My Abigail

This is My Abigail. She loves life and loves to laugh. She also readily expresses her discontent with a situation and loudly if she can get away with it. Watching her, I am reminded of a pendulum. Suspended from a fixed point, the pendulum swings freely back and forth. The higher or farther it swings in one direction, it swings equally as high or far in the opposite. It cannot swing the full distance one direction without having swung the full distance in the other.

Abigail’s life and experiences are much like a pendulum. She experiences things fully. She is often absolutely grinning with all teeth revealed, eyes dancing as she laughs, and then a short time later in tears, she is inconsolable due to some “tragedy.” She loves to run as fast as her little legs will carry her, and yet can also be found in a heap on the floor in frustration or disappointment. She experiences her elation even greater if others will join her in her smiling and laughing, and yet she also has no shame in her crying or expressing her unhappiness.

Watch out for that swinging pendulum. The only way Abigail is able to experience the fullness of one emotion is her willingness to experience its opposite. We can all learn from Abigail, me especially. I have often wished for more joy in my life, but yet I choose to guard myself from hurt and pain and subsequently anything that might cause it. And so my pendulum swings with minimal movement - little pain, little joy, little pain, little joy. What a boring life!

David and I felt enormous responsibility when we were naming each of our girls. We believed that God had already chosen a name for them. We asked Him to show us a bit about each one and lead us to the right name for this new little person. We recognized the naming as just the beginning of choices and decisions we would make for that child. We also knew that we would need to stay in a posture of seeking God on behalf of our children from the beginning.

Interestingly, when I was pregnant with Abigail I kept having dreams that we were supposed to name our daughter Joy and Grace, but neither David or I were ready to commit to those names. To be honest, I discounted the dreams because I did not want to use either of those names.

David and I really liked the name Abigail, often talked about it as a possibility, and wondered if it was the name God was giving us for this little one. However, we were not convinced. Another name we considered was Patricia. David's mom, Patricia, was failing, and cancer had numbered her days. We planned to fly the girls out to Michigan to see her after the baby was born, if God allowed Patricia to be with us that long. She hoped she could meet her new grandchild. David and I wondered if we should name our little girl after her. We loved the idea of her being both honored and remembered in this way. Near this time we received a card in the mail from David’s mom who in her post script suggested the name Abigail (without knowing we were considering the name).

The next day also without knowing we were considering the name Abigail or about Patricia’s note, my mom asked me what we thought about the name Abigail. We were then convinced and it was decided - she was to be Abigail.

Abba, Aramaic, is translated “Daddy,” “dear Father,” or “papa.” Gila, giyl, and giylah are some of the Hebrew words that one can use to express '”joy.” Thus, Abigail means Father’s Joy. And I believe this little girl experiences the fullness of joy that her Heavenly Father has for her and subsequently brings Him and others joy.

Abigail still needed a middle name. David and I both loved the name Charis and came to find out that Charis (Greek) meant Grace. Remember my dreams. This was becoming uncanny! It wasn’t until after she was named and I was writing a letter to a friend that I remembered those dreams.

Renee is my middle name and we also wanted Abigail to have a family name, just as her sister Moriah Elizabeth did. We liked Renee (French) which means Reborn. And we really liked the meaning of the two names together, Grace Reborn. And this is how she became Abigail Karyss-Renee Busch.

Abigail did get to meet her grandma a few weeks before she passed. And I believe even then in a very unique way Abigail was able to bring joy.

Abigail Karyss-Renee Busch, My Father’s Joy full of Grace Reborn, this is only the beginning of your story.

Dance with Despair

Recently I had an afternoon where discouragement, depression and despair were all that I breathed. Lies, also known by the name Accuser, approached me. I entertained him and we began to dance. He kept showing me all the areas in my life where I was failing and inadequate, not fulfilling goals or walking forward in the direction of dreams, my lack of zeal and passion for the Lord, my lack of discipline, my over accumulation of stuff, my incompetency as a wife and mother, even daughter and sister, my apathy and lack of humility, and my unwillingness to look at things for what they are.

The Master of Lies took the truth of my inadequacies and then distorted and exaggerated it and then fed it back to me as representation of my worthlessness. He presented me with truths and I listened, and then when he served me the worthless entrée, I swallowed the whole course. I recognized the truth in the things he was showing me and so I danced.

Hours into our dance, fatigued, upset, and no longer wanting to look at any of what he was giving me, I wanted to shut out the world and quit on everyone. I was a failure, after all.

I knew, however, quitting was not an option. I had to go on with my day. I put the baby to bed and the girls in front of a video and lay down on the couch. I pleaded with the Lord for strength, to abide in me despite my weakness and failure, and to do through me what I couldn’t in my own strength. You see, I have been here before enough times to know that despite me, He will come and meet me.

David had preached on 1 Peter the prior Sunday and in that moment I was reminded of the verse about God having already equipped me for what I would need. I then began to write all that was swirling around in my head, both the lies and the truths, if for no other reason to stop the spinning. I have learned that if I can write that which is plaguing me, I often can let it go for the moment. It is then in a safe place where I can later return to it.

God then began to speak truth over me. He spoke of my worth. I went upstairs and read from authors who I knew could speak truth to my life in a way I could hear it.

I returned to Eldredge’s Waking the Dead where he discusses the battle in the spiritual realm. Eldredge also wrote in Epic of how we are in a greater story and we have a role to play. He tells us that things are not what they seem, but we are at war. And that we each have a crucial role to play. If Accuser can disable me, then he can hinder my effectiveness in the greater story. After all, it is not really about me but about the Spirit who resides in me whom Accuser desires to defeat. Good luck, buddy. The battle has already been won! But, how well can I play my role if I believe I am a failure? I think he thought he won.

Buechner writes - It is a world of magic and mystery, of deep darkness and flickering starlight. It is a world where terrible things happen and wonderful things too. It is a world where goodness is pitted against evil, love against hate, order against chaos, in a great struggle where often it is hard to be sure who belongs to which side because appearances are endlessly deceptive. Yet for all its confusion and wildness, it is a world where the battle goes ultimately to the good, who live happily ever after, and where in the long run everybody, good and evil alike, becomes known by his true name ... That is the fairy tale of the Gospel with, of course, one crucial difference from all other fairy tales, which is that the claim made for it is that it is true, that it not only happened once upon a time but has kept on happening ever since and is happening still. (Frederick Buechner, Telling the Truth)

It was then that I realized I had danced with the Master of Lies, Destruction, Despair – The Accuser. I later came to describe the incident as a dance with despair. I also came to recognize that for those few hours I chose to dance.