Blogging – Sheila Dougal

Why I write about faithfulness and learning to love

Since it’s a new year I thought I would do a sort of a re-introduction to this blog and the why behind it.

A central theme written over my life and tied to everything I write is faithfulness.

About 14 years ago I started blogging. Almost everything I write, whether on my blog, in a poem or essay is born out of nearly 30 years of marriage and 20 years of raising sons. And in those relationships especially, the pursuit of faithfulness and faithful love reigns.

I’m on a quest in life, in my marriage, my parenting, my writing, my work to see the faithfulness of God and learn to live faithfully as well. A persistent question never leaves me, “If I’m really a Christian, if Christ is really risen, if he really dwells in me, then can I learn to love like Jesus?”

Learning to love is tied closely to what it means to be faithful as a Christian. Throughout scripture, God describes his faithfulness in terms of faithful love. A simple search of the phrase, “faithful love,” in the Blue Letter Bible shows how often God is described by his faithfulness and faithful love. Jesus said loving God and neighbor are the greatest of God’s commands and the evergreen tree from which all his law and prophets hang like pine cones.

So what is faithful love? What does God’s faithfulness look like? And What does it mean for me to cultivate faithfulness? It would require much more than a short blog post to answer those questions. Exploring the answers to these questions is what I aim to do on this blog. It’s what I aim to do with my life.

As a point of reference, I looked up the words cultivate and faithfulness in the Webster’s dictionary the other day.

Cultivate means to prepare, to loosen or break up soil; to foster the growth of; to improve by labor; to further or encourage.

Faithfulness is being steadfast in affection, allegiance, firm in adherence to promises or observance of duty; given with strong assurance, true to the facts, to a standard, to an original.

But it’s the message of Psalm 37 that has illuminated my desire to practice faithfulness and faithful love more than any modern definition.

Trust in the Lord and do good; Live in the land and cultivate faithfulness. –Psalm 37:3 NASB

In Psalm 37, David explores the tension and feelings of anger and discouragement sure to rise up while living with people who don’t seek to love God and others. And what is the solution David lands on for how God’s people are to live in such stressful circumstances? Trust God. Do good. And cultivate faithfulness.

And this is God’s instruction to me.

In this marriage, God has not called me to save my marriage, prevent a divorce at all costs, make my husband happy, or employ any formula to get the kind of marriage I want. In my parenting, God has not called me to save my children, prevent them from wandering away from the faith, keep them happy, or make them the people I want them to be. He has called me to trust him and do good. To live in this Arizona suburb with this man, these sons, these neighbors, this church, this government, this job, etc., and prepare the soil of my life to grow the fruit of the Spirit. And to do so steadfastly.

This means not only am I to live out what Eugene Peterson called a long obedience in the same direction, but because of my prone-to-wander state, I must determine to live out a long repentance in the same direction.

God has planted his faithfulness in my life. He has given me the seed of his word. He’s called me to spend my life letting him teach me, and help me, to love him and my neighbors, right here under this roof, and down the street.

I do not claim to have the answers. I have in the past, and probably will still foolishly stumble into blogging, writing and speaking as though I do. If I have any answer it’s a mysterious and real relationship with the Jesus of the Bible. So, as Mary Oliver said in her poem Mysteries, Yes:

Let me keep my distance, always, 
from those who think they have the answers. 
Let me keep company always with those who say “Look!” 
and laugh in astonishment, and bow their heads.

I pray this blog would be a place where I can say, “Look” and we can laugh together in astonishment and worship in response to God’s faithful love and the miracle of his work to produce this love in us.

With the Lord’s help I plan to spend my days growing in the faithful love of God; turning the fallow ground of my life, and learning to produce faithful love the way I was created to. Will you join me?

post anesthesia thoughts

(has nothing to do with the post, just a pretty pic i took a long time ago)

I’m not going to over think this post too much. I had minor surgery today and am still feeling drunk on leftover anesthesia/fentanyl/percocet. Consider yourself and the three other people reading this warned.

In the past few weeks I’ve been listening to podcasts from writers, reading articles about blogging and freelance writing, etc. In one of those I was admonished to write something daily. Be it a blog post, a journal entry, a poem… something. Because writers don’t just think about writing, they write. I think my pastor said or wrote that once too. It struck me then, and when I read this lady’s article. I am a writer. Not a known writer. Not the best writer. But I enjoy writing and I just process life better when I’m writing. But when I set out to write something, especially publicly, I sometimes step in the quicksand of self-analyzing and get stuck there. And then I don’t write anything. And that sucks.

So, I took that lady’s advice and decided to write something daily. And the next day my MacBook’s hard-drive failed. My 13 year old black Lab Bailey decided jump onto the chair where I was sitting on the back patio (something she has never done) sending Mrs. Mac descending to the concrete. I believe she lasted 48 hours after that and died (the Mac, not Bailey). Soooo, my writing daily challenge has been mostly limited to journaling.

I worked consecutively this past Friday, Saturday and Sunday at the acute rehab unit where I practice one of the least-glamorous forms of nursing and often found myself thinking about the importance of doing the least-glamorous as a Christian. But that’s another blog post. Those past three days I wrote notes on paper about my patients and nothing more.

Today I returned to the same hospital as a patient. That’s a good thing to do as nurse. I had a minor being-a-girl related surgery that will hopefully help being a pre-menopausal girl with girl-problems be less problematic in the coming years. Such a surgical procedure is neither something one wants to talk about nor read about so I’ll spare you. But the experience of being a nurse on the other side is worth writing and reading about.

I dont’ tell nurses caring for me that I’m a nurse until I feel like they feel comfortable with me and I with them, or until they ask me what I do for a living. That being said, I was really glad 7 different people asked me my name, date of birth and what procedure I was having today. I know as a nurse this is a monotonous part of our job, constantly asking questions our patients often get tired of answering, but its reassuring as a nurse to know the people about to put me into a drug-induced coma and cut on my flesh are repetitively asking for the same information ensuring I’m not going to wake up without a leg or something.

While waiting for the doctor to come talk with me before the procedure, my husband and I had a very interesting conversation about Christian theology, homosexuality and forming personal relationships with people who don’t share your worldview. We don’t share the same view on the first two of those three, but we agree that talking and listening with people who don’t see life the way you do is a good thing for both parties and the community.

The longer I stay married to a man who doesn’t see life the way I do, the more I see how amazing Christ is… he is the great unifier of the most diverse people. He makes a new person. And he makes a person new. “And such were some of you...” The goal may be to win a person to Christ, but it’s never to win an argument about Christ. Required: humility, faithfulness and love. May he bless me with those three treasures. Oh to be made new! And the wonder that he is making me new. “He who began a good work in you will be faithful to complete it.”

confessions and desires of a world-digesting writer/eater cell

Merriam-Webster defines a writer as: (noun) One that writes.

Big shocker.

I’ve been writing, well since I was about 5. First just letters, then short, three word sentences without punctuation, then onto complete sentences and paragraphs. By seventh grade when I had Mrs. Spicer for English I was writing essays and stories and poems and loving it. In between there around the age of nine I started journaling. For me, writing has been a way to process my thoughts, feelings and circumstances. When Jesus became real and beautiful to me at age sixteen writing was the way I processed what I was reading in the Bible and the conflicting feelings I was experiencing as an insecure girl wanting to find my place in the world. I wrote a play for my youth group and more essays and poems and filled a few more teddy bear and flower decorated journals.

Between those early teen years and now I have married, graduated from nursing school, labored two sons into the world and moved several times. In between those words are years of trials and joys. Some too hard to speak about. All digested in the writings of my private journals. Also in there somewhere I discovered the blog. I had no idea. Up till my discovery of Blogger all my writings were private letters, journals, poems and word docs. As women in my church, close friends and family encouraged me, I began to blog more.

In the past 10 years or so of blogging I have been introduced to the endless voices in the public square. It’s quite overwhelming actually, the volume of published content by anyone and everyone on the internet. A simple google search on any topic will give you pages and pages of links from the famous and professional to the stay-at-home-mom who managed to squeeze in a half hour of blogging in her day full of household management tasks and human-raising efforts. (A thought-provoking article here about the tsunami of un-governed writings and teachings available on the internet for the consumption of the church and it’s implications.)

In the beginning of my blogging efforts I set out to promote my blog- reading other blogs, commenting, participating in mommy-blog contests, etc. And then my marriage took a dive into troubled waters. During that time I stepped away from public writing and became aware of my mixed up priorities and the praise-seeking sin at the root of all my efforts. Writing had ceased to be a tool for processing life. It had become an obsessive exercise to be known. I hated finding that out about myself. But it was the beginning of dealing with a besetting sin that was dragging me down on my race of faith.

As I returned to meditating on God’s words more and processing what I was finding there in private journals, I slowly returned to selectively writing on my blog again. This time with a decision not to self-promote or to check stats or seek comments, but just to offer in a public way my meditations on God’s word and life with a prayer that it might encourage someone out there.

Writing for me has never been an identity or profession. To me, calling myself a writer because I write is sort of like calling myself an eater because I eat. It’s a fact. Big deal. Writing is the way I chew on life and digest it. Ignorantly I’ve sort of thought everyone does that. Having two sons who don’t enjoy reading or writing like I do has taught me that not everyone experiences life best with books and ink and words. Not everyone feels a sense that heaven might smell a lot like the intoxicating paper pages scent of Barnes and Nobel.

Somehow, the process of digesting life that is so necessary for me has encouraged others. I’ve been told it’s a gift. I haven’t thought of it that way. But listening to others and hearing God say, “Do your part in the body of Christ! Use your gifts for the good of the body,” (my paraphrase of Romans 12:3-8), I have started to take more seriously the stewardship of a gift God has given me to process the Word and the world in writing for the purpose of pointing others to him. I want to do this while thinking of myself soberly and less. For me this means beginning to submit public writings not just here on my blog at my will, but to men and women in the church (worldwide) who can help me steward this gift for the good of the church and God’s glory.

Desiring God has been a source of much encouragement to me in my walk with Christ and so was the first venue through which I have submitted a couple articles and have been so humbled to have published there. The decision to submit writings to editors and people who give feedback and criticism and sometimes just a simple rejection opens me up to learning to take this gift God has given and start stewarding it for the multiplication of his kingdom. I’m excited to learn. I really don’t feel comfortable calling myself a writer because I need to write. But I do feel comfortable calling myself a glad and happy servant of my Servant King Jesus to the people he loves!

I mean, I am a nobody. Really. There are plenty of famous and much better writers out there. But, I am a cell in this body. And maybe it’s just another cell or two that needs to fight off some invading sin or needs help to lift it’s spiritually-anemic head. If that’s one of the ways God wants to use my life I say a hearty, “Yes!”

If you’re reading this I’d appreciate your prayers that I would seek first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness and forget about myself and be more others minded for their good and God’s glory in my writing. Pray that I’d learn to use writing as a means of building up the church and bringing God glory.

May God build up his people, even with a world-digesting writer/eater cell like me.

Pinterestic Life?

I woke up this morning like most mornings- morose, fighting depressing, fatalistic thoughts. Not hopeful. Not joyful. Not positive.

I don’t say this because I’m looking for pity or to be a downer. I say it because I’m a mom who writes a blog in a world full of mom-blogs with pretty pictures and chic designs and humorous and/or wise posts. And I’ve been there and done that so I’m not judging my fellow mom bloggers either. I like pretty blog templates, and flawless pictures of homemade things and happy children. I enjoy a well-rounded devotional and even poetic meditations. But as much as we all enjoy those things, most of us don’t have a life that’s really like that.

Most of us wake up fighting discouraging thoughts or stress or anxieties of some kind in a house with piles of laundry unfinished, beds unmade, dried toothpaste and discarded pocket contents on the counter. Most of us walk out of our rooms to wake up kids who manage to argue with each other and create tears and yelling before 5 minutes of their day has passed. Most of us walk away from such scenes seeking refuge in a cup of coffee in a kitchen where the dishes aren’t done from yesterday… or the day before that. Most of us see clutter as we turn 360 from any position in our house and fight the lie that if things were just clean and organized and a nice candle was burning and the kids were laughing and… we’d be so much happier.

I’m learning I can either be real about my life and receive with thankfulness the grace that is creating a new, glorious reality for me everyday, looking for every evidence of the gifts of such grace even in this fallen place, or I can sink down into a pit of depression and “give up”. Even worse, I can stick my head in the ~~sand~~ mom-blog world and pretend my life is pretty and organized and godly and smells like a Yankee candle, and spin my wheels trying to convince myself and others that I actually live such a Pinterestic life.

I don’t live a Pinterestic life. But I do live a life alive in Christ’s blood-bought grace. It’s a messy life. It’s a life full of weakness and evidences of fallenness. It’s a life of fighting giants and exposing lies. It’s a life in the process of being transformed by a scandalous love.

As the holiday season is upon us, and so are all things picture-perfect and aromatic, let us make the ravishing beauty of Christ our boast and humbly receive with thanks every grace, every hint of his beauty and his order and his goodness we get to see and experience here in the midst of all our mess. And let us be real with each other, and help each other fight giants and bear burdens and look up and be eternally-minded.

Quieted,

Sheila

Sojourning Sheila

I’m thinking of changing my blog title to: Sojourning Sheila {and so I did}.

What I write reflects who I am. Six years ago, when I started blogging, I was inspired by the beauty of making a home and being a helper Imago Dei. I’m still inspired, yet, refined. Several years ago, my vision of being a homemaker (albeit inspired by scripture) had begun to crowd out who I really am- a sojourner; not finding here any continuing home, but rather looking to the eternal home promised me in Christ.

Psalm 39 is a template of my recent life. Spiritually, the rhythm of things {the last 7 years} has been harmonious with David’s expression in Psalm 39.

I was off course and I realized it at the correction of my good Father. I decided to shut my mouth and guard my ways, hence a nearly complete backing off of all my blogging and writing 4 years ago. But when I don’t write, when I keep my mouth shut, a fire burns in me. I have told others I feel as though God has shut my mouth. He has.

“I am mute; I do not open my mouth, for it is you who have done it.”

In the past year I have begun writing publicly more often again. And every time I write here, and see that title: A Homemaker’s Meditations, I am reminded of my previous obsession with being home and my off-course plan from which my Lord has lovingly corrected me (although like David I have often felt his discipline has consumed like a moth that which is dear to me- even so He is exceedingly good. Blessed be the Name of the Lord!).

Yesterday we received keys to our new fixer-upper home. It was as I drove there that the words of Psalm 39, especially verse 12, washed over me like clean water. God has moved us there. Doors have been shut that seemed to be unshutable. Doors have opened fast and wide that seemed very likely to close. And there’s fear in the air hissing it’s temptation to grab hold tightly and yet the Prince of Peace pervades, pushing back fear like an invisible shield.

This world is not my home
I’m just a passin’ through.
My treasures are laid up
Somewhere beyond the blue.

If a man has Christ and nothing, he has infinitely more than if, without Christ, he has all the family, finances and security this world offers! I have Him. I am His and He is mine! I can hold every thing He gives me with an opened hand.

Aim at heaven and you will get earth thrown in. Aim at earth and you will get neither. – C.S. Lewis

Quieted,

Sheila

Second living of the past few weeks

I have been planning our yearly summer trip to Oregon, trying to keep a semblance of order yet keep the vacation in our summer break, doing the daily things that keep a home running and in the back of my mind through it all I have blog posts going through my brain. Smile. Sigh.

Time budgeting is much like money budgeting for me. I find if I don’t set aside the allotment for the necessary I’ll spend it all on the unnecessary. But then usually the necessary uses up so much of the budget that there’s not much room for the unnecessary. Writing isn’t unnecessary to me, but if I don’t get up early enough or stay up late enough the opportunity to write is missed. Problem is its usually throughout the day that I think of things I want to write. I find myself jotting down thoughts on scratch pieces of paper or in the many journals I have floating around wherever I go. I have a bunch of pictures of meals I’ve made in iPhoto. One of these days…

There’s a terrible bunch of knotted up muscles descending from my left jaw, down my sternocleidomastoid and trapezius accompanied by a hideous grinding/crepitus sound from the base of my skull on the right side when I turn my head. I’m convinced this is all due to the damaged TMJ on my left side that, after years of gab, grind and grub is permanently flawed. I don’t know what to do about it. Do I see a dentist? A chiropractor? An ENT? A physical therapist? My family practice doc? What would they do about it?

About 2 months ago I started experiencing pain with squatting in my knees- left worse than right. I ignored it and joked about approaching 40. Its gotten worse to the point getting up from a sitting position or sitting down is causing a stabbing pain in my left knee. A week ago we went fishing, I climbed up the rocky trail to our car, pushed off with my left leg in a lunge position and the pain just about brought me tumbling down the trail. Since then, I cannot squat, lunge, sit, climb stairs, get out of my car…anything that involves bearing wait and bending my left knee to a 45 degree angle, without some serious, eye-watering pain. This is really messing with my plans to keep doing Crossfit style workouts 3 days a week. My husband thinks its a torn meniscus. I know what they do for that. I don’t like that option. And I thought men were the stubborn ones when it comes to medical stuff.

I’m only 38, but my body feels things I didn’t expect to feel until my 50’s.

We’re planning to drive the famous Pacific Coast Highway in California, from Morro Bay to San Francisco next week. I love the ocean view. I like mountain views too, but if I had to choose, I’d choose ocean. Desert view isn’t very high up on my list… but it has a beauty.

I am so looking forward to this trip. A Geek Squad guy at Best Buy named Connor (with an O like our Connor who umps Little League) helped us buy a GPS for the trip and wrote out some must-see places in Santa Cruz, San Fran and Half Moon Bay for us to consider stopping at on our trip. Apparently he’s from the area.

At the end of our PCH California trip are my precious nephews, sister and her man. The boys can’t wait to go fishing. I can’t wait to hug my sister and nephews and listen to their sweet voices. I treasure the time I get with my family in Oregon. I wish I could just stop by and visit Aunt Kandace or head to grandma’s house for the day. I’m very thankful for the friends in AZ who have become family to my boys. Nevertheless I wish I could be closer to my mom and dad and family.

After my sister we’ll move up to where my mom, dad, brother, grandmother, grandfather, nieces, nephews, sister-in-love (as opposed to law… saw that written somewhere and loved it!), and house full of more nephews are. We miss them all! My boys would literally move in with the house-full clan if they could! They look up to my now graduated from high school nephew Ethan, and the next in line Nolan. They treasure the play time with Avery and feel like big brothers when they get to be with Liam and Quintin. The always leave that house wishing they had “10 brothers.” Sigh.

I’ve been thinking about what my “voice” is. Writers talk about finding their voice. It feels weird to call myself a writer. I write, but I guess I wouldn’t consider myself a writer unless I was published. Is a person who rides bikes a cyclist? I guess. I feel more comfortable with calling myself a journaler. Maybe that’s my voice. Journaling.

Ann Voskamp is one of my favorite blogger-writers. She’s definitely a writer. Her voice- poetic, encouraging, meditative. I leave her blog encouraged, agreeing.

Pastor Craig is another favorite blogger-writer. In fact, right now, theirs are the only blogs I read regularly. I’ve also read a book from each. Pastor Craig’s voice is humorous, insightful, editorial. I leave his blog smiling every time!

I don’t know what my voice is. A few people have told me I have a different way of putting things that helps them understand. Interesting how that works. Interesting how a person can use words to open doors of understanding.

Hupotosso is a word. We unpacked it a bit using an online Bible Study Tool at the last ladies Bible study for the summer last night.

The Bible really is a living book! It’s inspiration is inexhaustible. God’s word opens doors of understanding that no one can shut and shuts doors of understanding that no one can open. To voluntarily yield yourself to the authority of another is God-like. To fight for your rights is human. To suffer for doing what’s right is divine. To fight back is fallen nature. To entrust yourself to the One who judges justly is Christ-like. To strive to prove you’re right is what we all do. To be a Christian is to be a hupotosso-er. We do not follow a weak, mousy, doormat. We follow the Creator of the Universe who humbled Himself, who bent low to lift us up, who huppotosso-ed and saved us.

I read Ann’s post about an encounter with a stranger in an airport. He asked her what “kind” of Christian she was. Her answer resonated with me:

Isn’t being a Christian rather like being pregnant? You either wholly are or you really aren’t — is there an in between? How did we become known as “kinds” of Christian instead of being simply, humbly, loving Christians? What if following Christ was about a living faith not about wearing faith labels — about living Christ-behaviour, not living in Christian boxes?

Quieted,

Sheila

Just another religious blabbering blogger?

I’ve been thinking a lot about what I want to write on my 145:4 blog.

I’ve been challenged by my own desire to write these things down. Why? Why do I want to write it down so much? Why not just live life and do “normal” things like crochet or something? Why writing… and Bible stories re-told at that?

I guess in part its the gift God gave me. I have a desire to write and I love the Bible. It’s a source of inspiration that never runs dry (and much more). Its my world view. But as I’m thinking through what I want to write I’m realizing its not just my re-telling of the Bible stories to my boys. It’s me writing out my homologeo. Its me putting to paper the reason for the hope that is in me. Its me penning my explanation of what I believe.

I want it written. I want it out there. I want it recorded.

I know its not going to be complete. Because till I’m perfected seeing my Savior’s face I will not know my full homologeo. I will not be able to fully explain the reason I confidently await the coming good of all things being made new- even me! And I also know that if I don’t live it out, loving other sinners like me in the name of Christ, it really means nothing.

Oh love through me Love of God!

If I can’t suffer long and be kind, it doesn’t matter that I can unveil some of the meaning of Your word to my children (or anyone else). If I’m envious of others it doesn’t matter that I’m getting a grasp on the mystery of the Trinity. If I’m proud and think I’m all-that it really doesn’t matter if I’m self-sacrificially giving to others. If I write my 145:4 and it makes sense and is a good explanation of what I believe and tells Bible stories in a way the points my kids to Christ but I’m rude and selfish, I’m just another religious blabbering blogger.

For Your Name’s sake Father, grant me the grace to love as Christ has loved me!

Quieted,

Sheila

Taking a break

Hey friends.

I’m going to be without a computer for awhile and so I won’t be posting except for maybe on a rare occasion for probably the next month.

Lots of changes going on in my world. Mountains falling into the sea, earth crumbling beneath my feet, but my God is a sure refuge and He doesn’t crumble!

I’ll explain more later as the Lord leads, but for now let me just pass onto you a section of scripture that really ministered to me this morning and ask you to pray for me and my household as the Lord may lead you.

Therefore we do not lose heart. Even though our outward man is perishing, yet the inward man is being renewed day by day. For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, is working for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory, while we do not look at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen. For the things which are seen are temporary, but the things which are not seen are eternal. – 2 Corinthians 4:16-18

See you soon! Keep your eyes on eternity ladies!

So glad He found me ,

Isaiah 51:3

Just letting you know

Hey my fellow Found women!

I just wanted to let you know some things.

1. I fully intend to finish up a series I started on Matters of the Home. Not sure when I’ll get to sit down and post, but, Lord willing, soon.

2. Before I do that though I really want to finish the study through the Proverbs 31 woman I started into last year at Sunny’s blog, A Wife’s Biblical Submission.

3. I’ve been occupied giving my full attention to teaching my boys, prayer, loving my man, and wrestling through some things with the Lord.

4. I’m really excited about a new book I just got to read, review and giveaway by Jill Savage– Real Moms… Real Jesus. She’s given me 3 copies to giveaway and I can’t wait to read it so I can do just that. I plan to do that giveaway in June. So look for it. Go over to Jill’s blog and check it out.

So that’s just some things brewing with me… Lots to share as the Lord leads.

I also want to thank you for your always encouraging comments and prayers. You are all such a blessing!

Have a worship-filled weekend!

Hi blog friends.

I’m technically back from spring break, but I’m still not back to blogging yet. I look forward to sharing with you and finishing my series on homemaking when I return, hopefully in a few days.

I’m also asking for your prayers. I have a job interview today at 3pm Pacific Time with my state’s juvenille corrections system for a pool nursing postion there. I haven’t interviewed EVER on a panel interview like I’ll be going to today. My heart is for and with my husband and children and yet I’m stepping out in obedience. Pray for me will ya? I’d soooooo appreciate it!

Thanks!

So glad He found me ,

Isaiah 51:3