My Uncle

~My Uncle & I on one of many trips to the Village~

(along with a friend who soon became an Uncle Lowell fan ;) )

How do you begin to put into words your memories of a person who has been so intertwined in your heart for so long? How do you grieve the loss of someone who's impact in your world can be seen at nearly every turn? I don't know. But, I do know that treasuring the memories and the impact, and recording it for my kids and their kids to have access to has to be a part of it. And, I know that my memories are memories shared by hundreds of other people, so, in my telling, it may also help to keep their treasured memories alive as well.

My first memories of my aunt and uncle was from when I was probably 7 years old. I say aunt and uncle, because--although it is my uncle we are mourning--the two are one: they are two halves of an orange, or two halves of an avocado, as they say in Mexico. Mi media naranja...mi aguacate. My little self saw them as almost celebrities, as my mom would excitedly tell us about how her sister and brother-in-law were serving Jesus in Mexico, and that they were coming to our house for a visit. I remember being obsessed with my beautiful baby girl cousin, Amanda, who must have been around 18 months at the time? Of course, I'm digging into my 7-year-old archive, and 7-year-olds are smart, but often need fact checking. Anyway, in the way of a child's memory, I have only snapshots of the excitement of the visits from our beloved Glicks. I have a vivid memory of the way Uncle Lowell was obviously and madly in love with his Amanda. He would excitedly tell us about how quickly she was picking up Spanish and how smart she was. We, as monolingual Midwesterners, were bowled over by the idea of a toddler who could speak Spanish and English! What?! I also remember him raising Amanda high in the air over his head so she could touch the fan blades and us all thinking that was just the funnest thing ever. Just remember-- 7 years old. ;)  

Uncle Lowell was a master storyteller. I loved trying to be a fly on the wall and listen in on all the amazing stories of what life in Mexico was like. His love for the adventure permeated every story. He was always up for anything people suggested... and always able to roll with challenges and setbacks. Two necessities for living in a different country.

The other day, I was going through a box of old keepsakes, and I came across letters written to me by my Aunt Sheri when I was in this age range. They were beautiful letters, telling fun little stories about life in Mexico, often cute stories about her girls, and signed in love. I know those letters also made my connection to the Glicks that much more real, and made the idea of life in Mexico become one that lived in my mind. 

We loved our visits from the Glicks so much, that at one point, my older sister and I had created a whole strategy of how we were going to go become part of their world.  It was fool-proof. My sister must have been around 16, so I would have been around 13. The idea was to take a little Ford Ranger truck with a topper on the back. The topper was essential because we were going to put a mattress in the back to sleep in on our drive to the far-off land of Mexico. I remember my sister also felt that taking her keyboard was a must, because she played well and that could surely be of use to the church in Mexico. I, as a stellar younger sister, was 100% on board with this plan. Really, the only thing was to wait until we were old enough, we thought. Oh, yeah. And probably learning Spanish would be a good thing. But, how hard could that be?

You'll be shocked to discover that we never did get that Ford Ranger. What actually happened, was that in December of 2002 (when I was 19), I felt like I had won the lottery. I was able to take my first trip to Mexico (!!!) with my super-cool older brother (!!!). I was beyond thrilled. We would be staying in Queretaro with the Glicks, and I had about a year of college Spanish under my belt, so I was excited to try to practice it.

That trip surpassed every one of my childhood imaginations of the adventure and beauty of life in Mexico. Even though Mexico had lived in my mind for so many years~ I really knew next to nothing about it. For example, I had.no.idea. that Mexico had mountains! I truly thought that it was completely flat and covered in cactus (cringe). I also had no idea the Mexico had states, just like the US. Amazing. Flying into Mexico City and navigating the airport, hearing only Spanish, was both exhilarating and overwhelming. Seeing the smiling faces of our aunt and uncle waiting for us instantly made that huge, unfamiliar place feel like home. 

Uncle Lowell loved to drive. He was an expert at navigating often dangerous and precarious roads with an ease that did not give away just how difficult of a task that is. City streets in Mexico are extremely narrow, and often lined on both sides with parked cars. I would be sweating through my clothing each time I'd inch through, and both he and Aunt Sheri had figured out how to get through the streets like it was easy. But, the open roads and long stretches of driving was the driving he loved. He often would tell us with pride how he came from a family of truck drivers, so he thought it was in his blood. It's a good thing he loved to drive, and that he was a fearless driver, because most of his ministry was to remote places where that love and skill were required. I mention his driving now, because I first got to see his driving skills right then-- navigating the chaos of Mexico City traffic. Am I exaggerating when I say there are 17 lanes of traffic with NO lines on the road to demarcate who goes where? You may never know.... 

I felt so extremely blessed and honored that on this trip, I got to be part of a "real missionary adventure", because we got to go with an outreach team to a brand new mountain village in a tropical mountain area (oh, yes. Tropical. Did I tell you Mexico is not all flat desert? Okay, good.) several hours away. We arrived unannounced to the village, and found a friendly face and began making connections. Although the man we met (Nicolas) had never met us before, he allowed all 15 in our group to stay at his house for 2 days and nights. I could tell hundreds of stories from this trip alone, but I am really only telling you all that to give you an idea of the kind of work the Glicks do. So we stayed, and connected, and had some open-air services, and slept on the floor of their house, and ate plantains from the trees growing in their yard... 

Here's a good Uncle Lowell story. In the middle of the second day, a young man came running. "La vibora, la vibora!!!" I finally found out that vibora meant "big snake", and that the vibora had been KILLING AND EATING their baby goats (yikes)... and, of course, joined the mob running towards the vibora, as you do. We all circled a tree where the vibora had gone up, and a young man climbed the tree with a machete. He followed the snake all the way up to the top, and then flicked the machete under it--causing it to soar from the tree, through the air over our heads. The sight of looking up at the S-shaped snake body falling above our heads, silhouetted against the blue sky, is forever etched in my mind. You know, before I screamed and ran. Menfolk ran to the snake on the ground and chopped it's head off, and then we all crowded around it to be amazed. 

The snake was over 5-foot long, and so wide that when I tried to put both hands around it, my fingers didn't touch. That snake was held up and carried like a trophy back up the dusty road to the house, and we all followed behind. It was hung, head down, from the clothes line, to allow the blood to drain out. The craziest thing? Even headless, the whole snake would lunge at anyone who came within a certain distance of it.

This brings us to the Uncle Lowell part of the story... the snake was then cut into about 3" sections and fried in a pan over the fire. And Uncle Lowell was so excited to add it to the list of crazy, adventurous things he had eaten. And, I was excited to make my first entry to my personal "crazy eats" list. The things Uncle Lowell had eaten throughout his life were one of his favorite things to talk about, and some of my favorite stories to hear (even though most of them would have me saying, "Ewww! I can't believe you could eat that!"). On one of my last visits, he was mentioning that he thought skunk meat was the last one he hadn't tried yet, so he was thinking about making that happen. :) 

He taught us that to eat the food offered to us is to honor the person giving the food. For people coming from the US, it is often challenging to eat the food that is offered, but it was a lesson I was so thankful to be taught. He would tell a story about a group of youth who came who were given Menudo (basically, a soup broth with intestines as the protein). He said the girls were all crying into their soup, and the boys were using the intestine pieces to form pretend binoculars. He would laugh through his embarrassment of reliving that moment and say, "Just don't do that!"  

Uncle Lowell also loved the beach. So, that first trip introduced me to a "real" Mexican beach in Veracruz, Mexico called Chachalaca. It was not a resort, it was a room on top of a beachside building. It was not found by making reservations, but by getting to the town and then driving around asking locals if they knew of anyone who rented rooms. The adventure of this was so exciting to me then... I can imagine I would have found it less enchanting as a mom. Smile. But, that is the great thing about Aunt Sheri. She brings her amazing gift for organization to the mix, but also rolled with the things in Mexico that can't be quite as organized and planned out as in the US. 

We also got to go with Uncle Lowell to some of his weekly outreaches to remote villages. We got to meet families who were scraping by to survive day-to-day, but whose faces lit up when it came time to sing along with Uncle Lowell on his guitar, and who entered in wholeheartedly when he would open scripture to discuss with them.

Uncle Lowell's gentle sense of humor was also a trademark. I remember once, I think in that first or second trip to Mexico, when my Spanish knowledge was still so limited-- I found myself in a carload of only Spanish speakers. And there was a young man who was speaking incredibly fast and with a lot of idioms I hadn't learned yet. As I listened intensely, trying to keep up with his story, Uncle Lowell caught my eye in the rearview mirror. He must have seen my laser focus, because he said, "How much of that do you think you caught?" So, I told my version of what I thought I had heard. He chuckled with delight at my version, and said, "Well, not quite", and proceeded to tell me what was actually being said. But, his humor never felt cutting or embarrassing. Always fun and inclusive.

I share so many details from this trip because I think it can so vividly show how my love for Mexico was set on fire during that visit. And, this relates to Uncle Lowell because his passionate, overflowing love for Mexico so permeated every part of him, that it was contagious. This is the part where I say, I can look around and see things I love around me... that I know partially came through me "catching" his passion for those things. 

Would I have been open to marrying a man from Mexico and living in Mexico if it weren't for them? Would I love Marcos Witt and be instantly returned to being in the car with Uncle Lowell when I hear it, if it weren't for the hours of bouncing along dirt roads with that on in the background? Would I be up for trying crazy foods, have beautiful children with Mexican heritage... if it weren't for them? Would I have as much love, hope, and compassion for the complexities of Mexico, if it weren't for seeing that modeled in them?

All of these words come from me sharing just one of my visits to Mexico. It does not even bring into account the way they supported us (even financially) while we lived in Mexico. It does not speak to the 2 years of ministry we spent together, and the ways he mentored Rey and brought him in, like a father Rey had never had. It doesn't speak to the grace bestowed when we had to make the heart-wrenching decision to come back to the States, it doesn't mention the years of help and collaboration with Tribal Designs. It doesn't speak to the early morning airport runs, the hours and hours of driving to the village and back, the hospitality. It doesn't speak to the way his love was also felt by our kids. 

[More] Things I love about Uncle Lowell:

-His humility, love for God, prayer life and worship

I think these all 3 go together. Prayer was woven throughout his daily life. I remember during one of my first visits, passing by as he knelt alone in prayer before heading out to the outreach of the day. His humility would also cause him to ask to be prayed over at any chance he got. He would ask my aunt to pray over him before he would leave for the day, he would ask people he was visiting with to pray before ending the visit, he would respond to offers for prayer immediately. I know my own pride often impedes me from practicing this humble discipline, so watching him live that out has served to instruct me. His love for God would show up in instantaneous and whole-hearted worship no matter where he found himself. He could step into any worship setting--no matter how unfamiliar to him--and instantly move into the presence of the Lord. Another powerful instruction for me.

-The bounce in his step

It is interesting how it often comes down to the smallest things, right? But, this was one of my favorite things. He always seemed to meet each day, each interaction, with that bounce in his step. That optimism and open-heartedness. And, of course, that joy. 

-The twinkle in his eye when he was just about to tell his punch line

As I mentioned, Uncle Lowell was a master storyteller... and most of his stories led up to a hilarious ending. So, when we would be getting close to that hilarious ending, I loved watching how excited he would get to clue us in on what he already knew we would burst into laugher over. I also loved that, even when I knew he'd told the story multiple times before, he'd tell it with equal enthusiasm each time.

-His patience and gentleness

To live the life he and Aunt Sheri do requires infinite patience. The dictionary says patience is: "the capacity to accept or tolerate delay, trouble, or suffering without getting angry or upset." Oh, how often this virtue has been required of them. Daily. They have definitely shown the grace of learning to live joyfully with very little, to bear up under hardship and discomforts with a spirit of gratitude and acceptance... This also has taught me much. Uncle Lowell's gentleness was one of his defining characteristics, and it coupled with his eternal optimism of "what could be". Of the good that could be coming. Of the break-throughs that could happen, of the life transformations possibly right around the corner. Endlessly patient and forbearing, I also found there to be a fierceness under there, when it came to anything that could cause harm to his girls or his people. 

His passing leaves an unfillable void in our lives. He is irreplaceable. And, he was a precious gift to all of us that got to love him, be loved by him, and share life with him.

Uncle Lowell, thank you for teaching me throughout my life simply by the way you lived yours. And, even your passing--which has happened so many years before we wanted it to--has taught me. It has taught me to not count on tomorrow, to not store up goals and dreams for "maybe later". It is teaching me to live now into whatever I feel God has for me, for Rey and for our family. This is not a gift I asked for or wanted. It is a gift I would have refused, if given the choice. But, since it has been given, I will take it and live into it the best I am able. 

 

Spilled Cereal

I realized today-- After the bowl of milk went flying,
And I (finally/at last/this once)
Chose the grace-filled response-- And I found myself under the table On hands and knees:
"This is my life. I am marking the days of my living Wiping the sticky off; Extending grace, Bowing low in service to my family-- Wiping up cereal I am thankful to have Off a floor I am thankful to have... A mess made by the ones I love." Cleaning up messes & spills.
Sometimes of the milk variety,
Sometimes of the people variety Doing this with love, tenderness and mindful gratitude .... When I stop and consider this From my place on my knees, My eyes sting with grateful tears
And my heart takes note-- Almost breathless at the thought:
Sometimes cleaning up spilled milk with grace is the most sacred way you could spend the moments of your life.

present

If you have gone on a looooong road trip with small children, you know the challenges. You know the desperation around day 2, hour 16 of being all trapped together in a small metal box on wheels. You know how the emotions crackle, frustration bubbles constantly beneath the surface. One might even call the experience traumatic. Might.

We made such a trip this past summer. Winding our way from south central Texas up through vast empty plains, large cities, more vast emptiness, rolling hills... and then finally the woodsy, stretched-out places of central Illinois.

This trip was one that we made feeling the pressure of an impending deadline: we needed to make it for a wedding, so we had to make the trip in no more than two days. We also were pinching pennies, so we stayed at the cheapest hotel we could find at the halfway point.

We did a ten hour day... and arrived at one of those scaryish economy hotels that are parked next to a freeway, surrounded by a field of busted cement and rows of semis. The rooms all face outward to exposed walkways. Ramshackle diners stood at the far end of the hotel parking lot, and the whole feel of the place was dismal. When I went in for our key, I was informed we were on the 3rd floor. Which meant trucking the kids and all our things up, up, up three flights of stairs. (And then make the trip back down, down, down for every random thing we'd forgotten in the van). However, as we climbed the metal stairs up to our room, all I could hear was our kids' excitement. Whhhatt?? We got to sleep all the way up here? SOOooooo cool!! Whoooaaa! Look how far we can see!! This is sooo awesome!!" And I thought, "Yes. Why not?" And, when it turned out that the hotel was noisy and stinky, I again tuned into what my kids were expressing... And they were expressing nothing. No frustration, no disgust. And I thought, "Yes. Why not?"

The next day we got on the road as quickly as we could. We wanted to put the next 8 hours behind us. About an hour out on the road, we felt the warning wobble of the van--and within minutes our rear tire was flat.

Even in this flat tire though, there was beauty. It happened early in the day, so the July heat that was ramping up still was at a lower temperature. It happened yards from an exit ramp. The exit ramp led to an abandoned gas station with the gas station free-standing roofs, which provided shade for Rey to work on the tire. The gas station was gutted, graffitied and overgrown with tall grass and weeds. An abandoned van was left parked outside it. There was broken glass littered everywhere. And again, I tuned into the kids. "What an adventure! Oh, my gosh! Why do you think this gas station is empty? Why did noone what their van? Hey, let's break rocks with a hammer... Hey--look over here...!" And, then I thought, "Yes. Why not?"

Rey put the spare tire on the van and it got us another hour down the road to a Walmart, where we were able to purchase a replacement tire. The wait was around 2 hours. But, we were in an air conditioned place. With food for lunch. And a toy aisle to distract. No complaints from the kids.

That day stretched into infinity. We started and ended the day in that van. Our planned 8 hour drive turned into an almost 12 hour ordeal. Yes, the last couple hours--driving in the dark down unfamiliar country roads--were hard and plain awful. I felt suspended in some horrible dream at certain moments... but, upon arriving, Rey and I looked at each other so very pleased. So happy to know that there is a way to go through hard and yuck and not turn on each other. Not make bad worse.

I don't think it was by accident that the book I had along with me for the ride was Shauna Niequest's Bread and Wine. It was definitely one of my top favorite books that I read in 2015. Among the many things I took away from the book was this thought:

That is, being there. Where you are. And really being present. Not wishing it away, not trying to micromanage or perfect it. But just experience it, and live it fully aware.

I found in my phone a note a made during the trip, and it was so good to go back to it. I wrote:

Often, the attitudes that need adjusting in any given group are the attitudes of the grown ups. The children are often happy to be happy, to be in the moment, on the journey. Their first reaction to many new experiences is a natural awe, joy & sense of adventure. I am finding out that more and more, the best thing I can do is follow my kids' lead. Their need for interaction, connection, time. To tune my rhythms more finely to theirs seems the greatest thing I can do. To not be so consumed and frustrated by how they are not fitting into "my plan" and "schedule", but learning to gracefully bend into their lack of future-controlling. I am learning to more quickly yield my plans to their needs; to give honor to their ideas and dreams; to live life's full joy in the moment that is--not squelching it by wishing it was something that it's not.

Have you seen this to be true? That often we can be taught so much about right attitudes in life if we see the situation through our child's eyes? It's amazing how many "horribly annoying inconveniences" can melt away when we just don't take it so seriously and choose to find the joy even in (maybe especially in...?) the unplanned.

I am a tree.
I am a butterfly.
And, my home is on the Mountain.

From here, where my roots go down deep
I can see far
I can see valleys, I can see higher mountains
My bark is rough, scarred by those who have cut it and pierced it with their sharp carvings.
But, my rings are many.
They circle around within, telling the story of the days I've marked,
My life pressed out in diameters white,
Even more to be made.
But, they don't tell it all--
The rings speak of years, but they don't tell about the fruit,
The nests,
The branches snapped in the storms... the weight of the ice, the bending of the wind.
My roots go down, while my arms stretch out high;
They reach up towards the heavens, scratching at it,
Longing for it.
They stretch wide, giving home and protection.
I am a tree.

My colorful, delicate wings carry me high over these ridges.
They, perhaps, make you think that there's not much there--
Not much substance, not much strength.
But, my wings have carried me far. And up.
Don't judge me by the soft flutter of my wings,
As I worship with my twirl and my swirl.
Maddening in unpredictability, unsteady perhaps.
But still, this is my dance.
I am a butterfly.

This is where I make my home.
To some, this Mountain may seem formidable and unapproachable.
But here....
I have found my stability, my strength
The mass of this Mountain fills me with its grandeur,
Even on days that leave me feeling small.
It's height takes me up, where I want to be.
The crags and valleys give road to the sparkling eddies of water,
The trickles of small streams,
The rush of towering waterfalls.
The sparkling, the fragrance, the music of it.
It is life to me.
My home is on the Mountain.

shine

On a gloomy, sticky morning... this flower decided to open its petals. While all the flowers around it remained dry, brown, withered.... this flower lifted up its head and shone yellow. In a not-much-visited corner of the world, among browness and dirt and mud.... it bloomed. It soaked in the small rainshower that came to it the previous day, and did not hoard it--anxiously imagining the heat and dryness to come. It didn't wonder "What's even the point, no one's going to notice?" It received the water, it released its effect. Smiled, nodded, and spread beauty & light to all who passed by.


Sometimes I struggle...sometimes I'm more like the brown withered stuff around the flower. Soaking in the rain, feeling the hurt of scarcity--wanting to keep it to myself. Sometimes, I feel too tired to shine. Sometimes, I want other flowers to provide me with their beauty; sometimes I wonder if my efforts are even worth it.


But then I'm reminded: Beauty is no less beautiful when it shines alone... And, it shines most when it shines in a hard, dark place.

summer lessons

Summer's over. And, it kinda makes me sad. Oh, no. I'm not harboring any silent wishes to be in charge of schooling my kiddos--but, I did feel like we were getting to a great place of synchronization. Or, maybe...I felt like I was just opening my eyes to a big "mommy-ing" revelation. 
Throughout the summer, I felt like I was getting bits and pieces of a bigger lesson (ever get that feeling?)... and the week before school started--I felt that many of the pieces came together, so I grabbed my phone, and began furiously typing thoughts as they came (in between dinner prep and cleaning up and....). Here are those thoughts, which I think I need to post somewhere in my house, to keep them fresh in my mind. I'm so good at forgetting.

Being a good mom means learning to live in the tension of constant companionship. Learning to lean into it--to feel the prickle of annoyance or desire for solitude... and just sit with it for a while. Until you are used to it. Learning that this thing--this having new appendages, being wanted at every moment--though draining, is not meant to be escaped from, sighed over or bemoaned. Mothering is not our suffocation, stifling or suppression. It is our wings, our roots, our legacy.

I cannot do "checked out" mothering. Going through the motions, while my heart, mind and soul are somewhere else. Community--companionship--is only right and healthful when I am fully myself...my God-dreamed, God-formed self. When I am fully alive, fully living, fully accepting, fully giving. When I can not only laugh at the future--but at the messes and the bodies all tangled together on top of me...just wanting to be closer. When I lean in, seeking to sow love, perspective and security--while tenderly exploring the souls doing life with me. Seeking moments to bring them along side of me in my quiet times, my work times--rather than always retreating into my own mind and space, Avoiding the "I deserve this time away from the leeches" mentality... knowing I have sometimes found that "me time" can be the unhealthiest thing...especially when accompanied by martyr-like moans and groans.

I am the woman of the house. I am powerful. I create the spaces, I set the tones, I build the home. Learning to "do" community comes easier to some of us--thanks to differences in the home culture you were brought up in and/or your own personality. Whether or not you are naturally a "people-person", I am coming to believe that we can only truly learn to do deep, authentic community when we first practice it in our homes... and in this setting, I am the initiator. My tone makes or breaks the moment; my tempo nurtures or prods; my inward focus can miss the life marching by--or can be turned outwards and bring joy-filled focus to those around.

Being the woman of your house, the mother of your children is a hefty calling. It is hard and sometimes heavy--but I believe it can also be our salvation, when we embrace it and allow us to mold us. When we choose to shine our brightest light, be our best selves, in our homes. To strangle those dark whispers in the background of our minds that swear to us that we are poor, suppressed, down-trodden individuals... being sucked of our life and our potential. When we realize that these little patience-needers also help shine the light on areas within ourselves not fully yielded to God, not yet relinquished to His kingdom. When we believe that each child in our home has been divinely "matched" to us by God... we can open our hearts and souls to them, to this "job", and dive into sharing life--really living--with these kids. These wonders. These disciples.

what you didn't know about the 3rd child.

So, I'm going to write this post as if I am sharing something that is true to all of us. I'm going to say "you" a lot, so it makes me feel like this is a common thing, and not just me! And, these are things I am learning with #3-- perhaps for you you learned them on #1... or won't feel this until kid #5... But, at some point, I think all mommas of multiples get these feelings! Also, my third is 6 months old. I'm sure I'll be writing a whole 'nother post when she is six years old!

People probably tried to tell me these things, but some things must be experienced to be understood... so, without further delay, here are "20 Things To Know for #Three":

1. No matter how many children you have, a new baby is still a new baby. Somehow people will think you're this child expert by number three, and will back away from you. "Oh, you already know this... Oh, you don't need any help... Oh, you're a pro..."

Um. No. Actually, no matter how small the human... he or she is still a human, having arrived with their personality already present... The first weeks are not only weeks of recovery, they are also weeks of getting to know this new little person who arrived to your home. The baby is getting to know you, too... Getting to know your cues, your touch, your ways... It's a lot! So, no matter what number, we are all still starting over. And it's still overwhelming!

2. With the third, you will feel pressure to get it all perfect. You won't. Somehow it seems that the pressure/guilt is more with the third... Even when people say things like, "Oh, honey. Don't work so hard. Just relax and soak in this time with your babies"--it can feel like a guilt attack... Because, yes. That sounds really nice. But, hello!? Who's going to keep things going if I "sit and soak"? (PS: If you really want a new momma to feel relaxed and joyful, please don't say that line to her. Say something like, "Hey, can I swing by and hold your baby for you for a while? Or order you a pizza? Or take your big kids to the park?" That will actually alleviate some pressure, instead of adding some.)

3. There will be a season of time (let's say around week 4 of life--right when the baby is getting really needy)... that you will lay awake at night. Panicking. How will you do this? You didn't even get a shower today! Did you even talk to your oldest? Did we do dinner? What's happening???!

4. When people talk about how easy/great it is to have large families--they often smile from a lofty pinnacle of wisdom and say: "Remember, love multiplies... It doesn't divide." Uh, yeah. But, they forget about that whole time thing. Love multiplies... but, time on the other hand. It breaks, fractures, dissipates.

I remember that with Noe and Aleni, I felt like time dragged on and on... I often doubted if I had the fortitude to make it to lunch time--let alone until the end of the day. Now, I felt like I woke up... did a lot of things while accomplishing nothing... and then, five minutes later, the day was over. The days literally flew by, leaving me blinking and wondering what had just happened? And, breathless knowing that another day loomed ahead of me, just hours away.

5. You now live in the land of the "trade-off". You can't do it all anymore. So, activities become divided up into tiers. The activities shift up or down to different tiers as time changes... for now, my tiers are shaking out a bit like this:

Tier One: Necessary for Daily Life
-Feeding hungry tummies
-Generally straightening our living area
-Laundry (Washing/Drying)
-Baths
(and, most days, especially at the beginning--THAT takes ALL.DAY. Doubt me if you will.)

Tier Two: Possibly get done Every Day
-Fun times with kids
-Actual time with Rey
-Putting laundry away
-Preparing good food (not just whatever I can grab/order pizza)
-Makeup/Hair
-Kid's homework

Tier Three: Would Love to Get to Every Day
-Exercise
-Organize/deep clean anything

Tier Four: Fun Extras (aka: Insert Giggles Here)
-Date Nights
-Hobbies
-Find clothes that don't smell like poop/spit up
-Chat/correspond with friends

So, eventually you learn to only expect tier one from yourself... to pat yourself on the back if you make it to tier two... to feel like supermom if you make it to tier three... and to think you won the lottery if tier four happens.

6. Not the same, but related: You will find you have a fast-forward mode you now live in. Slow and steady no longer wins the day. You also possess a turbo mode, for special occasions.

7. Again, the time thing. I'm telling you: Don't get behind! (snicker) I know, right? But, really. Try to pick up as you go, stay up late to get those dishes washed, wake up early to get the clothes laid out. You will thank me.

8. Also, equally but seemingly impossibly true: There's no such thing as "Getting ahead on your chores" or "Getting a jumpstart" on tomorrow.

Here's an example.
I recently stayed up way late, waiting for the last load of laundry to finish drying so I could put it away. I felt I had accomplished to impossible that day: I had really cleaned EVERY room in the house and was moments away from having washed, dried, folded and stored every piece of dirty laundry in the house.

I fell into bed, feeling full of happy thoughts and big hopes for an awesome day to come. Of course, that night one child wet the bed, the other crawled into bed with us after a bad dream and the baby decided to be awake from about 1-3 am... and then to be up for the day a little after 5 am.

So, kiss that notion of getting ahead goodbye. Just focus on #6. Whisper to yourself: "Keep on swimming" and that's about the best you can do!

9. Milestones will fly by. You will hear yourself saying, "How is it possible that you are already rolling over/scooting/ready for solid foods...? I just birthed you yesterday!"

I remember with Noe and Aleni, I was glued to the "What to Expect" book and analyzing their every "shortcoming" or seemingly advanced ability. I haven't even checked those lists this time. Oops.

10. You will become more choosy about "mom events".

With the first two, I was all, "Get me outta here! What? You have something for moms.... with childcare?? I don't need to know you. It's ok. I'll just sit here and stare at the wall!" Now, I'm more like, "What? Get everyone out to the van by a certain time? Pack up all the gear, get them all dressed and out the door--hopefully between spit ups and blow outs?? No, thanks. We're fine."

I'm even, sadly, more picky on just mom outings... "Fondue? When I could deep clean the front closet? Or even...." *sacred whisper* "...sleep????"

11. I used to think that the more kids you have, the more mellow you become. I now think that the more kids you have, the more it shines a spotlight on your natural tendencies and your personality. And, that either you will like what is now magnified for all to see, or you will be forced to re-evaluate and tweak what comes natural to you into what works for now.

Just for fun, let's use me as an example. I tend to be a more spontaneous, wait-till-the-last-minute, meandering type. It may surprise you to learn that it is not working out to well for me to stay that way now that I have 3... with 2 being in different schools with different schedules... and with the baby needing her naps and feedings to happen also. This momma is having to figure out a more planned-out, quick-moving existence. For now. ;)

12. There's a reason "The 3rd baby is always so laid back". Because they have no choice! From day one, they are dragged anywhere and everywhere... at the dictate of the older siblings. They have to learn to sleep when and where they can, put up with loud noises, crazy play and lots of time in the car.

13. Perfect family/sibling pictures are a thing of the past. For some reason, you can get perfect pictures of two children. Something about having more than two in a picture just guarantees that at least one will have an expression suggesting the need for an immediate intervention by a trained therapist.

14. Second-guessing what works for your family or letting yourself settle into mom guilt will rob your now of its joy.

15. Remember this: Nothing you do today will have any permanence (think: cleaning floors, feeding hungry mouths, organizing closets). . . EXCEPT for the time you took to stop and love on those closest to you.

16. You will--perhaps for the first time ever--amaze yourself.

There's something about doing everything the third time that really presses it into your memory. You see yourself getting down on the floor with your older two during your last weeks of pregnancy, and marvel at your resolve to be present and show love even though your body is screaming at you. You see yourself birth your child--again--and are amazed that, even though you knew what was coming, you did it again. You see yourself taking on the housework... getting kids to school... when just days ago you were in a bed bringing life into the world. Yet, you are able to do it because you want to be strong for your husband and be strong for your family. You see yourself pulling yourself out of bed time and time again to quiet a screaming infant, although you have not once rested throughout the day, and are amazed at the power of your will. You are amazed at your strength, your resolve, your love, your capacity--the richness of your life. And, maybe--for the first time ever--you will start to be okay with admitting your own amazingness. (*Yes, that's a word...*)

17. When you find out you're expecting your third, do yourself a big favor: Run out and pick up a box of this. Seriously. Not even being cute. I just used it yesterday, and I heard little birdies singing while butterflies fluttered around my head. And, it literally took all of 20 minutes. Start to finish

 Something about the third seems to bring in an abundance of some things... and a scarcity of others. (In the abundance column, let's say I'm referring to gray hairs. In the scarcity column--review #4-8. And add.... hmm... I'll whisper it in Spanish so you don't think I'm being impolite: *dinero*.)

So, yes. Don't delay. It's happiness in a box. An attitude adjustment for $6. And it comes in every shade.

18. Sanity is not found the schedule... it's all about the rhythm, the dance.

Women in general are called to live in flux. Throughout our lifetime, we fill many different and diverse roles--our bodies go through unparalleled changes, bear pain, carry, hold, embrace, nurture, heal... And, we must find beauty in the changes. Must find the grace and tenderness there. If we hold on to what used to be, to what could have been, should have been, we will see the joy begin to crumble. But, if we can lean into what is, hear the rhythm of the time and sway to it's beat... we will find our way!

What does that mean in daily life? For me now, it has been finding what works for today... trying to notice what the baby seems to be wanting and needing today... realizing it could all be different tomorrow... and trying to be okay with that.

19. If you don't like what you see in the mirror, find one with a more flattering light source. For real.

Lastly....
20. You will survive. You will find your new normal. Because... you are a mother. Or, in other words: you are amazing.

a reminder... to me...

As I struggle to find a new normal in my days (new job + new house + new baby + hubby twice to Mexico in 2 weeks + all 3 kids taking turns getting croup = whaaaa??!)... I find myself falling into bed feeling like a failure most days. Things I'd wanted to accomplish--half-started, or totally forgotten. (Why do we remember everything the moment we lie down?) If I am feeling even a little "together"--all I need to do is walk into a different room, see the disaster, and be reminded of how very little I have together!

This is not a post begging for help or looking for pity--I have a thousand other things I've been dying to write... But, this. This is the post I must write. To myself. A lifeline, when I am flailing to keep my head above water. When I am feeling like nothing is going right.

And, word to the wise--it is not a well put-together post. The rambling and lack of organization is a reflection of my mental state these last weeks.. but I hope you can find the sense of it! ;)

The first several weeks post baby, I felt my attitude slipping. Especially towards everything "not baby". I would snap at my older children--not giving them time or grace to be themselves. Playfulness had flown out the window, and in it's place came a snarky, sleep-deprived woman who demanded silence, immediate obedience and the understanding of an adult.

Thankfully, I felt God's voice halt me in my tracks... and encourage me to stop taking myself and my feelings/emotions so seriously. Yes, I was exhausted. Yes, I was cranky. So, what? It would pass. What wouldn't pass were my children's memories of these days. The hurt I was so carelessly inflicting as I cut them off in their excited sharing (not enough time!), as I shut down any inclination towards creative play (messy!), as I told them to laugh quietly (too loud!)... as I myself forgot to smile, and to laugh. I began laughing first at myself. I am a pretty funny thing, actually. And, really... the less sleep I get, the funnier I get. (Bumping into walls, putting socks in refrigerators, completely forgetting appointments THAT ARE WRITTEN ON THE CALENDER). Why not just laugh about it? As opposed to letting it all build and build until I explode all over my loved ones? This perspective helped me to find time for play with the kids... Car rides are now crazy times of silliness and sharing. Love it. It helps me to stop what I'm doing and listen--with corresponding facial expressions..!

So, playfulness and engaging has returned. But, I now struggle with the HOUSEWORK. I don't naturally adore housework. It doesn't really fulfill me. BUT. I do enjoy a clean, organized house. And, I do feel intense pressure to keep it that way. I feel that weight each night as I go to bed, surrounded by piles of clothing and projects that are half-started. I feel embarrassed--imagining someone popping in: "They will think I do nothing all day!"

I also began feeling the crushing pressure yesterday, as the kids and I began decorating the house. I began feeling that our decorating wasn't that great and picking things apart. And, then I stopped.

You know what?? WHO CARES? Who cares if these decorations are the ones we've been recycling the last several years? Who cares if they aren't placed in the most perfect way? I then began to feel the need to rebel against the weight... What if---I didn't spend another cent on decorations? What if I just let it be?

I began thinking about what REALLY matters to me. What I REALLY want my kiddos to learn as they grow.

And, here it is... (incomplete... but here):
--I want them to learn creativity and imaginative play. Which, in my world, means allowing messy. Allowing paper scraps, allowing blanket forts, allowing digging in the dirt.

--I want them to learn helpfulness and how to work. Which, in my world, means allowing them into MY space. Not shutting out offers of helping me cook dinner, fold laundry, sweep the floor, organize a drawer. EVEN WHEN I WANT TO. Even when it takes 10 times longer with them "helping".

--I want them to learn responsibility and family cooperation. Which, I my world, requires leaving certain things undone... so that they will do them. (like: Their bed). It requires me to be more organized and to think about what they are capable of doing... and it requires me to HOLD THEM to it! It requires that I hold myself back from doing things that they can and should be doing (cleaning up after themselves, helping out).

--I want them to feel the home is their home. Which, in my world, means displaying their projects their artwork... and even (gasp) letting them lend a hand in decorating it (and even leaving it the way they did it!). I don't want them to learn, "Hands off, the only one whose creativity counts is momma's." I want them to learn to dream, create--and to do so cooperatively. I want my home to reflect the people who live there--not a snapshot from a magazine.

--I want them to learn respect and kindness. Which requires that I am tuned into how they play, how they interact, and how they respond.

--I want them to learn about God, and His plan for them and how He is a part of everything in our lives. This means I need to both plan ahead for teaching times... and take the time for spontaneous teaching times. I need to utilize different ways of getting the message across--whether through conversation, games, crafts... which all takes time.

What do you think? Do you notice what is glaringly absent from the list? "I want them to learn that the only good home is a clean, model home ". Not even there!

Also, this list was a huge reality check. ALL of them require time, flexibility, time, connection, engagement, time, follow-up and a sort of open-handedness. And, time. Which means... none of these priorities spell "Clean, magazine-worthy house".

All of this is not to say, "Don't stop by my house. Is a toxic landfill." (Hopefully not!) ;) Nope. It's just a reminder to me that if that list above is really a reflection of some of my top priorities for my kids... Then, that's the list I should be running through my mind as I lie in my bed at night. I need to allow myself to feel the joy of the deep conversation about God that my son had with me, or the compassion I saw displayed by my daughter, or the laughter shared by all at dinner. These are my standards. These are what matter to me.

What about you? Are you able to just focus on your family's priorities... and let all the other crazy expectations run out the door and bother someone else? ;)

a woman and her pies.

A little over a month ago, a dear friend sent me a message on Facebook. She wrote: "Did you see what I wrote about the pies?" I thought maybe she had written me by accident, but I went to check it out. I found a post commenting on the amazing, mouth-watering pie she had baked for her daughter (I mean--doesn't just looking at this picture make you drool??). :)

As I went to comment that it looked very delicious, I saw this friend had typed: "Fresh peach pie to highest bidder next. Cash goes to Texas for Rey and Liz Sanchez and their little baby girl soon to be born. Peaches coming Aug. 21. Let the bidding begin. P.S. let's make it the top two bidders and you can bid until Aug. 20th. Let's have fun!."  Tears sprang to my eyes-- what??! How sweet was that? 

I thanked her, and then Rey and I just marveled together at this gesture of love and kindness. You see, that's all this friend (and her lovely family) have shown us. Back even before there was an "us", a "Rey and Liz Incorporated", she believed in us. She encouraged Rey to pursue me, and giggled with me over "Rey tidbits" at her kitchen table during our long-distance dating. She prayed for us and often served as a conduit of information for us. She would vouch for Rey's character when I was unsure... and pass along to Rey whatever giddiness I may have "happened" to share with her. She insisted we call her "Grandma" and invited us to many family functions; they even let Rey live with them on 2 separate occasions.

For our wedding that took place in the U.S... she and her husband stood in for Rey's parents, since they couldn't make it. I don't just mean they stood up at the wedding. Nope. She went with me to check out the wedding venue and give her perspective on it. They also found the perfect spot for our rehearsal dinner and footed the bill.

When we lived in Mexico, she didn't forget to send us birthday cards and holiday greetings. She even sent gifts for the kids. They often supported us when we were on the mission field. One Christmas, she actually told her family that she and her husband had all they needed, so to send whatever they would've spend on gifts to us! Who does that??

All these memories and more came flooding back to Rey and I as we shook our heads at how she--yet again--had thought of another way to bless us.

A month or so went by, and I had pretty much forgotten about the pie comment, since we had heard no further details. One day, an unexpected bill arrived in the mail. By this point, we were living off of what Rey could earn working part time at a car wash, and the bill was much larger than we could afford. I walked to the mail box the next day, hoping no more surprise bills were waiting and wondering what we should do about the one that had arrived. 

What I instead found was a note from a person who I didn't know... with a check for a little more than what the bill had been... stating they had ordered some delicious pies from our friend and this financial gift was because of those pies. The sender included some sweet words of encouragement as well. Can you say amazing??

I called our friend first thing the next morning, and we exclaimed together over this amazing event-- she said she called things like that "pennies from heaven" and was just as ecstatic over it as I was. I thought this check was from the "winner of the auction"--as detailed on the Facebook comment. But, then... our friend told us that news of her pies was spreading like wildfire and orders were pouring in.

I asked, "What??! I thought it was just the one pie! How many pies have you sent out so far?"

She counted them up. Twelve. "And, with each pie, I send an enveloped pre-addressed to you guys with a note saying they can send however much they like." We were dumbfounded. 12 pies? And, she had more orders coming in.

She made so many pies, she ran out of peaches and had to switch to apples. I think she made 23 pies total. And, more checks kept arriving in our mailbox. Most from people we'd never met. Many with sweet notes of encouragement. Each check caused me to envision those dear hands preparing the fruit, slicing it, rolling out the dough, watching to make sure the pie was baked to perfection. Bringing more tears to our eyes. A true, complete labor of love.

In the end, our friend's pies (along with their own generosity) brought us over $1300. Overwhelming. And, honestly. When we needed it most. The last check arrived September 8. Rey was hired September 19. How fun it was to share the joy with her!

There are many things about our friend that are note-worthy. That are imitable. In this particular instance, I loved that she didn't just see a need and try to fill it herself. She found a way to pull in her community around her to help us also--and I think that is extra special. God has placed amazing people in our lives like this one. I always try to absorb as much from them as I can, pass on what they have been to us to others. To learn how to truly give and love as they do. It is truly humbling. Our people are our biggest blessing.

Why do I share this woman with you all? I don't share her name because I know she didn't do it for fame. Those who know her already know all that I am writing... and more! I write it because each of us are daily confronted with needs around us. It can seem so hard to know what to do. Maybe we don't feel we have anything that could help.

Maybe we don't. But, maybe. Just maybe, we could bake a pie. Or... 23. And be just what it takes to get a family through a rough spot.

Grateful! 

"Love you, grandma & grandpa!" 

**Several photos used with permission from Everyday Charming. She snapped these pictures of our friend-- because our "pie lady" happens to be her grandma! Check her out--she's super talented!**

thoughts on birth

Been thinking lately about the obvious: birth! But, more specifically in the words Jesus said to Nicodemus: "You must be born again."

I think one of the things that shocked me the most about birth the first time around was how brutal it was. I don't mean the pain--I knew to expect that to be awful. But, I guess I imagined the moment the baby left my body would be one of exhilaration and an overwhelming sense of life... When, really... it felt like a shock, a severance, a loss, a lightening... The separation of the child's body from my own literally caused my body to jolt from the parting. I didn't imagine that.

So, I've been thinking about Jesus' use of the analogy of being born when talking about being a part of God's kingdom. I think in reading that passage before, I would think about it in reference to "new life"... but not the actual process of birth. I thought of other analogies Jesus could have chosen: "Think of it as joining a club" or "You must apply yourself, like at school, if you want to get good grades" or "There is a member's fee". But, no. He chose birth.

I think it is because... not only does entering God's kingdom mean you are entering  into a new life.... but also, entering God's kingdom--being born again--is often, to us, a brutal process.

When I truly am in God's kingdom, there will be times that it feels brutal. That I feel the shock of separation from my old way of thinking, a lightening from what used to matter to me, a severance from the things that used to control my decisions and my outlook.

Birth is a one-time thing... but living as one born-again is an on-going one. This is where physical and spiritual birth are different. As those born to God, we have the choice to return to how we were. To re-assume the old identities, to return to being owned by the earthly. Being born into God's kingdom is one-time... and it is also daily. A birth that requires dying... new life that bids farewell to the old. Kingdom-living gets its rhythm from the nudges of sanctification, truth and sacrifice.

I think about the process it takes for a woman to get to the point of birth-- the gradual building of anticipation, the aches the pains, the swelling... until, all that woman longs for is birth. I think it's the same for us... That getting to the place where we actually desire to be reborn, to be alive in God, to let go, is often a process. A gradual intensifying of need and desperation, until... finally... we can't do anything more than bow our knee to God and say: "I am ready. Have your way in me."

Birth is brutal. It is full of the unknown and of risk. But, it is also beautiful and unlike anything else on earth. It is life-changing, life-beginning, and life-renewing. Birth creates families, unites communities and inspires joy.  So let us choose to yield to that which God desires to birth in us, and release into His hands that which must not remain... true life comes only through this!

weary and worn?

I clicked on this song to listen to this morning while getting ready for the morning... and soon found I could do nothing more than sit and weep as the words soaked in. So, so beautiful. At His feet, drinking from His portion-- it's where I long to be, it's all I need to sustain me. His peace envelops; He restores, pursues, loves! Leaning into Him... I think I will be replaying this song every day this week as I learn to lean on Him, surrender to Him, seek Him, more and more.

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.