A Time of War
The other day, a while back, our family, was discussing the death of Osama Bin Laden. The conversation randomly meandered through the topic covering all of the rabbit trails it brought to light. One of those trails was the current war on terrorism which led to discussions of when it began, what the exact year was, etc. All of sudden, something that was said reached out and grabbed my attention. Even though the conversation being referred to took place over a week ago, the comment still has my attention; it hasn't let go. The comment was made that the current war on terrorism our nation is engaged in has been going on for over nine, soon to be ten years. Whoa! Wait a sec, back up, back up, coming on ten years? Quick figuring, it was Mustard Seed's fifth birthday, she will be 15 this year. Yes, that's right! It will be ten years! For ten years our nation has been at war. For ten years our young men and women have gone off to fight against injustice and for freedom. Ten years!
Now the realizations come even faster. Realizations that are MUCH closer to home. My two youngest children have never lived without war. Having only been two years old at the time this war began, horsegirl can't remember a time when there wasn't war going on either. Not of This World, Colonel Redeemed, and a Mustard Seed, do remember and yes, they say, life was different - before war.
Before war. A time that many of today's youth barely remember and children nine and under haven't ever known. I found myself thinking hard, attempting to recall the years before. Were they different? Really, were they? Two of my daughters and one son insist they were. In what way? I inquire of them. They aren't sure. They just know life changed, and it hasn't been exactly the same since. It's more of a feeling, one of them say. It's just different they all agree. It isn't really bad, though it definitely isn't good. As they think, pondering, wondering the right words to say what doesn't know how to be said, I witness something, a transformation, there's a tension, something binding that slides off of them and falls away. None of us have been able to put anything into words, and yet somehow the talking has been enough. Even if nothing was said, the trying to say it has begun a healing.
Healing? Healing from what? I don't know. My children haven't fought in this war. They only know a few who actually have. Yet I can't deny what I saw that day. I can't pretend that this war hasn't affected my family. For I saw it, I witnessed with my very own eyes the nameless something fall off and leave as the oldest three children try to tell of a time they barely remember. Something else, was it relief? relaxes the expressions on their faces. These children who aren't in any way connected with the war, have nonetheless been affected. Their lives have been altered, and they know nothing has been the same. They were young, only 5,7, and 9, that unforgettable day of 9-11, yet they too have stories to tell, memories to remember.
After several days of pondering, another thought visited, what about the wars others don't see? The inner fights and struggles hidden inside, how do they affect the children of God? We all have them, these unseen enemies. Everyone of us fights them every day. They are terrorists using the age-old tactics of guerrilla warfare. Unexpectedly, out of nowhere, BAM! feelings of inferiority hit. Or maybe we get blasted with childhood insecurities we thought defeated. We're bopping along happy as a clam enjoying all of the pretty butterflies and *SMACK* an unseen foe clouds up and rains on our parade. Where did that come from? If we are on guard and alert, we whip out the Sword of the Spirit (God's Word) and make quick work of the enemy, but what about the other times? What about the times we are tired, lonely, and distracted, what then? We winch and keep walking.
Now, however, instead of enjoying the butterflies we're wary; we become suspicious and start putting up our defenses. We begin to follow the old adage that says "Happens once, shame on you. Happens, twice shame on me." "That's not ever happening to me again" becomes our theme song playing over and over in our minds. Eventually we are constantly on guard against personal attack. The only problem is that because we are viewing life through the glasses of pain and hurt, everything seems like an attack. We become like my children, needing to talk but not knowing it. The tension, that nameless dread will fall away as soon as we begin to share. Even when what needs saying doesn't know how to be said, it's in the trying that healing comes.
Our Heavenly Father God sees and knows. Unlike this earthly Mama, in His Omniscience, He knows our every need. He is lovingly waiting to gather us into His lap and listen as we attempt to tell Him, everything. The big hurts, the little hurts, and the I don't know what in the world this is hurts, He wants to hear it all; He's our Father. As our words tumble out, our faces show relief, they relax and become soft. The healing touch of the Father's listening ear and loving embrace do for His children more than an earthly parent's ever could.
I have to ask, are you in the middle of a war in your life? Maybe the foe you are facing isn't unseen. Maybe it has a name. Maybe it has a fierce and ferocious name. Have No Fear. Nothing and/or no one is too big for God. Come to the Father today. Share with Him the cares of your heart. He longs for you with an immeasurable love. Come close. He won't turn you away. "Jesus loves me this I know ~ for the Bible tells me so ~ little ones to Him belong ~ they are weak but He is strong"
Be back later. I'm on my way to the Father's lap. There's something I want to tell Him. Won't you join me?
Now the realizations come even faster. Realizations that are MUCH closer to home. My two youngest children have never lived without war. Having only been two years old at the time this war began, horsegirl can't remember a time when there wasn't war going on either. Not of This World, Colonel Redeemed, and a Mustard Seed, do remember and yes, they say, life was different - before war.
Before war. A time that many of today's youth barely remember and children nine and under haven't ever known. I found myself thinking hard, attempting to recall the years before. Were they different? Really, were they? Two of my daughters and one son insist they were. In what way? I inquire of them. They aren't sure. They just know life changed, and it hasn't been exactly the same since. It's more of a feeling, one of them say. It's just different they all agree. It isn't really bad, though it definitely isn't good. As they think, pondering, wondering the right words to say what doesn't know how to be said, I witness something, a transformation, there's a tension, something binding that slides off of them and falls away. None of us have been able to put anything into words, and yet somehow the talking has been enough. Even if nothing was said, the trying to say it has begun a healing.
Healing? Healing from what? I don't know. My children haven't fought in this war. They only know a few who actually have. Yet I can't deny what I saw that day. I can't pretend that this war hasn't affected my family. For I saw it, I witnessed with my very own eyes the nameless something fall off and leave as the oldest three children try to tell of a time they barely remember. Something else, was it relief? relaxes the expressions on their faces. These children who aren't in any way connected with the war, have nonetheless been affected. Their lives have been altered, and they know nothing has been the same. They were young, only 5,7, and 9, that unforgettable day of 9-11, yet they too have stories to tell, memories to remember.
After several days of pondering, another thought visited, what about the wars others don't see? The inner fights and struggles hidden inside, how do they affect the children of God? We all have them, these unseen enemies. Everyone of us fights them every day. They are terrorists using the age-old tactics of guerrilla warfare. Unexpectedly, out of nowhere, BAM! feelings of inferiority hit. Or maybe we get blasted with childhood insecurities we thought defeated. We're bopping along happy as a clam enjoying all of the pretty butterflies and *SMACK* an unseen foe clouds up and rains on our parade. Where did that come from? If we are on guard and alert, we whip out the Sword of the Spirit (God's Word) and make quick work of the enemy, but what about the other times? What about the times we are tired, lonely, and distracted, what then? We winch and keep walking.
Now, however, instead of enjoying the butterflies we're wary; we become suspicious and start putting up our defenses. We begin to follow the old adage that says "Happens once, shame on you. Happens, twice shame on me." "That's not ever happening to me again" becomes our theme song playing over and over in our minds. Eventually we are constantly on guard against personal attack. The only problem is that because we are viewing life through the glasses of pain and hurt, everything seems like an attack. We become like my children, needing to talk but not knowing it. The tension, that nameless dread will fall away as soon as we begin to share. Even when what needs saying doesn't know how to be said, it's in the trying that healing comes.
Our Heavenly Father God sees and knows. Unlike this earthly Mama, in His Omniscience, He knows our every need. He is lovingly waiting to gather us into His lap and listen as we attempt to tell Him, everything. The big hurts, the little hurts, and the I don't know what in the world this is hurts, He wants to hear it all; He's our Father. As our words tumble out, our faces show relief, they relax and become soft. The healing touch of the Father's listening ear and loving embrace do for His children more than an earthly parent's ever could.
I have to ask, are you in the middle of a war in your life? Maybe the foe you are facing isn't unseen. Maybe it has a name. Maybe it has a fierce and ferocious name. Have No Fear. Nothing and/or no one is too big for God. Come to the Father today. Share with Him the cares of your heart. He longs for you with an immeasurable love. Come close. He won't turn you away. "Jesus loves me this I know ~ for the Bible tells me so ~ little ones to Him belong ~ they are weak but He is strong"
Be back later. I'm on my way to the Father's lap. There's something I want to tell Him. Won't you join me?