Where Are You, God?

January 31, 2016February 18, 2017 Jerusha BordenLeave a comment

It’s easy to see disaster. Everywhere you look there seems to be something terrible happening. Whether it be globally with natural disasters, federally with the state of the economy, something closer to your own town, or even in your own home. Trouble seems to find its way into every day living.

Sometimes when you are feeling down and out, and worrying about what is going to happen next or how you are going to deal with what is happening now, you wonder. Where are you, God? Can you see me? Are you even watching what is going on? Do you even care?

Or maybe you do know He is listening. Maybe you just don’t think He cares about what is happening in your life because you think He only cares about huge issues like earthquakes and wars. Or about bigger health problems like cancer or another terminal illness.

Psalm 77:8-9 show us a little piece of the writer’s heart. Today, we’re going to look at how he felt here – how he was feeling like God didn’t care. He was basically asking, where are you, God?

“Has His unfailing love vanished forever?

Has his promised failed for all time?

Has God forgotten to be merciful?

Has He in anger withheld his compassion?”

The writer of this psalm was feeling pretty lousy. Maybe he was wrought about the circumstances of his life. Maybe he was devastated by the state of the place where he lived. Whatever the case, he was feeling that God wasn’t very compassionate. He was thinking perhaps God didn’t really care.

I know I have been there. I am sure you have been there too. It’s hard to see the hand of God in the every day sometimes, isn’t it? I mean, let’s just be real. When you are deep in the middle of a rotten day where things just keep stacking up it is hard to see the hand of God. When you’re listening to a friend share about a troubling time in her life and you can’t even find the words to say, it’s hard to see the hand of God. When circumstances in life are mounting and things just keep getting worse and worse it is hard to see the hand of God.

It would be sad if that is where the psalm ended, but thankfully, it’s not. This psalmist knew that even though he just wasn’t feeling it that moment – that God was bigger than that. He was more than how the writer of this psalm was feeling. All he had to do was take a little look back over what God had done for him in the past. Remember. Verses 10-12 say this:

“Then I thought, ‘To this I will appeal:

The years when the Most High stretched out His right hand.

I will remember the deeds of the Lord;

yes, I will remember your miracles of long ago.

I will consider all your works

and meditate on all your mighty deeds.”

I think we can all take a page from this psalmist’s play book here. God doesn’t forget to be compassionate. It’s just sometimes, His compassionate hand is a little harder to recognize. Because sometimes, when we step back and take a deep breath, we can see a little glimpse of Him. In a phone call from a friend. In the worship song you hear at Starbucks, of all places. In a long hug from someone who cares about you. And when you can step back and see a glimpse of God’s hand in your situation, it pulls you to His Word. And then when you read his word, it seems like it is going to be okay.

There’s so much more to unpack here. But for today, let’s just remember this. When we start to think He doesn’t care, perhaps it’s because we haven’t been giving Him the time that He deserves. Perhaps we’ve pulled back from reading our Bible or attending church. Maybe it just feels like routine. But here’s the thing…the more we spend time in the word, the more evident it will be He cares and that He is there. Even in the hardest times.

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It’s Time To Give.

January 2, 2016March 6, 2017 Jerusha BordenLeave a comment

The Syrian refugees have arrived. Some have been here for a few weeks already, and more are expected to reach Canadian soil very soon. With the arrival of these several thousand people come several thousand opinions. People are in an uproar. Most recently, some Canadians are frustrated because the Vancouver Sun released a statement regarding refugee meal allowances. Apparently, the Syrian refugees will receive an allowance per person of $15 for breakfast, $17 for lunch, and $30 for dinner per day. Yes, that’s a lot of money for food. But in the midst of the arguing, could we just take a step back and breathe for a moment?

A few weeks ago there was a meme circulating on social media sites comparing the Syrian refugee crisis to that of the refugee crisis in the 1940s following the second world war. As many know, more than 6 million Jewish people were murdered in the war. During those seven years, many had their homes looted and destroyed. Many were thrown out of their homes and had their possessions confiscated by the Germans. At the end of the war, surviving people could not return to their homes or locate missing family members. There were several million people without homes and with nowhere to go. What happened to them? They were refugees desperately seeking to be relocated. Frightened people. People who had lived through terror and had witnessed despicable things. People who needed a new, fresh start. Where did they find it? Canada.

From 1946 to 1962, Canada accepted nearly a quarter million refugees from Europe. They were sponsored by relatives, accepted to be relocated for certain job contracts, sponsored by different churches and religious organizations AND yes, sponsored by the government. Canadians opened their hearts and homes to help the European refugees as best they could. So why can’t we do that again?

Many people argue that the current government is not handling the refugee crisis well and are overspending on the Syrian people. While a new government does have many adjustments to make and many facets to consider, they still abide to the Refugee Convention that Canada has had in place for 45 years. Most importantly, that the Supreme Court of Canada rendered a decision in the 80s that refugees are entitled to fundamental justice under the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms.

Canada did not stop with the Jewish refugees. Since then it has accepted many more people from many countries, including over 5,000 Kossovars in 1999. We are a country known for freedom, respect for cultural differences, and a commitment to social justice. Canadians are proud to be a peaceful nation. Let’s take a minute to think about that before we lose our minds over the influx of Syrian refugees.

When I think of peace, I think of Jesus. And when I think of Jesus, I wonder what He would say about the Syrian refugees. I don’t need to think too long before I know. Matthew 25: 31-40 says this:

“But when the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit upon his glorious throne. All the nations will be gathered in his presence, and he will separate the people as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. He will place the sheep at his right hand and the goats at his left. Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the Kingdom prepared for you from the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you fed me. I was thirsty, and you gave me a drink. I was a stranger, and you invited me into your home. I was naked and you gave me clothing. I was sick, and you cared for me. I was in prison, and you visited me.’ Then these righteous ones will reply, ‘Lord, when did we ever see you hungry and feed you? Or thirsty and give you a drink? Or a stranger and show you hospitality? Or naked and give you clothing? When did we ever see you sick or in prison and visit you?’ And the King will say, ‘I tell you the truth, when you did it to one of the least of my brothers and sisters, you were doing it to me!”

If you read the rest of this chapter, you will see that the King will tell those who didn’t help the “least of these” that they are cursed and condemned. Verse 45 says, “I tell you the truth, when you refused to help the least of these my brothers and sisters, you were refusing to help me.” Pretty clear, isn’t it? As followers of Jesus we are called to help others. The King EXPECTS us to use what He has given us for good. Not for ourselves. Not only to buy that big screen TV that was on sale during the Boxing Day sales week.

We have just finished up another wonderful Christmas season. There is something special about Christmas that prompts us all to give. There are collection boxes for food for the hungry and toys for children that might not have a gift to open on Christmas morning. The Salvation Army kettles are out, collecting donations allowing them to carry out all their programs and provide resources to the needy all year long. When Christmas comes, people give. But we were not called to be Christmas Christians, giving only when the season prompts us. We are called to give often. To give always. Proverbs 3:27 -28 says, “Do not withhold good from those who deserve it when it is in your power to help them. If you can help your neighbour now, don’t say ‘Come back tomorrow, and then I’ll help you.'” Similarly, in Acts 20:35, “You should remember the words of the Lord Jesus: it is more blessed to give than receive.”

This new year is a great time to become a regular giver, and we Canadians can start with the Syrian refugees. All over our country there are drives for clothing and household items so that these people can build their new homes. I even read recently about an elementary school hosting a drive collecting school supplies for the Syrian children who will need pencils and books for their new school. It doesn’t take much to find a way to give to help the “least of these.”

As for the government and its monetary promises for aiding the Syrians, remember this: it is not the first time this has happened. The Canadian government has been accepting refugees for years. While we might have extra deficits and the budget might seem a little bit off track, remember the One who holds our entire future in His hands. And remember this wonderful passage in 2 Corinthians 9:6-8. “Remember this – a farmer who plants only a few seeds will get a small crop. But the one who plants generously will get a generous crop. You must each decide in your heart how much to give. And don’t give reluctantly or in response to pressure. ‘For God loves a person who gives cheerfully.’ And God will generously provide all you need. Then you will always have everything you need and plenty left to share with others.”

We have been blessed to live in a country full of riches. So much so that during the second world war, the Germans called the storage house at Auschwitz, where they sorted possessions of those in the camp before shipping them off to Germany “Canada.” A sobering thought as you reflect at the beginning of this year on how much you truly do have, and how much your heart has prompted you to give. Think of these Syrian refugees as an opportunity to not only share your wealth and possessions, but also an opportunity to share and spread the love of Christ.

It is time to give.

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Running, Bitterness, and Truth

December 7, 2015March 6, 2017 Jerusha Borden1 Comment

My husband is an amazing guy. He’s stuck by my side through thick and thin, as good husbands do. He held my hand during the dreaded autism diagnosis for not one, but both of our children. He held me as I sobbed like the emotional, hot mess I was. He has taken a stand not in front of me, or even behind me, but beside me as we’ve watched my health and especially my mobility deteriorate. He’s dealt with the pieces that fall over the place in this family with heaping doses of grace.

But sometimes that takes a toll on a person. Day after day, the burden can become great. I know this, because I’ve felt it too. Many hard days pass. The burdening of life day after day can be emotionally exhausting. It can break you down bit by bit, piece by piece. I remember praying for something to do to help with the feeling of the broken places in my life – I knew only God could truly fill me up and cover the brokenness. But I fall short, and I wanted something tangible. I found this in creative outlets. First scrapbooking, then card making. I did these for years, and they worked well until they didn’t anymore. I prayed for something new, and unexpectedly found it in crocheting, something I’d decided early on in life I’d never be able to do. Still, I learned and now love the feel of different fibres and yarns as they glide over my hook.

But as I did these things, finding peace in the process, I watched my husband. The strain of life on his shoulders. Every day he would be working, then coming home to his family. He didn’t have any friends close by, so he rarely went out. I prayed over and over for friends for my husband. Last year, he started attending a small group outside of our church that better fit his demanding work schedule, and my prayers were answered. He made friends who shared his faith and cared about him. He became a texter. My heart smiled.

Still, the weight of our life, while lifted by sharing his burdens with his small group friends, was still taking a toll. I encouraged him to find a hobby, something to help him. He wasn’t completely on board with my suggestion, not being a gamer or very into sports. He dabbled in a few things here and there, but nothing stuck. Until now.

My husband is a runner. He loves it. He needs it. And I’m so thankful. But to be honest, I didn’t always feel that way. Watching my husband participate in such a healthy hobby made me feel insecure about myself. My exercise routine isn’t great, thanks to my special circumstances. It makes exercising excruciatingly painful, and I only do it because I have to. There is no joy in it. So watching my husband enjoy a sport so much made my heart ache. I was filled with bitterness. He asked me to come and watch him participate in his first race this summer and I did, but not with a joyful heart. I couldn’t stand the thought of his fellow athletes looking at me in disgust as I cheered him on. But cheer him on I did, and when he unexpectedly placed in the race I did feel proud. But the bitterness was eating at me from the inside out.

He started spending money on his hobby, buying new shoes, clothing and other gear. He joined a group of other believers who meet twice a week to run and fellowship together. The weight of our life was lifting more and more with every passing day. But mine was getting heavier and heavier.

It was difficult for me to listen to him talking about running and races, because I had zero interest in the subject. But he listens to me talk about my crochet projects, and a good marriage is one full of love and respect, so I listened. I even purchased things for him – to help make things easier for running on the dark, wintry nights. Still, my heart needed to change.

So I turned to the One who removes all bitterness, pleading for a change of heart. Honestly? I’m not there yet. He has a Christmas party this week and I’m invited to attend. Just thinking about it, I feel my insecurities are creeping in. They’re all lovely people, but I don’t feel like I’m good enough to sit amongst a bunch of runners and share a meal.

One thing I’m learning is that the only way for my heart to change is to accept some truths about myself and throw out the lies that I’m less of a person because I’m not athletic. At all.

First Truth – The more I compare, the emptier I feel. I don’t like feeling empty. But every time I compare myself to a group of runners, it saps up what fills up my soul. What fills up my soul? My purpose. Which leads me to my next truth.

Second Truth – My value is not found in what I can and can’t do, or how I look or don’t look, but in how Christ sees me and how He defines me. He doesn’t define me as a bitter, empty woman, but as someone who has a specific job to love and encourage others. And you know what? When I do this, I’m filled with joy.

Third truth – When I’m doing my Jesus work, and spending time with Him, there’s no room for bitterness. Enough said.

So, yesterday when my hubby participated in another race, got a silver medal, and had his picture in the paper, I was honest to goodness proud of him. I was able to share in his excitement and not be wrapped up in my own insecurities.

I’m sure he’ll be in more races. In fact, I know he will be, because we were already looking ahead to see what was coming up in the new year. I’m praying that going forward, I’ll remember these truths and be able to cheer him on with a joyful heart. Worrying about him not falling on the ice and seriously injuring himself during his winter runs is another story. I have a feeling God has a lot more work to do on my heart yet. He’s picking up the pieces of our lives and making them fit because that’s what He does. He’s faithful, and I’m thankful.

*Special thanks to Sole2Soul for the pictures!*

Autism · Christmas

A Simple Christmas

December 1, 2015March 6, 2017 Jerusha Borden3 Comments

December has arrived, and with it the bustle of the holiday season. Although, most retailers have been ready for a month now. I remember early in November I was in a dollar store in Ottawa and the Christmas tunes were blaring through the speakers so intensely it made my head spin and left me with a splitting headache.

Sometimes, that is how I feel when it comes to the holidays. Don’t misunderstand me, because I am a Christmas lover. I have always been dazzled by sparkling lights lighting up the dark winter sky. But lately, it has been a lot harder to become dazzled. Christmas always looks like a tornado of good intentions at our house. The excitement and anticipation are there, but most often they don’t unfold as we’d expect.

Take our Christmas tree, for example. This weekend we decided to dust off the totes that hold our Christmas treasures and decorate. We have learned from Christmases past that it is always easier to do all the preparations before involving the children. Assembling the tree, stringing the lights, wrapping the ribbon. All of these things come together before we call the boys in to help us hang the decorations. It never works out as I’d expect. I want to watch as each decoration is removed from the box and marvel at the memories. To look at the ornament that holds a picture of my husband and I when we were dating and smile and the memory of the day we walked for hours in Ottawa during the Tulip festival – but not to get caught up in how much thinner and prettier I looked back then. I want to cherish the sweet handmade ornaments the boys had made over the years, and remember how tiny their hands were when they made them. I want to step back and look at the tree and have it look as beautiful as the trees on my holiday Pinterest board. But you know what? I don’t have a Piterest life.

Instead, our tree looks like a happy afterthought. The decorations are whipped out of the boxes at record speed. Someone shoves the other one away and whines they’re hanging the decorations where the other had wanted to hang theirs. Another decides he likes every decoration on the same branch. As I step back and look at the tree it looks like a hot mess. Lights strung haphazardly, ribbon wrapped to cover connecting cords, but definitely not symmetrical or beautifully placed. Decorations all over the place, but not in a coordinated order. The tree branches itself that don’t expand enough to cover the metal pole that makes up the stem. It isn’t a thing of beauty. But it IS beautiful, because it represents our lives.

I will admit, I used to get caught up in comparisons when it came to the holiday season. Just recently, a friend of mine posted a photo on Facebook of an amazing, Pintrest perfect Christmas tree and fireplace. It looked like something out of a magazine. My first reaction was a twinge of jealousy, because it is the type of decor I would love to display. Several seconds later, I looked up at my tree and smiled. I realized I liked my tree better, because it is mine. Of course it looks the way it looks – that is just so us. It is easy to get caught in the comparison trap, but it steals your joy. And what is Christmas, if not a season of such?

In Curious George: A Very Monkey Christmas, an over excited George wakes up the man with the yellow hat repeatedly, mistakenly thinking it is Christmas morning. After a few days of this, the man decides to make a countdown calendar for George so he could see how many days are left. When George notices there are several days left to go, he lets out a disgruntled noise. The man explains the best part of Christmas are the preparations leading up to it. The movie then continues with various holiday activities the man with the yellow hat and George partake in. But the sweetest part to me is that nothing about their preparations is perfect. That’s a wonderful representation of our lives. No wonder my boys still adore Curious George. (And why I have seen this so many times I can narrate it from start to finish!)

Yes, there is joy in the imperfect.There is also joy in simplicity. And that is my wish for this Christmas season. What does simplicity look like at Christmas? Making time for things that are important and less difficult and cutting out the rest.

Every other year, the Santa Claus parade is on our side of the city. In past years, we would attend the parade when it was in our area. We would bundle up and stand outside waiting for a glimpse of the floats as they went by. This year? We decided to stay home and watch a Christmas movie while eating a take out pizza. It is so difficult for our children to participate in any events past 6 p.m. Their behaviour gets the better of them and we have a greater risk of public meltdowns. We just don’t need that. Sadly, we also had to miss our church’s community Christmas tree lighting. The whole neighbourhood comes out to sing carols, watch as someone plugs in the lights and then celebrate with hot chocolate and cookies. I was more disappointed about missing that event than the parade, but I believe it was much less difficult.

Simplifying things in the home is helpful as well. That silly Elf on the Shelf we discovered a few years ago them jumped on the bandwagon is coming back to haunt me. Oh, how I wish I hadn’t bought one that day. Coming up with new, fresh ideas is like holiday hell. Especially when I have children who remember everything and any day now they”ll say, “she did that last year!” I asked myself why we even do it at our house since we don’t do Santa. What is the point? My husband and I decided Elf on the Shelf is getting a makeover this year. No mischief! She will be focusing on the gift of giving and loving others. I wish I had done this years ago.

Simplifying also helps our family shift the attention back to what Christmas is all about. It i so easy to say “Jesus is the reason for the season,” but it is also so easy to get lost in the commercializaion of Christmas. One way we have helped to combat this is to give five small gifts: a want, a need, a read, a handmade gift, and something that will draw them closer to the Father. They do not go without at Christmas, but there is not a mountain of gifts under the tree. I like it that way. We also started something new this Christmas by doing a devotional advent calendar from Thriving Family. In light off keeping things simple, I didn’t print off the full calendar but just downloaded the devotional portion and bought them a chocolate advent calendar at Walmart. We started it today and it was a nice time of togetherness where we read, reflected and talked about our day.

Keeping Christmas simple is not a new idea. It is not always easy to do with the holiday parties and events we will be invited to. However, when we focus on the greatest gift of Christmas, and less about the decorations and parties, it is easier to breathe and so much less stressful. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I see a sign for “instant Merry makers” at Timothy’s and the Gingerbread latte sure looks delicious! But I won’t indulge in the holiday desserts. I will keep it simple.

History

Remember

November 11, 2015March 6, 2017 Jerusha BordenLeave a comment

I wake up in the darkness. I’m not in a room, I’m not in a bed. No blankets, no pillows but for a helmet under my head. It’s my turn to watch and keep others safe. I hear shots in the distance and now I’m awake.

Daybreak brings movement and holding the line. Running scared, running all the time. Bullets are whipping around me and my friends. I hear someone fall, look back and see red. I feel my heart beat in my chest and lungs constrict. I stifle a sob, try to grab him and run. It’s too late, they tell me. Leave him, he’s gone.

Dusk arrives, with it screaming bombs fall from the sky. I wonder if this is the time where I’ll die. Take cover, they tell me. Jump into your fox hole. Praying and shivering, everything is so cold. The ground shakes around me. While in my youth, I suddenly feel old.

Hatred, I feel it. I want them to die. There’s death all around me, it’s hard to get by. The pain that they’ve caused, the loss that I’ve seen. Everything is jaded. Nothing is as it seemed.

Later, in combat I face the enemy. So close, I feel myself quaking in fear. I’ve got the upper hand, watch his life drain away. Overwhelmed by it all, I feel so dismayed. From his hand a picture falls to the floor. I catch a glimpse of it quickly, but see so much more. There’s not much difference between him and me. He also was loved, had a family.

I feel sickened as I sink to my knees in the mud. What is the point of war when all I see is death? Will this be the day I take my last breath? Every day is the same and I wonder if this is what hell is like. I wonder, but there’s not time. It’s time to move on before the enemy strikes.

Nights and days roll into the same. I sleep but I wake when I hear someone call my name. The enemy has surrendered, the war is no more. Rejoicing, but can’t help thinking about what the future has in store. Months pass before its my turn to go home. A long train ride, and I descend all alone. Home.

I wake up in darkness, in a room and a bed. With blankets around me and a pillow under my head. I can’t sleep without dreaming. I can’t close my eyes without seeing. I want to escape, but the visions are clear. And all I can think of is why am I here?

All those years of the fighting and screaming and death. Why am I here when they took their last breath? A hero they call me, but a hero I am not. They died and I didn’t, and so much was lost. The days will pass by but the memories remain. Who will remember? Did they all die in vain?

This is sacrifice.

Remember.

Devotional

Psalm of my Heart

October 27, 2015March 6, 2017 Jerusha BordenLeave a comment

I see him drowning. I watch as he struggles to reach the surface. I watch, and I wish I could save him. But I can’t, and so I watch. Part of me wants to look away. But he is a piece of my soul and my feet are grounded where I stand as if they are part of the earth itself. He will not die. He is resillient. A light will dim in his eyes and in my heart. But it will be temporary – fleeting, like a rainbow after the rain.

I have done this song and dance before. Many times I’ve watched him drowning and prayed for him to swim. Sometimes he does. Other times it is as if the sea swallows him whole and he sinks into the depths. Please don’t let him sink this time…

When he is drowning, does he hear the voice of the One who walked upon the water? Does he cry out to You to save him? My only comfort as I watch him flailing is the same. You can cover us both. You are the only One who can save. And so I turn to You.

Oh, God, my heart is broken. My spirit is defeated like a withering flower on a cold autumn morning that still turns its face towards the sun. Old psalms that cry out to You to defeat the enemy ring true, but there is no enemy. Instead I cry out to You to rescue me from this life. Help me to be grateful for the sunshine AND the rain.

May I praise You in the mourning like I praise You when I am dancing. When I don’t hear You, when I don’t see You, help me still to trust. May I remember it is Your steadfast hand that guides us both through these tender days. That it is You who hears us, who sees us. It is You who loves us both when our feet are failing and our steps don’t seem secure.

You are gentle and kind. You are slow to anger and abounding in love. Help me to mirror You. Oh, how I long to be all of these things. But too often I am not gentle or kind, calm and loving. Change me, Lord. Change him, too.

In these dark moments when the clouds are many and the fog is thick, send Your light. Make it burn ferociously through the clouds so we can take comfort in knowing You are there. You are the Comfort that we seek. Grab hold of our hearts and don’t let them go. Hold on to us so we do not fall.

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How Christians Should Vote

October 17, 2015March 6, 2017 Jerusha Borden1 Comment

In just a few days, Canadians will be voting in another federal election. Tensions are high and more people are deciding it is time to start voting, even if they never have before. While some people vote for a particular party they believe their goals and visions are alligned with, many people are at a loss. Several people I have talked with have expressed discontent with the upcoming election. Someone even said point blankly, “it matters not who is elected in. This country is in dire cicumstances regardless.” So what do we even do?

Fifteen years ago if you had told me I would write about politics, I would have laughed in your face. I was not a fan of politics. I was not a fan of politicians. I hated discussing it, and I think I even vowed I would never vote. I believe I went so far as to say it wasn’t important to me. Oh, how naive I was. I wish I could go back and take some of those words back. Now, I can see the importance of voting. Now I can see that political agendas are actually just things that matter to people who live in Canada. Politicians are just people. And we are all free.

It is nice to live in a country where we are free. Free to say what we want say. Free to practice religion. Free to vote for who we feel compelled to vote for. But while we are free to do all these things according to Canadian law, we have to remember that none of these things are free of consequences.

If you follow my blog, you likely know I am a Christian. All that means is that I have been given a second chance at life because Christ died on the cross for my sins. Being a Christian does not mean that I am perfect. Oh, my how far from perfect I truly am. I keep messing up over and over again. I say things I shouldn’t say. I do things I shouldn’t do. I wish I could be perfect, but I fall short of perfection just like everyone else. Still, I need to try. And when I fail, I need to ask for forgiveness and just keep going.

I have fallen short of perfection in regards to this election. I have lost my cool a time or two. Mostly because I don’t like to be bullied into voting for any particular party. I want to be just like any other Canadian with the freedom to vote for whomever I choose. But like a fellow blogger said this week, I am a Christian first and a Canadian second. As a Christian, I need to live like Christ. I need to be a light to the world. A glowing and reliable light, not a flash of fire that rages and then burns out.

Here is what I know to be true. While exercisng my Canadian rights to freedom, I need to find that balance that comes with freedom in Christ. Freedom in Christ is a pouring out the Spirit, giving me the desire to live the life that He has planned for me. The desire to make choices that are God honouring. Galatians 5:13 says, “for you have been called to live in freedom my brothers and sisters. But don’t use your freedom to satisfy your sinful nature. Instead, use your freedom to serve one another in love.” While arguing with others about the upcoming election, have I been serving others in love? No. I clearly need a lot of work.

Mercifully, there is hope. Hope seems to be a constant theme in my life. So why not apply it to the election, too? Proverbs 3:6 says, “Seek His will in all you do, and He wll show you which path to take.” This is my answer to this election. It is so simple, really. Instead of looking to the politicians for answers, I should be seeking truth in Christ. So this weekend, before the polls open on Monday, I implore you to pray.

“Don’t worry about anything, instead pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank Him for all He has done. Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus.” (Phlippians 4:6-7)

That is my life verse. I need to remind myself of it often. When we are caught in the trappings of this world. When we are lost in political squabbles. When we just do not know how to vote, we can pray. Spirit filled prayer that goes straight from our hearts, to our lips, to the Father. And the best part? Our all knowing God is waiting for us at the other end of this. He already knows who will be the next Prime Minister of Canada. And He’s got a plan.

“If you need wisdom, ask our generous God, and He will give it to you. He will not rebuke you for asking. But when you ask Him, be sure that your fath is in God alone. Do not waiver, for a person with divided loyalty is as unsettled as a wave of the sea that is blown and tossed by the wind.” James 1:5-6

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What Have I Become?

September 30, 2015February 18, 2017 Jerusha BordenLeave a comment

Sitting in a coffee shop, soulful music playing. The sound of grinding coffee as the aroma assails my senses. I look around and see other people milling around me. My eyes are drawn to a girl at the table next to me. Propped up beside her is an overflowing bag – books spilling out around her feet. On the table beside her coffee cup is a large text and an array of highlighters. I smile. I used to be that girl…

I seems so long ago that I sat in this same coffee shop. Nestled in a amongst other businesses downtown, it can be a place of solitude. I would come here to study. Yes, I was that girl with a bag full of books. I was the girl with the massive amount of assignments with deadlines looming. As I sipped my latte, my eyebrows furrowed with worry – would it all be completed in time?

Yes. From this perspective, everything was completed in time. The degrees were earned. The success celebrated. The thirst for knowledge quenched and the sense of adventure awaiting me. But it didn’t last. It passed along with other dreams.

I sit and sip my latte now as a group of girls enter together, laughing as they place thier order. I smile. I was once in a group of those girls as well. It seems forever ago now. So carefree, no pressures. No stresses. Just fun. I have been that girl. But she is long gone now.

I look up and see another woman, accomplished. Dressed smartly, a powerhouse career woman who places her order and leaves in a rush of wind that brought her in. I smile at her – but not because I was her. I never actually was, though I dreamed about it. And let’s be honest, sometimes I still do. I wonder what it is like to be at the top of the game. What is it like to be a career woman? Does she feel fulfilled? I’ll never know. I can’t imagine being on the clock after the sun has gone down.

Then I see a woman I recognize. She looks tired and weary. She grabs a coffee with her husband who looks equally as worn out as she does. As they sink into the armchairs in the corner, I almost hear their collective sighs. Yes, I know you. Right now, I am you.

What have I become? Looking back at all these different woman who I have once been or once dreamed of being brings a twinge of discontent. I had such dreams. I had such goals. I would be a successful journalist. I would write a book. I would marry and have children. I would truly have it all.

How many of us look back on our lives and realize we have acheived our dreams? I would hazard a guess that perhaps not many of us have reached that place. And from where I sit right now, stealing glances of all these other people – I am okay with not acheiving mine.

Let me be real. It is currently a desire of mine to write a book. I don’t know what I would write about. But sometimes, I dream of holding a book in my hands with my name on the cover. It is as real as my dream was to be a career woman some years ago. But dreams change. And I now know why.

God has different plans.

Psalm 16:9 says, “we can make our plans, but the Lord determines our steps.” Oh, how I understand this. It wasn’t in my plans to have children right away after I got married. That career woman plan was foiled with two pink lines that showed up on a test my last semester when I was mere weeks away from earning my second degree. A rush of emotions of excitement, fear and disappointment assailed me. But then as the weeks went on, only excitement. And when I saw that sweet baby face, fresh from my own womb – elation. I was blessed to experience this again, when my second son was born.

Plans changed. I became a stay at home mom – with that career woman plan pushed to the back burner. I was not ready to give up. Plan B was written – I would wait until my children were in school and then would become the career woman I wanted to be.

Plans changed once more. An autism diagnosis. And then another. A series of phone calls from the school requesting my presence. Over and over and over again. Goodbye, career woman.

The funny thing is, it didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would to let that dream go. It feels like letting this dream go would hurt more. But, I am prepared. Because in the past ten years I have learned that His plans matter more.

My children are my career. Oh, how they need me. They depend on me to be there consistently. They need me to be there for them in so many different ways. The one to fight for them and their needs. The one who will sit through monthly meetings discussing their behaviour and acadmic struggles. The one who will make sure the house is clean, the laundry is done, the supper is on the table. The one who will guide them to make right choices. The one who will sit beside them as they cry. Who will hold them when they are the only one who hasn’t been invited to a birthday party. Again.

God’s path is staring me right in the face. As I sit here sippnig this latte in this quiet coffee shop, I know that. I don’t know if I will ever write a book (although I sure have lots to write about). This time that I have dedicated to write once a week often seems silly to me – I am not a writer. The dream is still there, but in my heart I know my God is enough. This blog is enough.

What have I become? Long gone is the carefree girl. Long gone the studious woman. Instead, a tired Mom who breathes a sigh of relief as she sits down with a latte and a laptop and writes. And I am so thankful for God’s path – because it is better than anything I could ever have dreamed up.

Devotional

When You Struggle With Housework

September 23, 2015March 6, 2017 Jerusha BordenLeave a comment

I hate housework. There, I said it. There is something freeing about admitting it. But the truth is, I don’t just hate it, I resent it. Let’s face it – I never wanted to be a housewife. Yes, I wanted to be married. I wanted the kids. But I didn’t want the cleaning. When I was a little girl, I dreamed of marrying rich so I could have a maid…

Oh, my maid. She would leave everything sparkling clean in her midst. I’d never have to clean toilets. I would never have to do laundry. I would never have to wash the dishes. Instead, I married a very sweet man who is rich in love and kindness but not money. I wouldn’t have it anyway. Except for the housework.

I like to think I have changed a lot over the years. That as I have aged (so much grey hair) – I will have grown. And not just in numbers, but in matters of the heart. In wisdom. But most days, I just feel like a hot mess.

Right now, my house is pretty much a disaster. Yes, there are dishes in the sink. The laundry is in the process of getting washed and dried. The bathroom could use a good scrubbing. And don’t talk to me about the playroom. *shudder*

I wish I had more energy. I wish I had more desire to make it sparkle. Because oh, do I ever love it when it sparkles! But here’s the thing. I have these two little blessings that can turn a sparkling home into dirt and scatter in about ten minutes. It’s so frustrating. It’s so discouraging. It saps the energy and desire for a sparkling home right out of me.

Still. My husband loves a clean home. He’s not a clean freak (thank the Lord!) but he does like to come home to a tidy home where he doesn’t have to pitch in to make it liveable. If the house was clean, that would be my way of screaming I LOVE YOU! LOOK WHAT I DID! And oh, do I love him. So why do I still struggle?

There are so many factors. But here’s the cold, hard truth. God didn’t plan for me to marry rich. He didn’t plan for me to be a hard working career woman (although that was in MY plan). Instead, He blessed me with two special needs children that do require a lot of time and energy, love and supervision. He did bless me with a wonderful, supportive, loving and understanding husband. He’s blessed me much more than I deserve. And…well, it was His plan for me to be a housewife. A Mom who needs to cook and clean. All the time…

Colossians 3:23 says, “work willingly at whatever you do, as though you were working for the Lord rather than for people,” That verse is challenging. Because you can’t ignore it. It means cleaning too. It means doing the best job you can in the role that He has placed you in. Even as a housewife.

Sometimes, a verse just stabs you right in the heart. I could say I’d rather leave my house a mess so I can invest in my children. Truth? I’d rather leave my house a mess so I can spend more time and energy doing the things I enjoy. Don’t get me wrong, I do invest a lot of time and energy into my children. But sometimes, a girl just needs a break.

If I were honest with myself, I know that if you keep up with a regular cleaning routine, it’s not overly time consuming. If you let the mess get the best of you, though, it takes a lot more time and energy to clean the house than it should.

I guess it’s going to be a struggle to try and remain ahead of the game. And try not to complain or grumble too much when it’s time to do laundry again and there’s just so much mess. Again. Because at the end of the day, it’s what my heart is like that matters, not my house. But if my house is causing my heart to not be fully committed to serving the Lord, I need to adjust a few things.

Time to change the laundry over. And figure out what to have for supper. And where did I leave that vacuum?

Autism

The One You Call

September 14, 2015March 6, 2017 Jerusha BordenLeave a comment

It’s been a week since the start of the school year. We made it through, relatively unscathed. It’s never easy sending these little ones back to school, is it? It’s always a hard thing to do…
I overheard mothers on the playground talk about their relief that school was starting again – they’d get a nice break during the day from their kids. Time to have showers in peace and meet friends for coffee dates. Time to shop at the mall. Long, luxurious mornings. I get that, moms. I do. But then again, I don’t get it at all.
Let’s face it, I still can’t shower in peace. Even if I am home alone and decide to shower – that peace could be shattered in a second when the phone rings and it’s the school. I still try to meet my friends for coffee dates, and I am so thankful for the understanding friends I have who get that sometimes we need to cut it short when the school calls. I’d love to shop at the mall and take time to look through the shops I never get to because I just can’t do it with my children. But, even then I am just a phone call away.
Even still – that’s what I am here for. Mom. The one you call. The one you call when you’re not feeling well. The one you call when you’ve soaked your clothes on the playground and need some clean, dry socks immediately. We Moms know the drill. But then, I am also the one you call when someone can’t calm down. I’m the one you call when they’re screaming. Throwing things. The one you call when they need to be sent home. When they need to cool down. I’m the one you call.
It breaks my heart when I am the one you call. I don’t mind retrieving extra clothes or bringing in something you’ve forgotten. I don’t even mind coming when you’re not feeling well – even though I don’t like seeing you sick. I just hate getting the other calls. The ones that make me want to hang my head in shame that I am that Mom whose kid has been kicked out of class and sent home for the day. It breaks my heart when they do things that get them in hot water.
I feel embarrassed sometimes. I’m the one you call when my kid ruins something in the class. I want to hang my head in shame that they’ve broken a pair of eye glasses. Knocked over a plant. Smashed another student’s lunch to smithereens. And I know. I know it’s not my fault. But I am still embarrassed. I still feel like I am not doing anything right.
I will get over it, though. Because I am the one you call. I’ll be there as soon as I can make it and I will hold my head up as you tell me all that my child has done. I will apologize. I will give them a disappointed look. They know the look.
But then, I will move on. Because I’m the one you call. And this won’t be the last time. So I am not the one that will rejoice when my children return to school because it’s not peaceful. It’s sometimes stressful. It’s always an adjustment. It’s always a trial period.
We’re always trying new things. We’re always trying to make the way for you easier. Better. I know some day, it will be. And finally, when things are working smoothly and you’re doing amazing the school year will end. And we will go through this all over again.
It’s not easy being the one you call. Every time you call, I cry a little bit inside. I don’t even know why, because I’m not sorry that I don’t have a child like all those other Moms who are enjoying their lattes and shopping and getting their nails done. Because those other Moms don’t have you. They don’t have your laughter. They don’t have your extraordinary take on the world. They don’t have your love. They just don’t have you.
So, call me. I will be there for you. Even when it’s heart breaking. Even when it’s happened for the second time this week. Even when I just want one of the latte sipping, manicure getting, shop til you drop kind of days. I’d rather drop everything for you. I will always be the one you call.