He Gives and Takes Away

I can remember the day my sister arrived into the world.  My father swooped me up into his arms and said I had a new sister. We drove to the hospital and I stared out the window as trees blurred fast realizing I was no longer the only baby.

We arrived and dad carried me through a white light hallway to a window.  Babies nestled in their blankets like little cocoon wonders lined up row by row. He pointed at one that was crying and the nurse lifted a red faced bushy haired infant to comfort the baby.  “That’s your sister,” he told me smiling.

“She looks like a baby baboon,” I said not smiling. In fact, I was a little mad.

Why did mommy and daddy need another baby? I was plenty. I felt a tinge of heat inside. I was only 18 months old but I remember every thing as if it were yesterday.

The competition began young between my sister and I. I tested every strength and each weakness. I started off small by drinking her bottle when she wasn’t looking. Then, moved up to coloring her papers and when we were getting along, I would “let” her do my chores and eat her chocolate candies.

Despite our intense sibling rivalry, my sister loved me. She wanted to be my friend, and have a relationship with me. But no way, she was a sister I didn’t ask for. She was given to me but I had hoped she would go away.

Years past and strife built but still dedication remained. Then, as adults we found ourselves again sharing attention. “I’m pregnant,” I told her one day over the phone. She replied, “That’s funny. I was going to tell you that I’m pregnant too.”

For the first time I looked forward to sharing the attention of being sisters and both of us expecting. My pregnancies, always difficult proved to still indicate the future. I was sick. I was tired. And of course, I was huge.

She beamed. She glowed. She was tiny and still fit into her jeans–for a few months. Of course, I was jealous.

Then, one day she didn’t look “normal” to me. I got nervous and took it to prayer before saying anything to her.

“I give and I take away,” was the soft word I heard. Unsure of what that meant, I told my sister what I had heard when praying for her. She silently nodded her head and smiled.

The next day, she phoned. “I’m bleeding. I am going to have to go see my OB.”

We found out she miscarried. Again, all attention on me, I was the only pregnant sibling. Still she helped me and showed no resentment. I took the help and we both focused on me.

My time to deliver arrived, she was there. But she still didn’t look her best. Something about her “glow” was gone and I still didn’t understand. So, I prayed again. Again, I heard the same whisper, “I give and I take away.”

In the hospital helping me she said, “I’m bleeding again but this time it’s really making me weak.” The doctors had told her she had an iron problem, and so we all expected weakness. My mother, a nurse decided more testing was needed. A different doctor was consulted.

She had lost her baby. She had gotten leukemia.

As a new born baby came into the family. A new word entered our daily vocabulary. This time I was not jealous. Instead, I prayed to not take her away. Please God, let her stay.

Fortunately, the whisper and promise to give and take away stayed true. A perfect match was found and my sister who was given leukemia by her body had it taken away by her God.

Today, I see her still struggle sometimes. Her health has never been the same but she hasn’t either. She is even more gentler, and giving and committed to the life that she has, to her children and her family.

I watch her and then the next thing I know is I no longer feel that sense of rivalry. Instead it gets replaced daily with gratitude and respect…and love.
I never wanted her to suffer, but through the sting of birth and the sting of death, I have learned so much about family and unconditional love and to be healed from sibling jealousy.

It’s good to know that He gives and He takes away.

Tweeting @nataliekim71

Who is the Captain of Your Ship?

At the close of 2012, and maybe it’s because I will turn 42 next year, I am feeling exceptionally aware of what I will and will not tolerate.

Be more in charge.
Take less abuse.
Speak my mind and ignore negativity all have found a home on my New Year’s resolution list.

The question of the week was how to do these things without finding a cave some where away from the human race? I’ve noticed that as soon as I begin to set up a healthy boundary, someone seems to challenge it with a want or a need. Next thing I know, I’m back swimming the ocean called Enable Me that runs along the island Please Them All.

I went to God in honest prayer. Quite frankly, I was angry. Upset even. More at myself because hey, He’s God and well, last time I checked my 4 foot 11 inch self can barely reach things above my head, let alone control the world.

We went walking together and talking.  As the morning sun came out, I decided to run along the path of the park by my house. Out of the trees came a flock of vultures with wings that spanned longer than my entire body length. One swooped down towards me, then suddenly,  the wind caught his massive feathered sails and he soared away. His talons missed me and boy, was I glad!

All of a sudden, I realized that I am not safe anywhere without God’s hand. It’s He who holds back all of creation. The freewill of mankind is part of a greater plan. In essence, the human race is really the small stuff that seems big to me because I’m small stuff,  too.

All that matters is letting go. Letting God.

Selah.

“Be still and know that I am God.” ~ NIV

For more information on writing visit platform-power.com
Follow Natalie Kim @nataliekim71

Imperfect Man. Heavenly Father.

“I am starting to feel like I’m in a replay if the Little Boy Who Cried Wolf,” he shared, as we discussed the chronic tattle telling of a little boy we both loved dearly. “I’ll be honest, I’m starting to tune out. I think he needs a talk.”

“Not yet,” the motherly instinct in me defended. “He needs guidance. I want to find the root to the issue first. He doesn’t have the discernment to figure out what to tell and what to keep to himself. You know, in school they say, tell the teacher. It’s a case of good going to the extreme.”

We discussed and shared our limitations. We weren’t the only ones who had been stretched to the aural limits. My sister was tuning out, too. The other kids were annoyed. Quite honestly, the telling was done in earnest, but after awhile it was burdensome.

I went to bed last night, and asked God for a little wisdom. “Help me Father to see the truth to this situation. I know there is something you want me to see. But what?”

Today, at the gym, I realized that God listens without ceasing. As I shared in my blog yesterday, my recent struggle was praying, although I know that I’m encouraged to pray without ceasing. Half the time my prayers are petitions, requests, complaints…and like this small child… quite frankly, complaints.

Did you see him do that, God?
Did you just hear that, Father?
That person hurt my feelings. I just got told such-n-such and you need to tell him to stop.
That was taken from me. That thing is mine. I saw it first. Why do I have to wait? You love them more. You love me less.
My friend is sick. My friend needs money. My friend lost a home, a husband and God, what are you going to do about it?

Sometimes my cry is false wolf…other times, the real deal.

Thank God, I’m not God.

I breathed a huge sigh of relief as Father lovingly showed me His boundless love. And, He showed me how poorly, imperfectly and limited my love has been…even to the littlest of these.

Little child, the one who cried wolf is me. I am constantly crying wolf.

I am so glad that His ears are always listening, patiently, and that when it really is a wolf, He doesn’t miss the chance to deliver me.

Be still and listen.

“I thought you said to remind you to pray when you felt crabby?” He asked me gently over the phone.

Groaning, I admitted, “I did. But I don’t feel like talking to God right now. I’m too moody and crabby to talk to anyone.”

“Well, do you want to meet up?” He asked, “We can talk more then?” His voice sounded patiently impatient. I had been progressively growing moodier by the day over the past week, and this dialogue was not new. He knew it. I knew it. But the funk was thicker than what I had been accustomed to experiencing lately.

“No. I want to stay here and be crabby,” I replied. “I think I don’t like you, me, or anyone.”

“Let me pray for you and see if that helps.” He muttered some words that barely met my ears to hear and I sat listening to a ‘Dear Lord…Amen.,” perplexed by my disconnect. What was wrong with me?

In fact, earlier the same week, while walking with my sister, I complained about the lack of consistency in my prayer life. “I just don’t feel myself praying as much as I like. I feel silent,”I confided in her. She said, she has times like that…and honestly, I felt no consolation.

I thought of now, this friend’s prayer for me, fell on deaf ears. My own prayers felt the same. While carrying on in the morning, I kept hearing Paul’s letter…”pray without ceasing…” and all I could think was…”I’m all worded out.”

I thought of the advice I have given to others who have complained about their own prayer life. “Tell Him you have nothing to say; He knows.”

So, I took my own advice, and rendered up the only prayer I had in me that was honest and sincere, “Father, I have nothing to say. Not a word and honestly, I don’t even want to talk. I’m all talked out.”

Then this little whisper, like a friend leaning in to tell a secret spoke to me, “Good. Because I have things I want you to hear and it requires your full listening. There are things I want to tell you. Your silence is for me.”

Shock and relief both spilled over my soul, not that either quenched by feelings of dry existence. Yet, I understood the reason for my dry spell. There was a purpose and all that was needed was to rest, wait, and listen.

The next day…He said…write this…

“To every time there is a purpose under heaven.” ~ Ecclessiates

One Love

Love of Father,
Love of Son,
Love of Spirit.
One. One. One.

Perfectly perfect.
Wholy whole.
Fully filled
One. One. One.

One,  two,  three.
Trinity.
Three in one.
One. One. One.

Void in the Face of the Deep

It was one of those moments where I wanted to call someone to share good news, but there wasn’t a person that I could reach. I sat in my car and thought to myself, how many times has this happened? And how differently I felt that day than I had the many times before believing that I was alone in the world.

But this time, I knew I wasn’t alone. It wasn’t because I had finally reached and found another human voice. Instead, it was because I could hear that sweet sounding, gentle inner voice of God saying to me, “Tell me.” But now, it was recognizable, playful, and the sound of the voice of my bestest of friends. The one who I knew KNEW me, inside and out. The One who had been there through it all. Remembering that He was there and that He reaches out to me, just when I need Him, I fell in love all over again with Him, deeply and completely helpless in love.

I laughed out loud in joy and a sense of complete fulfillment, for the first time feeling my security deep down, skin-deep, belief, knowledge, and pure confidence that my love was with me.

“You’re still my first love, God. My first falling in love story. I always want to tell you.” Then, I did. I spoke all that was on my heart and mind as the waves of emotion, and heat of being seen, heard and known in that feeling of love and grace, poured over me. This time was different. This time, the love poured over me and I could feel that my inwardness had no where to contain it. It burst my heart and all I could do was smile, laugh, and rejoice.

He returns beauty for ashes, strength for fear, gladness for mourning, peace for dispair. I recollected. I know that it’s true. I have walked many roads where bridges have burned. Poverty came and I was penniless, homeless even, and just misery on legs.

One day, I had had enough. I had had enough of nothingness. Just like the first day of creation, there was just void, nothing in view of the chaotic mass that I called “life”.

So, I cried out. To the Trinity–to God, the Father, God, the Son, and God, the Holy Spirit. I said, “Let there be light, please, in my world. So, I can see. So, I can have a world to live. Something, anything, that I can call good. Didn’t you say what you create is good? Make me a new creation. Separate these faces of void that is deep within me. This hollow existence, I call me.”

Then, the Holy of Holies spoke life into my life. Over time, little by little a star, a moon, a blade of grass, and then a brilliant sun began to appear. Not in the way that I would have drawn it. I would have started with people. But instead, He started with Himself revealed through tiny cracks in dark moments where only He could or would shine.

Then the glory stayed His. Every precious gift of life being born, where there was not a soul to call and share it with that had skin on cried out to my soul, “That’s the hand of Abba! That was the voice of Father! Lord of heaven and Earth! Your salvation! Redeemer! Lover! Friend!”

I always heard of God’s love, but it had never become such a created life force in my life as it did when void was on the face of the deep. When the only face I could recognize, was that face of the living God by the traces of life written with the Words that flowed from His hand.

Let go. Let God. Believe. He is love. Love is enough.

If you love something, set it free. If it comes back to you, It’s yours.

Love is a journey of freedom.

Sometimes I take a hike away from the things that I love the most. For example, when I take a writing break, particularly on spiritual matters, the return is like waking up from a vivid dream. My alert self has an unclear mind. Yet, I know something transcendent took place, and the experience exists for a reason.

Sometimes I feel that the same thing happens in my relationship with God. I take a break from meditating on who He is and what does that mean to me.

I learn to grow comfortable with my rusty return to love. In writing, I know that editing will help me return to my writer’s self.

I learn to trust God more because of my lapses in spiritual enlightenment. I discover the truth within the truths.  I find Father is worthy to cling to. When I let myself slip away, it’s okay. It really is okay.

Why? Because it’s true love, and in love, truth is absolute. But what are the absolutes? (And I’m not talking top shelf, here.)

God is truth, and God is love. Love forgives. And to forgive is to forget. If God didn’t forgive and forget? Would He really be love? And if He wasn’t really love? Could He truly be God?

Who is God anyway?

I learn about the “Who He is…” when I focus on the “What He does…”

Nothing surprises God.

God is love. God is faithful. God is pure. God is here. He is righteous. He is able. He is.

God is with us. God is for us.  If He is with us and for me, then He must know that to be “for” me, is to be patient in process. I struggle with being imperfect.

He never lets me go. When I am not looking for Him, God is ever-present. In creation, I know that he cries out through the wind, or the rain. But sometimes I choose to ignore the rhythmic sounds of nature’s interlude–a love song that speaks to my soul. I’m too busy for love. Yet, choosing to ignore Him doesn’t make His love less present.

Love churns in the universe. It’s the emotional instincts of Father calling and bidding what is in me to return to the depth of love–a hot molten lava center of passion that is His consuming fire for my life. Energy moves. Energy moves towards the source of it’s motivation. Love compels. It’ motivates. It is living and breathing life. So, as I live my life, love calls to me. In time, I will yearn for it naturally. Then, I again, return to seek God.

Father is forgiving. He doesn’t care how long it took for me to return. He is love. He knows that He is all that I ever wanted. So, within that truth, He lives, and remains pure in His love.

I find His love, and learn the truth of what all love means. It means that within Him, I am complete. In fact, this space of unity and knowing God “is” “being”.  It’s home. Here is where I am closest to all that I am to be by focusing on who He is.

He understands unity. He knows that for me it is a human process that unfolds. There is an experience necessary to bring me back to this place of togetherness. I’m a complex person that lives in a realm of time. For Father, He has all patience to wait because He is timeless.  All that matters is my return to Him and the embrace of acknowledgment. His arms never tire of being in wait. He never grows tired of my seeking and wandering soul.  He knows to love me  is to set me free.