Temptation and the Rescue Rope of Grace

There's a new Eliasen boy. His name is Flash. He's a retired racer. And because he's only known the track and kennel life, the household, the living-in-a-home experience is completely new to him.

Flash loves to be with us. He's gentle. Affectionate. Where we are is exactly where he wants to be.

And last night he wriggled under my bed.

I was perched on the edge, talking on the phone, and Flash was sprawled on his cushion. He disappeared for a moment and I thought he'd gone to seek some good lovin' from someone else. But when I finished talking and walked out of the bedroom, there was a whine. A yelp. Then an all-out cry.

I bent and peered under the bed. Flash was trapped. He tried to stand tall, to shimmy out, but he'd gone somewhere he shouldn't have been and he needed some help getting out.

"Lonny," I called. "Flash is stuck. Come lift the bed."

Lonny came to the rescue. Flash, true to his name, shot out fast.

Poor babe.

Oh, the goodness of being free!

Reminds me of myself sometimes. I'm tempted to wander into places I shouldn't go. Trapping places. Not-fitting places. Places I have really no need to be at all. Maybe it's a place of gossip. Maybe it's letting my thought life twist and travel on forbidden roads. Maybe it's allowing myself to crawl into the dark place of anger and unforgiveness.

Trapped in temptation. Stuck - just like Flash.

When I find myself in these tight-fitting spots, I'm grateful for God's promise. He tells me that when I'm tempted, trapped in temptation, He'll provide an out. An escape. A place to wriggle free.

He's a loving, helping Father - longing to let me loose.

Just like Lonny lifting the bed for pressed-in Flash.

It's a precious thing.

 This "out".

 This help.

This sweet rescue rope of grace.

Lord, thank you for rescuing me when I'm trapped in temptation. Thank you for your faithfulness.

No temptation has seized you except what is common to man. And God is faithful; He will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear.  But when you are tempted He will also provide a way out so that you can stand up under it. I Corinthians 10:7

Learning to Rest Part II

I was on the sand, stretched in the sun, when I heard the voices of two of my men.

"What do you think she'll say?" Samuel asked from behind me.

"She'll want you to have the experience," said my husband-man.

I'd just gotten used to Samuel swimming in the deep. Now I knew that something else, something bigger, was about to go down.

Lonny and Sam stepped in front of my towel and I sat and shielded my eyes. Maybe from the sun. Maybe from the impending adventure.

"Scuba lessons," Samuel said. "Mom, can you believe that they're offering a scuba lesson? Right here at the park. Today."

The "they" was a Michigan DNR and a local dive club. And my two bigger boys, previously sprawled on towels beside me, now sat and listened, too. I looked at the hopeful, born-to-be-wild faces of my sons. I was way out numbered. And I didn't want to be left behind.

"Okay," I said. "But if you're all going, I want to go, too."

Lonny's eyes went round and wide. Sam jumped in the air. The two big guys grinned.

And I wondered what I'd done.

I get like that sometimes. I want to be cool. I want to be adventurous. I want to be athletic. I want to keep up with my sons.

Never mind that just the thought of sucking canned air through a tube made me turn half blue.

But I wanted to join the adventure.So we split into two groups (someone had to watch the small boys). Sat on benches and took the class. Suited up. And headed for the lake.

I don't want to do this I thought as we waded into the water. Fear lapped at my heart though the water was only knee deep.

I'm comfortable in the water. I swim well. But something about having that equipment strapped to my back, something about talk of decompressing, something about sitting on the sand, on the bottom of that beautiful lake, breathing in and out, made me just come unglued.

"I'm heading back," I said after we'd gone under twice - in the shallows. It was either that or break my sanity seams. "I'm turning my flippers in."

My sons nodded. One winked at me through his foggy glass mask. An instructor walked me to shore.

And I peeled off the wetsuit and wondered why I push so hard.

I think that it's my season for learning about rest. I think that sometimes rest couples contentment. One follows the other on a sweet, short lead. If I'm content, with where I'm at, with who I am, with what I have, I can find sweet rest.

It's a rest of the spirit. It's a quieting of the soul. It's an allowance to be still, to let go, to stretch in the already-have blessing like one stretches and soaks in the sun.

I found my place on the beach. My towel was sun-kissed and warm. I sat and watched little boys fill buckets and shovel sand and laugh into the breeze.

They were content. They were happy. Their hearts were enjoying the blessing of rest.

I peered across the water, to the place where a line of blue told me the water had gone deep. A red flag floated on a tube. The boys were under.

And I was happy.

I was happy for them. I was happy for me.

I knew that when they surfaced, my boys would come ashore and share the adventure. I'd see the joy and passion and excitement in their eyes. I'd almost see what they had seen. I'd almost feel what they had felt.

And I suspected, now,  that this would be good enough for me.

Because I was learning the comfort of contentment, and in it I was beginning to find rest.

Thank you, Lord, for teaching me new ways to rest...

 

 

 

 

 

Swimming Deep and Room to Grow

We’re in Michigan at our favorite lake. Lonny and I started coming here twenty years ago when we were newly married. At that time, boys and family were not yet a dream.

Now we bring our brood back every summer. The lake holds memories that we hold dear.

When we’re here, there are a few things I can count on. The lake, when I first see its variegated blues, will move my heart so hard I’ll want to cry. When Lonny drives the boat, his hair will go wild like Jack Nicholson’s in Terms of Endearment. When we’re anchored, the boys will hit the picnic basket like madmen.  And when we’re in the water, my son,  Samuel, will push against my sensible-safe limits with his made-for-adventure heart.

We’re in the lake, shoulder-deep. The water is clean and clear and we can see the soft ripples of sand under our feet. We’re tossing a ball in the shallows. The big boys throw and it flies far. The little guys are under the surface again and again, bouncing like bobbers. And Samuel, sweet Sam, is lured by the deep.

“Let’s go out, Mom. Let’s go out where it’s dark!” he says as he erupts in front of me, water shedding from the force. He’s two inches from me with dark goggles and a grin.

“Sure,” I say. “Grab one of the big boys, too.”

Logan and Grant both join us and we swim to the place where turquoise gives way to indigo blue. When we tread above the drop-off, the place where the water goes very deep, we can see the slope of the sand. We can see it stretch nearly straight down. It’s the place Sam wants to go.

“Watch,” he says. “Better yet, borrow Logan’s goggles and you come, too.” Then he’s under the surface, belly close to the sand as he swims down.  I can see the white flesh of his soles. I stay above water to watch.

Sam’s a strong swimmer.  He’s had lessons every summer. He swims in the pool every day. He wants to join a swim team in the fall.

But still my heart beats fast.

It’s just a few moments before he breaks the surface. He gulps air and then he’s down again. I wish we were in the shallows.   I swim well, too, but still there are a thousand worries. What if Samuel gets tired? What if a boat or a ski jet comes too close?

I don’t know. So I tread water and watch him do what he loves most. My mama-heart wants to pull him back, pull him in, and take him to where the water feels safe. But I know I have to give him room to grow.  And letting him swim in the deep is just the beginning.

 It’s the theme of my life lately. Giving boys room to grow. Letting Logan grow, make decisions, and work through what he wants to do with his life. Letting Grant have freedoms in these teenage years.  Sam and his adventures. Sometimes it all feels like deep water to me. It’s enough t make a mama half crazed. But I’ve trained my boys. I’ve taught them. They belong to the Lord. I know my sons are in the palm of His hand.

So now it’s time to open my fist and let go.

Samuel’s up again. He swims close. His goggles are on his forehead now and I can see the joy in his eyes.

It makes me happy, too, seeing this unbridled bliss. It moves something in me, deep inside.

This letting go and giving room thing?

I have a long way to go.

But maybe, just maybe,  it will be okay.

Lord, thank you for holding my boys in the palm of your hand. Help me to open my hands to let go. Amen.