Dear Toddler Mommy

I've had this post in my head for weeks now; but after having one girlfriend describe a poop-painting episode in her home a couple days ago and another post the aftermath images of Valentine roses meet two-year-old son on Instagram this morning, it seemed like a good time to get this into a post.



Dear Toddler Mommy,

I'm no author or expert. But with my baby soon to be four, I'm past that time of my life but not so far past that my brain has clouded it into nostalgia. That's why I'm writing to you.

At Christmas, I spent time I spent with my sister who is living in the throes of toddler mothering. I have heard her remark on how unproductive she feels when she sees what I've done in a day. After a few days together I realized how much my life has changed, and the memories of what she was dealing with came flooding back.

So, Toddler Mommy, here's some things you need to remember:

1) Don't buy into the lie that this is supposed to be "fun" and that you must cherish every moment.
There are some precious-beyond-words, my-heart-is-going-explode-from-love, and giggle-filled moments in being a Toddler Mommy. Grab those moments and press them hard into your memory. They are a life-long treasure. But guess what? Those are moments, not overarching themes in the toddler years. Let's be honest, the overarching themes of those years are usual fits, colossal messes, and poop...lots of poop. Do you know where some of the beauty is in all of this? That we get to imitate Christ who saw us dirty and messy and loved us with a selfless, off-the-charts love. But no one said this was supposed to be fun.

2) No. It doesn't "fly by".
No matter how many sweet old ladies stop you in the grocery store and tell you that "it goes so quickly", don't buy it. My boys (only 14 months apart) were 2 and 3 for a decade. Well, that's how it felt. And I'm not yet senile enough not to remember it. When you're sitting at their high school graduation, it may seem like it went fast; but when you're in the middle of toddlerhood, each day feels so long and tedious. We all felt like that. Be free to know that's normal.

3) Don't compare your life to those of mothers ahead of you. 
When you see a mom with more kids than you who seems to get so much done, and you wonder why you're still in your pjs making lunch while she's gotten her kids ready for the day, carted them to where they need to be, and looks like she actually put on make-up. Remember that her kids are old enough to dress themselves and pour cereal with milk (think of the glories!). Remember that she can actually shut the bathroom door when nature calls or even to put on some Maybelline. Remember that no one is dumping valuables or defecating in their pants...or in other places, Lord help us.

4) Don't compare yourself to other Toddler Mommies
Sure enough you have that one Toddler Mommy in your life. Your kids are the same age, and yet when you manage to make it to a play-date, you watch her child play like a calm little angel while you're peeling your kid off the ceiling. Her child forms words you didn't even know a two-year-old could put together: "yes" and "mommy". And you leave feeling like a failure. Listen to me. I was there. Oh was I there! But hear me: each mother has her own struggles. No one can fully understand your exact struggles. Except God. He knows exactly how you feel and your exact weakness. And He promises to "help you and...uphold you with His righteous right hand" He is the one steadying you.

5) This. Is. A. Season.
When I was in labor with my first child, I had to be on pitocin during part of it; and I staunchly refused to have epidural (stupid but true). The pain was so great that at one point I started hallucinating. I thought I was in a place of pain that I could never leave. I totally lost touch with the reality that labor would end.
This is a picture of the toddler years. At times, it seems so long and overwhelming that we forgot that it will end. Don't lose touch with the fact that your days do matter. You are sowing seeds right now; and while you might not see so much as a tiny little sprout, it's coming. Keep watering, sister.

6) Sit at Jesus' feet.
Remember those wonderful quiet times in God's Word that you had? Okay, so maybe it was two years ago, but remember it? Well, it probably won't look the same again for a long time. And that's okay. Did you hear me...that's okay! What's not okay is for you to be self-sufficient. Sit at Jesus' feet. It's not something on your to-do; it's your life source. Hear me carefully, I didn't say finish a Bible-in-a-Year plan. I said sit at Jesus' feet. Right now that means being resourceful. For a while my time with Jesus was when I sat outside my toddler's room trying to train him to stay in his big-boy bed (and this took so many flippin' weeks, people). I drank in a couple of verses...and popped the little stinker back in his bed...and drank in another verse...and...well you get the picture. Come to Him with your tears, your little victories, your frustrations. The Bible promises us that He cares. Can you even imagine!? The God of the universe cares for your personal mommy soul.

I'm Not Here to Write Their Story

I fell into bed completely exhausted from a typical full day. Steven was still brushing his teeth. As I was dozing off, I remember asking him one last question:

"Am I a bad mom?"

The next morning I woke up and thought back to my last words as I fell asleep. I began to consider how often this question is the topic on my brain as I put my head on my pillow.

I rarely ponder if I'm a bad friend, even a bad wife. But somehow when Isaiah arrived into my life nearly 12 years ago, this is the question I wrestle with the most. I know I'm not unique. I would venture to say that most mothers reading this are nodding their heads in agreement.

There is just so much darn pressure. Parenting magazines made me ask if I spent enough time on the floor with my toddler. Blogs made me question if I am stimulating my children's artistic abilities or even presenting their food creatively enough (sorry, peeps, but my kid's sandwich will forever take the shape of a box). In our sane moments, moms realize that their way to much expectation put on motherhood; but the thoughts still nag at the back of our brains.

But it doesn't stop there.

Then there is the world of Christian parenting. This opens a whole new can of parenting worms in my heart. Why isn't my kid obeying me instantly like that parenting book tells me I need to teach them to do? I don't remember any resources touching on what to do when your one son punches the other...is this that normal behavior? Am I doing something wrong? Am I ruining them? What if I never see my child become a Christian? Will they be in therapy in the future because I yelled at them today? What if I have to parent through intense rebellion as a teenager?

What's wrong with every single question I just asked myself? It's all about me. My control, my fears, my image.

Elyse Fitzpatrick said something that hit me hard: "We were never meant to carry the ultimate responsibility for anyone's soul: neither our own nor our children's. Only the Good Shepherd is strong enough to carry a soul- that's his job, not ours. And although this kind of committed parenting appears godly, it is nothing less than works righteousness and idolatry."

I actually started to breathe easier the first time I heard this. I felt like I had been carrying around an unbelievably heavy load, and the Lord was whispering, "That's mine."

I was meant to nurture, love, and preach the gospel to my kids. But it stops there. I was never meant to carry the burden of redeeming their souls.

I think back on my life. Even though I am in the middle of my journey, I can still see the way God has and is writing my story. Do I want that for my children? Do I want to let God write their story or do I want to write it? Who am I to say that a perfectly trained child and a young conversion is the story they should have?

So what can I do? In my brain, I've whittled it down to a few major responsibilities I have. Here are four major ones:

1. I can let them know they have a problem....and a solution
I often tell my kids that the kindest thing I can do for them is help them see that they are slaves to their own sin, and that someone is going to have pay the punishment for sinning against a Holy God. Then I can help them see the mind-blowing truth that God sent His Son take that punishment for them. I can do my make the gospel exciting and attractive. BUT it ends there. I cannot convert them and should not pressure them into conversion but allow the beautiful Savior to woo them to Himself.

2. I can let them know I'm ready to walk with them through the muck.
Let me give an example to this: Steven and I talked to the boys in honest terms about pornography. My gut instinct would be to simply tell them "don't you dare!", but that would just be opening the door to secret sin and shame. Instead we when we discussed it, though we did talk about the dangerous trap that it is, our emphasis was letting us walk with them through these waters. We told them that they are welcome to freely share what they've seen with no angry parent response. We promised them that we would do our best to walk through their temptations with them. Sin is most poisonous when it is in the dark. Are we will to help them walk in the light by being willing to get down in the dirty waters with them instead of simply standing a those waters edge and shouting at them to get out?

3. I can let them know they can't lose my love.
No matter what stage I have been at in my life, my parent's home has always been a safe haven. I know I will encounter love and acceptance. There were times they didn't accept my attitude or my choices, but I knew they accepted me and the fact that I was part of the family God knit together in their home. I want that for my kids. I want home to be safe, a place to be honest without fear of rejection.

4. I can pray. And then pray some more.
I need to really let that sink in. I have access to the God who has the king's heart as a stream of water in His hands. That is no light thing. Don't underestimate getting on your knees beside your bed and pouring your heart for your kids out to your own Father.

So I'm asking God to position my heart to take a backseat to His story writing. Will His version include a young person impassioned for eternity or will it include a teenage pregnancy? I'm praying that He gives me the grace to mother lovingly regardless, but I have to tell you it feels freeing not to be weighed down with having to figure it out myself.

How My View On Adoption Has Changed

I love adoption. As in crazy, super love it. I have since I was a teenager; it's one of the few things that can make me bawl like a baby. If you have been around this blog for any length of time, you know that our family is in the middle of our own adoption process which, even though we still have a long way to go, has already been a life-changing, beautiful journey. I just want to set that straight before I dive into this post.

So here's the deal. My view on adoption has taken a slight shift lately, especially since our trip to Ethiopia. I realize that I have seen adoption as the answer to the worldwide orphan crisis. And I don't quite feel that way anymore. It's a part of the way to tackle this issue. If done well, it's stunningly beautiful. But I'm seeing what a narrow view I had. 

In Ethiopia I met impoverished single mothers. Loving, caring impoverished single mothers. We encountered the reality of women barely able to hold their families together for sheer lack of food. We also heard stories of mothers having to make the gut-wrenching decision to give up the children they loved simply because didn't have the means to meet their basic needs. We all want to imagine that orphanages are full of true orphans, or at least kids whose parents are not fit to care for them; but in a third world country, that's not the story of all the children there.

Then I thought of some of my friends who are single moms. I pondered these tender, caring women who would swim an ocean for their children. I wondered what it would look like if they couldn't provide for their children. Would I sit by if they could no longer feed their children? Would I discount the maternal lullabies, the mother's touch, and fact that these women are fiercely loving mothers and instead suggest that the answer was to put their kids up for adoption? Of course not! Instead I'd be in line with my other girlfriends ready to give anyone that would imply such a thing one very large piece of my mind.

But in a way, by putting all my energy and attention into tackling the orphan crisis via adoption, haven't I done just that? Isn't it a bit a like a doctor who is only willing to treat the symptoms instead of practicing preventive medicine. I've begun to realize how crucial it has to be to put a priority on doing everything in our power to keep potential orphans in the culture and family into which God birthed them. While adoption is a key component of dealing with existing orphans, what about doing something to stop the bleeding and counteract the future orphan numbers?

It's a somewhat newer thought to me, the concept of orphan prevention. I've realized that if I really want to follow God's command to care for the orphans and the widows, I'm going to need to think more broadly. For me it starts with putting my money where my mouth is- getting involved in reputable sponsorship programs, connecting with ministries that work in orphan prevention, and advocating for these issues. And while you better believe that I will remain a strong adoption supporter, I want an equal amount of my resources and energy to go into orphan prevention or care of the children who will never have the chance for adoption.

When someone hears that our family is adopting, they often share with me the heart they have for orphans but how they don't feel called to adopt. This is completely legitimate and the case for many people. But the point I'm sharing and daresay pleading is that opening your heart to the orphan crisis does not automatically equal adoption. While you may never bring an orphan into your family, you can support a child in need and carry them in your heart and your prayers. There are many ministries that care for the un-adoptable and an increasing amount that help connect a family that God has blessed with resources to a family that is depleted of them so that we can truly tackle the orphan crisis head-on.

Obviously this can take place all over the world; but if you're eager to get started right now, Embracing Hope is an excellent, reputable group (we loved our visit with them!) that has 50 sponsorship slots to fill to help keep children with their mommies. You can find more info HERE. 

Let's live this day for the day when all our tears will be wiped away, and the term "orphan" shall cease to exist.

Together Through Pain

The dilemma hit me while grocery shopping recently. Now that I shop alone, I have the luxury of spending the time deep in thought. Something sent me to remembering my pregnancies and the months and months spent debilitated, writhing in pain from the stomach spasms, wishing the 9 month puke-fest would end. I remembered sweet friends who were there for me and well-meaning individuals whose words felt more like salt than band aids.  Then my mind went to my girlfriends who had recently faced far worse situations. I thought about how often I felt I was groping in the dark as I sought to be a true friend in the midst of their pain.

I dawned on me how much we need to hear from the ones who have actually walked through the valley. They’re the experts.  We need to equip ourselves with how best to “weep with those who weep”.

This is why I’m doing this blog series.

I’ve asked some women who have walked through significant trials to share to school us in how to be a good friend to the hurting. Of course, everyone’s situation is not the exact same. But I think you’ll find what they have to say extremely helpful and a great starting point for coming alongside someone in your life who is walking through a similar situation. I know while pre-reading their posts, I have been learning and realizing how things I’ve said or done in the past may not have been as comforting as I thought it was.

Next week, we’ll kick things off with a phenomenal guest post by a woman who lives with chronic pain. Then we will move on with one post a week in this series hearing from women who have experienced childhood trauma, infertility, miscarriage, death of a loved one, and more. These women will share what was and more importantly was not helpful during these times.  We'll call it "Together Through Pain".

Be on the lookout for the first post on Tuesday!

Getting My Fears On Paper

Blogs can be powerful both positively and, well, negatively. On the darker side of the blog world is this lurking beast of comparison. There was actually a point in my life that I had to take a blog break because I began to realize that while reading them, I was subconsciously comparing my life to the blog author's; and it was breeding a baby of ungratefulness.

But on the positive side, I have been repeatedly helped by blogs. I can't tell you how many times I've read a post, be it some organizational secret, parenting encouragement, decorating idea, or Scriptural insight; and been so grateful knowing I would have never come up with such a thing on my own. My prayer is that this post will serve you in such a way. Though, like most good ideas, I didn't come up with it myself.

My girlfriend, whose joyful spirit masks the fact that her childhood makes most people's past look like a picnic, was going through some Christian therapy. Her counselor told her to write all of her fears out on paper. After the task was complete, the counselor informed her that now it was time to see what God had to say about each of those fears; and they opened God's Word.

Since we each have our own fears to face and since she had shared this with me last fall during an especially full season of my life, I decided to do this for myself. And wow. Just wow. I can tell you it that the results were a complete surprise to me. As I began to open up the section of my heart where I stash away my fears, I wrote them down in a private notebook. Things I never realized I worried over started pouring out. And as the writing flowed; so did the tears.

Then the best part began. I asked the Lord for Scripture to speak truth to my fears. And like a tender Father, He brought verse after verse of His truth to bathe my fears in His love and grace. Like the medication for the illness, I wrote the verses next to the fears. Sometime many different verses. When I faced my fear of  walking through days that seemed to overwhelming for me to handle, the Holy Spirit met me with a verse like Isaiah 43:1a-2: "Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you." This simple exercise turned into one of the sweetest times I have ever had with the Lord. Fear wants to stay in the dark; that's where it thrives. With the humidity of sin feeding it in dark places, it grows like a mold. But aired out it out in the light of God's truth, fear is dealt a deadly blow.

Afterward, I shared the list with my husband so he could see what a mess of a woman God has called him lead know more of my heart's struggles. And walking in the light with someone else...bam. There's another death blow to fear.

My fears and their anecdotes sit in my notebook a few pages from my to-do lists. Now, when I'm doing hand to hand combat with one of these anxieties in my head, I can flip to those pages and began to turn the battle over to the Lord. 

When a Food Allergy Diagnoses is a Relief

At 3 months old, my Ava started her first lung infection. We were out in a rural area visiting friends, miles from a hospital and I spent anxious night holding my coughing, wheezing little one; wondering if I should jump and the car and head to the ER. We headed to a doctor as soon as we could. A week later when she started breathing normally again I felt such relief. Such premature relief. From that point on my daughter experience lung infection after lung infection. Sometimes the infection would go for 3 weeks then we'd have a one week break only to start another one. I'm a pretty laid back mom, but sitting up with your child at night, wondering if they'll take their next breath was one of the harder things I've done. I took her to pediatrician after pediatrician looking for answers. To my frustration, I was told I just had to wait it out, that she'd eventually grow out of it. And then I'd be there again at 2 a.m., praying through tears as my daughter slept on my chest, and I spent the bulk of the night sitting up so that she was propped up enough to breath. She learned at a young age not to be scared by the loud noise of a nebulizer which we seemed to have to use constantly.

Finally, I went to see an M.D. that my friend recommended to me. This doctor felt that allergies play a big part in people's health. When we went, Ava was in the middle of another infection which the doctor said had gone into full bronchitis. The doctor tested her and found that she was allergic to dairy and gluten. She said that taking her off of both should clear up her lungs totally. After almost a year and half of infections, I was skeptical but ready to try anything. We completely removed these things from her diet, and within only a couple days her lungs cleared up and the mysterious rash she almost constantly had on her face went away. Now over a year later, Ava has had only one lung infection and has become my healthiest kid.

Since this diagnoses, I've researched and learned how much what we eat and what we are allergic to affects our health. A few months back, the same doctor did testing on me. She found a gluten allergy. And guess what? Those doubled-over stomach pains I've experienced for the last 14 years of my life? They don't come around anymore. 

But during the past month, I've learned another way that food allergies manifest themselves. It's something I never would have guessed...behavioral problems. Who woulda' thunk? A few weeks ago I was on the phone crying to my mom; telling her I couldn't do it anymore. My older daughter who could be the sweetest cupcake you ever met could also have her eyes glaze over as she went into another temper tantrum. I'm talking half-hour long temper tantrums that left me dazed. I kept thinking she would outgrow them or that she needed more sleep. But at 6 years old, even getting 11 hours of sleep a night and still clinging to a nap, she would sometimes be having two or more tantrums a day. We had tried all different sorts of parenting approaches to try to help her. Often you could find me sitting and trying not to cry with her. When the glazed over look came, she couldn't be reasoned with. In her sane moments, the amount of fits she had even bothered her, too. Flash back to that phone call when I felt I couldn't handle one more day of it. And the Lord heard my desperate mommy cries as suddenly people began to share with me information on how food allergies can affect behavior.

Fast forward to the doctor looking up at me after testing my girl, "Wow! There is something about your family and gluten!" (Did you know allergies actually can be hereditary?) After a testing, she announced that my Adriana has a strong gluten allergy.

Now fast forward a second time to my daughter's life with gluten removed from her diet. Now that the substance that was wreaking hidden havoc on her little body is gone, guess what? Yep. The full-blow fits are gone. In the last couple of weeks, the two times (did you catch that I said TWO times) that she started to have a breakdown, I was able to reason with her. No glazed-over eyes; no full blown tantrum. She also begun to respond to correction. My sister that lived with us commented on how much happier Adriana seemed. It's like our own little miracle.

Some people have expressed their sympathy over our family's food allergies. But I'll tell you what, saying good-bye to lung infections, stomach pains, and major behavioral issues, I don't feel sorry for us. I feel incredibly grateful.

Truly Caring

I know I posted earlier today, but I don't think I can go to bed without getting this off my chest. God has been pressing so hard on Steven's and my heart to start really and truly caring. Caring about living in light of eternity, caring that there are children left on their own to die, caring that there is child sex-trafficking, caring that there are atrocities going on our world right this moment. I don't mean the kind of caring that simply blogs about it. Or just adopts one child and considers my duty done. I mean the kind of caring that really and truly applies James 2:14-16:
^"What good is it, my brothers, if someone says he has faith but does not have works? Can that faith save him? If a brother or sister is poorly clothed and lacking in daily food, and one of you says to them, 'Go in peace, be warmed and filled,' without giving them the things needed for the body, what good is that?"

And tonight, we came across this video that seemed to envelop what God is speaking to us.


I'm still mulling it over in my brain. We're not sure all the ways God will flesh this out. But we're praying and asking the Lord how to really live like a family that cares. We're asking God to direct us on how to put our money and our life where our mouth is. We're asking Him how to truly step out. And we both feel like this journey has just begun. Today, as I prayed about this, I was again wrestling with the reality that I am not some special person, that I am not great or especially gifted. But guess what...my God is great. And that's all that matters.

The Dangers of YOLO

I feel so out of touch when this kind of thing happens. A few months back, some younger people I know are talking and mentioned something like, "Well, YOLO."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I inquire.

"You've never heard of 'YOLO'?!?" The young group stared back at me in shock.

I refrain from pathetically shooting something back at them along the lines of, "Oh, yeah, well do you know what a caboodle is?!"

And they explain their modern lingo to this 30-something year old, "It means 'You Only Live Once'."

Since that conversation, I've started to notice it on Facebook postings, t-shirts, and such. And I've been musing on that. I've been musing on the idea of YOLO.

In some ways, I feel like I've become more acquainted with the realities of this world more than any other year of my life. It's been a year of walking through some tough stuff with friends: watching multiple girlfriends go through life-altering, thoroughly messy trials. Relationships broken, once stable marriages falling apart, walking through dark places, and other things I couldn't have dreamed up when we first rang in 2012. On top of that, my eyes have been more opened than ever to the world outside the U.S. I'm becoming more educated on children in conditions that make me want to sit and sob or go and throw-up. I feel this stirring, that I just can't sit still; feeling this further hatred of sin's curse.

And that's what has me thinking about this idea of YOLO - this idea that is presented to us over and over in different formats. Do it: you only live once. Make it count: you only live once. You deserve it: you only live once.

But actually the Bible has something quite different to tell me. Hebrews 9:27 says, "It is appointed for a man to die once, and after that comes judgement."

So, actually, you only die once. While I don't think they'll be marketing YODO t-shirts, the truth is that I live twice because after death comes judgement. I'll be judged for how I lived my first life; and then, I'll live my second life for eternity. Whether that second life will be lived paying the penalty for rebellion toward God or receiving unmerited and joy of fellowship with the Savior in a perfect new world, we will be living a second time.

This world is broken. You don't have an iota of sense if you don't know that after what happened in Connecticut last week. If this was all there was, then I wouldn't want to endure it for one more second.

But what if you're living twice? What if you really do believe Jesus when He says to "lay up for yourselves treasure in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal."?

What I really, truly believed this? What if I really lived my life like this?

Living once tells me to get as comfortable as I possibly can, to make emotional and rash decisions, to get as much pleasure as I can at the expense of others, and to live in a world that revolves around me. Then as we grow older, the happiness we've tried to achieve feels empty and we grow tired of a world that doesn't deliver on our hopes and dreams. The idea of only living once leads to self-centered, indulgent young people and disillusioned older people. 

Living twice tells to me to shed my comfort, to live for something outside myself, and to start seeing my the way I live my life in an eternal light. And, as I told my 10-year-old son recently, it's funny how it works. You would think that living for yourself would make you happy. Logic tells you this is true. But it's empty. Living for God's glory and for eternity; that what makes this for true joy. It defies logic.

Author Paul Tripp says, "As we begin to place our hope in God, we get connected to the promise of eternity, where all that is broken will be fixed and made new again. And as we do this, we look at life in a radically new way. We no longer ask the broken people, places, and things to be the source of our hope. We know they can't be, because they are broken and in need of renewal just like we are."

Sometimes I keep a list in my mind of people that I really can't wait to watch receive their rewards in heaven. I'm going through this list in my head right now, and realizing that none of these people are living the American dream; none of them are living for themselves. Many of these people's lives look pretty lame here. And yet these people have undeniable joy. And a distinct way of living....

They're living twice; and they know it.



"Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal." -2 Corinthians 4:16-18

Not The Post I Was Planning

I had a post in mind for today. Short and sweet. Maybe something cheesy like "Happy Homeowners" or "Home Sweet Home" with an iPhone photo of our new house. But now if I posted an iPhone photo it would simply be of a condo with box piles as high as the ceiling, some of them re-opened to get the necessities I thought I'd be unpacking in a new home.

Here's why...

I got a call from Steven two business days before our closing. I knew immediately something was wrong because my husband started out the conversation by trying to lead my heart with, "Let's remember that God is sovereign." It turns out that our buyer went through a bank that was backed by Fannie Mae whose loans, since the bailout, the government regulates. And a recently implemented regulation was that any loan given must be for a place in a neighborhood that has no more than 30% renters currently occupying the homes.

Our neighborhood has 30.6%.

Somehow this was overlooked until the very end, and the bank immediately withdrew. Our buyer is now scrambling to get another loan in place, and we're supposedly closing next week. This means my husband has to stay home while we head off to our annual beach vacation. (Is there some sort of bounty price on our beach vacation?!?)

But what was far more upsetting to me was the way I had meticulously organized every detail of childcare for four kids, painting help, moving help, timing of the groceries, packing, etc. And now all my plans were simply blown out of the water. The week we get home from the beach, my family is gone (bye-bye to most of my helpers), my husband has to get back to a full work schedule, and the school year is looming. So when the news came that my organizing and plans had come totally unraveled, I came totally unraveled. Through a tough year, only a couple of things have really, really gotten to me and this was one of them. I shut the door to my room and sobbed.

Looking back it's sort of pathetic. It wasn't the end of the world. We didn't lose the house or anything. But for about an hour, it didn't feel like such a small thing. I just wanted to know why. Why did it have to go down like that?

And it's got me thinking. How many times do we feel like we need to know why God allowed something to happen, be it something truly life-changing or just an inconvenience like our housing situation? If I can see a reason in my own finite mind, I somehow feel better. But a lack of a visible reason? Well, that just makes me angry.

But God is showing me that I must lay my "why" at Jesus' feet. There's nothing to be gained in demanding to know; and to be honest, doing so makes me feel like I'm going crazy. What if simple humility and a more childlike faith is all I should be seeking?

Charles Simeon, a pastor in the late 18th century wrote:
"Repentance is in every view so desirable, so necessary, so suited to honor God, that I seek that above all. The tender heart, the broken and contrite spirit, are to me far above all the joys that I could ever hope for in this vale of tears. I long to be in my proper place, my hand on my mouth, and my mouth in the dust...I feel this to be safe ground. Here I cannot err...I am sure that whatever God may despise...He will not despise the broke and contrite heart."

As I sat going over Scripture later that evening after the fateful call, God's tender love ministered to me as I read beautiful promises like Jeremiah 29:11, "For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope."

God knows the plans He has for me, I do not. So now to learn to embrace the circumstances in my life that keep me living out that truth.

Why Ethiopia?

If you've been following this blog, you already know that we announced last week that we're adopting. Then I followed it up with a post about why we're adopting.

In this post I'm going to attempt to answer the questions of "why Ethiopia" and then "why a child of a different race". As I write this, I am praying that it serves you, my reader.

So why Ethiopia?

Ethiopia has approximately 5 million orphans right now. Let me try to help that hit home by giving a local example of what that looks like. Tonight, if the parents of every child in Virginia, Maryland, D.C., and North Carolina died, that would still not leave as many orphans as there are in Ethiopia right now. It's staggering. And the future for these orphans is nothing like the future of an orphan here. A survey from early this year shows that 1 in 11 children die before they reach their fifth birthday. When they are grown, the future often involves poverty like we don't even understand in America. Ethiopia actually has the highest malnutrition problem in the world.

The following video was made by another family that adopted from Ethiopia, but it goes much farther into the statistics that involve Ethiopia. It's a beautiful video, so please take the time to watch it:


For some, the fact that we are diving into being an interracial family is just no big deal to you.  But we realize that for others, no matter what the color of your skin is, you might have concerns about that fact that we're adopting a child of a different race.

Let me first explain that the fact that our future daughter will be black was not some afterthought once we felt a call to adopt from Ethiopia. It was completely intentional from the beginning of all our adoption talks for us to make ourselves an interracial family. We believe the Bible when it tells us that ALL people were made in God's image and are of equality. We HATE racism and are trying to teach our children to do the same. To adopt an African daughter is making a statement about our equality to her and her equality to us, about our ability to love her and her ability to love us. It's making a statement about her worth as a black child of God and my children's worth as white children of God.

Steven and I are intentionally putting ourselves right smack dab in the middle of the issue of racial harmony. And now we get the chance to commit ourselves to this issue for life. We're not fools. We know this won't be easy, but we also know that the God we serve will give our family the grace for this. Now this may lead you to wonder why we are putting this little girl in the middle of this issue as well. We trust that Gospel is bigger than the pressures of living in a interracial family. And on a side note, I think any child would rather deal with these pressures in the safety of a loving family as a opposed to growing up all alone. And we hope to celebrate her ethnicity because that is how the Perfect Designer created her.

I love the effect this opportunity of an African adoption is already having on my children. They are ecstatic that we are adopting and even more ecstatic that she won't look just like them. The other day when Adriana and I were talking about how her hair is dark and Ava's hair is light, she added, "And my next sister's skin will be dark. And it will be soooo beautiful!" Now when my kids see a black child; do you know what word comes to their mind? Sister.

And you know what? Heaven will look like this! Heaven will be the most colorful place you have ever seen.

Why Adopt?

I am overwhelmed, truly overwhelmed, by the support we've been shown in the last two days both here and on Facebook since we posted about our adoption. It also was so encouraging to hear how many of you have had adoption on your own hearts as well. I still thought it would might be helpful to follow up our big announcement with two different posts answering possible questions. This one is about why we would adopt in the first place, and the next post (which will be coming Monday) will answer some of the questions about why we're adopting from Ethiopia.

I have to set aside some serious feelings of inadequacy when writing this since so many people have approached this issue and answered these question more clearly than I ever could. But please hear Steven's and my heart in these answers.

Why adopt at all? You already have four kids!
You're right; fertility isn't an issue at our house. But adoption is not just for the infertile. Let me give you three reasons why we will be moving forward with adoption:

1. Because God did it for us- Ultimately the fuel behind this for both Steven and I is that we have been adopted! We were both adopted into God's family. Romans 8:15 reminds us that our relationship with God is not a servant/master relationship, but a father/child relationship, "For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, 'Abba! Father!'" To be able to play out a picture of the gospel is absolutely thrilling!!!

2. Because God has called us to do this- We both feel that our Father has called us as a couple to adopt. The Bible calls Christians specifically to care for the orphans and widows. And in Isaiah 58, God tells His people that He is not interested in their spiritual charades. In verse 7 He says, "Is it not to share your bread with the hungry and bring the homeless poor into your house." Is God calling every Christian couple to adopt? No, I don't believe so. However, I do believe that Jesus laid His own life down for us and is calling us to destroy our idol of comfort and seek out how we can glorify Him and love others.

3. Because we are to live this day for that day- As Christians, this is not home. There is an eternal home waiting for us, and that's where we're called to store up our treasure. We can't take our money or possession with us, but we can take our children (Lord willing) with us. And while here, our aim is glorify God in all of our life. James 1:22-25 says, "But be doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving yourselves. For if anyone is a hearer of the word and not a doer, he is like a man who looks intently at his natural face in the mirror. For he looks at himself and goes away and at once forgets what he was like. But the one who looks into the perfect law, the law of liberty, and perseveres, being no hearer who forgets but a doer who acts."

There are over 163 million orphans in the world. How can you feel that this is so important for you to do when you're only adopting one?
Absolutely. This couldn't even be considered scratching at the surface. But for the one little girl that is coming into our home, this will mean her life is changed forever. Once an orphan, then in a loving family that will adore her, a mommy to fill her belly up and sing her songs before bed, a daddy to dance with her and read her books, brothers to protect her and make her feel special, sisters to giggle and play dolls with, and a home where she will hear the good news of the gospel over and over again. If there happens to be exactly 163,000,000 orphans in the world right now, we'd like to do everything in our power to make the new number of orphans 162,999,999.


What about your kids? Won't this affect them?
That's true. It will. And that is one of the bonuses in our book!! To teach our kids about serving others and loving orphans in a very up-close-and-personal way is something we hope this adoption will help us do. We know this will play out on a day-to-day level, and we're already trying to prepare them. I'm not here to make my kid's life as easy as possible. I'm here to love them as much as I can and teach them about a Heavenly Father who made a far greater sacrifice for them.


Isn't it expensive?
Compared to what? A vacation? Buying a car?
I promise you it's not nearly as pricey as what it cost God to bring us into His family. He had to give up his son; we simply have to come up with enough money to fund an adoption. It's not even comparable. And God has NEVER ONCE left us high and dry when He calls us to something. And I'm confident that I won't stand at the gates of heaven wishing I'd kept a little more money for myself.

Isn't just the popular thing to do?
This is the nails-on-the-chalkboard question to me. I've wanted to adopt before Angelina Jolie ever stepped into an adoption agency or before almost anyone I knew was adopting. But yet, we've already faced this question. Adoption is gaining some popularity, and that's great. There are kids all over the world that need adoption to get even more PR. However, it's a life-long commitment, and not something to be treated like a fad. Let me assure you that if our motive was to try to do something to look good or to draw attention to ourselves, there are many easier ways to do so.

Don't you know that it's not all roses and butterflies? Adoption is tough stuff!
You better believe it. As I said in my announcement post, God has graciously allowed us to walk through adoption with multiple close friends. We've gotten to see some of the good, the bad, and the ugly. 1 Corinthians 10:31 says, "So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God." Author Francis Chan comments on this verse, "Frankly, you need to get over yourself. It may sound harsh, but that seriously is what [1 Cor. 10:31] means."

Are you sure you're ready to make this sacrifice?
Whoa, hold on. Let me stop you right there. Let's not use the word "sacrifice" when referring to us or this adoption. To quote David Livingstone, a missionary to Africa, "People talk of the sacrifice I have made in spending so much of my life in Africa...I never made a sacrifice. We ought not to talk of 'sacrifice' when we remember the great sacrifice which He made who left His Father's throne on high to give Himself for us."

Our Big News

This post has been on my heart for so long that my fingers are almost shaking as I finally write it out.


I think the best way to start is to tell you how it all began. And to be honest, I've spent a long time trying to figure out exactly when it really did begin. I have held this in my heart for so long that it was hard to remember the starting point. Sometimes it feels like it always was. But I think I narrowed it down to two events in my life that both occurred during the year I was just 15 years old. One was a conversation with my father as we drove home from our local Sanctity of Life ministry on a Saturday. Actually, instead of a conversation, I think it was a single question.


My dad asked me, "If adopting one of those babies would prevent a mother from having an abortion, would you do it?"


My quick answer was a resounding "yes", but it got a ball rolling in my head. What would adopting look like? More than a simple "yes", would I really be available to dive into the life-long commitment of adoption?


Next was a trip to Mexico City and some surrounding areas that summer. When you're 15 years old, the poverty of a place like Tultitlán, a shanty city literally built on the top of a garbage dump, rocks your world. But besides the world-view I took away from that trip, there was one other image that has stuck with me ever since. On the street-corner across from our hotel was a outdoor jewelry seller. And next to the table of goods was a wooden crate holding a beautiful baby girl. For all 6 days of our trip, morning or night, she was there with her cherub face and jet black hair, never moving from that crate. I wanted desperately to scoop her up and take her home with me. Now, no doubt this little girl had parents, and I'm most definitely not advocating that taking her from them would have been good in any way. But that feeling of wanting to pick her up, twirl her around, and bring her home translated into a further openness to adoption.


After the Lord planted this seed, the idea of adoption, grew and grew in my heart. In Ephesians 1:15 I read that: "In love He predestined us for adoption as sons through Jesus Christ, according to the purpose of his will, to the praise of his glorious grace, with which he has blessed us in the Beloved."  And the more I fell in love with God's Word and understood how He had reached out and adopted me, the more my desire to turn and do the same blossomed.


I believe it was when we were engaged, while Steven and I talked about a family and children, that I asked him if he would ever be open to adoption. At the time, his response was a simple, "I don't know. Maybe."


Three months after we were married, I got pregnant. Five and a half months after Isaiah was born, I stared in shock as a little white stick flashed another plus sign at me. Later, two precious daughters joined our family. So obviously, adoption was not in the regular conversation. But like an old, loved book, every once in a while adoption was pulled off the shelf and flung into our private discussions again. It wasn't something we went around telling people. It was simply a "maybe if we ever get the chance" thought for Steven and a personal burden and quiet prayer for me.


Then, a few years ago, I heard that an acquaintance of mine was planning to adopt from Ethiopia. (Now you should know that right along with my longing to adopt was a heart to adopt from Africa, but that's another story for another post.) I made a bee-line for this woman the next time I saw her, and it was the beginning of a friendship that continues to bless my life. With my new friend, I was able to walk through watching four, yes four, children adopted by this wonderful couple. Suddenly it seemed that adoption was popping up everywhere in my life. Multiple other friends adopted from different places. Even my closest friend was suddenly adopting. I was having a hay-day: fund-raising, baby showers, prayers, and more. It was an absolute delight to watch something so dear to me unfold again and again.


I learned a lot watching my friends adopt; and yet, though my desire was ever increasing, it still didn't seem to be an option for us. We had bought a 3 bedroom condo at the peak of the housing market, and were officially "stuck" in our home. We had talked to two different realtors who had tried to brainstorm with us on ways to buy a bigger place. Both had come to same conclusion: there was no way we would be getting out for a long time. My heart sank. Without a larger home, there was no way we would pass a home study. Plus, while God had allowed Steven's heart to warm up to the idea considerably, he still had a few reservations. And in my heart of hearts I knew that unless he was ready to lead the charge, we couldn't go forward.


I had stopped really praying for a new house because it was impossible...right? As the new year of 2011 dawned, I felt a strong conviction from the Holy Spirit. Was anything impossible with God? I remember telling my mother that the Spirit had put on my heart a New Year's resolution- to start praying with faith for that house we needed.


In April of 2011, there was a distinct moment in the middle of an adoption daydream where I felt God asking me, "If you never are able to adopt, am I still good?" After 15 years of hoping to adopt, this question hit me like a wave. What if God had put adoption on my heart because He knew I would one day have the opportunity to passionately surround other women with this vision? There was a sharp pang in my heart; but right there and then, finding God's grace available to respond, I offered up my hopes and dreams to Him and His good purposes. If adoption wasn't in my future, God was still good.


That next June my husband and I were in Cabo San Lucas celebrating our tenth anniversary. One morning we had prayer time together sitting on a cabana overlooking the Pacific Ocean. We began to pray together for God's direction on whether or not He would ever open up the opportunity to adopt. Suddenly Steven stopped and let out a sharp, "Whoa!" I looked up thinking he had just spotted a dolphin. My husband, Mr. Practical, who up to this point had never had a vision in his life turned to me and said, "As we prayed I saw a little black girl dancing in our living room." I broke down sobbing. After I had come to a place where I was willing to give up this dream, it was like God letting me know that He wasn't asking me to give it up. That morning on the beach was a turning point for Steven. He was convinced that God was clearly calling us to adopt.


And yet, there we were, still living in a tiny condo. To make things more interesting, my husband's job contract was cut in September; and he, along with many others, was laid off. When I thought of buying a house, having our income gone wasn't exactly in my plans.


But it was in God's. He'd moved everything out of the way so that He could show us that He would do the providing, not us.


In October, through a series of events, the miraculous happened. Because this is a public blog, and I don't have the permission of all involved, I won't go into details. But suffice it to say, while out of a job, God provided the money we needed for selling our condo and buying a house. We couldn't move while Steven was out of work, yet still by the end 2011 I had watched my prayers be answered beyond our wildest imagination. We would be able to buy a home. In fact, our condo goes on the market tomorrow.


God used our unemployment to do further work in both our hearts. God tore down idols in our hearts of self-sufficiency and living for comfort. Steven now felt even more strongly than I (if that's possible) that God was calling move forward with an adoption as soon as possible.


So here we are.


And this is our official announcement.


We are pursuing the adoption of a little girl from Ethiopia.


Even though we probably won't meet her for two to three years, we already carry her in our hearts and in our prayers.


It's been a long road coming, but we couldn't be more thrilled, excited, and grateful.

First Day of Work {after 9 months}

This morning something happened that hasn't taken place in our home in 9 months and 4 days.

My husband kissed me good-bye and headed off to work.

If you don't know the background of this unexpected season, you can read about it HERE or HERE. It wasn't just a job loss. It was getting job offer after job offer and having the most random things prevent Steven from ever starting those jobs. It was like taste after taste of "hope deferred."

I was thinking yesterday how grateful I am that God only calls me to walk out life one day at a time. Because if someone had sat me down ten months ago and explained what was about to happened, I don't think I think I could have taken it all in.

And yet to follow my Shepherd one day at a time through this has been one of the most amazing experiences of my life. He has sustained us spiritually and financially. He has lavished us with not only our needs (Like the night I got on my face and told God that I needed something my daughter had to have, and the next day a friend randomly offered me huge supply of just that. Or the time I cringed as I went to pay out-of-pocket for a doctor's appointment only to find that it had anonymously already been paid.), but also kindnesses that were totally unnecessary. (Like the time I kept eyeing a certain pair of shorts that I knew I couldn't justify buying. And the next day another friend handed me a pair of exactly that design in the exact pattern I wanted because when she bought them they didn't fit just right. And guess who they fit perfectly?) How do I get to be the recipient of this kind of love from a God who is also running the universe!?!

Psalm 73:23 comes to mind: "Nevertheless, I am continually with you; you hold my right hand."

He has taught that pressing into Him is the only way to truly "count it all joy...when you meet trials of various kinds." (James 1:2) He has answered my prayer for joy over and over again. He has made Himself more tangible than I have ever know before. He has used this time to re-envision our lives; and has given us both a growing desire to "count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus." (Phil. 3:8) Because of all of this, Steven and I can say with all honesty that this trial was a gift. And both of us have never been more excited about the future and about living with an eternal perspective.

And now, with a lump in my throat, may I thank so many of you?

For the friends that have listened and cared again and again. For the friends that have stopped me at church, over and over to tell me that they are praying for us. For guys who have surrounded my husband. For the texts filled with Scripture. For those who have listened to God's prompting and shared those promptings with us. For the family both here and in Michigan that has loved us and cared for us. And especially for you girls (you know who you are) who have been the Aaron for my Moses (Exodus 17:12), holding up my arms when I couldn't hold them up myself. Thank you. Thank you more than you know.

My Professional Relationship With Nature

Last week we went on a little nature walk with our friends. Not only was it lots of fun, it was also almost like a science lesson as our friends educated the kids in different tree types, how to make rope out of cattail, what kind of bugs could be found, and other nature tidbits. This couple could survive in the woods for weeks and come out refreshed and happy. I stand in absolute awe.

I like nature. I really do. A little hike here, a picnic there. It's great. But I have a line that is not to be crossed.

Camping.

I will not camp.

I've heard often "it'll get you closer to nature", and I couldn't agree more with the comedian Jim Gaffigan's take on nature: "I wanna keep the relationship professional." He adds: "Happy camper?! You know who is the happiest camper? The guy leaving the campsite...he gets to take a shower!"

So the time I referred earlier was lovely- we did our trail walk, enjoyed the time, came home, jumped in the pool, and took a shower, and slept in our own beds. Does anyone else see the logic here?!? A shower and our own beds. As opposed to a sweaty mess sleeping on the ground. When my husband takes my boys camping, I think of them as I curl up in my soft sheets and try not to giggle at my good fortune.



So here are some photos of our wonderful few hours in the woods. And those of you who are rolling your eyes at me right now; I'll stand with or without you in my own prissy principles.













Even a simple hike can be exhausting...

Faithless Me and a Faithful Father {again}

Seven and a half months.

That's how long it's been since my husband last kissed me goodbye and headed off to work. I've written about it before; but with the job credentials he has, we never could have imagined that when Steven's contract was cut short last September we would go more than a couple weeks without a job. But with some large cuts the government made, here we are at the end of April. No job.

Now on the grand scheme of things, this is a small trial. There are quite a few people I'm close to who are going through much more significant difficulties than this. I'm just taking this post to write honestly about what has been going on in my own life.

During the first six months, I was constantly being blown away with what God was teaching me about living for eternity and the spiritual growth that He was working in my life. More than once when someone said, "I'm sorry", I could honestly answer, "Don't be!"

Then the seventh month hit. And I hit a serious low point. I told God, "I'm done; I don't want to do this any more." I felt depressed. Depressed that even though I watched my husband work harder to find a job than I could ever ask, we were still jobless. Depressed that two jobs had been offered and had both fallen through. Depressed that I could no longer see what God was doing. Depressed that I no longer felt intensely close to Him in the midst of this trial. And I struggled with guilt that I could be so faithless. So faithless after my heavenly Father had cared for me so tenderly. Many days, I would start to try to fight for joy and then simply quit. It went on like this for about four weeks.

But... "If we are faithless, He remains faithful for He cannot deny Himself." (2 Tim. 2:13)

One morning as I read Valley of Vision, God used part of the prayer to touch and convict my heavy heart. It read:
"Forgive me for serving thee in sinful ways-...
by a faith that rest upon my hold on Christ, not on Him alone."

In that devotion time, the Lord started to help me see that I had begun to place my faith on what I had learned and experienced during this trial, and not on God alone. The Bible calls me over and over to have faith in my sovereign, redeeming Creator; but it never burdens my soul with asking me to have faith in my own faith.

This is where I was tripping up over and over again. I began to understand that I was craving to be able to see how God was at work, and not trusting that He was at work whether or not I could see it. He has been using the story of Joseph in the Old Testament to minister to my soul. He has helped me realize that the same God that used slavery in Egypt to further His redemptive plans, can use a difficult season to further His glory even if I never fully understand how.

I'm not doing this perfectly even now, mind you. But with my focus pulled away from the burden of my faithlessness and redirected to the Rock on which I stand, with my eyes pulled off the fleeting problems of this moment and back onto a cross that secures an eternity with God, I can honestly say that my Father has pulled me out of a dark place and back into His marvelous light.

Why I Chose To Tell My Kids About Trayvon

I, like so many other Americans, get my news online. So I am personally my kids' filter for what news they know about and don't, which, given their ages, isn't much.

But my boys can now tell you who Trayvon Martin is.

Unless you're totally unconnected from any news source, I'm sure you know who I'm talking about. He is the black teenager who was recently gunned down as he walked unarmed through a neighborhood for what more and more evidence suggests was purely racial profiling. And kicker is that his killer was never taken into custody.

So why would I tell my 8 and 9 year old boys this story?

Next to my faith, racism makes my short list for things I feel especially passionate about. Part of this is the fact that I was raised by strongly anti-racist parents, but the biggest reason is that is what racism says about God. When we judge by their skin color, we're judging the beautiful and wonderfully diverse design of a perfect creator. God is too big, wonderful, and multi-faceted to have confined his designs to one skin color. Then He commands us to love one another. No exclusions. And to top it off, our Savior shed His own blood to adopt us into His family. Every color.

And the only way that my white boys (and all my children), whose day to day lives don't include racial profiling, are going to know about this truth is from the mouths of their parents. 

From a young age, my kid's friends have been many different colors, and race didn't seem to even cross their minds. While they were young, we kept it simple with comments like, "Isn't it great that God made us with so many different hair, skin, and eye colors!"  Once while in grocery store with my then 3 year-old Adriana we walked by a woman with a large afro. Adriana caught her breath, "Mom, she's SO beautiful!" I love the eyes of a child. "Yes, baby, yes she is."

Then there was history class. As we sat one morning on the couch during 1st and 2nd grade, Isaiah and Elijah learned for the first time about slavery. Their raw shock and horror was precious and heart-breaking all rolled into one. Isaiah's best friend at the time was from Ethiopia. And Isaiah tried to take it all in, "You mean just because of their skin color?!? You mean Fikadu would be a slave!?!" It was perfect opportunity to stop and talk about the horror of racism. We went on to read about Hitler and so many other atrocities that our human history has to hold.

Since then we've had many other conversations about racism. As I told them the story of what happened to Trayvon, their first reaction was grief. And then as went on to say that the police did not take the killer to jail, Isaiah's jaw literally dropped.

And you know what? That's exactly what I wanted. I want their responses to racism to be shock and horror. It's a God-honoring response. We talked about what we they should do if someone was being racist to someone in front of them.

I'll say it again, if we as their parents don't talk to them, they are left to hear the voices of our culture. We must not be silent. We MUST NOT! In the same way that my dad had a serious talk with his teenage daughters to make sure that we would be open to marrying a man of any other color, we as parents must delight our children with the beauty of different cultures and race; and we must help teach them to reel back in horror when those made in God's image are hated for the way they were created. Racism is alive and well whether you personally deal with it or not.  And I will not sit by. If we keep this a taboo issue or pretend that our kids are just going to be colorblind, if don't talk to our children about this, we're setting up the next generation to judge and hate each other.



You can listen to a much wiser man than I who write about this issue HERE.

Forget This {the other moments}

Before I share any more "Remember This" posts, I want to get real with you. For every beautiful moment in my day that I want to remember, there's another moment I wish I could forget- the kids fighting, me unfairly correcting one of them, a screaming baby, an unkind word from kid to kid, another unkind word from me, a bathroom whose cleaning is long overdue, me getting angry.

And there is a woman that is standing on my shoulder judging me. She's perfect. And I find I compare myself to her over and over and over again.

You see, I made her. She's a figment of my imaginings and a collection of best qualities in all the women I know. 

She's a little bit of my friend whose house always looks like the cleaning lady just left,

and my friend who makes almost everything her family uses,

a little of my friend who always has a fun activity for her kids,

and some of my friend who shows hospitality to almost every person she's ever met,

a bit of my friend who has such mad decorating skills that her home belongs in a magazine,

and my friend who hand-makes every card and gift,

a little of my friend who has such encouraging things to say to everyone,

and some of my friend who seems to spend the bulk of her day playing on the floor with her kids,

a bit of my friend who budgets like an accountant,

and touch of my friend who can garden like nobody's business,

and a lot of my friend who speaks unfailingly kind to her children.

And she haunts me.

I just can't be her, and again my Bible comes to my rescue. 

"With the mighty deeds of the Lord God I will come; I will remind them of your righteousness, yours alone." (Ps.71:16)

My kids don't have a perfect mom, and they know it. But if there was a perfect mom, there wouldn't be a need for Jesus. And I am called to use my failings to remind my children and myself of the Lord's righteousness, His alone. He is the only one who never failed, and I lay in bed many a night so overwhelmed with gratefulness that when God the Father looks at me, He sees Jesus...regardless of the day I had or the moments I would like to forget.

It Started With A Hurricane

August 2011. For an entire year, I had looked forward to it. It was our third family beach vacation which had become the highlight of summer. But this year we were staying for not one but two weeks. We'd heard over and over again how relaxing a two week vacation was. It was happening just before we went back to school, and I thought of it as my rejuvenation before the grind of the school year. There was so much planning and prep, but I kept thinking how worth it all that work would be. We got to our beach home; and as I unpacked, I repeatedly contemplated how wonderful it would be not to have to pack up again for a whole fourteen days. 


But I hadn't factored in Irene. Ah, yes, Irene. Four days into my blissful retreat, Hurricane Irene demanded our evacuation. And frankly, I was furious. My husband tried to comfort me and speak truth to me, but I really didn't care. We drove home on the eve before what was supposed to be my son's beach birthday. I glared at the rain and the traffic. We went home to my parents hoping to be able to return after the storm had passed. I woke up mad and had mood swings between angry and depressed. This was my vacation. How dare I lose my vacation! Thoughts of people who were going through much more serious trials than mine came to my head, people who couldn't even dream of a vacation. I justified my anger, "They have their trial and I have mine."


And while after five days at my parent's we were able to return to the beach, I look back now at what I believe God was revealing in my heart. I wanted comfort. I wanted comfort more than anything else. More than joy, more than glorifying a sovereign God in a very minor trial. But that was just the beginning, just the event that allowed the veil of my heart to be peeled back so that I could see the idolatry going on inside. Now, unbeknownst to me, God had a plan to starting dealing with it.


We came back from the beach and within 10 days my husband was laid off from his job and my girlfriend who was like a sister and whom I had hoped to live by one day, was moving. I wasn't too worried about the job loss. With all my husband's clearances and qualifications we should have a job in a couple of weeks, I reasoned. But the moving of my girlfriend was not so easy for me. I cried out to God and cried on my husband's shoulder. I pouted over the fact that it seemed like all the girls I got close to moved. Finally during prayer time one more God confronted me. Are you supposed to cling to anything but me? Why do you have such a tight grasp over this friendship? While it seems like a basic truth when I write it out, it hit me that morning like a ton of bricks. And with that, God began to peel back the onion layers of my comfort.


As for my husband's job, that didn't happen the way I thought either. The government began to cut defense programs and suddenly almost no one had immediate positions open. Weeks turned into months. In November we thought he had a job. Then he was told his clearance didn't transfer to this particular department. At Christmas he got another job, but it's March and the government still hasn't given the contract a solid start date. And you know what? It's honestly turned into the most beautiful season of my life. Let me repeat that: the most beautiful season of my life. God has used this time to reveal more and more of Himself to me, to school me in spiritual disciplines, to force me to rely of Him, and to make me question what taking up the cross of Christ looks like and what I'm living for.


I realized that in my mind, my future was like a white board full of scribbles. I'd marked it up with plan upon plan for my future. We would live in this place, these people would be in my life forever, my family would look like this, we would travel here, we would do this or that. I had it all planned. I probably wouldn't have admitted it out loud, but almost everything on that board of my future was all about me. But God began to do a great kindness to me; He began to erase that board. Erasing my lists and plannings and helping me to see that a white board was all that I was supposed to see as looked into my future. Because a blank white board means that I am looking for Him to direct my future and what it would look like. It means that preconceived notions are gone, and it means that I suddenly have to seek hard after Him for the next step.


God brought me to verses like Luke 12:16-21: "And he told them a parable, saying, 'The land of a rich man produced plentifully, and he thought to himself, 'What shall I do, for I have nowhere to store my crops?' And he said, "I will do this: I will tear down my barns and build larger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods. And I will say to my soul, “Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry.”’ But God said to him, ‘Fool! This night your soul is required of you, and the things you have prepared, whose will they be?’ So is the one who lays up treasure for himself and is not rich toward God.”


The man in this parable was not a murderer or a thief. All this man was trying to get was security and comfort. And yet God emphatically declares him a fool.  Through this season I've seen what a fool I was. I've realized the pointless, emptiness of living for my comfort. As I've dug deeper into Scripture and spent time hearing from men like John Piper and Francis Chan, God has beginning to shift my view of a life well lived. I've been given the gift a of desperate fear of wasting my life. Scripture is calling me to live with eternity in view, and my comfort has nothing to do with this. Radical, passionate love for Christ and storing up treasures in heaven has everything to do with it. It's Biblical but counter-intuitive: the more God has shown me to live for Him and for others, the more joy I'm receiving.


Don't think me a finished product. I keep raising my hand to the white board of the future to write my expectations, but I am reminded again to leave it blank, to yield those hopes and dreams to His perfect plan. And the even more wonderful thing is that God has been working on Steven as well. Suddenly, we're looking together at what God is calling us to, and He's already giving us direction. My desire for comfort is not dead, but it's certainly taken a divine hit.


And I can tell you with all of my heart that I wouldn't trade the last 6 months for anything. If I had known in July of the fruit that would come of it, I would have asked God for a job loss, a friend's move...


...and even a hurricane.