Getting a penny stuck in one's esophagus ( That's the one that goes to your stomach, not your lungs...no worries!) is not usually the time when one would expect to hear a great big, Are you paying attention to what I'm trying to teach you? from the Lord . Well, if you're the one with the penny stuck in your throat, it may be a good time to hear from the Lord, but if your that person's mother, you're thinking about more earthly things, such as: x-rays, IVs, tears, How am I supposed to keep this kid on a bed?, and I wonder how much this little escapade is going to cost me? However, that is exactly what happened to this mommy last week. In the midst of great chaos, God spoke quite loudly and vividly into my spirit and reminded me of His character and His purposes.
Jack Paxton, dubbed "Jack Knife" by a family friend, which I love because the child is an accident waiting to happen, got the most interesting idea I've heard of in a long, long time. Being only the mommy, I did not realize that chewing pennies would increase your muscle mass. Jack did. In his attempt to become the next Mr. Olympia, he ended up with a penny lodged in his throat. I'll spare you the details and only say that we found ourselves at the hospital for an overnight stay and surgery the following morning.
Before we go any further, I must tell you that my extremely creative and most intelligent son was a very sick orphan for the first four years of his life. From the information that we have gathered, Jack probably spent about half of those fours years hospitalized. As far as we know, there was never one constant person with him throughout those stays. It is fair to assume that he spent many days, nights, hours, weeks, and months alone. He developed such anxiety that he pulled out his hair in large patches and scratched his skin to the point of leaving open wounds. The hair has grown back and the scratching has decreased, but the emotional scars run deep down under the surface. There are certain situations that make those scars rear their ugly heads, and they show up kicking and screaming loud enough to get every one's attention. Thus was the case the night of our hospital stay.
One failed attempt at an IV would send any kid over the top, two without question. Finally, number three hit the target, and I had a child on my hands who was hysterically trying to remove his own IV. I had gone from being mommy to being the enemy, not once did he seek my comfort or call out my name. Trying to console him was impossible. He had learned to do that for himself. The emotional response that had been invoked from years of abandonment and a scenario that was all too familiar, left me with a kicking, screaming, untouchable boy.
By 2 am, six hours later, I was exasperated. In one last desperate attempt to soothe my child, I picked Jack up and held him close to me. I got what I expected, nearly beat to death by flailing hands and feet. Then, he did it, just at the very moment when I was about to let him go. He jumped the gap. The gap being the distance between what we feel and what is actually truth. He let go of his past and jumped into his future. He grabbed on to me and never let go. All night, he held on. I knew in that moment that something big had happened. He had chosen, despite his overwhelming emotions, to trust, just one more time. Our relationship changed.
The circumstances surrounding that evening were difficult, devastating to Jack, and overwhelming for me. Nothing about the exterior of the event changed that entire night, not before the jump, not after the jump. It was on the inside that changes were made. God was doing a work on the interior of an ex-orphan boy and his momma.
Romans 8:28-30 reads: 28.And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are called according to his purpose. 29. For whom he did foreknow, he also did predestinate (determine) to be conformed to the image of his Son, that he might be the firstborn among many brethren. 30. Moreover whom he did predestinate (determine to conform), them he also called: and whom he called, them he also justified: and whom he justified, them he also glorified.
I was curious about the word called in verse twenty-eight. I did some asking around and found out that this word is not a past tense verb, but an active present tense verb. There are future implications that result from answering the call of the Holy Spirit. That means that there is a process that is going to follow our initial calling or conversion. This process includes three promises from God. Through Christ we are justified, sanctified, and ultimately receive glorification, justification being reconciled with God through Christ's sacrifice, glorification happening after this life when we are made perfect in the likeness of our Savior.
It's that middle step that God spoke to me so loudly about in a hospital room with a broken child, the step of sanctification. Paul tells us in verse twenty nine that God has determined to conform us into the image of Christ, to reflect the Son. It will never be about our environment, our circumstance, all the things that pass away. It is always about the transformation on the inside. God is always about the eternal, those things that will last forever. His character is good. His purpose is to bring glory upon Himself by redeeming the saints through the process of the call. He wants us to look more and more like Him (sanctification) so that we may draw others to the cross and in the process, break our own binding chains.
What are the good things that Paul speaks of in verse twenty-eight? They're not a better job, more money, perfect children, or a textbook marriage. Those things may or may not get better. Looking at these things will only leave us discouraged. It's the promise that God is working all these circumstances, good or bad, to make us more like Christ. In other words, He wants to build us from the inside out. It doesn't get any better than that.
So, are we going to jump the gap the way that Jack did, terrified, feeling betrayed, hurting? Despite his very real emotions, he jumped with everything he had. Our Father is standing with His arms outstretched, calling to us, over and over, again, " Jump! Answer my call. I have a work to do within you." The most wonderful thing about the call, it never stops. We hear it every second, every minute, every hour, of every day. He never stops calling us to healing. He never stops calling us into becoming more and more like Himself. It is up to us to respond. Will we? Will we stand on the very edge of the gap, knees shaking, heart raising, letting go of our circumstances, and jump with all of our might, straight into the arms of our Savior? Will we allow Christ to do what He does best, change our heart for all eternity.
Theemommy

Monday, July 22, 2013
Friday, July 5, 2013
Unpacking
About a month ago, I made my way to our attic to the two forty gallon rubber tubs that hold the belongings of my son Miles. I used them to pack up his life possessions about six months after he died. They contain all the usual things that a boy would own: radio controlled cars, trophies, an alligator head, pocket knives, and so on. In one of the boxes, I found his most prized possession, his boots. They are not cowboy boots or rain boots but tactical boots, the kind his daddy wears to work everyday. His father is a police officer. Except, Miles' were brown. His daddy's were/are black. Anybody who knew Miles knows he loved his boots. Whether it be January or June, Miles had on his boots. It didn't even matter if they fit. He still wore them, rain or shine. We love Miles' boots because they are the essence of who he was, a rough, tumble some boy who loved the outdoors and didn't mind being a little different, and looking different meant he looked a little bit like his father.
I had taken the boots out to do a picture for my blog. To be honest, I loved that Miles' boots were once again lying around the house. So, I left them by our patio doors to look at as I passed in and out of the house. Miles would never believe how important those boots have become to the Paxton household.
One day as I was standing in my bathroom getting ready for the day, I heard, clump, clump, clump. I looked to my left and there was Jack standing proud as a peacock with his brother's boots on his feet. " Look, mommy. I have Miles' feet on." There he was, in all of his glory, with boots all the way up to his knee caps and a smile that covered the rest. It made this momma smile one of those deep down smiles that warms you from the inside out. He could not have been happier, mimicking his brother, and I could not have been happier watching him stumble around in those old boots.
One day as I was standing in my bathroom getting ready for the day, I heard, clump, clump, clump. I looked to my left and there was Jack standing proud as a peacock with his brother's boots on his feet. " Look, mommy. I have Miles' feet on." There he was, in all of his glory, with boots all the way up to his knee caps and a smile that covered the rest. It made this momma smile one of those deep down smiles that warms you from the inside out. He could not have been happier, mimicking his brother, and I could not have been happier watching him stumble around in those old boots.
Seeing Jack in his brother's boots gave me pause to think about how he could be so proud of something that belonged to a brother he has never met. Miles is real to Jack, or so, it seems. He is as real to him as rain. I started to think about how we have conveyed Miles to Jack. Why has it worked? What lesson could I learn from seeing him in those over sized boots? I began to wonder. Do we make Christ as real in our home? Do we make Him so real that my children want to reflect Him, that they long to be like Jesus? The answers were convicting.
Because Miles' life is so intertwined with the life of every member of our family, there is a natural outpouring of our heart that makes its way to our mouths and right to the ears of anyone who will listen. The conversation is not a list of Miles' attributes or a succinct description of who he was. It is a constant flow of remembrances based on how we each related to Miles. Our constant talk is of a relationship, not on the idea of a person.
Our home is filled with the remnants of Miles, the things that remain simply because of his presence. You will not get past the front door of our home without realizing that each of our children are incredibly special, as is in most homes. Pictures of Miles remain on the walls, bookcases, and tables. Home videos are stored in our computer. My top dresser drawer holds a hand written book. Because Miles' life mattered, we hold close to the things that are connected to him. They have become precious to us.
We made a choice when Jack came into our family that we would not take Miles out of our conversations. We could have waited until the "right time" and sat down and had a conversation with Jack about Miles, but we wanted Miles to be a part of Jack's normal. We wanted him to become woven into Jack's life in the same way that we all had to begin to knit ourselves together as a family. He has never known life without Miles.
All this to say, Have I done the same thing with Christ? Have I displayed the things of Christ to show to my children? Does He grace every nook and cranny of my home? Am I so involved with Him that I talk of what he has done for me, daily? Are there remnants of His presence that fill my home? Is He deeply woven into the fabric of my children's lives, them not knowing anything different? Have I made that choice?
When I weigh these questions, I realize I have some unpacking to do, just as I unpacked those old boots that so remind us of Miles. I need to put on display and love the things of Christ. There should be somethings in my home that make Christ real to my children. I have a Bible that needs to be opened, and a mouth that needs to talk of my Savior as my Father and Friend, hymnbooks that lie around and a song of thanksgiving that fills the air, church bulletins, and prayer lists. Some of these items alone are meaningless, but they are what remains when He has graced us with His presence. They are the culminating results of a Spirit filled home.
May my children never know the opposite. May Christ become so real to them that they want only to stand as proud as a peacock and say, " Look at me! I look like my Father!" Even if it means, they look a little different.
Now...if you'll excuse me. I have some unpacking to do....
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