still and know that I AM God"

     I grabbed onto those words as hard as a window washer grabs his harness while working on the 70th floor of a New York skyscraper; I mean, I don't even know if there are buildings that high, but if I was a window washer and had to go up that high, you bet I would hold on to that rope as hard as my little hands could; you would too.

     So there I was, almost like little Danny in the bathroom, who was comforted by the fact that mommy was so gently cleaning up his mess, because, after all, she is mommy, and if someone is a master at cleaning messes in this house, mommy is.

     And here I was, looking all around me and seeing a mess, or looking down from the 70th floor of a skyscraper, fearful of the fall, holding onto those life-giving words with all my might.

"Be still and know that I am God"

     And I'm happy to report that, after hanging onto His words for awhile, the storm ceased; the winds calmed down; the thunder was silenced; and there was great peace.

     So, just in case you find yourself in the middle of a storm, I want to share the words that brought me solace:

He alone is my rock and my salvation; 

he is my fortress, I will never be shaken.

Psalm 62:2

So do not fear, for I am with you; 

do not be dismayed, for I am your God. 

I will strenghten you and help you; 

I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

Isaiah 41:10

Since you are my rock and my fortress,

 for the sake of your name lead me and guide me.

Psalm 31:3

The Lord is my rock , my fortress and my deliverer; 

my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge. 

He is my shield and the horn 

of my salvation, my stronghold.

Psalms 18:2

He who fears the Lord has a secure fortress, 

and for his children it will be a refuge.

Psalm 14:26

God is our refuge and strength, 

an ever present help in trouble. 

Therefore we will not fear; 

though the earth give way 

and the mountains fall 

into the heart of the sea, 

though its waters roar 

and foam and the mountains 

quake with their surging.

Psalm 46:1-3

But above all, I suggest you stop doing what you are doing, and listen to God whishper:

"Be still and know that I am God"

     I can assure you, He can handle a lot more that just a cleaning job.

Encourage one another.

Keep moving forward.

Love,

Nilda

     

     

Pain's the word

     Man, oh man! Pain is the word of the day.

     I guess I finally realized this arthritis thing is not getting any better and it's time to place myself under a doctor's care. For almost seven years I have been waiting for things to improve, for this disease to suddenly disappear; I had hoped that one day I would wake up and be back to my younger years, when I boasted of how healthy I was; when I had energy to spare; when I was adventurous and ready to go, always curious, trying to find new things to do and new things to learn.

     Nowadays every thing seems to be an uphill battle. But the strongest battle is in my mind. It takes all I have to keep believing in healing and in a loving God who watches over me and cares for me; when I'm in pain and every little thing to do turns into a full blown project due to the pain and stiffness, when caring for my little boys -even picking up the youngest- causes excruciating pain, and my arms and knees threaten to give in under me every step I take, it's easy to wonder "what could possible be the purpose for this?".

     I know God uses everything for good for those who love Him, but what good could possibly come out of being constantly in pain, challenged at every step? 

     I'm reminded of Jesus and his encounter with a leper; I'm reminded of the words spoken by the leper "if you want, you can cleanse me". He knew Jesus could cleanse him, but would He want to?

     I have no doubt that God can heal me; He created me; He knows me; He knows my body; a simple thought from Him, a whisper even, a word, and all this world of pain and suffering could disappear. Yet He remains silent.

     I know He can heal me; but does He wants to?

     There are days when the weight of all I have to do and all that needs to be done in order to care properly for three little boys and a husband brings out a prayer, out of the deepest places of my innermost being, "if you want, you can cleanse me". But most days the request goes unanswered.

     Even thinking about going under a doctor's care was a difficult decision; I felt like I was saying "well, since you won't heal me, I'm going to look for healing somewhere else".

     Yet I know that my healing can only come from Him; yes, a doctor may bring some sort of relief, thru medication or any other intervention, but real healing, complete healing can only come from Him, and for reasons unknown to me, He chooses to wait.

     I'm reminded of a song we used to sing many, many years ago in Sunday School; it said something like "if I'm missing my voice I'll praise Him with my hands; if I'm missing my hands, I'll praise him with my arms; if I'm missing my arms, I'll praise Him with my legs; if I'm missing my legs I'll praise Him with my soul". And after all that's exactly where I am; no matter what, I'll still praise Him. Whether He heals me or not I'll praise Him.

     I only ask for the strength to go on. One day at a time.

Words I wish I wrote

THE MOST VITAL THING IN LIFE

When you feel like saying something

that you know you will regret,

or keenly feel an insult

not quite easy to forget,

that's the time to curb resentment

and maintain a mental peace,

for when your mind is tranquil

all your ill-thoughts simply cease.

It is easy to be angry

when defrauded or defied,

to be peeved and disappointed

if your wishes are denied;

but to win a worthwhile battle

over selfishness and spite,

you must learn to keep strict silence 

though you know you're on the right.

So keep your mental balance

when confronted by a foe,

be it enemy in ambush,

or some danger that you know.

If you are poised and tranquil

when all around is strife,

be assured that you have mastered

the most vital thing in life.

GRENVILLE KLEISER

A tranquil heart is life to the body,

but passion is rottenness to the bones.

Proverbs 14:30

     I rolled over in bed and felt the pain; everywhere. From my shoulders to my feet, there was pain. I wondered how I would go thru the day like that; how would I manage to care for the little guys if I could hardly move. Somehow it didn't seem fair. Tears begun to flow from my eyes, rolling down and hitting my pillow, making the peculiar pit-pat noise of rain.

     It was still dark outside; everything was quiet, except my mind, except my heart.

     I have prayed for healing so many times; others have prayed over me too; why then should I still suffer? for what purpose? My heart turned to God and I spoke to Him as I would to anyone else; I was angry. I know He can heal me; the only question left is does He wants to.

     I got out of bed and went to the living room; thoughts begun to flood my head; questions, concerns, doubt, confusion; I was so overwhelmed by the time I turned to the place I always turn to when the path gets tough: the Bible.

     I stumbled upon a verse on proverbs: a tranquil heart is life to the body, but passion is rottenness to the bones.

     A brutally honest look at my life would render the verdict that I am seldom at peace; even when the outside looks it, the inside is at war. The mind never stops moving. It travels back and forth thru the passages of time, worrying about a future that does not belong to me, regretting a past that is long gone, therefore non-existent, as there is nothing anyone can do to change it, not even God himself.

     A tranquil heart is life to the body.

     My mind begun to wonder if by any chance all this bodily pain could be a direct result of the turmoil inside; if my mind was at war, wouldn't it just make perfect sense that my body was showing the signs of the wounds inflicted by the enemy? The remedy sounded just too simple: a tranquil heart.

     I closed my eyes thinking to myself "ok heart, get quiet", but quickly realized that it was completely out of my hands; there is nothing I can really do to quiet my own heart, at least not just that easily; it has been years of training the mind and the heart to lean toward the dreadful, the what if's, the negative. I needed help from above to teach my heart to be at peace, to rest knowing that God is all powerful, big enough to take care of us, loving enough to work all things for good. 

     Peace. 

    I wondered what that looked like, felt like. I have no real recollection of what that really means or feels or looks like. As far back as I have memory, all I remember is turmoil. Yelling. Slamming of doors. Hurting words. A dreadful feeling in the air; an unsettling environment around the family meals, never knowing what would trigger the next attack or where I could run for cover; or even if I would be able to run for cover at all; I could be the next escape goat and endure not only the verbal attack but also the physical attack.

     There I was again, stuck in the past. See, it comes so easily.

     Somewhere in the midst of my tears I remember The Prince of Peace and  His invitation to "come to me all who are weary and heavy-ladden, and I will give you rest". With a broken heart and a wounded spirit I knelt before Him and waited until the strength to go on filled me once again. If you ever heard the words "My Grace is enough" wishpered to your heart  in the quietness of the early morning, then you know how thankful one can be for the amazing gift of Grace.

     And for the first time in a long time, my heart was truly at rest. Despite the pain.