Broken

I haven't been able to stop crying all morning. I cried myself to sleep last night. At first I thought it was the pregnancy hormones - then I began to think it was one of those days where I just feel a little blue.

But I have since realized that I'm simply in a place of utter brokenness.

A couple of days ago, I was looking for a gift for my husband, and I checked our budget to see how much I could spend. We got blindsided by taxes in April, so we had to revamp everything, and I couldn't remember what our new number was. It was $15. To cover a gift from the kids and myself. To the man I love most in this world.

This was a bit of a shock and a disappointment because there are so many things I've wanted to buy this strong, generous, selfless man who has done so much for this family and me, but I've been trying to honor the Lord with how we spend our money - His money - and I've told myself countless times, "It's okay that I can't get Steven this now. I'll just wait until his birthday and Christmas." So we have $15. Well, at least I'll be able to get him something nicer for Christmas.

The Christmas budget, it turns out, is only $12.50. Again, from all of us.

So I've been processing these numbers the past couple of days and trying to figure out: Is this one of those times where we just submit to the Lord and make this sacrifice? Or is this one those times we spend outside of our budget and allow the Lord to provide - again - for loving one another in this way? I still haven't quite figured out the answer.

So last night, after an entire day of what felt to me like selfless, sacrificial serving - hosting a last-minute birthday party at our house; planning, organizing, and co-hosting a girls' night for the college students that I don't even know anymore; spending two hours helping with transportation for another broken, needy friend - I get pulled over for an expired license plate.

It expired in 2011.

To my credit, or discredit, I didn't know it was expired. It's still registered in the state I grew up in, and all correspondence still goes to my parents, and I've been meaning to ask them about whether everything is up-to-date, and two weeks ago the hubby and I put switching our plates over to our new state on our to-do list...and I could come up with pages of excuses. But the fact of the matter is that I made a mistake, and now it's going to cost us $190 in court costs, plus the fine that they may drop. But the worst part is that I had to sit there with the blue lights in my rearview mirror illuminating my shame, and I'm going to have to go stand in court with a  5-month pregnant belly and answer a bunch of questions about why it has taken me 2 YEARS to figure this all out.

All I wanted was some grace.

And I know that I have been given more grace than I'll ever deserve. I know that. But I just wanted more.

I just wanted to have not gotten pulled over because we had already planned to fix this. And I just wanted to have the money to buy the most generous and selfless man I know a gift that is worth opening. And I just want to be able to put money in a savings account. And save enough to fix our roof. And our siding. And our floor. And buy a vehicle that fits three kids...that won't break down in six months.

And I'm just tired of waiting. And of giving. Of giving our finances to God and spending wisely and waiting for him to provide. I just wanted to go out and use my credit card and buy whatever I wanted and who cares about debt? I am just so tired.

I woke up at 6 this morning still crying. I got out of bed at 8. I turned on some music to try to convince my heart to keep going, and I heard this song by Lifehouse called "Broken." I cried some more. This is the chorus:

I'm falling apart
I'm barely breathing
With a broken heart
That's still beating
In the pain
There is healing
In your name
I find meaning

At first I couldn't figure out why it was making me cry. Then my beautiful, tender-hearted girl asked me what it was about. I started trying to explain around the tears how it can be really sad when we realize how much bad is in our heart and how we are so broken that we cannot do a single thing without Jesus, but how it is so happy when we realize that he does. He takes away all the bad and grows good in our hearts instead. He fixes the broken inside of us and helps us do all the things we cannot do by ourselves. He simply does this. Because he loves us that much. And I tried not to cry, again.

I'm broken. Utterly, desperately broken. In a way that doesn't make me feel like there is healing in the pain yet. Or meaning in His name. Just broken. And crying.

So we went to church. We're looking for a new church home at the moment, so this isn't even my church family. It was just church. And I didn't know what to expect. I figured there would be tears, but I wasn't sure what else.

The missionary speaker from Africa spoke on Matthew 26, the story of the woman who pours an entire jar of costly perfume on Jesus and anoints his feet with her tears. At least we had the tears thing in common this morning. The jar of perfume was worth an entire year's salary, which our speaker had translated to approximately $60,313 in Raleigh, NC. Sometimes I feel like that is what the Lord is taking from us. We give him our finances, and he just takes it all. The men with Jesus responded to this woman's extravagant gift: "What a waste!" And I feel like that with my gift too. "Lord, this is what you're taking from us? What a waste! The cost is too high, and I show up to minister and don't even know theses girls at all. Why am I even trying to still be involved with this ministry? I have $15 to spend on Steven for his birthday and $12.50 for Christmas, and you're taking $190 for court costs!"  There goes Christmas. What a waste.

We did communion at church today too. And I realized something else.

It was after Jesus' body had been completely and utterly broken that he poured out his life. In his place of utter brokenness, he gave everything.

He gave everything.

So when the church pastor asked us to give to this missionary in Africa, I looked at my husband and asked if he had his wallet. He tried to give it to me, but I said I didn't want it. I had nothing left to give. But then I remembered. I'm supposed to give it all. So with a "fine, whatever" attitude, I took the wallet, opened it up, and pulled out all the bills. Then I walked out of the church sobbing.

I am still utterly broken. And I still have nothing left to give. But in my place of brokenness, I have nothing left to give but everything.

Lord, take it. Take it all. This is what you want from me. Fine, you can have it. At least my tears will anoint your feet.

Flashing Lights

I see them everywhere. Kids. Waiting for the school bus. This morning I happened upon a bus stop just as the bus arrived. Two precious souls and their daddy. Waiting to say goodbye. I have never been more afraid.

My oldest is still four. I can't find the courage, or desire, to send her to preschool. She is the gift I have been given that I cannot seem to give away again. I have no regrets, no guilt, over keeping her home one more year. But how will I ever let her go?

I desperately want to keep her home to homeschool, keep her safe. She desperately wants to go to public school, unfurl her little wings. I desperately want to cling tight and never let go.

These yellow flashing lights, I see them everywhere. They are my constant reminder that I have only one. year. left. Of her here. And once I begin to let go, I know that I'll have to keep doing it over. and over. and over. The tears flow freely now.

I told her this today. That when she goes to school, I will miss her terribly. She healed my heart in a moment: "But when I get home, the first thing I will do is run in the door and run into your arms and give you the biggest hug." Maybe there will still be joy? Maybe this mama heart won't break completely in two?

Oh, I will continue to give and pour out myself into every moment I get with her. And I know that this is only the beginning, a slow beginning, but it is still the beginning of the end. The beginning of a lifetime of letting go. Oh, how will I endure?

Yet I will. I will love lavishly and give all and be present and smile brave and sow truth and live grace. And hope. That the One who has done all of these and more in my own life will keep her. Safe in the palm of His love-calloused hands.

And cherish every sacred moment I am given.