It is Well with My Soul

Last night I heard this incredible biography about strength, hope, love, and perseverance. I must tell you it! Are you familiar with the song, It is Well with My Soul? If you aren't, it is a beautiful hymn that is sung in most churches. It is a hymn that has stood the test of time. Even if you know the song and have sung it a million times, most do not know the story that inspired the lyrics. Here it is:

There was a prominent lawyer named, Horatio G. Spafford. He lived in Chicago and was very influential. Spafford was married and had four daughters and one son. He desired what any husband and father would, to provide and take care of the family he loved. Shortly before 1871, in an attempt to provide, Spafford made the decision to invested heavily in real estate near the shores of Lake Michigan.

Sadly, in 1871 a massive fire hit Chicago. The fire destroyed much of the city including all of Spafford's investment properties. His livelihood was demolished. During this time, Spafford and his wife also experienced the loss of their son. Devastation hit. Hard.

In an effort to provide some relief for his family and him, Spafford scheduled a trip to Europe for his family. On the day that they were scheduled to depart on S.S. Ville du Havre, a last minute business deal kept Spafford behind. He decided to send his wife and four daughters ahead and he planned to meet up with them in Europe a few days later.

On November 22, the ship with his wife and daughters was struck by the Lockhearn, an English vessel, and sank in just few minutes. After the survivors were landed, Spafford's wife messaged him in America. Her message read, "Saved alone." Spafford took the next ship to Europe.

It was on Spafford's travels, taking the same route as his wife and daughters had just days before, that Spafford wrote the lyrics to the song, It is Well with My Soul.

When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,

When sorrows like sea billows roll;

Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,

It is well, it is well, with my soul.
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.

My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!

For me, be it Christ, be it Christ hence to live:
If Jordan above me shall roll,
No pang shall be mine, for in death as in life
Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul.

But, Lord, ’tis for Thee, for Thy coming we wait,
The sky, not the grave, is our goal;
Oh, trump of the angel! Oh, voice of the Lord!
Blessed hope, blessed rest of my soul!

And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,

Even so, it is well with my soul.

 

This is a story that seems like it {almost} gives Spafford permission to live in hurt, pain, and self loathing, yet, Spafford turns his story into a beautiful tribute, essentially saying: 

 

To the good and bad

lovely and ugly

It is all well with my soul

All of it is good

It shapes me, molds me, makes me reliant on God

I am forgiven, I am free

And glory is at the end of this long road

I keep my eyes up!

 

 What a beautiful reminder that it is all good and worth the journey.

 

 

Information taken from

http://suite101.com/article/hymn-it-is-well-with-my-soul-a32616



 

Laugh

They say to write about what you know and what I know is junior high life. I guess just like most mothers would say, every day is an adventure. Kids are random; predictable and not at the same time. Just yesterday I laughed about farts, and "hipster" lingo and at the fact that my student didn't know what to do when he found out that I actually have a first name. I never quite imagined myself being a junior high teacher, but then again, are any of us doing what we thought we would be doing?

I have been reading a book entitled One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp. The entire premise of the book is to acknowledge gratitude; to be thankful, to recognize the blessings in life and to speak them out loud, not out of a boastful spirit but out of pure joy. Yesterday as I was reading, I kept coming back to the silliness of junior high. The silly comments, dancing, insecurities, and random life of junior high kids. I feel thankful. Junior high kids make me laugh. They push me into my love for silly things.

They help me to let go of my inhibitions and I enjoy life more fully.

In full LAUGHTER, I am thankful.

So here are my two questions for you this morning: what are you thankful for and when was the last time you really LAUGHED and loved life like a silly junior high kid?

Hobbies

 

I've never really had a hobby before. There have always been things I have enjoyed, but I never would have called them "hobbies". I think there is something intimidating to me about the word "hobby". As if there is this great commitment, discipline, and dedication that comes along with it.

 

A few summers ago I started biking. I never in a million years thought that I would actually enjoy the sport -yes, I will call it a sport. Then I started to ride and it felt freeing. I slowly built up my courage to hit the road and eventually, I got brave enough to clip my feet into the pedals. Talk about scary! But I did it and it felt great.

 

Boise has a great biking community and we have some very intense riders! I would get passed up all the time by these dedicated riders and at first it was disheartening. I would have to remind myself that it's about commitment, discipline, and dedication. In order to be better, I needed to put my whole self into it.

 

One day I was riding and I started thinking about my new hobby. I thought about how much time, thought and energy I put into it and how I'm not even that great at it. It made me think about the word satisfied.

 

I thought about how so often we {as a Western culture} are not satisfied with life. We dabble at a lot of different things in our lives, yet we rarely go deep with one. We juggle meetings, parties, events, and often go home feeling exhausted. We have hundreds of facebook friends and we still feel like no one truly knows us. We have hundreds of options of products, food, clothing, entertainment and yet, we still cannot find the one we are looking for.

 

In a hobby you go deep with it. You study it. You are dedicated to it. You live it, breathe it, and know it well. I wonder if we were to minimized our focus in life, just like in our hobbies, if we would find greater satisfaction. Would we have fewer, but deeper connected relationships? Would we give up much to enjoy the depth of a few things? To live it, breathe it, and know it well.

 

To be satisfied in our deeper focus.

 

 



Out on a Limb

Dear Friends,

I wanted to take a moment to thank you for the huge encouragement you have been in regards to my Desert post. I have received so much feedback; most of you sharing about your own "desert" times.

As I have been reflecting over the last few days, I have again been reminded that the desert is not a bad place to be, instead it is a place that makes us stronger and helps us to appreciate what is to come.

I take heart in that and I hope you do too.

~ ~ ~

 



On another note, many of you have requested that I blog "more often"... I must be honest, that kind of intimidates me. My writing has never been intended for anything other than my own need to process. Putting it into "blog" form has been it's own little way of holding me accountable to keep me writing.

Nonetheless, my sister has been so great to "revamp" the look of my blog and has been very vocal about my need to continue in my blogging quest. I guess sometimes all you need is just one person who believes in you enough to push you to step out on a limb.

My sister, Mandy. Thanks for believing.

So here is to writing more.

Sincerely,
S

Desert

I stood there on stage, microphone in hand and 300 junior high and high school students staring. Even for someone who is not scared of speaking in front of large groups, this was intimidating. Teenagers are ruthless; they size you up even before you speak.

But there I was. Voice quivering.

It would have been easy to put a smile on my face and pretend to be a super teacher who had it all together, but the honest truth is that I am not a super teacher and I don't have it all together. So I dared myself to talk about life as it is. As soon as I opened my mouth, I started to cry! (Talk about embarrassing!)

I shared about how when I moved to Boise, I knew I was moving to the desert. The foothills are brown, the tumbleweed does summersaults across the road, and the heat is dry and hot. What I didn't know is that I would be moving into a season of my life that also felt like a desert. I shared about how the last 3 years have been long and hard. How many times I have cried out to God and have heard silence. The desert is dry, dusty, and in desperate need of water and that's how my life has felt. Finally, I tried to be encouraging by saying that I think sometimes God wants us in the desert; to just sit and be alright with waiting on him. To wait for the cool breeze of hope and water of contentment... and to trust that it will come.

It was only a couple minutes of sharing and before I knew it, chapel was over and the rest of the day continued as normal.

The confusing thing happened the next day. I received email after email from parents who said that their child came home after school talking about chapel and more specifically, how they were encouraged by what I had shared. I found myself sitting in front of my computer so confused. I mean, really, most of what I had to say was not "encouraging" at all, in fact, it was rather depressing.

But then a teacher stopped me in the hall and it all began to make sense.

"Thank you for admitting that life isn't always easy. Thank you for being transparent and talking about the hard times. We all have hard times, but most of us are just too afraid to admit them... let alone talk about them in front of hundreds of people," the teacher trailed off in mid thought.

It made me wonder...

How many of us are out there feeling like we are in a desert... thirsty and needing water, hot and needing a cool breeze, tired, weary, and feeling like God isn't quite answering... and yet we put a smile on our face and pretend that we are a super mom, friend, teacher or whatever our role is.

And then it made me wonder what life would look like... if we were simply honest about the hard times. And when I mean "hard times", I mean the really hard times. Not the messy dishes or the dirty diapers, not the cookies that didn't turn out "quite right"... but rather, the really hard times, the mess of life that we are scared of talking about. Our deeper, darker secrets... those are the hard times that we all desperately wish we could share, but we don't.

Because we are afraid.

Perhaps being honest about our desert time is like giving water to a friend who is also in the desert.

Light

Scout is my dog’s name. Wild, crazy, lover of all things fun!

When she was a puppy she got into the mud in the backyard. Fun! And proceeded to fling it on all my walls as she ran through the entire house. Fun! As she got older she mellowed out. Instead of mud flinging, she settled into her daily naps.

Until she found the light.

A few months ago Scout started to notice reflections on the walls. Sometimes they would come from rays of light from the sun, other times they would come from a watch reflection, or my iPhone reflection. She would chase the reflection all around the house. Often times I would tease her and twist the reflection around the room as quickly as possible. She never took her eyes off the light.

Recently, I have found her staring at the ceiling or walls waiting intently for the light to come back, and when it does her gaze does not falter. Food doesn’t even distract her from the light. It’s funny because at first I found her obsession very annoying and then I heard myself today.

I said, “Gosh, Scout never loses sight of the light. She is always searching for it, always waiting for it.”

You see, Scout was completely content with her naps. Life was easy and full in her eyes; she had no idea what she was missing. Yet once she found the light, she became obsessed with seeking more light; never losing sight of it. And it made me wonder how many of us are content with our full lives, not knowing what we are missing.

 I have another dog, Bear. He searches for the light as well, but he isn’t as intent. He will run to it when it is there, but if it isn’t present, he doesn’t wait for it. This made me wonder, which am I? Am I constantly searching for the light; waiting for it when it isn’t there or am I like, Bear, where I will run to it when it’s there, but I won’t seek it out?

There is something beautiful about light. It makes us feel safe when darkness surrounds us. Nothing can hide in it. It glitters and catches the eye. There is just something intrinsically appealing to light. We are all drawn to it… and yet I wonder how persistent am I in seeking it?

Love

  
     You see, I don't mean to, but sometimes I find that my sassy mouth gets me into trouble. To be honest, my mouth is probably my greatest weakness; the worst thing about me. I always have good intentions, but before I can think twice, words start spouting out of my mouth. That is what happened to me in a meeting this week. I was sitting in the meeting trying very hard to keep my mouth shut, but about half way through the meeting I couldn't take it anymore. My mouth opened and I knew trouble was headed my way. After ruffling a few feathers, I finally thought to myself, Sheila, shut your mouth. Stop talking right now. You always get yourself into trouble. And so I stopped talking for the rest of the meeting.  Yes, trouble followed after; my darn mouth.

     As I walked back to my classroom, scolding myself in my head, one of my co-workers who was also in the meeting stopped me. I knew that he could tell that I was frustrated more with myself than at anything. I mean, really, can't I ever just keep my mouth shut? He looked me straight in the eyes and he said, "Sheila, don't ever stop being YOU. Keep being YOU because we need more of YOU here." I laughed because being "me" was what got me into trouble in the first place. Being "me" was what ruffled feathers and caused conflict. Being "me" was the last thing I wanted to be right then. I was tired of my weaknesses getting the best of me. And yet, here my co-worker was standing there choosing to see the best in me; choosing to see my weakness as a strength and encouraging me to be "me" even after he had seen a moment of my worst.

     His words were simple, "Keep being you!" But it was enough. He cared simply because I was me. I stood in the hallway silenced, wondering how often I have seen the worst in somebody and then written them off. It's easy to see the worst in someone, harder to see their worst as good. And yet, that is what my co-worker had done. He saw the best.

   I walked into my classroom and thought to myself,  Now that is love; to see their worst and, yet, choose to see it as their best.