Like a Robin...

There is a new robin's nest resting snugly in the aspen tree right outside our family room windows.  The nest is just below eye level so we can kneel backwards on our couch and watch the nest without disturbing the birds doing their bird things, just a foot or two away. Right now there are three little blue eggs in the nest.

We had a cold rainy weekend. For days the mother robin spread her wings to cover the nest as she huddled down over the eggs, rain dripping off her head and tail.

We grilled hamburgers Saturday evening, just a few feet away from the nest. Every time we lifted the lid on the grill, the startled mother bird left the nest, flew to the fence and issued a frantic string of robin obscenities. As soon as we disappeared back inside the house she'd be back on the nest. At the risk of over-anthropomorphizing, she seemed to me to be sitting there sulking.

I think I know how she felt. My stepdaughter had the kind of rough weekend sleep deprived, strong-willed, hormonal, early adolescents are prone to. Every few minutes something angered her, she fluttered away squawking about her own innocence, and the guilt of whoever offended her. Generally, it was me.  I, the "mature", hormonal, PMSing woman, responded by getting my own feathers ruffled. The main difference between us being that I spent the entire weekend making a less-than-successful attempt to do my own seething internally.

Now comes the part of the blog where I draw a nice neat little application, mix in an appropriate Bible verse, and tell you all how to avoid reacting to the pains and frustrations in your life the way mother robins, and I, react to our own pains and frustrations. I can't do it though. That would give the wrong impression that life is meant to be fixed, and if we just find the right formula, all will be well. Many, maybe even most Christians live that way, trying to use Christianity as an antidote to the icky-ness of life.

The truth is there is no Christian magic formula. Life is messy. No one gets through it without some pain. We hurt the people we love the most, protesting loudly that the other person is to blame. I realized at least momentarily, this weekend how very far I have to go before I reach maturity, before I am able to love God and my family the way Jesus loved. I have been told that brokenness is a necessary step toward maturity.  I certainly can't boast, not even boast that I have achieved brokenness.

I can say that it is a good thing that Jesus loves me just because of who he is, and I can rest in that.

Friendly Fire

I totally blew it last weekend.

A little background is in order. I used to be an exceptionally steady person, steady to a fault.  I almost never got angry and think I can truthfully say that for years I never reacted outwardly in anger. It wasn't really a healthy way to be, but that is another story.

So, I was shocked by the appearance of the crazed woman standing in my shoes over the weekend. I inwardly fumed at my husband. I exploded at my stepdaughter when she made a small and predictable mistake.  I may have set my hard earned better relationship with her back by many months.
How did I become this irrational maniac who makes no sense even to myself?  Can I blame it on hormones?

Whatever the cause, I ended up deeply discouraged. I felt like an injured soldier who reacted by firing a wild shot, wounding someone in my own regiment. I wanted to dessert.  I wanted to run from the front lines of the battle and hide.

I am not sure how I became a soldier in the first place. I hate conflict. I am afraid of it. I am afraid that conflict will destroy my most precious relationships.  It takes me a long time to recover from an argument. My husband, often the much needed voice of reason in my life, tells me that I have this all wrong.  He says that conflict gives us a chance to confront our weaknesses. He says that we emerge from these conflicts better than we were before because we have identified and addressed problems. I have a lot to learn from him.

Anyway, like it or not, I am in a battle. I have a real enemy who is seeking to destroy me and the people I love. Fortunately, none of us is alone in this.  We have a God who is high and powerful but, not far away.

I dwell in the high and holy place, and also with him who is of a contrite and lowly spirit, to revive the spirit of the lowly and to revive the heart of the contrite.       Isaiah 57:15  

God himself came down to be with me in this low place.  Just listen to what that word "revive" means.  It means to give life, nourish, recover, repair, restore. He knows that I feel beat down and depressed.  He is here to in the trenches to help me become whole. Maybe I can get up and jump back into the fray after all.

My husband is right again.  Conflict can make us stronger.