Why Psalms?

I’ve written a book called Praying with the Psalmists.

My book is a complete study of Psalms, showing you how you can deepen your prayer life by using patterns from the ten types of Psalms in your own prayers. I illustrate the types of Psalms by telling my own story. But why Psalms?

Why Read Psalms?

Psalms is a book of emotions of humans in relationship with God. Did you know that there are more Laments in the biblical book of Psalms than there are Psalms of Praise? God can handle our emotions, both positive and negative, and you’ll find them all in the Book of Psalms. These emotions are timeless and the Psalms still touch our hearts today. I’ve got a Reading Plan for reading all the Psalms in 12 weeks, reading one type of Psalm each week.

Why Memorize Psalms?

I’ve memorized all 150 Psalms (beginning in childhood, when my parents paid me), and I’ve found that the brain exercise of memorizing a Psalm helps bypass your brain and bring it straight to your heart. Have you ever memorized a piece of music and found that once you memorize it, you can focus on musicality and meaning? “Hiding God’s Word in your heart” by memorizing a Psalm will help you feel the meaning of that Psalm all the more powerfully. (If you don’t believe me, try it!) I’ve got a chapter with some tips on memorizing Scripture in my book.

Why Study Psalms?

Looking deeper at Psalms, you can see the patterns the Psalmists used — and use them in your own prayers. This is the ultimate goal of my book: To give you another tool to use in prayer and to help your prayers reach your heart.

The book is a 12-week study of all 150 Psalms. You’ll read the Psalms of each type, hear how those Psalms touched my life, and see patterns in each type so you can try it yourself.

After all, sometimes you need a Lament.

Where am I in my book journey?

My book is written, and I brought my own small group through it in 2023, with the help of a co-leader.

In 2023, besides working full-time, I was on the Morris Award committee, so that was taking most of my free time. I did send the book out to some agents. But the feedback I got was that I need to grow my platform before I would get enough interest for an agent or large publisher.

So, in 2024, I’m going to try to grow my platform, as well as try some small publishers. If all else fails, I may decide to self-publish.

How can you help?

You can help my platform grow by subscribing to this blog. I’m going to try to post something about Psalms at least once a month. And I’ll post updates about my book journey. This is my personal blog, so if I find other pressing topics about faith or my life, this is where I put them. You can find out about everything else in my website on my About page.

Why Psalms?

Because if you give them the chance, Psalms will touch your heart.

A Psalm for Alzheimer’s

Last week, my friend Darlene and I traveled to California for our friend Ruth’s 60th birthday. It was a lovely trip. We had a great time together.

But Ruth has early-onset Alzheimer’s, and I am all torn up inside about it.

Explanation for this post: I have written a book, Praying with the Psalmists: Open Your Heart to God Using Patterns from Psalms in Your Prayers. This book is not yet published. But the premise is that we can use patterns from Psalms in prayer to open our hearts to God when things trouble us.

The book may or may not ever get published, but I’m trying to model praying with the psalmists in my own prayers when things are heavy on my heart. [You can follow along with the blog series “Praying with the Psalmists.”] At this time, Alzheimer’s is so heavy on my heart.

At first, I thought I’d write a lament, as I did in “Lament for Leukemia.” But despite the situation, Laments generally are more for prayer requests — bad situations where you are asking God to come through. My friend’s Alzheimer’s is a horrible situation out there in the world, and I can’t help wondering how God allows it. Why is this happening to someone who loves God? I just hate it. So this is a situation for a Wisdom Psalm.

Now, the trouble with writing a wisdom psalm myself is that I don’t particularly think I have wisdom. So I think of the ones we laypeople write as Pep Talk Psalms — reminding ourselves what we know about God, reminding ourselves that it’s worth it to follow God, reminding ourselves that we actually do trust God. Some Wisdom Psalms in Scripture that I love are Psalm 1, Psalm 34, Psalm 37, and Psalm 73.

In my book, I cover five key concepts from the biblical Wisdom Psalms: Blessings, Teachings, Consequences, Oversight, and Perspective. But maybe you’ll get the idea from the example and the biblical examples. I’m going to attempt to use parallelism and dive in and write a psalm about this. I’m going to start with the situation, but then remind myself what I know.

A Psalm for Alzheimer’s

Father, I hate Alzheimer’s
with every fiber of my being.

First, my mother had it,
starting in her early sixties.
It started kind of cute:
holding hands with Dad in new situations,
not understanding mirrors,
proud of getting a puzzle piece in,
telling my Dad they should get married.

But every time I saw her,
she was much worse than the time before.
I just got a memory on Facebook about the time
more than a year before her death,
already on hospice,
when she fell out of her wheelchair
broke her nose, cut her forehead,
and had to remain bedridden
for the last year of her life.

When I saw her two months before her death
at my Dad’s funeral,
she couldn’t talk,
couldn’t smile,
couldn’t sit up,
couldn’t feed herself.
People asked if she knew me,
but how would I even know if she did?

I really hate Alzheimer’s.

So now my friend Ruth has it,
about ten years younger than my Mom started.
Yes, she knows me.
Yes, she can still talk,
with a little trouble putting thoughts into words.
Her frequent “Yeah, uh huh…” reminded me so much
of my mother for a while saying constantly “okay… okay…”,
though Ruth is working to engage in conversation
at least in that way.

She’s happy!
She laughs a lot.
Her husband does a wonderful job
of keeping things light,
laughing with her,
making her failings foibles.
She’s got grandbabies nearby,
living in both homes where she spends her time.
She’s not thinking about the future
and what it will hold for her.
She’s enjoying the present.

She did hike with us,
her husband leading her by the hand.
I tried — and failed to get her past the spot
where she needed to put her foot just there —
because she’s not looking at her feet.

We looked at pictures
from junior high and high school.
She knew who people were
(or at least said she did)
when we could get her to look at the TV
where they were showing.

In the old pictures, in every single set
there’d be a picture of Ruth
perched atop a swingset or boulder or castle wall or tree.
She can’t climb any more,
and I hate that.
In fact, she has trouble sitting down
in an ordinary chair.

And I hate it.

I know it’s only going to get worse.
Though Ruth isn’t thinking about that.
She’s enjoying her husband’s care,
her children and grandchildren,
and wherever she finds herself.
She enjoyed our visit,
and I’m so glad we got to be there for her.

But I hate Alzheimer’s.

[Crying break.]
Lord, why did this have to happen
to someone so vibrant, so alive,
so sharp, so kind,
so always full of mischief,
always literally climbing on boundaries?

Now I’m home,
no longer putting on a brave face so Ruth won’t see my distress,
and my 7-year-old niece is getting
a stem cell transplant for leukemia.
A high school friend’s husband, a pastor,
just passed away from a brain tumor.
Thousands of innocents were recently murdered
in terror and war, both Israelis and Palestinians.

And, Lord, it all seems so hard.

But whom have I in heaven but you, Lord?
I’m not going to decide you don’t exist
because terrible things happen in the world.
I’m not God,
and that’s a good thing.
But I don’t understand.
And that’s okay. I’m human.

What do I believe?
I believe you bring good even out of terrible things.
I believe that mankind is fallen,
but that you redeem.

I believe that my mother is in heaven now,
and all her suffering is not even worth comparing to the glory she now faces.

I believe that my father shone so brightly while he cared for her,
as Ruth’s husband is beginning to shine now.
[I still don’t think it even comes close to outweighing the evil of Alzheimer’s,
but, yes, good comes out of it.]

I believe that because Alzheimer’s and leukemia exist,
humans are exercising their ingenuity and brilliance
and discovering cures.
The stem cell transplant is a much simpler process
than the old bone marrow transplant.
Immunotherapy shows great promise
for many kinds of cancer,
and research for Alzheimer’s treatments
is making great strides.
We have come so far in medical science!
May it continue, may lives continue to be saved and prolonged.

And Lord, above all,
I believe you are with us.
You became a human,
Emmanuel, God with us.
You took up our infirmities
and carried our diseases.
I believe you know our suffering
and carry us.

Sometimes you calm the storm
and sometimes you guide us through the storm.
You love Ruth, your precious child.

Thank you for her life,
thank you for her friendship,
thank you for her laughter,
thank you for her love.
Thank you that you are always with her.
Thank you that she’s been my friend
for almost 50 years.

Thank you that despite awful things,
there is still joy in this world.

Thank you that we were able to bring some of that joy
to our friend Ruth.

Grant her husband and children
grace and perseverance.
Be with them all on the journey that follows.
But thank you that Ruth herself is living in the moment,
still trusting you.

And you are faithful.

Ruth and Darlene in 2014.

Okay. That’s my psalm. I think it helped. The fact is, I still believe that God is good. I don’t claim to know higher meaning for Alzheimer’s. But I choose to believe that God is good and God is loving. And God brings good out of even this.

Hey, anyone reading this — I’d love it if you tried writing your own psalms, too. You can tell by my example that they don’t have to be very good! But use the comments if you want to share.

Ruth in 1975.

Lamenting Leukemia – Again

Last week, I wrote a Lament for a Leak. This week I got much worse news, so it’s time to write a Lament for Leukemia. Except wait — I already wrote a Lament for Leukemia.

Yes, this is about my same niece, Meredith. Now she’s seven years old, and she’s still dealing with leukemia.

I remember the Lament form using the ACCESS acronym:

Address to God
Complaint
Confession of Trust
Entreaty
Sureness of Help
Subsequent Praise

[If you’re interested in reading a book about writing your own psalms, subscribe to this blog or to my Sondermusings substack, and I will definitely let you know if/when I find a publisher. You’ll also find out some things along the way. Let me encourage you to try the lament form and post your own examples in the comments.]

For now, another lament for leukemia:

[Address to God]
Lord, we don’t know where to turn
and so we turn to You.
You love us and care for us,
you hear prayer,
but we don’t understand
how children can suffer so much
in this world you’ve made.

[Complaint]
Meredith was in remission!
She did so well with immunotherapy!
No side effects!
Out of the hospital on the first possible day!

Our hopes were high.
Our hearts lifted to see her
dancing ballet,
learning Parkour.
(Parkour seems to be navigating obstacles with strength and grace —
may she navigate these new obstacles with strength and grace.)

But only a couple weeks later,
her b-cells are back.
The reengineered t-cells are no longer
protecting her from leukemia.

We don’t want to be ungrateful.
Her big sister is a match!
But the stem cell transplant process
is hard,
is risky,
is scary.
And we’d gotten to hoping she could do without it.

Lord, she’s just a kid!
Seven years old, with years of painful and uncomfortable treatments
behind her.
She was doing activities,
going back to school,
learning new things,
even growing her hair back.
Now it’s time for six more weeks in the hospital (at least).

[Confession of Trust]
Lord, we know that you do see trouble and grief.
You consider it to take it in hand.
You will be with your children
every step of the way.

[Entreaty]
Lord, have mercy!
Grant Meredith health and healing.
Uphold her family.
Grant them all grace and peace.

Give her sister peace and rest
as she donates her stem cells,
and transform her blood into
healing and salvation for Meredith.

Lord, we don’t even understand fully how it works,
but turn her sister’s blood into good medicine
that gives Meredith new health and new life
and many years of thriving.

[Sureness of Help]
Thank you, Lord, that you do hear our prayers.
Thank you for the amazing developments in medicine
that have produced this cure for leukemia.
Thank you that you have been with this family for years already
and you’re not abandoning them now.

[Subsequent Praise]
Lord, help us dare to celebrate again
when the stem cells do their work.
Let us look forward to the day
when her blood has been renewed
and she is cured.
We look forward to singing for joy
at the healing you bring.

Lament for a Leak

I’m upset over something that happened yesterday. And I feel stupid for being so upset. The something is that in a rainstorm, I discovered my bedroom window is leaking badly. My office window is also leaking.

I feel like that shouldn’t upset me so much — and then my mind keeps spinning over reasons why it does.

And that gets me thinking about Psalms.

You see, I recently finished writing a book about Psalms, Praying with the Psalmists. I don’t yet have a publisher, but my premise is that you can use the patterns from Psalms to write your own prayers.

And I want to try a Lament for this Leak. I think it will help me calm down my catastrophic thinking.

I learned when studying Psalms that God wants our honesty. The psalmists seem somewhat extreme in their complaints. So if I’m extreme in what I worry about regarding this stupid leak — well, that’s okay. God can handle it.

I’ll use parallelism, and I’ll use the ACCESS form of a Lament:

Address to God
Complaint
Confession of Trust
Entreaty
Sureness of Help
Subsequent Praise

Here goes! I’m going to sit down and write this now and try not to edit it too much. This is my prayer.

[Address to God]
Lord, I’m coming to you about this leak,
I’m telling you my worries and fears
because I want to trust that you care about me;
I want to believe that you listen to my concerns.

This one seems too petty for you, God.
I’m a grown-up, shouldn’t I deal with it?
But let me come to you like a child
because as a father has compassion on his children
so you have compassion on those who follow you.

A situation like this makes me miss my father,
miss someone to turn to,
miss not having to be the most responsible one.
So it’s time to turn to You, Father.

[Complaint]
It’s just a window!
But I’ve been afraid of this.

When my air conditioner went out and pulled me back into debt,
my friend said, “What’s *really* expensive are windows.”
Just a couple years ago, our condo association sent out a notice:
Replacing windows is now the responsibility of the homeowner.
Because they’re all getting old,
and the association can’t afford to replace them all.
They had us vote on it,
but what could I do?
We don’t want our fees to go up,
but neither do I want the expense.
Had a feeling it would be relevant,
but hoped I was just superstitious.

Many months ago, I noticed a leak
in the window in my office.
But it didn’t happen again
until yesterday.
I’d hoped it was a fluke.

For the same months, I’ve been noticing a wet, rotting wood smell
near the window in my bedroom
every time it rains.
But never saw any water.
Maybe I’m imagining it?
After all, if I don’t actually see a leak,
how could it actually be there?

Then yesterday it was spitting out.
My head got sprinkled when I ducked in to see where it was coming from.

The rug was wet next to my bed.
Then I saw splashes on the things under the window.
I moved those things next to the piles
removed from my closet months ago.
I got a step ladder and found the water was coming
from the wooden casing above the window.
The paint is cracked, and water was coming out
randomly all in a line,
all along the top of the window,
falling all the way down
not in a stream I could catch in a bowl,
but spreading out and spraying.

I put down plastic,
wiped it down.
The office window was leaking too.
(Usually wind drives rain the other direction
— that’s the one good side.)

Four months ago, a bathroom leak from the condo above me
destroyed my master bathroom and closet.
I still haven’t returned everything to the closet,
trying to sort through the boxes of books.
I’ve only just recently finished cleaning the dust
from the reconstruction.
I still haven’t gotten back
the $500 deductible,
because the problem didn’t originate within my unit.

So I don’t want another project.
I haven’t put my house back together after the last one!
Problems are supposed to wait their turn!
Aren’t they?

And money!
Ten years ago, my Dad gave me the down payment to buy this place.
A few years later, a home equity loan allowed me to pay off
heavy debt from my divorce.

Then the water heater broke…
then the air conditioner…
and always, God provided.

In a few months, I’ll have my car paid off,
and I was already daydreaming about saving little by little
to buy one more car – without payments –
before I retire.

I’d got it in my head that at last I’d go back to visit Germany
where I lived for ten years,
but haven’t seen for eighteen years.
I’d go next June for my sixtieth birthday.
What better way to celebrate?

Now I feel like who am I
to dare to plan for something special like that?
Who am I to think
I can be out of debt for more than a few months at a time?

And, Lord, I know it’s so childish!
It’s expensive to own a home.
My condo already saved my financial situation.
At worst, surely I can get a home equity loan.
But I’m still complaining!
This is the part about all the thoughts going through my head:

How dare I think I can have nice things?
I’m on the Morris committee!
How can I possibly find time to have people come through my home
open up a wall
rip things apart
and put in a new window?
And how will I ever find time to clean up after?
Why can’t I just ignore the problem
and hope the wind won’t blow that direction with rain ever again?

And where do I start?
Who do I call?
(The condo association.
Maybe they can tell me where to get windows that match.)

Okay, that’s the start of my complaint, Lord!
It’s a big mess of money and time that I for sure
do not want to spend right now.

It childishly doesn’t seem fair
when I haven’t even put things back together after the other leak.

It all seemed like more when I was stewing.
But those are my complaints, Lord.
I’m not looking forward to dealing with it.
I’m not looking forward to paying for it.
I’m not looking forward to having people fix it.
I’m not looking forward to moving my furniture to make it happen.
I’m not looking forward to the disruption of folks working on it.
I’m not looking forward to cleaning up after it.

And I keep hoping the problem is just a fluke,
but yesterday was enough water
that I think the time for ignoring the problem
is long past.

[Confession of Trust]
Lord, thank you that writing all that out
isn’t nearly as bad as what was spinning in my head.
Thank you for this home
and how it solved my credit card debt.
Thank you that you provided
after all the other repairs and after dental crises and other unexpected expenses.
Thank you for that $3000 award that came
exactly when I was $3000 in debt.

Father, by now I should have learned that you can meet my needs.
And you help me deal with things I don’t want to deal with.
And you help me find professionals who know what they’re doing.
And I can really do this Grown-up stuff!

And yes, I can trust you, Lord.
And no, this isn’t a disaster.
And yes, I have so many resources
and should probably be ashamed for how upset this got me.
Because you will be with me, Lord,
as you have been with me before.

[Entreaty]
Lord, be with me
as you have promised!
Grant me wisdom
to figure out who to call,
to find trustworthy professionals,
who quote me a good price.
If I need a home equity loan to pay for it,
help me through that process, too.
Make me thankful for my cozy and beautiful home
as I invest in it something in return
for the shelter it has provided to me.

Be with me in this process, Lord.
May it not cost as much money and time
as I fear.
And provide for my needs,
as you always do.
Help me not to fret;
eliminate my disaster thinking,
and grant me grace as I carry on.

[Sureness of Help]
Lord, already I feel more calm.
I know that you see me
and you will help me
and you keep me from disaster.

[Subsequent Praise]
When it’s all done,
when I have brand-new windows
with a lovely new window treatment
(because why not?)
and my house put back together —

It’s time for me to have a party
and tell my friends:
I was so worried about this;
I felt sorry for myself dealing with it on my own,
but the Lord helped me through.

Okay, that’s my psalm of lament.

It’s childish, it’s silly. I’m making a fuss over something people deal with all the time.

But you know what? I feel better after writing that. More equipped to figure out what needs to be done, and not panic about what it will take to do it.

For you, reader, it’s not that I want to make you listen to all my petty worries. It’s that I want to share that we all have petty worries. And yes, we can pray about them! And for me, the Lament form really helps.

May the Lord bless you and keep you.

Thoughts on Trust and Shame

Sunset behind clouds off the Oregon coast.
Just a pretty picture from my recent Oregon vacation.

Several seemingly disparate things came together this weekend, and they all got me thinking about Trust – and Shame.

1) First, before the weekend, I’d been thinking it was time to write another blog post about Psalms.

I’ve written a book called Praying with the Psalmists, and I’m trying to find an agent and/or publisher. In the book, I show people ten types of Psalms and how we can write our own psalms for prayer.

I’d love to end up with a website where people can post the psalms they’ve written. So why not start with blog posts? I’m trying to increase my blogging in order to build a platform — and in my Praying with the Psalmists posts, I would love for people to post their own psalms in the comments.

But now I’ve finished going through the book with my small group, so what type of psalm should I try to post? I decided my next post would be about Psalms of Trust.

I am going through a relatively stable time in my life. I don’t feel the need to write a lament. I don’t currently have a big deliverance story to put in a psalm of thanksgiving. However, I’m feeling a little unfocused, a little frustrated with the day-to-day trying to get things done and not getting enough sleep and having occasional odd health issues and just feeling a little out of sorts. So a psalm of trust might help me focus. (We’ll come back to this.)

2) Last Tuesday, I wrote a blog post about the terrible AI-produced children’s book I mistakenly purchased for the library and had to take out of processing so that it would not go on library shelves. This weekend, it got lots of attention, because on Thursday Betsy Bird, a librarian who writes for School Library Journal read it and tweeted about it. She said, “It begins. Librarians, warn your selectors. AI is making its way into our libraries by sneaky means.
@Sonderbooks has the scoop:” I’m not talking going viral, but as of Sunday evening, her tweet linking to my blog post has 24.7K Views, 108 Likes, 62 Retweets, 17 Quotes, and 18 Bookmarks. Which is a lot more than my tweets usually get.

3) At the same time, I read a tweet on AskAubrey, whose Twitter feed I’m unduly fascinated with and always shows up at the top of my “For You” Tab, showing terrible posts by men on dating sites or Reddit. The one I saw Saturday morning was posted by a woman. Her husband is obviously cheating on her with the “friend” he’s “renting” a room to. But she still believes him that they are exclusive. People are mocking her cluelessness, and I felt compelled to respond like this:

Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. I believed my ex-husband, too, when he told me he wasn’t having an affair with the woman he’d gone to watch movies with at midnight. He’s lying to you. You’re a trusting person, and he has exploited that. The shame is his.

By the next day, this tweet has gotten 14.5K Views, 158 Likes, and 2 Bookmarks. One reply said, “Glad I wasn’t the only one.”

4) Most of the responses to Betsy’s tweet have been positive. Well, aside from the shock and horror that such a book got published. But one library selector responded that this isn’t “sneaky” at all, and if we do an actual good job with collection development, we won’t let such things get past us.

And that response revived my shame.

But it also made me realize how the two popular tweets were similar.

In both cases, I should not have trusted, but I did.

In both cases, there were red flags, but I trusted anyway.

In both cases, I felt deep shame for trusting.

Let’s start with the trivial case: I ordered a truly terrible children’s nonfiction book about rabbits. It was masquerading as a series nonfiction book from a publisher that had more than 500 titles listed on our vendor’s website. But there were red flags, and I truly should not have ordered it. And I think of myself as a very good youth materials selector for the library – but trusting that particular publisher (“Bold Kids”) was a truly bad decision, it turned out. And I was deeply ashamed.

It took about a day for me to even talk about it. (It helped tremendously, I’m afraid, that another selector whom I respect fell for another one of their books at the same time.) But when I acknowledge that I am not perfect and I did, in fact, make a mistake — then my reaction is: Wait a second, who’s the one who should be ashamed here? “Bold Kids” is a scammer masquerading as a publishing company, and they are the ones who deserve the shame.

5) And that made me think of scammers on dating sites. When I first started trying online dating, I allowed a couple of men to email me off the site — and they turned out to be scammers. (Here are a couple of posts I wrote later about some tips for spotting them.)

When my friend helped me figure out one of those guys emailing me was a scammer, I hadn’t sent the scammer any money — but I felt very stupid and ashamed. And it left me feeling foolish for getting my hopes up. Did the scammers think I was so desperate that I’d fall for them? Who was I to think that anyone but a scammer would be interested in me?

So yes, even though they did not get my money, they did harm.

But going back to shame: Who should be ashamed of that? Not me! Shame on the scammers for preying on people’s trust.

And that brings me back to my ex-husband.

I was deeply ashamed when I found out he was actually having an affair.

But that’s backwards. Ashamed of trusting my husband?!?! He looked me in the eye and told me, “I’m not having an affair.” Twice!

We’d been married 18 years at the time, and I didn’t know of any reason not to trust him.

But I am not the one who should be ashamed. He is the one who should be ashamed of breaking my trust.

Now, I am the first to admit that I’m a naive and trusting person. That ties in with another thread:

6) I recently watched the “Shiny Happy People” documentary series and wrote a blog series in reaction, “Shiny Happy Childhood.” I think that authoritarian organizations like Bill Gothard’s seminars put lots of emphasis on trusting and obeying authority. I grew up in that, and I am a very trusting person.

However, I don’t believe that trust is a bad thing!

After all, I never intentionally lied to my ex-husband — so that’s a big part of why I didn’t suspect him of lying to me. I’ve grown up around a lot of good people, so I tend to think of people as good-hearted.

But it all depends on where you place your trust.

And when it turns out that we put our trust in a bad place, our first reaction is shame — when they are the one who should be ashamed.

7) As if those Twitter threads weren’t enough, yesterday morning I hit this daily reading in Melody Beattie’s book The Language of Letting Go, titled “Learning to Trust Again”:

Many of us have trust issues.

Some of us tried long and hard to trust untrustworthy people. Over and again, we believed lies and promises never to be kept. Some of us tried to trust people for the impossible; for instance, trusting a practicing alcoholic not to drink again.

Some of us trusted our Higher Power inappropriately. We trusted God to make other people do what we wanted, then felt betrayed when that didn’t work out….

[I for sure did that for years, praying that God would bring my husband back to me. I finally realized that I wasn’t really trusting God — I was telling God what should happen and gritting my teeth to believe it would, like a magic vending machine — instead of trusting that whatever God allowed to happen, God would be with me and would bring good even out of a bad situation.]

Most of us were taught, inappropriately, that we couldn’t trust ourselves.

The reading goes on to say that yes, we can learn to trust appropriately – trusting myself, God, and others. We are not foolish to trust, but we may need help with it.

8) And then today I was reading in Katie Porter’s book I Swear and saw this point in her “Guide to Consumer Protection”:

Never feel ashamed.
They cheated YOU! They are the bad guys. Would you report a burglary? It’s no different when a company rips you off. Expect them to make it right.

So Yes! I will resist being ashamed of falling for the scam that Bold Kids “publisher” is running. They are the ones who should be ashamed!

9) But coming back around to Psalms of Trust:

In my book, I put 21 Psalms in that category, so they are a big part of the Psalms. And one of the key concepts I found in the Psalms of Trust is Vindication. I used vindication as a positive way of saying the prayer that comes up again and again, “Let me not be put to shame.”

When we place our trust badly, the natural reaction is to feel shame.

And may I trust the Lord in such a way that I will not be ashamed. Because the Lord is good, and God’s love endures forever, and God’s faithfulness continues through all generations.

So, after all those musings, let me try to pray a short psalm of trust:

Lord my God, I trust in you;
let me not be put to shame.

Teach me to trust truly
rather than trying to control.

Take away my shame for being imperfect
and give me grace to warn others
and learn from my mistakes.

Grant me rest
as I trust that I am doing enough.

And I give you my endeavors:
My work at my dream job,
my writing,
my website,
my reading for award committees.

Let me trust that it’s not all up to me,
that you love me as the person you made me
and my value doesn’t come from what I do.

Amen.

There. A hodgepodge of thoughts about Trust and Shame. Does that bring up any thoughts for you? I’d love comments — don’t worry if they go off on tangents, because this sure did.

Happy Ending Psalm

This week, we’re covering Messianic Psalms – Psalms about how the Anointed One will come and make all things right. Since I don’t claim to be able to prophesy, but I do know that God wins in the end, when I write a psalm in this pattern, I like to call it a Happy Ending psalm. It’s a good pattern to use when praying about injustices out in society.

Here’s one I wrote this week:

From Psalm 72:4

May he defend the afflicted among the people
and save the children of the needy;
may he crush the oppressor.

O Lord,
May our governments do this —
defend the afflicted among the people,
save the children of the needy,
crush the oppressor.

Thank you that, in the end, your kingdom will bring
righteousness and justice for the oppressed.

Help me to learn what my part is
in relieving the oppressed
in defending the afflicted
in helping the needy.

If my part is to supply books
to help them know they’re not alone,
then help me do my part
and not be silenced.

Father, our world is so far from safe
for so many of your children.
May your kingdom come
on earth as it is in heaven.

Creation Hymn – Knowing my Quirks

This week my church small group is looking at Chapter 8 of my Psalms book — Creation Hymns. So again, I’m going to try to write one. Not a polished one, but just as a prayer, whatever comes out.

Creation Hymns involve key concepts of God’s Glory, God’s Sustaining Care, God’s Knowledge, and Creation’s Joyful Response. And to make it read like a Psalm, I try for parallelism, repeating or emphasizing ideas in a second line.

Usually when I try to pray a creation hymn, I think about the beauty of nature. The irises by my lake have begun to bloom! So I could pray about that.

But this week, I’ve been thinking about Psalm 139, which begins:

You have searched me, Lord,
and you know me.

If you’re not familiar with that Psalm, look it up! So many beautiful ways of expressing how deeply and thoroughly my Creator knows me.

And this is comforting, because I’m still feeling stressed and inadequate.

The leak from the unit above me that poured water into my home last week has been fixed. Water mitigation folks dried everything out with very loud fans.

But my bathroom ceiling and bedroom wall still have big holes in them. The place doesn’t smell good — I hope just like the inside of walls and not mold. And it still hasn’t been settled how it all will be paid for. Surely it’s the responsibility of the owner of the unit above me, but he’s an offsite landlord and his property management company wants me to make a claim on my insurance. Surely my insurance will in turn go after them, because it’s well documented that the leak came from above. They also want their own people to make an estimate before they proceed with reconstruction, and I have a feeling it’s not going to happen before I go out of town in a couple weeks.

But let me put in the psalm why I’m upset with myself. The title is from Psalm 103:

You Know That I Am Dust

You have searched me, Lord,
and you know me.

I know that you’re going to take care of me
and already have taken care of me.
I’m not going to have to pay for the damage,
and it’s relatively little damage
and I’m privileged to be a homeowner
and what’s a little inconvenience?
Especially when my little niece
is suffering with relapsed leukemia.
So how can I get stressed and tired and headachy
simply from a first-world problem like this?

Lord, I keep thinking that trust
means we shouldn’t get upset.
But you know me better than that.
You made me human.
Instead, may I turn to you when troubles happen
when parts of my home literally fall apart.
And maybe I need a little more sleep,
a little more leeway in my plans for getting things done.

Why am I so much harder on myself
than you are?
And how did a problem in only one small part of my home
throw me for such a loop,
make me feel so vulnerable?

But Lord, you know that you made me human,
not a robot.
You know that my life is one-of-a-kind.
You gave me my unique quirks.
And yes, you gave me vulnerabilities,
not making me out of steel.
And they are not flaws,
but facets of your image.
And may I shine that image
more fully with every day that goes by.
And learn about trusting you,
turning to you,
even when my home falls apart,
even when I don’t know what to do.
But may I start by acknowledging that
I don’t know what to do
and I’m feeling stressed
and extra tired
and I want my place of refuge back
and I want all the paperwork done.

Thank you, Lord, for the world you’ve made,
and the ingenuity you’ve given folks
to build homes
and put them back together when they fall apart.
Thank you that it could have been so much worse
and it wasn’t.
But that it’s still okay to feel stressed,
and it reminds me to turn to you.

Thanksgiving Among the Bluebells

This week my church small group, which is going through my not-yet-published book Praying with the Psalmists, is covering Thanksgiving Psalms.

My whole point in the book is that we can use the patterns in Psalms to write our own psalms and pray our own prayers. I’ve got examples in the book. But if I’m going to be consistent, I should write another psalm with each chapter we cover. And I like doing that to build a habit.

But honestly? I don’t feel a lot like giving thanks right now.

Yesterday, I wrote a lament in honor of my six-year-old niece who has relapsed with leukemia. That news is weighing on my heart.

And today, I was going to finally tackle the big shelf in my closet that collapsed a week and a half ago and see if I could put it back up. But when I got out of bed, the tile floor in my bathroom was covered with water. Water was dripping steadily from a fire sprinkler head on the ceiling.

I live in a condo. I called and talked with several people. But the people in the condo above me didn’t see any signs of trouble, so the consensus is that I need to call a plumber and get the leak diagnosed. It may be my neighbor’s or the condo association’s responsibility to repair, but it’s leaking in my home and I need to get the work done.

So figuring all that out took most of my day, while the drips keep coming in a bucket in my bathroom at a rate of one every few seconds. I did find a plumber who’s open all weekend and will come tomorrow morning.

Then in the evening, I thought I’d finally take a look at that metal shelf that had fallen down. And when I stepped in the closet to lift it up — my foot got soaked. The carpet is soaking wet. (This closet shares a wall with my bathroom.) I think I can hear more dripping in the walls.

There are lots of good sides to it — I’d taken all my clothes out already. If the shelf hadn’t fallen, I might have never noticed that water. It’s only wet inside the closet, not in the rest of my bedroom. Now if they have to make a hole in the wall, I can have the same people who repair it also put the shelf back up.

But I am not in a happy mood!

All that said, before all this happened, I’d decided to write my thanksgiving psalm about my walk in the bluebells on Good Friday. And when I’m not in a mood to give thanks is probably a good time to remember the many reasons I have to give thanks.

A Thanksgiving Psalm has the basic form:

Call to Praise
“I Was in Trouble.”
“I Called.”
“The Lord Answered.”
Response of Praise

I’ll talk about my experience in the bluebells in the psalm. I’ll put a bluebell picture between each of the parts of the psalm.

Thanks Among the Bluebells

I give you thanks, Lord,
for you have been good to me.
You answered my prayers
and brought me so far.
You healed my heart
and filled me with joy.

The first time I visited the bluebells at Bull Run,
about fifteen years ago,
I’d heard about it in an employee newsletter,
and I went after a trip to my divorce lawyer.

I was so sad about the divorce,
and walking among flowers reminded me of my husband,
of the flowers at Keukenhof,
of hikes throughout Germany.
I told myself that now I was bothering no one
by stopping every few feet to take pictures.
I didn’t have to worry that what brought me joy
was boring anyone else.
I could simply enjoy the amazing beauty
wild and free, filling the woods.

But I still missed my husband
and felt so alone.

And my walk became a prayer walk
asking you, Lord, to help me,
to be with me.

I was still trying to pray my husband back at that time,
but I also wanted your guidance in the life ahead of me.
I had a new job at Fairfax County Public Library
(which was how I heard about the Bluebell Trail),
and I asked your help in paying my bills,
working as a librarian,
making a home for my youngest,
and somehow healing my heart.

I’d been with the lawyer,
asking for her help.
But among the bluebells, I was with you, Lord,
asking for your help.

And when I went back to the Bluebell Trail
this year on Good Friday,
it struck me how thoroughly you’ve answered those prayers
in fifteen years.

My heart is healed.
Now it’s easy to wander with joy
and the woods make me think
of other delightful rambles.
I remembered that first walk,
fresh from the lawyer,
and I thought what a different place
you’ve brought me to.

I’ve got my dream job,
feeling competent and capable as a librarian,
ordering children’s books
for the entire library system.

I’ve got a home I love,
surrounded by its own beauty of nature.
My bills have been paid
and my heavy debts lifted.

And life is so much more joyful
so much more hopeful
than it was on that walk fifteen years ago.

At that time I hoped for a joyful and vibrant life,
but then it was a request of faith
and now it’s acknowledging
where you’ve brought me.

While I was walking through the bluebells
“O Love,” a song from our Good Friday cantata,
was going through my head,
especially these lines:

“O Joy, O Joy, that seeks me through the pain,
I cannot close my heart to thee.
I trace the rainbow through the rain
and see the promise is not vain
that morn shall tearless be.”

So I praise you, Lord,
for your unfailing love,
and your wonderful deeds for humankind.
You brought me out of a place of deep emotional pain
and filled my heart with joy.

“Weeping may remain for a night,
but rejoicing comes in the morning.”

Thank you, Lord my God.
Thank you, Father.

You’re very welcome to post your own thanksgiving psalm in the comments! Tell about a time when you were in trouble, you asked the Lord for help, and the Lord answered. I have to say it really helped my mood.

A Lament for Leukemia

This week, my small group is covering the chapter from my not-yet-published book Praying with the Psalmists about Thanksgiving Psalms. Since I want them to try praying their own thanksgiving psalm, I’m planning to take up the challenge myself.

But then my family got some terrible news — and I need to write a lament first.

Here’s a picture of my brother’s family, which I took in Maui last December at my sister’s wedding.

Their middle child, Meredith, six years old, this week relapsed with leukemia. Her first diagnosis with leukemia was January 2020, when she was three years old. She went through two years of treatments and appointments and one year ago was given a clean bill of health, and we all thought it was over and done.

So this is quite a blow. (And anyone reading this, please say a prayer for Meredith.)

So before I tackle a thanksgiving psalm (And before this news, I was thinking of thanking God for Meredith’s healing. It was a beautiful thing.) — I need to pray a lament for Meredith and this awful news.

I made an acronym to remember the form of a Lament:
Address to God
Complaint
Confession of Trust
Entreaty
Sureness of Help
Subsequent Praise

This isn’t going to be polished. But let me pray:

Lord, I come before you.
Hear my prayer.
Listen to my heart’s cry
and look with compassion on my family.

Six years old, Lord!
She’s only six years old.
Pain and discomfort and medical appointments have been a big part of her life.
Lord, she’s a child!
Not a saint, but a beautiful wonder of your creation.
With your image inside her,
the spark of independent thought,
a little girl full of life and wonder and curiosity and fun.
Her family’s been through so much, Lord.
Her parents have lived with the fear of losing her for half her life.
On top of so many other pressures.
Lord, it’s too much!
Father, I notice that when I mention to anyone
that my six-year-old niece is again facing leukemia,
every single person responds with compassion.
How could you do anything less?
Lord, look on this child, this family
have compassion on their pain and fear.

And, Lord, you showed up before.
You got them through those two years of treatments.
They were daunted; it was hard,
but her body responded well
and she finished the treatments
with joy and celebration.
We know that your compassion is unending
and your mercy is great.

Lord, grant Meredith your healing.
Grant her family your grace and strength.
We ask for life for Meredith,
life and health and joy.
Show your mercy;
send your comfort.

“You, O God, do see trouble and grief;
you consider it to take it in hand.”
We know that you love Meredith
more than any human can.
We know that you see;
we know that you care.

And Lord, we look forward to the day
when we can celebrate again
for Meredith once more
enjoying a body free of cancer.
Somehow, we’re going to top a unicorn party!

Psalms of Confession

I’ve written a book called Praying with the Psalmists, and I’m going through it with my church small group. The basic idea is to look at ten types of Psalms and use patterns from the Psalms in your own prayers.

Since I’m urging other people to try it, the least I can do is keep doing it myself! This week we’re covering Psalms of Confession.

Psalms of Confession follow a similar pattern to Laments, and I’ve made an ACCESS acronym to remember the parts:

Address to God
Confession of Sin
Confession of Trust
Entreaty
Sureness of Help
Subsequent Praise

I haven’t committed any big sins lately. No lying or stealing or killing. But I think of a line from a group confession in church: “We have not loved you with our whole hearts.” I have committed plenty of sins of omission.

In fact, when I approach Psalms of Confession with my own inadequacy, I find I have plenty to pray about. And a characteristic of these Psalms in the Bible is that they overflow with the Lord’s mercy, forgiveness, and chesed, unfailing love.

Lately, my life is very good, but I feel like I’m doing too many good things — and then feeling inadequate when I don’t do them well. It came to a head the other night, when a closet shelf in my bedroom closet collapsed in the middle of my night and scared me half to death. I was relieved when I found out what it was — but also found out it stirred up all my anxieties.

Let me stop explaining and take it before the Lord.

Have mercy on me, Lord.
Grant me your peace.
See me with your eyes of love,
instead of my eagle-eyed perfectionism.

Lord, you’ve filled my life with good things —
a job I love,
an award committee,
a choir to sing with,
a small group to help lead,
a book ready to send out,
a website to add to,
a group to play games with,
weekly virtual visits with my kids,
a trip coming to see family,
a sister coming after that,
a home I love and want to keep clean…
And I am not keeping up with those wonderful things.

Worse, I’m wasting time mindlessly reading Twitter or Facebook,
when I could at least be reading for the award.
I’m unproductive and stay up late
and then don’t have energy for what I should be doing.
Yes, perfectionism is robbing my joy,
but it’s also that old problem of wanting to do more wonderful things
than a human can do.
And then I wear myself out
and fret about what I’m not doing
Or worry about how I’m going to prepare
unwilling to let things go,
unwilling to understand
that often the only one requiring perfection of me
is myself.

Lord, you “give sleep to those you love.”
And you grant me 24 hours in a day.
You have given me these wonderful gifts,
this wonderful time in my life.
You know that I am dust,
and you love me anyway.
You know I won’t get it all done,
and I won’t make perfect choices,
that I’ll often choose unwisely
and bear the consequences in needless exhaustion.
Yet you love me anyway.

Lord, grant me your Joy.
You’ve blessed me abundantly —
help me remember.
Give me wisdom in choosing how to spend my time
and grant me grace when I fail to choose wisely.
Redeem my mistakes,
show me the joy of imperfection.

Thank you, Lord, for always loving me.
Thank you that you have promised to give wisdom generously.
Thank you that you don’t find fault
when I need to ask yet once again.
If I had my way,
I’d simply do a certain list of tasks each day of the week.
Thank you for not giving me my way,
and adding so much spice and variety and job
if I’m willing to see it.

Lord, I know you will answer this prayer
and help me live with more joy.
And that joy will overflow in praise to you.
Thank you for amazing moments like the sunrise over the lake this morning.

Thank you for showing your love.
May I praise you as long as I live.

Please — anyone is welcome to add their own prayer in the comments!