blessedness... and inheritance

So, the outline of thoughts for this post has been in my "drafts" pile since the end of June... but, the months between then and now have only caused my then thoughts to become more cemented, so I will finally try to flesh out yet another part of what God has been teaching me during the last weeks.

These thoughts first got put into motion when a friend posted this article on Facebook, "The One Thing Christians Should Stop Saying". Have you read it yet?? It basically questions our use of the word "blessed"... and asks us to reconsider what blessedness truly looks like.

The author's use of the Sermon on the Mount to illustrate what Jesus called "blessedness" stuck with me and made me want to dive deeper into my understanding of just what a blessed life looks like--a truly blessed life. Not just a "I Have Everything" life, or a "I've Got it all Together" life that we can all find ourselves working so hard to obtain.

I've heard the "Beatitudes" many times throughout my life, and--as often happens with much-heard things--the words can flow by without the mind being engaged. So, this time I began to look at it with a different version of the Bible (The Message).

I found that:

I am blessed when...
--I am at the end of my rope. With less of me there is more of GOD and his rule.
--I feel like I've lost what is most dear to me. Only then can I be embraced by the One who is most dear.
--I am CONTENT with who I am--no more and no less. That's when I find myself the joyful owner of everything that cannot be bought.
--I am hungry for God. Then HE is my food and drink.
--I show mercy. Then I will find myself receiving mercy.
--I get my inside world--mind & heart--put right. Then I can see God in my outside world.
--I make and/or bring peace... Instead of competing. That's when I will find my place in God's family.
--My commitment to God draws persecution. That persecution will drive me close to God.
--People insult me or lie about me to discredit God... because it is God's truth that is making them uncomfortable.

Did you see that? None of the blessings are material things, or desires granted, or generally any other thing we often call a "blessing" in our lives.Of the evidences of blessedness... 3 are states of heart-being or character. 4 are actions that should be our recognizable mode of living. Only 1 speaks of the blessedness of something received--and that something received is persecution.

BE:
Poor in spirit, spiritually needy, at the end of your rope, humble.
Meek, mild, patient, long-suffering, content.
Pure of heart, clean, unified, honest, sincere, genuine
RECEIVE:
God's Kingdom
The earth
Eyes to see God.

ACTIONS:
Seek righteousness, hunger for God
Give mercy
Make/Bring peace
Mourn
RECEIVE:
Fullness
Mercy
A place in God's family
Comfort

Our blessings received flow as the consequence of our state of heart and our way of action-choosing, not because we've put a quarter in the gumball machine and got what we wanted. And, the blessings are the things that draw us closer to God and His kingdom.

I don't know about you, but these thoughts have caused me to re-examine the things I think of as blessings... I am learning not to yearn after things that seem that they would be blessings, and to find myself being blessed in the in-between.

I also am analyzing the way I process scripture in light of this. I am trying to process things in less of a "do this so you can get this" way... and just process it in a "do this because in and of itself it IS a blessing." For example, the scripture: "Seek first the kingdom of God and all these things will be added to you." Maybe it's just me, but my selfish brain reads that like "Do this to get that", or "If you want something from God, focus on God-stuff for a while." For now, I like to just focus on, "Seek first the kingdom of God"... and just relish the blessing that seeking Him IS, in and of itself. For me, it's a mental exercise of seeking to love God for who He IS, follow him because He KNOWS the way, and seek Him because He is all I NEED... with the hope that I can unlearn the practices of the spoiled child: Being cute and sweet only when I want something.

During the processing of this, our pastor at church read a passage that I realized I had been reading all wrong before as well:

"I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened, so that you will know what is the hope of His calling, what are the riches of the glory of His inheritance in the saints" (Eph. 1:18)

For some reason, my process had been, "I pray your eyes are opened to all the riches you have as a child of God's." And, I think that is partially what it's saying. But, with my new way of reading... Where before I might have thought "The blessing in this passage is the riches"... this time, I read it as "The richness is found in the saints". Or, our inheritance as God's children is in the saints--or it is the saints. Meaning, our inheritance--our riches--is the family of people God has placed us in when we became one of His own. The NLT writes it this way: " I pray that your hearts will be flooded with light so that you can understand the confident hope He has given to those He called--His holy people who are His rich and glorious inheritance."

This really resonated with me. I truly believe that God wants me to see the spiritual family He has placed me in as my inheritance, as my riches, and His great blessing to me. If I truly believed that each person in His family was a direct gift from God to me... would I not treat them differently, give them the honor they're due, respect them and cherish them? Resolve to unite with and uphold them, and discourage competition and gossip?

It makes so much sense to me that the God who sees meekness, humility and spiritual hunger as evidences of a blessed life... would see surrounding that blessed person in a beautiful community of His cherished children as the greatest inheritance He could bestow. Because--you know what?? This "version" of blessedness works in any country, in any culture, at any time in history, in any economic or class level. That's why I believe it reflects God's heart--because He is not an exclusionary God, and His values are eternal, spirit values... not shifting, earthly things! And, of course God's inheritance would be one of community and unity--since, in and of ourselves, we tend to want to be one-man-shows and show our independence--our solitary rightness, as opposed to deferential love!

Yearning to have my eyes see the true blessings around me--to be "a blessed"-- to value what God values... and to let the rest just be extras!

shiftings

So, as promised... Some of the lessons I feel God speaking to my heart during these last few days.

On Sunday, we walked into church and these words were being sung:

Already, my heart was ready for these words, because I was  feeling God's presence there... that He had things to say to me, and that our circumstances were to teach us more about Him and ourselves. 

I began to realize that I usually process those words like this: "God takes dust and turns it into something beautiful". Or, "There are hard/yucky times in life, but it will all be changed and we will have good times." Does that make sense? 

How about the "beauty from ashes" phrase? Applied to our situation, I may think: "Right now we are struggling, but if we hold on... we will have enough financially. We will be able to plan ahead. We will be happily ever after." 

Yes, I do believe that God answers prayers and that he has our family in his hand... but.

What if... part of the truth there is that God makes even the dust beautiful to me? What if he makes me find beauty in the ashes? In the mourning? In the struggle? What if the beauty isn't in escaping the pressure, but in embracing the pressure? What if the difference of a God-life is that we aren't always seeking just one more thing, but delighting in each season, each place? Truth is, we don't need God to be happy when things are going well. That's human nature. What is not human nature--what definitely requires the divine--is in learning to thrive and delight when there is no earthly reason you would.

As these thoughts were going through my mind, the song "The Wondrous Cross" was sang. Again, these words poured into my soul in a way I hadn't heard them before. I've heard/sang that song my whole life, and--to be honest--I didn't really connect the word "wondrous" with "cross". I interpreted it to mean, "The wonderful gift given to us through the cross"...but.

What if the cross itself is wondrous? What if the altar, the sacrifice itself is a thing of beauty?

I believe I am learning: Beauty is not when the ashes, the cross, is gone. God-life means He can show us the beauty in the ashes, in the sacrifice.

I have long heard the verse, "Delight yourself in the Lord and he will give you the desires of your heart" spoken as if it were a "A + B = C" formula. I don't believe it is. I don't think God wants us to tell him what we want, and then grit our teeth and bear up until we get that thing. Consider this passage:

" Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. (Philippians 4:6) 

"Present" to me paints the picture of transferring the request from my hands to God's hands, laying my request on the altar. Here's a question I had never thought of before: Is my request truly on the altar if I define the answer? 

Another way to ask that question is, "Am I the one who truly knows how to define what good is? What beautiful is? What wonderful is?" I believe part of the process now is in letting God redefine for me all those things--what is good, what is beautiful... for me. Right now. Can I really say my situation right now, as it is, is beautiful? I think I am beginning to be able to say "yes" to that question.

Which brings me to that second part of the presenting your requests to God thing... 

And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 4:7)

See--that's supernatural. That--to me--is saying: "While your request is presented... while it's still there.... God's peace will be taking charge of your mind and heart... and it's not going to make any rational sense. But, that's how it's going to be." Isn't that cool?

It made me think of Paul and Silas, singing in... while bound in chains... in jail... probably facing death. I'd often heard that they were invoking the "power of praise" to bring a deliverance from their bondage. Perhaps. Or maybe it went something like this: "Hey, Silas... Let's talk to God about our situation." And then, once they'd presented their requests... maybe the Silas said, "Hey, Paul... It doesn't make sense but God has filled me with such peace and joy right now... let's sing about it!" Singing even when they didn't have their answer... and then their answer came. In this case, the answer was deliverance. But... they didn't know that when they were singing.  (Acts 16)

Which made me come to a realization about that "formula" verse some people like to use: "Delight + in God = you get what you want." And, I think you do, sometimes. But, I think sometimes... if we let him... God will change our wants and desires. He will gently turn our eyes to better things, soften our hearts to new things, expand our borders in ways we never imagined. Maybe he wants me to see the answer is not changing that thing I despise right now, but in letting it change me.

Yearning to become more and more alive to him-- to his beauty, his vision. Even in--or dare I say, especially in--the times of pressing and difficulty. Because... that is how he works. He sees beauty where no one else sees it... and he transforms it into a work of art.

what to say...

So, you may have that friend that is stuck in a really hard place, and things are just not going well.

Of course, you want to encourage her that it will be okay. That it has to get better at some point. That in the future, she will look back on this time with fondness. Maybe, you try to encourage her by comparing her situation with one that is worse: "Well, at least you're not experiencing this..." Or, you want to try to be 100%  practical, to kind of get her out of her funk: "The logical thing to do is..." Or, you try to suggest all kinds of things maybe she should/could be doing...

You get the point.

Can I tell you something? Sometimes all that is good.

And, sometimes, all she wants to hear is: "Ugh. That stinks so bad. I can't imagine being in your situation. You are doing an amazing job in the meantime. It has to be so hard."

Because, sometimes that friend is weary of smiling at all the platitudes. Maybe she's thinking, "You don't know that it will get better." Or, maybe comparing her situation to one that is "worse" feels really hurtful, as if you are dismissing the very real struggle she is facing.

So, sometimes. Don't give a pep talk. Don't say that cheerful, trite thing. Just empathize, just feel what she is feeling, and let her know you see her in the midst of that hard time... and let her know you are there. Even if it's just to listen to her, cry with her, pray for her. Because, often, nothing will strengthen her more.

yet, rejoice.

Letting these words sink in this morning...

"Know that the Lord has set apart his faithful servant for himself;
    the Lord hears when I call to him...Offer the sacrifices of the righteous and trust in the Lord... You have filled my heart with joy more than when the grain and new wine abound. In peace I will lie down and sleep, for you alone, Lord, make me dwell in safety."

...and then, going back to re-read the beginning of the chapter and realizing... These words were written from a hard place. From a "not-safe" place. From a time of lack, worry, persecution and distress. Yet, David says: "Praise. Trust. Be glad. Rest." 

And, so I shall!

(Habakkuk 3)

Though the fig tree does not bud
    and there are no grapes on the vines,
though the olive crop fails
    and the fields produce no food,
though there are no sheep in the pen
    and no cattle in the stalls,
18 yet I will rejoice in the Lord,
    I will be joyful in God my Savior.

19 The Sovereign Lord is my strength;
    he makes my feet like the feet of a deer,
    he enables me to tread on the heights.

Yet. Even still.

6-29-2014

Do I really believe that broken is better? Enough to submit to the breaking? To lean into it, trust it? To allow it to gentle me, expose me, refine me? To allow the process to happen in those I love? To give them the space and grace to be broken; the support and time for God to do what only He can do, in only the way He can?

a secondary emotion

"The profound danger is that, as noted above, we start to think of feeling as weakness. With the exception of anger (which is a secondary emotion, one that only serves as a socially acceptable mask for many of the more difficult underlying emotions we feel), we are losing our tolerance for emotion and hence for vulnerability." -from "Daring Greatly"

Replaying these words in my head today, as anger reared its ugly head towards my husband and kiddos. In facing the underlying emotions, I can choose to free myself from anger. The emotions--feeling overwhelmed, at the end of my rope, frustrated, without roots, without ability to plan ahead, unprepared, questioning, tired, worried--coupled with the chronic lower back/pelvic pain that accompanies this part of my pregnancies... often leave me falling into the "unpleasant company" category.

Truth is, facing these things doesn't make them go away. I still don't know what to do, I still am in pain... But, perhaps what is sought here is honesty in expression of these feelings--not hiding them behind anger, which solves nothing and wounds many.

6-25-2014

So, things haven't been going as planned. Or, even as hoped. In many ways--they are actually going better. But, one vital element is missing... and that element makes it harder to enjoy the rest. As we are at six months of living off of unemployment (thank GOD that it's available)... I have felt myself becoming brittle and dejected. It's easier to focus on the dead-ends going in many directions, than to rest in God's wisdom and see the beauty he gives us at each dawn.

Today, wasn't a bad day. We did fun things. We went out and came back. It was just me--I was bad. I was down and not the most fun to be around.

As we walked out for our nearly daily trip to the apartment pool (I may have been trudging)... I found the thoughts spooling themselves through my mind were not the most positive, and definitely not centered on the here and now. I scowled at the trash blowing around the apartment complex, shook my head at broken things that have laid unattended for too long... 

Then, I stopped. I asked God to focus my eye on his beauty instead of the obvious disappointments.  To help me embrace the moment, rather than sacrificing it on the alter of future worries. 

So, I took out my camera. And saw beauty, everywhere. 

It's there, in her confident smile... her pensive expression... her sun-bronzed skin. (Why is she so tall??)

It's there, in his boyish need to be silly and yell "Gotcha!".

 It's there, in the exuberance, and the laughter.

I see it in their bodies--the strong muscles, the bright minds; the health and ability.

 

 Looking up, rather than down...

       

And this one... because.... what's more beautiful than an "Awkward Family Photo"?? Ha!! :)

5-20-2014

'Cuz he's sweet, and could see I needed some alone time.

Because I needed to read these words: "What we've been talking about isn't making our lives perfect. Instead, it's about learning to turn to Jesus when our hearts feel restless, to have the courage to be who He made us here and now no matter what, to cross the finish line into everything He has for us in eternity with a smile on our faces, knowing we ran well every step of the way." --You're Already Amazing, by Holley Gerth

"Too Small to Ignore"

You know I love to share a good thing... and, this latest read is just that--GOOD!! :)

"Too Small to Ignore" is written by former president of Compassion, Wess Stafford. It has truly been one of the most amazing books I have read lately, revolutionizing the way I think about children, missions... and poverty! To be honest, when I first saw that a man that had worked for Compassion wrote a book about children--I thought, "This is going to be an obvious read: Sponsor kids."

Instead, the book takes you on an intimate journey through the Wess's life, from growing up in a primitive tribe in Southern Africa, to boarding school, to living in the US... He offers a valuable and unique perspictive on the things dear to his heart: namely children and poverty--or better said, children in poverty.

Although I am a person who loves children, and one who has lived in a third-world country... I was blown away by some of his insights, and it totally made me understand things even about Rey or about the culture I was living in while I was in Mexico.

The author is heart-broken that the church today does not see what a treasure children are NOW. He says too often we just kind of "put up" with childhood, bear with it until it's over: "When the child is grown they are a valuable asset to society"... keeping the child on the sidelines.... while Jesus--more than once--states that children are very important. Just as they are--being children.

Wess stresses that he believes the root of poverty is fatalism-- "I don't matter.There's nothing special about me." That was a profound thought to me, and bore true the longer I thought about it. Which, Wess says, is why the GOSPEL is the perfect antidote to poverty! "When a poor child comes to understand that God Almighty, maker of heaven and earth, knows her name, that God cares deeply about her, that he knows how many hairs are on her head, that he etched the unique design of her fingerprints, that he gave her a unique and delightful way of laughing, and that he sent his own Son to die on the cross to save her, that leads to an epiphany that changes, everything. 'I guess I matter after all!' "

I took pages and pages of notes from his book, and I won't bore you with all the morsels (or spoil it for you)... But, here's a quote I loved: "A child may be born into poverty, but poverty is never born into the heart of the child." He spoke of giving up, of loosing the want to dream, as being the greatest poverty.

Also, Wess talks long about the many rich lessons and life-perspective he gained from growing up in his tightly-knit African tribe--many of which I want to try to weave into our way of family from now on.

I could seriously go on and on.. but, I won't. Just go get it! Oh--and as if it needs to get better--Wess asked that all author's royalties from the sales of his book be given back to Compassion International to further their work... so, it's really a win-win! :)

neither here nor there

I was talking to a friend the other day--she was sharing about being at that spot where you are just in between. You know where you need to be, you are okay where you are--but you are waiting, focused on the goal while trying to maintain a good, peaceful attitude in the meantime. I told her, "I know! I always hate feeling like I'm in limbo..."

I thought about how often Rey and I have been "in limbo". When we felt called to join up with my aunt and uncle in their missions work--there were months between that decision and the day we moved. It was hard to live fully during those months, not to just throw them away since: "I'm not staying here anyway..."

When we felt called to return home to Illinois, again there were months between the decision and the actual fulfilling of that decision. Big decisions, big moves like that take lots of time, lots of prayer, lots of investigating and organizing. It is so easy for the decision to become so all-consuming that you forget to live fully in the in between.

And again, we find ourselves in an "in between". We feel we are being led in a certain direction--but we are most-certainly in limbo. Not here, not there. Leaning, but not sure. Directed, but lacking detail. I felt myself chafing at being at that point again. Just wanting to be there, or here, but not in between.

Then the thought came: Really... we are called to live our whole lives in limbo. We are living for the promise of being unified with our Love. We are constantly pulled between the heavenly and the earthly--longing to be with our eternal Father, but loving our life here. Yearning to be where our feet are leading us, but striving to enjoy the journey as we are walking. It made me reflect on the yearning of generations for their Messiah... the waiting remembered in these days of Advent.

I am *finally* delving into the great book "One Thousand Gifts", and in my last reading this phrase jumped out at me: "It's the in between that drives us mad." Wow. Exactly what I'd been contemplating.

Further, I had been realizing that this irritated feeling I'd been having with being in between, was also combining with my utter abhorrence of Illinois winters. Ever since the bitter cold and long, grey weeks have blown in, my overall mood has also been grey and dreary. I have been lacking energy, impatient with the kids and generally a real treat to be around. ;) I have been feeling actual anger towards the weather, towards being stuck indoors when we'd rather be out playing, towards the world being pitch-black by 5 pm... you know, anger. Because it helps so much.

Slowly, though, I feel as though God has been breaking through the irritation, despondency, and anger... and calling me to return to fully living where I am, how I am. Saying things like, "Buck up" and "Get over it" and other kind things. In a gentle voice, because I am a sensitive soul.

In this time, I was reading Luke 21 and came to this verse: "By your patience possess your souls". This can mean many things to many people, but to me in the time I read it, my eyes read: "If you can choose patience in these in-between times of life, you will possess your soul. If you choose patience when the kids are being kids, you will possess your soul. If you wait for Me patiently during your years on earth, you will possess your soul."

Then, I read a smidgen from My Utmost for His Highest I stumbled upon, relating to this passage:

"Luke 21:19 means that we take possession of our souls through patience. But many of us prefer to stay at the entrance to the Christian life, instead of going on to create and build our soul in accordance with the new life God has placed within us. We fail because we are ignorant of the way God has made us, and we blame things on evil that are actually the result of our own undisciplined natures. Just think what we could be when we are awakened to the truth!
There are certain things in life that we need not pray about— moods, for instance. We will never get rid of moodiness by praying, but we will by kicking it out of our lives. Moods nearly always are rooted in some physical circumstance, not in our true inner self. It is a continual struggle not to listen to the moods which arise as a result of our physical condition, but we must never submit to them for a second. We have to pick ourselves up by the back of the neck and shake ourselves; then we will find that we can do what we believed we were unable to do. The problem that most of us are cursed with is simply that we won’t. The Christian life is one of spiritual courage and determination lived out in our flesh."

Good old Oswald. I guess if I didn't hear that whole, "Get over it" message before, I should now right?

All of this to say, I'm learning I need to be okay with in between. I need to learn to fully live, in patience, in limbo. Because, our entire existence is a thread stretched between here and another place, the perfect tension between two places that both hold such portions of our heart and time--yet must compliment each other instead of competing with each other.

In the meantime... I am especially loving this hymn of longing and expectation:

"Oh, come, oh, come, Emmanuel,
And ransom captive Israel,
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appear.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to you, O Israel!

Oh, come, our day spring from on high,
And cheer us by your drawing nigh,
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night,
And death's dark shadows put to flight.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to you, O Israel! 

Oh, come, Desire of nations, bind
In one the hearts of all mankind;
Oh, bid our sad divisions cease,
And be yourself our King of Peace.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to you, O Israel!"

expressing love...

It was during one of our last weeks in Mexico. The decision to leave was bearing heavily on our hearts--although we felt convinced that it was the right choice.

Many of our friends there, although motivated by love, were saying things that weren't making the leaving any easier. When we stated we needed to get help for Noah, they said there wasn't anything wrong with Noah. And then gave us all kinds of other options. "I went to a man who is so good with aligning the personalities of people. He can sense things... Like, maybe when Noah was in your womb, he didn't feel love from you. So, you can go and this man does hold therapy. Where you can hug Noah tightly and heal that rift that happened..." 

Or, when we stated that--plain and simple--we weren't even close to making it financially, some criticized our faith. "You just need to believe harder!" When we said, "What if God is purposefully shutting that door to guide us back Stateside?", they would shake their heads emphatically.

I also struggled with feeling misunderstood. The times were few and far between that I was able to travel out to the communities with Rey, and I often felt that was not well-looked upon by many.

So, it was hard. Jumping into a lot of unknowns... dealing with the really hard place we were in with Noah and our finances... trying to sell off everything and work out all the details of moving to a different country--I was feeling completely drained. On less than empty, really.

We were invited to a small house church a friend of ours helped to pastor. Rey shared a sermon that day. Towards the end of the service, people were going to the front for a time of prayer. I stood near my seat, praying silently and listening to the music.

Suddenly, I felt gentle hands press on my back. I heard the voice of a dear, older woman who faithfully served in the outreaches to the communities. She prayed loudly, as the music pounded around us, that God would wrap me in his arms. That he would uphold me as I upheld my husband. That he would give me wisdom as I mothered our children. "Because, father, we all see she really is a wonderful mother..." That he would give me peace as I went into an unknown situation. And, then, she said: "God, we place Noah into your hands. May they find the help they need for this precious boy. Heal his mind and body and give his parents what they need to raise him...." And then, folks, it was all over. Hot tears ran down my cheeks and I began to sob uncontrollably. To hear such words of affirmation, comfort and love spoken over me was like water onto parched soil.

As other women in the church saw my state, more encircled me... placing their hands on me and lifting high prayers for God's comfort, strength and healing. It was an amazing, unforgettable moment. A moment that I so felt God's love for me through the hands and prayers of these women. A moment that taught me... that I need to be like that one woman who acted on what I can only imagine was God's whisper to her: "Go pray for Liz."

Who do I need to be praying for today? Do I need to pray for them from my home? Or face to face with them? What about you? Who is someone in your circle that could be so renewed by truly being seen by you?

I pray we don't hold back from expressing love when we have the opportunity.

moments in time

I was out running errands the other night, and pulled into a parking spot. I soon realized an area junior high school was having their homecoming dance dinner at a restaurant in this shopping center, as I saw little, tiny babies dressed in suits and frilly dresses walking in groups. Of course, they weren't really babies, they just looked that way to my momma-eyes.

Out of the car next to me emerged a tall, thin boy in a shirt and tie, looking awkward, nervous and eager to escape his parents. He stood outside the car while his dad took a picture of him with his phone. He looked determinedly away, obviously not wanting to be delayed. After the picture was taken, with his dad's comments of how great he looked falling un-received to the ground--the boy began to stride away from mom and dad toward the shopping center. His shoulders were bunched up, his hands either shoved into his pockets or adjusting his tie or patting down his mop of brown hair.

I looked over at the mom. She stood away from the car--one hand on her chest, one hand waving. Her mouth moved, but no words came out. She looked to be on the verge of tears. I felt tears spring to my eyes, too. Will my boy have this same moment?

As I walked through the shopping center, groups of junior high kids passed me. Their electric energy was palpable; the level of glam they each were exhibiting was mind-numbing. They were so young! I thought about how hard those ages are, how high school is even harder. I imagined my own kids in that crowd. In that awful, awkward age where you are between child and adult. Where no one knows who they are and there is a lot of "mean" going around. I said a prayer for my babies, and these, to be strong.

Those moments are seared into my memory. I don't know what junior high and high school will be like for my babies, but I pray they make a safe passage. I pray that today I can be instilling in them the things they will need to make it through those years...

But, mostly...it makes me adore today even more.

Today, my boy grabs my face and insists we kiss on the lips when I drop him off at school. In front of his friends. With a big, big hug.

Today, my girl insists on wearing combinations of clothing that leave me equal parts embarrassed and pleased that she can feel so good in such an eye-watering array. "Aleni boot-a-full." Yes, you are.

Today, my boy wrestles me to the ground and makes me laugh until I cry when he says, "Don't worry about it, dollface." (Thanks, Penguins of Madagascar)

Today, my girl stealthily sneaks down the stairs at night after her brother is fast asleep... her freshly-bathed hair hanging in her eyes, thumb in her mouth. She tiptoes into my room, wanting just a few more moments of mommy-girl time before going off to sleep.

Today, my girl whispers to me her secrets, my boy asks me to snuggle him....they find me to tell me they love me.

And... they tell me--there truly is no way to freeze time? Maybe not, but in writing about it... at least it can be remembered.

growing pains...

The day has been absolutely filled... from start to finish... with God's calls--yet again--on my heart. Filling my heart with what can only be the tiniest glimpse into the pain that must fill his as he sees the suffering of his creations on this earth.

So many thoughts have run through my mind this day. So many tears have been shed. So much to be done. So few hours in the day. So many things to distract us from what is important.

But, for now. As my mind struggles to understand the enormity of it all... I cling to this verse:
"He has showed you, O man, what is good. And what does the LORD require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God."

And, to this simple application of this verse, that lofty word: "justice":

Understanding that "justice" means "to make right".

It is seeing things that aren't right... Realizing that if it wouldn't ever be right for me, wouldn't ever be right for my children, my family--then it isn't right for anyone else. And to ask God to be part of the righting of that wrong. To see the injustice, and to act out justice.

I sense God calling me to small obediences. Small against the extreme suffering and pain I see, but perhaps costly to my comfort and convenience. I resist the obeying, knowing that it will bring "disorder" into my schedule, upheaval to my routine...

But, I sense I can do nothing less than say "yes", and... "yes".

the why...

So. We only have ONE MORE CLASS left in our training to become foster parents!

I haven't written much here about our decision to go into fostering. It must be one of those things that is SUCH a big deal to us that I don't even have the words to write about it. But, as our classes draw to a close, and our paperwork steadily winds to an end, I am realizing the space of time between "before fostering" and "after fostering" is rapidly closing....and it gives me a sense of urgency to try to share about our journey, our hearts.

Ever since I was a young girl, I have always been sure I would adopt. I would pass hours imagining the circumstances leading up to the adoptions, the moments following. However, as my husband and I would talk about adoption, we just never came to a place of agreement or peace about it.

A little over a year ago, I was browsing through my Facebook page, and came across a horrifying image of a baby's body, moments after being aborted. While tears rolled down my cheeks at the thought of life ending in such a torturous way, I also found I was feeling a sense of--could I call it anger? Perhaps an emotion between frustration and anger... as I realized how easy it is for all of us to just hit the "share" button, and sit back self-righteously--having our lives in "perfect order", undefiled by "those sins".

I wondered what those images did to the already-wounded souls of women not so different from us who one day decided that was the best option they had. Who, perhaps feeling pressured into it, perhaps believing the lies so smoothly fed to them... made a decision that has haunted them ever since. Do those images, those words of pious uprightness, minister the love of our Savior to them?

I began thinking then about how often we are guilty of sitting around in our comfy circles, gripping our coffees and talking on and on about what should be happening. What is wrong with the world. How right we are. Endless talking... with no action. "Faith without works is dead."

We are so good about sighing-- "wishing" we could do something... and convincing each other that "there's really nothing we can do". The problem is too big. I am too busy already. "Let's say a prayer for that..."

While I know that not all of us are to do the same things as the other... I also know (from living inside my body) that it is sooo easy to just avoid service so as to remain comfortable. I don't want comfort to become a god.

As I pondered these things, I began thinking--what can be done about the sacredness of life? And, immediately I thought: "Honor the lives that are right now here with us in this world." 

As I thought of orphans and children in the foster care system--I realized: These lives are perhaps the very ones that the "learned" of the world would have advised should have been aborted. That thought shook me to my core. I realized that--setting aside whatever caused each child to be placed for adoption or fostering--at least their mom decided to give them the chance to live. What a gift life is--and what a gift it is to be used to show love to each life.

So, Rey and I began talking about looking into opening our home to foster children. We both felt pretty quickly that this is where God was leading us and began taking steps to educate ourselves on what was involved in fostering.

A lot of that information you can find for yourself online... but the classes to become foster parents has really just opened our eyes to the tragedies that thousands (I believe it's over 50,000 kiddos in the US) are suffering at the hands of those who are supposed to be protecting them.

It is an ugly truth. The glaring awfulness of it is enough to make you want to turn away from it. Shield your face from the knowledge, turn your back because it's easier to ignore it than it is to face it. But, how can we not face it? How can we not educate ourselves?

I know that the honest truth is that not everyone can--or should--foster/adopt. But, I know there is a WHOLE lot more that we can each be doing for our youth. Educate yourself on the situation. Call some adoption/foster agencies in town and ask them how you can help. Maybe even painting/decorating the family visiting room at the agency. Perhaps they will tell you about a program you can offer your services as a after-school tutor. See if your church has a ministry for the parents who are adopting and fostering--maybe you could offer to bring them supper.

We all need each other on this. We really do.  
I must now share that as the time grows closer, I have felt myself growing more tense and nervous. We have stated we are willing to foster a child between the ages of 0-24 months, but that's the only specifics we think we have. It's like being pregnant, but not having any idea when you're due--or if you're having a newborn baby boy--or a toddler girl. I also know that we could be receiving the gift of a child with special needs--or the gift of an easy-going baby. I know schedules will change, family dynamics will shift. It's a lot going on!

As I was in church this morning, I realized that my anxiety was really rooted in a whole lot of fears about the "what-ifs" of our situation. I also know that we will find ourselves under the scrutiny of many and in roles we haven't been in before and grow tense just thinking about it. Recognizing my emotions being based in fear was a big help for me--because I was really able to.... again... open my hands and surrender this to God.

From a song in service this morning:
"...Oh, my God, He will not delay 

My refuge and strength always 

I will not   fear, His promise is true 

My God will come through always, always...

.....I lift my eyes up, my help comes from the Lord "

  

hope

This isn't news to anyone: Things are looking pretty dark "out there". New reports seem bleaker. Common sense seems to be less and less common. Darkness seems more oppressive.

Adding on to this, I have just sensed more of this feeling of "doom" from many of those I come in contact with. Like, we are just all resigned to our fate, waiting for whatever horrible thing is around the corner.

I hear dismal reports of what our generation is choosing, I see things that depress even the most optimistic of us. Why are we--the young adults of our nation--seemingly so without backbone? So without the pride of a job well-done, so without the determination and strength of will that typified those who built this nation? Why do we seem "fine" with just drifting downstream? Why do strong, able-bodied people just sit back and watch TV, waiting for the government to pay for their lifestyles and whining all the while? What would it take to shock a little life back into this generation--cause them to stand up as responsible adults, full of passion and fire?

I grow sad seeing us young adults--right at that place where we are definitely adults, but still young enough to have a lot of life in front of us--I tire of just seeing us wanting to be invisible. Of not wanting to stand for any one thing (unless we already know its a majority thing). I can often even see it in myself.. Not possessing that... what else can I call it? Passion for living! Zest! Fullness of purpose and healthy drive! Assurance. Determination. Calling. Conviction.

I see a much higher percentage of us young adults who almost appear to just wish to blend in: "Please don't call me out! I am happy being in my own comfort zone!"

All of this can combine into a sense of hopelessness, pessimism for what the future holds. Passivity.

And yet.

I know God has his hand on us.

I know God is calling out his leaders once again. I know that from the shapeless, shadowy masses, his voice is drawing out bold voices, bright lives that will rise for his glory.

I know God has dreams for us. That where the darkness is the greatest-- there light is made even more visible.

Just a couple weeks ago, at church, my heart was stirred as a young man, around my age, made his way to the front of the church during worship. With great conviction, his voice rang out in a passionate cry to God's people. He pleaded with us to draw close to God, to proclaim his name without fear. While his words spoke to me, it was his passion that moved me. He stood. He moved. He became visible. He raised his voice. It gave me hope. I felt God whispering to my spirit: "There is still hope for this generation. I still have dreams for you."

And that, my friends, makes all the difference.

It means that it's not enough to sit silently while wrong is proclaimed in the streets. It awakens me--why would I want to blend in to something that is dying, something that is without hope, something that has given up long ago? It gives me purpose and confidence: we can handle mockery when we have God's guiding light in our souls.

Let's stand up and be counted. Let's lift our voices, clear and bright as a trumpet's call. Let's be light, let's be hope.

Lord, move in this nation.

Lord, move through me.

remembering...and thankful

 Noah getting a bucket bath outside, when we ran out of water inside

I hesitate to post this... afraid that my rememberings will in some way appear like I am saying what we had before was bad and what we have now is good. Not at all. In both places, we were/are above and beyond blessed and held in God's hand.  Every experience plays a part in the tapestry of our lives, and I feel that remembering is a part of contentment, gratefulness. I don't want to forget what it was like... nor what it may be like again if/when God sees fit to take us back where we were....

Every time I bump the temperature button up or down a few degrees, I remember. I remember living first in a climate that the highs reached to 104 much of the year... the nights that cooled down to the 80s. I remember the house was made of cement, hemmed into a row of other cement houses and that there was hardly ever a breeze I could get to come through the windows. I remember not having an air conditioner there for several months, at the end of my pregnancy. Keeping the curtains pulled shut all day long, hoping to keep the house cooler. Dragging the mattress out to the living room floor at night, hoping for more of a breeze. Sweating all the time, cold showers in the middle of the night to try to cool down. I remember filling a bucket with water and ice, sitting with my feet in the water--thinking cold thoughts. We did finally get an air conditioning unit, used from Rey's boss, and installed it in the bedroom. The bedroom was a glorious cold. We kept that poor machine on high day and night most of the time. It managed to keep the rest of the house a tepid temperature.

I remember the cold, how it came with the rain... causing the wall to pour down with condensation. Hot cement meeting with a rapid temperature drop. One wall unit blasting on Noah's crib, keeping him bundled, his crib swaddled in thick quilts.

I remember the next house we lived in, much more comfortable. It was 3rd floor, so there was much more of a breeze. The cold months were a little harder, but not bad with a large, gas heater we were given.

The third house, we found, would burn like a toaster oven as the sun poured through the floor-to-ceiling (uninsulated) windows. Noah would wake up from his nap with nose bleeds from the heat. In the cold months, those same windows made keeping it warm a near impossibility. I remember trying (highly dangerous) inventions involving metal piping from the gas heater to the kids rooms. Sleeping in several layers of clothes, a bathrobe, socks.

I remember basically dealing with living in a house just about the same temperature as it was outdoors. So now, as I adjust our family's temperature comfort with a mere pressure of my fingertip, I stop and say "thanks". Not because it is better, because it is so much easier.  

I also am grateful for insulated windows and doors that don't gap open at the bottom. The houses I lived in never had insulated windows and hardly ever had screens. The doors leading to the outdoors usually had about an 1" gap between the floor and the door. One time, as I was reading, I looked up to see a mouse run in under the door. He looked like he knew what he was doing. Keeping a clean house was pretty much a laugh with the dust blowing in from everywhere.

I have it so easy now.

Every house I lived in before had roof issues. The rain would discover leaks in the roof, and we would wander around the house placing buckets, emptying others. No such problems now.

In the first house we lived, we didn't have a water heater for several months. Hot showers are quite possibly the "thing" I can't live without, so it was sad there for a while ;) When we did have a water heater, we conserved gas by only lighting it about 20 minutes before a shower. As soon as we were done, we would go turn off the flame. The water heaters were always located outside, so it would involve a quick check to make sure no neighbors were lurking around to catch me with crazy bed hair and in pajamas. It also meant that if I needed to do an "emergency" bath with the kiddos (think spit-up, mud, whatever kids do), it was often quicker to just boil up a pot of water on the stove and add it in to their cold bath water. I also washed dishes in cold water..... Now, every time I turn the hot water faucet, hot water comes out. Glorious.

In the houses I lived before, there was always "issues" with the water and electricity supply. In some places, the electricity would go off for a couple hours every week, without warning. Sometimes for days at a time. The same with the water. Most houses have a water tank attached to them. Some fill constantly, some once a day. Sometimes the water would be out for days at a time. Just disappear mid-shower or while running a load of laundry. Haven't had that happen yet here.

The clothes dryer! On sunny days, I often miss hanging out the laundry (a clothesline was one of the first things we installed at this new house)... but, when the weather is bad--or even just for convenience--how nice it is to, again, just push a button and--voila: dry clothes.

There were big stretches of time that I didn't have a vehicle. That made for long days with nowhere to go! And, speaking of places to go... I often struggled with finding places to take the babies even when I did have a vehicle. Things definitely were not as "kid-friendly" and even playgrounds often looked like attempts to get rid of children (broken glass, broken equipment, holes). Now, I have a vehicle...and places to go!

Also, I was often warned against going out "alone". Sometimes, it wasn't the safest thing to be an American girl out and about. Sometimes it wasn't a safety issue as much as an "annoyance" issue (read: drunk guys trying to get chatty). So, even if I had a place in mind and a way to get there, I would usually be trying to make sure it might be at a "safe" time of day to be able to get out and enjoy it. Now, such thoughts don't even cross my mind.

I guess my point in remembering all these things is--I don't ever want to forget what it was like. I don't ever want to become dependent on "easy". I don't want "easy" to become my idol. I don't want comfort to become a god. I want to be content--in plenty and in lack. I want to be grateful--for the central heat/air...and for the drafty doors. I love being able to experience such different things in life. And I want them to remain that way-- experiences. Not good or bad. Not rights or necessities. Not curses or badges of honor. In both places, I am in God's will.... and I love how He carries us. I love His adventures.

whispers

The words were whispered forcefully. Whispered with confidence--as if the whisperer already knew their power: "If you don't, I won't be your friend."

And I... watched. Watched my little boy's face change from the shine of easy play to the trembling of acquiescence.

My boy. We've worked so hard on the idea of cooperative play. Of being a good friend. Of going along with other people's ideas. Of sharing and being kind. And yet, I see that this is not all I need to teach. My boy is about the best kind of friend there is. Fiercely loyal. The kind of friend that--when separated from his them--talks about them, dreams up things they could do together, makes them notes and art projects.
What to do when our friends--people--don't treat us right? What should my tender boy do? I watched tears well up in his eyes as he struggled to find the right action, relieved when an adult stepped in.

Today, I took advantage of a quiet moment to pull him aside and talk.

"Noé, look at mommy. What do you think you should do if someone says: 'I won't be your friend'?"

Semi-distracted, Noé looks at me and shrugs, "I don't know."

I asked him to really look at me. Focus. "Noé, how about if Noé has a toy in his hand. And someone comes to Noé and says," I lean in towards him, "Noé, give me the toy now or I won't be your friend!"
And, my heart shattered into a million pieces. Because in that second, my boy's precious face crumpled up and tears began pouring down his face.

My throat closed up and I said, "Oh, baby. That person is being so mean to Noé, aren't they? Those are mean words, right?"

Noé nodded, tears still rolling down his sweet cheeks, little gasping breaths.

"Noé, if someone says mean words, it's ok for Noé to say, 'Don't be mean to me!' Because my Noé is a good friend. He is kind and gentle. Aren't you?"

A strangled, "Yes!" came out and he hugged me hard. Then, embarrassed at himself, he scrubbed the tears off his cheeks and sucked in a deep breath of air.

"I love you so much, Noé. Don't ever be afraid to tell me or another daddy or mommy if someone is saying mean words to you."

"Ok."

Ah, my darling first-born. Life's lessons are hard. Now that you are not here, seeing me, I can let my own tears fall, feeling your pain. It is hard to keep a tender heart...and yet be strong. Hard to forgive, but require respect. I think we can learn, you and I.

life thoughts.

Deep thoughts these days. Pondering the horrific events that brought our year to a close in a school not so far away... thinking--as we all do--why? And how do you ever get to that place? There are all the outcries of "this is what should have been done"... "this is what should be done"... "this is what really happened". Often, I hesitate to lend my voice to the multitude--fearing that giving attention to such atrocity might encourage other troubled youngsters longing for fame to try something similar.

I don't have the answers. The reasons, or the solutions. I just began thinking of some huge differences between children growing up here in the US and children growing up in many other countries around the world. Thinking about how many of we American adults grew up in comfy circumstances, watching Disney movies that told us that there was no one in the world as special as us. That if we wished for something hard enough, we could have it. That there was nothing we could not be. That we deserved to be happy. We deserved to have whatever we wanted because we were that special. We heard that message in varying degrees from many sources. Perhaps our parents re-inforced it with us. Maybe we never had to do chores around the house, because our parents said we were the princesses and princes and our job was to just be a kid. Maybe we never had to pay for the things we got, because our parents felt that was the way to show love. It could have been that we excelled easily, we felt only praise and encouragement as we performed or did athletics as small children. "If you don't like it, if it doesn't make you feel good, we will find something that does!"

It seems that a large portion of us feel that things should be fair. Things should make sense. There shouldn't be suffering. It shouldn't be hard. We deserve comfort. We deserve what we want. We deserve to be famous--brimming with confidence and purpose.

I contrast that with other societies. Other societies that perhaps live, as a many-membered family in a one-room, dirt-floored home. Where--if the children have the luxury of going to school--probably will only go until they are old enough to be of service to the family. Where, from the age they could walk, they knew how much things "cost". Perhaps water had to be hauled by buckets, waited for in hours-long lines. Perhaps small portions of food took hours of work to attain--and when attained, had to be shared among too many mouths. Working, suffering, injustice, sickness, death, scarcity-- these things are as common as breathing to large portions of the worlds population from a very early age. Yet, amongst what we would see as horrible life-conditions, I often see faces calm with acceptance. Bright and genuine smiles that bring sparkles to the eyes.

People, sometimes I think we suffer too little. We have too much time on our hands. Recently, as I hear people saying, "I just need to find my purpose in life"... "What is my great calling??" (and, believe me... I have said those very words)... my mind immediately takes me to images of a man in India, pulling his rickshaw in the oppressive heat, the pouring rain. Hard, hard, thankless work day in, day out. Living in a one-room shack, jammed into an over-populated slum. But, his take on his life? He is very happy. He loves that his shack has a tarp on it... and he says that the open end of his shack brings in a "beautiful breeze". He says he has the greatest neighbors and his son's smile at the end of the day is what he lives for.

The point being--I don't think many the people who, from sunup to sundown, are just working to stay alive are falling into depression as the wonder what is the great calling they have on their life. They don't have that luxury.

I do think we need to live with purpose. I also know what that purpose is-- knowing God! Being known by Him. After that, I think it is learning to walk with Him, and to LOVE what He has given us, where He has us.

I also think we need to accept--maybe expect--suffering. Sickness. Death. Injustice. I think we need to be proactive in loving and sheltering our kids--but also in making sure they know that life is hard. Things don't make sense a lot of the time. There will be more things that are unfair than they can count.

We need to make sure we know that God does have individual plans for our lives. But, that those plans fit inside His bigger, universal plan. We are only a piece in His puzzle. We aren't on this earth to become famous, have everything we ever wanted or even make the world make sense. We are here to know God and love Him. To love people. To walk in humility.

Oh, how little we know humility! Humility: Head bowed, hands open. Humility: Acceptance. Humility: I've been wrong more times than I've been right. Humility: It isn't about how it affects me, how it makes me look, how it makes me feel. Humility: All I am for all He is. Humility: Everything I have I have been given. Humility: Abundance or scarcity--I am content.

I am grateful to live in a country where, oftentimes, all we need is a little willpower and elbow grease to attain our goals and get ahead in life. I also am becoming aware of just how detrimental it is to make a child feel that they are the center of the universe, that they are all-capable and in-fallible. The damage we do when we don't allow our children to experience hard work, understand suffering, see pain. How hard it is, then, for us to truly bow our heads to the Almighty when He begins to mold our life as He chooses. How much longer the road to maturity and usefulness can become.

As I seek to be inside of God's will for my life, I am also learning to rest in the fact that life is often daily. That--as long as I am close to Him--it is okay. I am learning that, perhaps, the thing that would please God most is that I am overflowing with joy in the exact situation, the exact portion, the exact place, He has me at this very moment.