Life & faith reflections

When Father’s Day is painful

/ Heather Davis Nelson / 1 Comment

Before I delve into this topic, let me begin with a disclamor: I was blessed to be raised by a Dad who loved me well as his daughter and cherished me and led me to Jesus over and over again and proudly gave me away to the man I married almost 7 years ago. This man has been a father for three years to our twin daughters, and I daily thank God that my girls have such a father to call, “Daddy.”

This isn’t a post about my pain, but it’s a post about the pain so many of you carry on this day. God calls us to bear one another’s burdens, and in my calling as a counselor and friend, I have heard your stories and I hurt for you today. And I wanted you to know that someone notices, sees, and acknowledges today’s pain.

Today may be painful because you’re grieving the father you never knew. The father you wish you had known, but whose absence leaves a hole in your heart and your life. A hole that you’ve tried to fill a thousand other ways but it always comes up short.

Your pain may be the absence of a father you knew and loved dearly and who is now gone. Whose death you grieve today most keenly. I’ve written about grief here, and I pray the God of all comfort will meet you in each avenue of sorrow you will walk through today as you know Him as Father and the ever-present one.

Or maybe the pain comes from a father who violated the protection and trust meant to be inherent in your relationship. Abuse of any sort – emotional, physical, or sexual – breaks boundaries established by God and leaves indelible pain, confusion, and deep wounds. Your journey feels long and hard and impossible and dark. You may not even be able to speak of what happened, and so you have to fake a “Happy Father’s Day” to the man who violated you and did what should not be done. And this only adds insult to injury. I hurt for you and with you, and if you need a safe place to talk about this, find a trusted friend or counselor or pastor and begin to share this pain. Speaking about such things feels as if it will multiply shame, but that’s the kingdom of darkness trying to keep you from coming into the light. When light shines in the darkness, the darkness cannot overcome it (John 1:5).

Then there are those of you who long to be fathers, and whether the delay is due to waiting for marriage or waiting through infertility, this day is a painful reminder of what you (or your spouse) are not yet.

Some of you have a combination of what I’ve mentioned already, and so the hurt is multi-faceted and often complicated grief. Such as grieving the death of an abusive father. Or a feeling of fear and dread as you watch your husband becoming abusive in ways your own father was to you. Or celebrating a wonderful father while wondering whether you or your husband will ever become one.

And then there’s the frustration of waiting for your husband to step up and be the kind of father you had or that you pray he would be for your children. Perhaps you found yourself reading the greeting cards and wishing they were actually true. You feel disappointed and you wonder if and when he’ll ever change.

As you grieve today, I want you to know that you’re not grieving in silence and you’re not grieving alone. Not only do I (and many, many others) acknowledge your pain, but we want to walk with you through it. And even if today passes without any other acknowledgement of the burden you carry, there is One who sees. Who meets you even now, carries your grief for you; atones for the sin committed against you; is the perfect and present Father you long for or miss or never had. He is the one who met a slave-woman and her son when they’d been cruelly abandoned by her mistress and were languishing in the desert, expecting to die. Hagar’s name for this God in Genesis 16:13?

You are the God who sees me.

On this day when you will see all of the Facebook and Instagram posts celebrating fathers and painting pictures of beautiful Pinterest-worthy brunches and picnics and barbecues; on this day when you will feel as if you are not seen or known; take comfort that there is a God who sees you. Who sees your pain and your grief and your brokenness. He sees you, and his seeing brings healing, comfort, and light into darkness. I can’t promise the pain will be less, but I know a God who promises his presence with his people in times of distress. And he is the one from whom all the best earthly fathers derive their name. He is the one Paul speaks of in 2 Corinthians 1:3-4 –

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies
and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction …

And here’s one last thought. All of the images of perfect families with perfect fathers you’ll see today through posted pictures, at church or the brunch restaurant or your next-door neighbors – well, they’re not as perfect as they seem either. And in fact they could be well-constructed masks to cover pain that might be more similar to yours than you know. Take courage to tell your story, whether beginning today or tomorrow; whether with one friend or in a more public sphere; whether in person or email or a blog. Your story will remind others that they, too, do not grieve alone. And you may even be able to put words to what someone else could never express until they read or hear what’s on your heart.

Aaahh … summer!

/ Heather Davis Nelson / 3 Comments

It’s past 8 o’clock and there is still enough light outside to last for at least an hour. I love summer for its long hours of daylight and more frequent sun-filled days. There is usually a relaxed pace (except the summers when we’ve moved – 2006, 2009, 2010) and all of life seems to slow down to a “right nice comfortable pace,” as we say in the South. And, yes, you better believe it’s capitalized down here.

And the BEACH. We *heart* the beach. It’s one of the few common interests that Seth and I share. That and theology and philosophy of life and parenting and marriage and love. We say that we agree on the big things, and sanctify each other in the myriad other small things. We had to take a break from our frequent beach trips the past three summers – #1 because I was majorly pregnant with twins and on bed rest (and didn’t want to go anywhere anyway), #2 and #3 because babies who eat sand and toddlers who run away from you toward the ocean tend to interfere with the idyllic beach days that we remembered. Now they’re finally able to entertain themselves and we’ve learned how to enjoy the beach from an almost-three-year-old’s perspective.

Summer is the time of peak fruits and vegetables, and so we are savoring bright berries in abundance and veggies on the grill. The temperature is just nearly perfect tonight – hanging out between 70-80 degrees, although once it reaches 90-100, I’ll probably be singing a different tune about summer’s glories. And so (call us crazy), we think it will be a good time to try out potty training again. Worst case scenario, we can take the girls to the beach for it so that we don’t have to clean up the accidents. (Just kidding … mostly.)

It’s a season of parties, barbecues, cookouts, lingering hours outside with neighbors and kids. There is just something inherently hopeful about summer. This season reflects God’s glory in its brilliance. Which is always present even when hidden by the short, dark days of winter. And how I need to remember that! What a mercy of God to give us such a season.

What do you enjoy about summer?

Thankful Thursday

/ Heather Davis Nelson / 5 Comments

It’s been a long day. So I’m going to the archives for this one – the archives of the gratitude journal I started at a friend’s encouragement after we read One Thousand Gifts together. I love some Ann Voskamp. My heart so easily forgets my blessings and begins complaining and criticizing. Counting the many graces showered upon me reminds me that our God is good and faithful. Versus my complaining that short-circuits my view of deep mercy. Listen along as I recount a few of the 543 I’ve got so far (I’m slow – it’s taken me 20 months to get this many).

1. New pages in a journal

13. Big baby grins for: mommy, daddy’s arrival home, and bananas

14. Baby laughter

15. Fall evening drive – alone

16. Sunroof open to starry night sky on Hwy. 301

20. Awaking slowly, quietly, unhurriedly

23. Magnificent Chicago – a city whose welcome felt so familiar

24. Shared laughter and joy made richer by the years spent apart

25. Faith through tears and sorrow and grief

28. Laughing so hard your face hurts

33. Wiggly girl turned still with wide-eyed wonder at twilight

40. A community of women with whom to study God’s Word

41. A shepherd who cares for me, his sheep, promising goodness and mercy even through hard days

 

A project to make my math teachers proud

/ Heather Davis Nelson / 1 Comment

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Mark this down: I found a use for all of the math classes I endured through elementary, middle, and high school. (Thankfully I was finished with math and didn’t need anything besides an aptly named “Math for Elementary Education” for my college major which was fun and about as easy as it sounds like it should be.) And I took a page out of the book of my mathematically/engineering-minded husband, Seth. When he hangs pictures, he actually measures. Like with a real measuring tape and uses a level to make sure it’s straight. I use the “artistic method.” Meaning that I eyeball it, nail up the picture and then usually have to do this 2-3 times before getting it right. The patching needed after a few of my picture-hanging sessions is no small thing.

And so this morning, while I was hanging up the beautiful prints, I took the time to measure the wall; figure out how to evenly space the five small prints; determine the height of each frame; mark it with a pencil before I made a nail hole in the wall.

The result? These pictures are beautifully spaced and aesthetically pleasing to even the most OCD of my family members (guess who). I think I might have enough energy and motivation now to tackle the piles on my desk so that I can actually use my office.

An added bonus is that I have a renewed thankfulness for my husband’s gifts and talents and I am newly appreciative of my full liberal arts education that included my least favorite subject, math. On to those piles now …

 

On my bookshelf

/ Heather Davis Nelson / Leave a comment

20130610-062659.jpgI am an avid reader. I always have been, and in fact as a child I would often stay up way past bedtime reading by the light of my nightlight or a flashlight under my covers. I was such a rebellious bookworm. (Yes, I agree that’s a bit of an oxymoron.)

Since I’m seeking to write more regular posts, I thought a weekly or monthly “On my bookshelf” would give me something to work with (and something for you to look forward to). You’ll notice that I always have one fiction book, which I usually read just before bedtime and/or at the beach or stolen precious minutes of naptime. Right now I’m reading The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie by Alan Bradley. It’s a murder mystery, a favorite genre of mine ever since Nancy Drew, and so far so good. A little hard to get into the story, but I love the writing.

Next in the stack is a nonfiction cultural read, The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin. I’ve written a little bit about this book already, and you will be hearing more from me on this topic in the future. One quote that resonated with me from Chapter 4 – “Parenthood”:

In many ways, the happiness of having children falls into the kind of happiness that could be called fog happiness. Fog is elusive. Fog surrounds you and transforms the atmosphere, but when you try to examine it, it vanishes. Fog happiness is the kind of happiness you get from activities that, closely examined, don’t really seem to bring much happiness at all — yet somehow they do. … the experience of having children gives me tremendous fog happiness. It surrounds me, I see it everywhere, despite the fact that when I zoom in on any particular moment, it can be hard to identify.

And then I like to be reading some sort of Christian book which will help to strengthen my faith and understanding of the Christian life. I’ve been reading Tim Keller’s The Meaning of Marriage for, well, several months now. Not because it’s not good but precisely because it is so good that I can only digest small portions at a time. I’ll leave you today with this quote from Chapter 3, “The Essence of Marriage”:

To be loved but not known is comforting but superficial. To be known and not loved is our greatest fear. But to be fully known and truly loved is, well, a lot like being loved by God. It is what we need more than anything. It liberates us from pretense, humbles us out of our self-righteousness, and fortifies us for any difficulty life throws at us.

My favorite birthday gifts

/ Heather Davis Nelson / 1 Comment

Today I creep closer into my “mid-30s” as I’ll add another candle to my birthday cake. And this year more than any other, God has reminded me of the two gifts that are my favorites. My twin daughters who are closely approaching 3-years-old in early fall.

As I began my birthday morning with my daily devotional reading from Psalm 127, it was as if God was speaking right to my heart – reminding me of these two beautiful gifts that are straight from his hand. I so often forget, and I complain that mothering is hard and difficult and discouraging. And of course it is all of those things, but it is also a privilege and a deep joy to have these two girls call me “Mommy.” Psalm 127:3 (ESV) speaks of this so clearly:

Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord, the fruit of the womb a reward.

So how am I celebrating my birthday? With these two girls and my husband. We had breakfast bagels and coffee at Yorgo’s, and then hung out at the mall play area together and browsed books at Barnes and Noble. Just to keep it real, I’ll also tell you that we had a major chocolate milk spill in the car in which said Mommy-who-loves-her-kids got pretty upset with the offender (who did it on purpose to her twin sister’s great amusement); that we had a major diaper change in Barnes and Noble; and that I was pretty glad for naptime once we got home. I love my alone writing/processing/reflecting/reading time.

But these years of naptimes and tantrums will pass quickly (so I’ve heard), and before I know it these two will be in preschool, and then I’ll blink and they’ll be graduating from high school and I won’t know where the time has gone.

So, God, give me grace not to miss your daily gifts to me in the two sets of blue eyes who greet me each morning (ready or not).

When you regret yesterday

/ Heather Davis Nelson / 1 Comment

I should have known that beginning the day with a blog post entitled “Waiting for perfect,” would have been a sure-fire guarantee that the day ahead would give me challenges to that effect. And it did. I got frustrated with my kids because of trying to focus on adult conversations with friends who came over. They, in turn, responded to my frustration and lack of attention with (predictably for 2-year-olds) more acting out and clamoring/clingy behavior. Which frustrated me more, and I pushed them away, and then was so very glad to be leaving the house at 7pm for a meeting.

But this morning I feel it. That lingering sense of regret and guilt over yesterday. I awoke feeling a vague burden, nameless but very present. Then I reached for today’s devotional reading from a wonderful book (Grace Through the Ages) written by a good friend, former colleague/professor/counseling supervisor, Bill Smith. It met me exactly where I am, reminding me of truth and grace. Which is what my heart needed today, and what I will never outgrow my need for as long as I live.

Each time you sin against an infinite being you incur an infinite debt. How many lifetimes would you need to pay off just one sin? Little wonder people find so many ways to distract their minds and harden their consciences. Who could live with the enormity of that crushing debt?

Hence the psalmist’s conclusion [in Psalm 32] that you are blessed when God chooses to cancel what you ow (Psalm 32:1-2). You are so blessed that, despite the troubles of life that come even to God’s people (Psalm 32:7), you have more than enough cause to trust this God (Psalm 32:10), to run to him (Psalm 32:7) and to rejoice (Psalm 32:11).

Waiting for Perfect

/ Heather Davis Nelson / 3 Comments

I am going to try an experiment suggested by Gretchen Rubin in her book The Happiness Project, which I picked up for a good summer read last week. (Who wouldn’t want to read a book about happiness, right?) She talked about launching her blog, and that someone advised her that if she did so, she should write daily. Hmm… Something I certainly haven’t done here. But why not?

I say I don’t have time. (But I probably do.)

I am afraid I won’t have things to write about. (But I’m always thinking about something.)

I think you won’t want to read it. (But you’ve proven you will – thank you!)

I want it to be perfect. Perfectly expressed, polished, magazine-worthy article that will move your heart and your soul and change your life and get me lots of re-posts and “likes.” There, it’s out there.

I want it to be perfect because I want to be perfect, or at least for you to think I’m perfect. That’s the allure of the internet. I’ll only Instagram what I want you to see about my life – the happy smiles, the weddings enjoyed, the perfect-looking family moments of strawberry picking and visiting local restaurants and overall having a fabulous time in life. I tend to Facebook days when life’s going well. And when it’s not going well, and life is less than perfect, and I don’t have words to say and I feel like an awful mom and wife and friend, I hide. It’s easy to do in virtual reality, because there’s not usually people saying, “Hey! I haven’t seen you on Instagram lately. What’s your life been up to?” “No Facebook statuses lately, Heather – are you doing ok?” “No blogs in a month – everything going all right for you?”

This post said it well and got me thinking. Enjoy it. And I’ll (hopefully) be back tomorrow for another perhaps less-than-profound post.

The Gathering

/ Heather Davis Nelson / 3 Comments

img_3386First hint of dawn
Across marsh plains
Bidding us farewell.
Life scattered into corners
Of the family beach house
Now gathered back into neat tidy bags
Packed in alongside memories of laughter, tears, sharing hearts, dreams
And you blink and it’s the end
Of this annual gathering of all.

Back now to routine
To the trying to connect
To keeping the relationships alive
Through phone lines
Skype dates weekend road trips
Across the many miles and state lines from whence we gathered.

But it’s never quite the same as this week
Of all present, laughing, remembering, teasing together.
Each personality enriched by the other
And by the Spirit whose Life we share
As well as common lineage by blood or marriage.
Cousins reacquainted in play and long beach days
Talks on bike rides, a beach blanket, a walk along the shore, in a rare interlude of quiet amidst the loud happy chaos.
Dinners and desserts and food all the time everywhere
Music as background and soundtrack
To the celebration of family and life
That we gather up into one beautiful week.

The problem with self-pity

/ Heather Davis Nelson / 5 Comments

In a conversation with a friend and mentor earlier this week, I was talking about some of the frustrations of this season – the tantrums, power struggles, whining, endless picking up and cleaning up and food preparation for toddlers who on a whim decide not to eat, etc. She patiently listened, offered sympathy and the hope of one who’s been there that it won’t last forever. And then she shared a quote with me from John Piper’s “Desiring God” epilogue. A quote about self-pity and pride. The pride part is obvious, but the self-pity part caught me:

Self-pity is the belief that you should be admired because of how much you have sacrificed.

Ouch. That can sum up many of my struggles of this season. In self-pity, I am actually asking for admiration. And admiration based on my level of sacrifice (which I self-assess as much greater than what anyone else has been through). Self-pity is insidious, and it creeps into a heart unknowingly, disguised as something good – a little reward for all your hard labor, “I only want to be thanked for what I do,” “If only they would notice what I’ve given up for them!” But of course, when you are thanked and appreciated, it never feels like quite enough. It never equals your level of self-assessed sacrifice, and you’re left wanting more. More recognition, more appreciation, less need to sacrifice, more comfort, less hardship.

The good news is that I have a Savior who did not succumb to self-pity, and who went all the way in his sacrifice for me – laying down his entire life for me, dying for me. He doesn’t ask for admiration in return but for faith. A belief that I need his sacrifice because of my struggle with self-pity. A day-to-day trusting hope that turns my perceived “sacrifice” into love for him and those around me, which does not ask for admiration in return. Faith that is expressed in love; faith that empowers me to lovingly lay down my life for my friends (starting with my whining two-year-olds) – not for the purpose of earning salvation or admiration, but because I am loved like this every day.