Margaret McSweeney's Blog, page 25

State Who You Are

I am 44 years old, and I just returned to high school.

As a Spanish teacher.

I graduated in 1987, so it has been a few years since I was in a building with teenagers all day, and I have to tell you I have had flashbacks to all the things that made me feel uncomfortable and embarrassed and worthless when I was in high school.

The night before the open house for parents I looked in the mirror before going to bed. There on my chin was a massive zit. I was horrified and imagined what everyone would think of me. Then I started laughing. Really? Forty-four years old and worried about my complexion before going to high school?

On the first day of school, I watched my room fill up with a bunch of young athletes, and old feelings resurfaced, of being the choir nerd and the one who cried after every.  single.  PE class. I chatted with my Spanish classes a bit and told each group a little bit about myself, making this declaration:

I am THE most unathletic human being who ever lived on the planet earth.

The next day I proved my statement correct when a student tossed me a dry erase marker from across the room—the moment of truth.

The marker landed on the floor.

He looked at me incredulously and said, I threw it perfectly. You didn’t even have to move your hands, just hold them out and catch the marker.

I confirmed, once again, that I did not have one tiny athletic bone in my body. Can’t catch. Can’t throw. Can’t kick. Can’t hit. Can’t run.

Yesterday another student tossed something to me. I picked it up off the floor.

I can’t catch, really.

And the same young man gave me the same incredulous look. Then we both laughed.

We laughed.  

This is something I could not do in high school. I couldn’t laugh. I could only turn red and feel like an idiot and want to crawl under the covers and never come out.

But now I am able to say, out loud, “I AM UNATHLETIC,” because I appreciate the people who are athletes. I watched some volleyball girls play a game last night, and the way one girl quickly got under a fierce spike? Amazing. I’m glad some girls are gifted on a volleyball court, and it’s okay that I’m not.

I am able to say, out loud, “I AM UNATHLETIC,” because now I know I am a lot of other things that don’t start with “un”. I am a good wife and a loving mom. I am a writer. I am a teacher. I am a daughter of Christ. I am a friend. I am prayerful. I am a student of God’s word.

I am able to say, out loud, “I AM UNATHLETIC,” because I know other people desperately need to know I’m not perfect. If I am “un”, it gives permission for others to be “un”.

So I say to you, young woman, state who you are. Say it nice and loud. Learn to laugh at the weak spots and thank God for the strengths.

I’ll help you get started: You are valuable.

It's okay to be an "un". @MargaretMcSweeney @Christy_Fitz
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Letting go of Regret through the Power of Forgiveness

Have you ever done something so bad that you didn’t think you could ever forgive yourself? Even worse, have you ever believed God couldn’t forgive you? That was the case for Rodrigo Mendoza, a character portrayed by Robert De Niro in the film The Mission. It tells the story of redemption for someone who felt no hope and saw no possibility of forgiveness.

Mendoza was a mercenary and Indian slave trader whose business places him in a twisted love triangle with a beautiful woman (his fiancée) and his younger brother. After witnessing their infidelity, Mendoza’s jealousy and rage drives him to murder. He sits in a jail cell, angry, bitter, and consumed with self-hatred. He is visited by Father Gabriel, a Jesuit priest who asks if he dare find a suitable penance for his crime. Reluctantly, he agrees.

Carrying a net filled with rock and armor, he sets out with the Jesuits to climb to the top of Iguazu Falls and seek forgiveness from the Indians he murdered and traded as slaves. The Indians are waiting there to greet the priests. When they see Mendoza, they became agitated and call for their chief.

As Mendoza crests the summit with his heavy load, a knife wielding Indian grabs him by the hair waiting for a signal from the chief before he cuts his throat. The chief gives the order, and, in an act of mercy, the man cuts the cord from around Mendoza’s neck sending his sack alone over the cliff. Grace and mercy had set him free and changed his life.

Receiving God’s forgiveness for our wrongdoing can be difficult, but we should never question his desire to forgive us if we truly repent, because God’s very nature and character is one of forgiveness.

So how do we go about the process of forgiving ourselves? Here’s some suggestions to begin:

Recall the offense

Draw on God’s image of yourself and your dependence on him. Recognize the journey of self-forgiveness depends solely on God. Make a decision of the will to forgive yourself by recalling your offense and putting words to it. Decide to give yourself the gift of empathy.

Stop ruminating

Once you have repented, let it go. Accept what God has freely given with a grateful heart. Ruminating keeps you stuck. Chose to intentionally focus on the Scriptural truths that substantiate your forgiveness.

Recognize feelings aren’t facts

Knowing in our minds that we’re forgiven and feeling it are very different. Feelings are not always bearers of truth, they either are, or they are not. We make our feelings into facts by buying into lie based thinking; because we feel unforgiven, we act as if we’re unforgiven, and therefore believe we are not forgiven. God’s forgiveness of us was total and complete. We must embrace it.

Repair what damage you can

Make the necessary repair attempts to others you may have wounded. Ask for forgiveness. Publically repent if necessary. You may have to live with the consequences of your actions, but you will be able to live with yourself knowing you have done all that’s in your power to change direction.

Resolve to live differently

Repentance means a change of direction. Decide as Mendoza did to live virtuously. Not in an attitude of penance, but one that understands that God uses the worst of sinners to bring glory to his name. The most important part of your story may be yet to come and it will be greater than your transgressions!

Back at you: What kind of armor is in your bag today? What personal failures won’t you allow to die? And are you willing to step out and risk appropriating God’s forgiveness toward you and live the life of freedom he has graciously granted you?

What personal failures won’t you allow to die? @MargaretMcSweeney @HeartlinePod
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Birthday Dinner

Now that September is here, our college kids are back in school and our busy August is over, I find myself daydreaming about years past . . . especially when both of my kids were home, and they had me constantly running around with sports and homework and church activities.

Sometimes, I even get a little nostalgic for those days!

Well, I do until I read some of my blogs from that time . . . and I remember just how busy and tired we all were!

These moments of reflection remind me a lot of Lovina Keim, one of my central characters in the Days of Redemption series. Lovina is a grandmother and a great grandmother. On the surface, it seems like she’s had a charmed, very happy life. But over the course of three books, she confronts some of her most painful memories and puts them to rest.

The third book in the series, Eventide, is a romance at its heart. It’s a story of Elsie Keim and Landon Troyer, her new neighbor in Berlin, and the lengths that each will go in order to make the other person happy. But interspersed with Elsie’s and Landon’s story is Lovina’s . . . which felt just as important and bittersweet.

With all this in mind, I’m delighted to share a little essay I wrote eight years ago about a scheduling conflict on my birthday. These days, I’m happy whenever anyone is around to help me celebrate it! But eight years ago? Things were a little different in my life!

I hope you will enjoy this little slice of life from my past . . . and I’d love to hear how your family’s dynamics have changed as everyone has grown older and become more independent!

Birthday Dinner

Well, it was bound to happen. We had a major scheduling conflict on my birthday. I grew up celebrating just about every holiday. And, well, even though I now have two teenagers far more sophisticated than myself on most days, I still make a big deal about each person’s special day. They know I expect attention on my day, too. Oh, not all day long. Just dinner out.

But, well, everyone was busy on Saturday. My son had to work; my daughter had cheerleading. “No problem,” I said. How about we go out to eat on Friday night? You guessed it — Friday night wasn’t good either. Both my kids and my husband had plans! Thursday involved other commitments. On Monday my husband was flying out of town. So, after much discussion and looking at social calendars, Sunday night was it. My husband made dinner reservations downtown. We were set . . . so I thought.

Sunday arrived. We went to church. Then there was the fun, family activity of cleaning out the garage on just about the hottest day of the year. Everyone started getting grumpy. After an hour, I looked around . . . the kids had mysteriously found other things to do. Next thing I knew, my husband did, too. And then the phone started ringing. Actually, my family’s cell phones started ringing.

Uh oh, everyone started getting invited to all kinds of places, including a golf outing for my husband. I listened to everyone’s conversations, kind of feeling guilty when everyone cancelled . . . it was mom’s birthday. They had to spend time with Mom. No, it wasn’t an optional thing. It was Mandatory — just like they were in the army. I started feeling guilty.

That night, the car was pretty silent during the drive downtown. I sat there remembering years that had passed, when the kids drew me pictures and the Dairy Queen ice cream cake was looked forward to with breathless anticipation. Yeah, I’ll admit it. I was kind of bummed and irritated with myself. How come I was making a big deal out of my birthday, anyway? I mean . . . I’ve had LOTS of birthdays.

But then, after we got to the restaurant, a series of things happened. My husband presented me with a special menu signed by the staff. The kids put away their cell phones and started chatting. We laughed about my daughter’s seventh birthday, when her birthday dinner consisted of Top Ramen. We remembered swimming parties, slumber parties, and my husband’s fortieth. We had a nice dinner. We all dug into my slice of chocolate cake. And lo, and behold, my son and daughter both handed me cards. My newly driving son had taken my daughter out shopping just the day before.

In the end, I had a really great birthday, even though it wasn’t actually on my birthday. And I also got what I wanted — family time, which, it turned out . . . is surely the best gift of all.

Shelley Shepard Gray shares a favorite birthday memory today on #PearlGirls @MargaretMcSweeney
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Shelley Shepard Gray is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the “Sisters of the Heart”, “Seasons of Sugarcreek”, “Secrets of Crittenden County”, and Families of Honor series. She lives in southern Ohio, where she writes full-time, bakes too much, and can often be found walking her dachshunds on her town’s bike trail. Connect with Shelley at: http://www.shelleyshepardgray.com.

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The Red River

The sheets were dark red and for good reason too.

I had no idea what was about to happen in those last 40 minutes. My midwife’s firm voice spoke deep into my heart, that place where you only go a few times in your life. The place where you give your all. Not just part of you, but your whole, entire being. Although at times it felt like I was running a marathon race, this, this act of bringing life forth required a different kind of strength. I didn’t know if I had it in me, if I was capable, if I could do this.

But there on the red sheets, I found the strength of surrender. With one last, long, focused push, his entire body slipped out into the world. A full-volumed scream of life escaped from his tiny body and healthy lungs. And there it was. Red. A red, wrinkly little face pulsing with life.

And the blood, oh the blood. It was all over everything. The birthing, the breathing, the pushing culminated in a river of blood. That red river- a reminder of the pain, yes.

But more importantly, that red river stood for the most pivotal,transformational moment of my life. When I even picture that day, the tears start to trickle down my face.

That day left a big red stain in my memory, in my heart. The stain of letting go. Because it was on that day — I gave all I had, to love. I surrendered completely, despite the gruesome pain, to bring forth life to another human being.

And that friends, challenges me again this day. Will I still let the blood flow?

Will I put it all aside and focus on giving life, no matter the cost? Jesus did that and He still does.

Will I follow in His steps, will I accept the adventure of living surrendered? Will I remember the Red River where life truly begins?

Maybe you feel you can’t go on and you are ready to quit. It’s all too painful or overwhelming. Keep going. You will find a new strength. A strength that you didn’t know you had. A strength that surrenders and ultimately gives life.

Do you remember the Red River where life truly begins? Charissa Steyn @MargaretMcSweeney
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Living Life

 

If the ambulance had arrived at the hospital twenty minutes later she would not have made it. My youngest daughter, at age 16, was in a snowboard accident. She ruptured her spleen and broke her back.

Today, three years later, her spleen is healed but she has chronic back issues. Her back pain does not stop her from “living her life.”  Since her accident she has hiked the Grand Canyon rim-to-rim (I got to get in on that adventure—see our picture!), rock climbed, “bouldered” (not certain what that is . . . maybe I don’t want to know), white water rafted, cliff jumped, and hiked a fourteener (Colorado lingo for a mountain over 14,000 feet). AND . . . of all things she still snowboards. (YIKES) She is the bravest person I know.

I love how she lives her life, not with reckless abandon but with ZEST and excitement.

She looks forward to what each day can bring: a new adventure with friends, old or new, another outdoor experience. Don’t get me wrong it doesn’t have to always be living large, death defying type activities. She has joy in even simple things like baking! I have told her I want to live her life!

Physically she takes on many challenges but she doesn’t stop there. Spiritually she does as well. She is not afraid to wear her faith on her sleeve. It is a part of her everyday conversation and interaction with people. Not in a freaky kind of a way, but in a loving gentle, caring, and interested approach. She loves life, she loves people,and she loves Jesus. I can’t live her life but her approach inspires me.

She is strong and courageous! And she is because,  God is with her. (I whispered those words to her just before she went into trauma surgery three years ago.)

Be strong and courageous.

Do not be terrified because of them,

for the LORD your God goes with you;

he will never leave you nor forsake you.

Deuteronomy 31:6

Who has God placed in your path that inspires you to be strong and courageous?

Who is in your life that inspires you to be strong and courageous? Lori Wildenberg...
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How To Play

This summer I had the thrill of international travel. My husband had a conference in Tokyo, and I got to tag along. It was exciting to be in a foreign country, and Japan was very foreign to me. From food to landscapes, people to transportation, language to plumbing, everything was different. It was exciting but it was also exhausting. When nothing is familiar even the simplest task becomes difficult. Making a souvenir purchase involved dealing with an unfamiliar currency. How much did it really cost and which coins and bills should I use. Ordering a meal for example took all my concentration. What was the etiquette of the restaurant? Do I sit first or order at the counter? And then figuring out the food. Sure there were pictures, sometimes even plastic models of the food but what looked like a piece of chicken I recognized turned out to be pork intestine. Not my first choice for lunch.

One of our sightseeing trips took us to Tokyo DisneySea. Instead of Fantasy Land or Frontier Land as we were used to from Disneyland we were delighted to discovered places like: Mediterranean Harbor, American Waterfront, and Arabian Coast. A theme park is not so hard to understand. It’s all good fun. The exhausting part is usually just walking around and standing in line! And the food is easy to follow too. Though we did discover popcorn with six different flavors including curry, and black pepper! (Delicious by the way.) But even in a theme park there are times I was lost in the culture. Waiting in line for a ride I saw a sign half English and half Japanese. The English told me How to Play but the instructions were in Japanese! It gave me a giggle. The pictures showed me what to do but I couldn’t read the words.

The sign got me to thinking though about another way where I almost know what is going on but not always sure. I thought of my Christian walk and how I don’t always know how to play. Sometimes it feels like the instructions are written in a foreign language . . .

Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. (Luke 6:31).

Turn the other cheek. (Matthew 5:39).

Carry each other’s burdens. (Galatians 6:2).

These are not things I always do naturally. They are foreign to my human nature. It can be difficult to live them out. It takes all my strength some days just to decipher what I should do. Like figuring out instructions in Japanese. But one thing I have learned I can draw on God’s strength to help me live as He would have me. Happily His instructions were written with love and that is a language we can all understand.

As a #christian, do you know how to #play? Lisa Bogart @MargaretMcSweeney
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Spiritual Strength Trumps Them All

Society today claims strength as a necessary attribute to success, strength of both mind and body. How many advertisements are we bombarded with daily for workouts to build muscle tone, vitamins to increase brain function, and even toners for our skin to improve elasticity? To be at the top of our game, we are to be S-T-R-O-N-G!

Strength is defined in the dictionary as the state of being physically strong, mentally strong, or morally strong. I think spiritual strength is intertwined in all three, “For I can do everything through Christ, who gives me strength. (Philippians 4:13 NLT).

Being spiritually strong is played out in perseverance, faithfulness, and total trust in God the Father and the saving grace of Jesus, our Lord and Savior. It is faith, being sure of what you hope for and certain of what you do not see (Hebrews 11:1). Yet, strength of spirit can be seen in meekness and reliance on the Spirit of God. This form of strength is total submission to the Lord and his plan for our lives, even when we cannot begin to comprehend the course God has chosen. Truly, spiritual strength trumps them all! I’ve seen this exhibited in a variety of ways.

• The elderly grandparent who realizes her mind is not as sharp as it once was, wakes each morning and goes through her list…children, grandchildren, great grandchildren by name and birthdate. The recitation concludes in prayer for each of her loved ones.

• The faithful parishioner who witnesses her church walking away from the truth of the gospel to be more politically correct. When asked by the pastor who she wants to invite to join the congregation she simply replies, “Jesus.”

• The amazing woman diagnosed with a brain tumor, continues to fight the disease, starts a charity, and raises hundreds of thousands of dollars for research to find a cure.

• The beautiful mom who stood, arms wrapped around her three young daughters, singing of God’s love and faithfulness at her husband’s funeral.

• The wife who is trusting God in her final IVF treatment to become pregnant.

Reliance on God provides the spiritual strength we need in times of trial. Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen (Ephesians 3:20-21 NIV). May you be strengthened by faith in whatever trial you are facing. Amen.

Real strength equals submission. @MargaretMcSweeney @BeckyDanielson1
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A Time to Laugh, A Time to Cry

I stumbled across this blog post the other day, and it spoke to me. Since this was posted, we’ve also adopted two more children into the Goyer family and are still in the process of going through some new changes, including moving this weekend. I hope this post speaks to you like it spoke to me. Take a trip back through time with me. 

Big changes this year. Hard changes. If someone would have told me six months ago that I would have moved 2,000 miles and adopted a baby girl in a very short time period, I would have thought they were joking. For the previous ten years my life was pretty consistent. We attended the same church and lived in the same house. I home schooled my kids and volunteered at our crisis pregnancy center. I had the same friends, met in the same groups, and followed the same routine. Then two blessings came. First my husband was offered his dream job (I’m so excited for him!), and second (and even more exciting!) we were chosen by birth parents to adopt a baby girl.

Alyssa Catherine Marie was born on March 16, 2010. We brought her home March 22nd. March 25th we loaded up our U-Haul and headed to Arkansas for my husband’s new job at FamilyLife. While we were excited about both of these blessings, it was also one of the hardest times of my life. We not only left behind our church, our home, but our friends, our two oldest kids also chose to stay behind in Montana. Every moment of rejoicing over God’s goodness was followed by tears. I thanked God but I have to admit I couldn’t help but look back and mourn over what we left behind.

And I discovered it’s okay to mourn.

When I first cried tears of missing and longing I felt bad. I mean, God had given us what we’d asked for: a dream job, a baby!

Ecclesiastics 3:1-2 & 4 says, “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven… a time to plant and a time to uproot a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance.”

And, if I can contribute my own addition: sometimes they can happen in the same week. Or the same afternoon!

As a mom and wife, each day brings both laughter and tears, and that’s okay! Just because we feel good when we laugh doesn’t mean we should feel bad when we cry. God has created us to experience all types of emotions, and it’s okay to express them.Through my first weeks in our new home I wrote often in my journals. I wrote about what things I was excited about, and I also wrote about what I missed, especially who I missed. I poured out my emotions to God, turning them over to Him. I picture Him laughing with me. I also pictured Him holding me close in my tears.

If I look in the Gospel accounts, Jesus rejoiced with His friends. He also cried with them. Over the last six months I was reminded of that. I also grew closer to Jesus, and through this journey, I discovered that His hand is gentle as He wipes away my tears.

During life's changes, it's ok to laugh . . . or cry. @MargaretMcSweeney @TriciaGoyer
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A Little Sun Lotion

A young mother and her toddler decided to take a walk on the beach during their vacation. Her son was excited to play along the water’s edge and chase the seagulls that paraded the shoreline.

As they walked hand-in-hand to the perfect spot to lay their towels, the mother could feel her son’s anticipation as he tried to wiggle away from her grip. Before the excited toddler could play, her mother sat him down and began to lather his skin with sun lotion. He screamed and cried, frustrated that he couldn’t begin playing immediately.

Sometimes, my friends, we are like the toddler; we’re so eager to begin our ministries for the kingdom of God that we don’t see the use in letting God prepare us. We need spiritual sun lotion, whether that’s heading off to school for four years to complete a degree in ministry or reading your Bible every morning before work. God cares about the safety of our hearts as we do His work, so don’t be afraid to let him lather your heart with a little spiritual sun lotion.

What is your spiritual sun lotion? @MargaretMcSweeney @ReMixHer
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. . . and found

Tonight I got lost. I spent a harrowing hour biking along smoggy, truck-filled thoroughfares blindly, madly, back and forth, with that sick feeling of being alone in a place where I cannot read the road signs or communicate with the people. It was my own fault, really. In my efforts to compensate for my work-related stresses, I tried to cope by proving myself: by proving that I can figure things out and tackle the challenges that this life throws at me. I wanted to be self-sufficient. I wanted to be competent. And I was overly confident from the evening I had before, when a spontaneous post-work venture had proven to be such a blessing.

Tonight was my weekly ladies’ study. When I learned my travel companion was running late, we decided I would head out by myself. As she was newly motorized, I could get a head start on her and then she’d meet me closer to where we were heading. I knew the way, partly, and figured by the time I got to where I was less confident, she’d have found me.

The only problem was that I took a wrong turn. So she got to our meeting place and I never did. It was not a pleasant hour of my life. I actually wondered if I might meet an untimely end there amidst the smog and city madness. But it all turned out ok. My friend was patient, talking to me at various points along the way until we managed to find each other.

“You still up for study?” she asked upon our happy [if sheepish on my part] reunion. I nodded. “If you are,” I added, explaining that at this point I was just going to be following her lead. We rolled in, an hour and a half late, to be greeted by cheers.

An hour later, I cried as I admitted my insecurities, and my pride, to be affirmed by love and acceptance in that roomful of women. God loves us to much to leave us where we are. When we come to a breaking point, He lifts us up with gentle potter’s hands. The pieces that are put back together might not be perfect . . . but they are His.

Are you lost? @MargaretMcSweeney @GraceAnnaJ
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