radical love

Her text came on a Tuesday morning.

"...my dad died last night..."

I lost my breath for a moment and then my heart burst into a million pieces for my friend.  She had already grieved the loss of her mother before we met 13 years ago and I couldn't even begin to imagine the pain she would be feeling with such unexpected news.

It didn't take long before I got the crazy idea to go to her.  By some strange and divine appointment, My Love eventually supported my plans.  After playing out each scenario out loud, the best travel option was decided for me to drive there with our four happy little travelers.  It was going to be a spontaneous 700-mile adventure.

We decided to tell my friend of my intentions to come for her father's funeral.  Plans had been made and accommodations booked.  And as we predicted, she insisted I didn't need to make the trip and would rather us come visit later on after the shock had worn off.  She wanted to have something good to look forward to.

"Ok," I said.  "I can respect that."

I hung up the phone and turned to My Love and said, "She told me not to come but I'm going to anyway."  And by another act of God, he was still ok with it.  My Love's travel points paid for our two night hotel stay and a friend was willing to help out with the dog while My Love worked.  It was time to pack for our road trip.

In what was essentially a grand gesture of God's love for my friend, I drove through four states with no expectation of spending any real time with her.  I was merely going to give her a hug and show my moral support by attending the funeral.

I loaded up the kids in the minivan at 2:45am on a Monday and arrived at our final destination in a small town in rural Indiana 13 hours later.  The kids took a swim in the hotel pool and we ate dinner locally before calling it a night.

The next day we made our way to the funeral home prior to the Catholic Mass being held at a church nearby.  I saw her from the back in an adjacent room off the main hallway and I gently touched her arm.  She turned toward me, jumped back with a gasp and covered her mouth trying to hold back tears.

"I didn't respect your words," I said.  "But sometimes a girl has to give a friend a hug."  She burst into tears.

We hugged and cried and hugged some more.  She held the baby and snuggled each of my older children as I in turn hugged on the two of hers.

"How long was that drive?" she asked worried about all the trouble I had gone through for this moment.

"It doesn't matter," I reassured her.  "Sometimes you do hard things for people you love."

More tears and hugs.

The service was beautiful.  Even though I had never met her father, I felt like I knew him.  What a sweet man.  My friend looked in my direction as she walked down the aisle following behind the casket to her seat.  In that moment as she blew a kiss my direction with tears streaming down her face I knew in my heart I was right where God wanted me to be in this world.  We visited with her and her family briefly a few more times before it was already times to say goodbye.  In God's grace, the four children had been perfect little travelers.  We packed up the van and took one more sleep before starting our 700-mile road trip back home to Virginia.

As I drove on the beautiful roadway that is highway 64, I couldn't help but think about how radically God loves.  And now that I knew I was capable of being used by him to show love in a big way, it was now time to allow his radical love to flow through me in my own home--toward my husband and children.

precious angel

I have come to realize something in the last couple of days.  Getting an answer to prayer isn't exactly the end of the road.  I honestly thought it would be.  I confidently believed there would be a moment when God brought something to pass that we had prayed would happen for years.  A minute of time when I realized this prayer has been answered.  Check. 

You see, when God answers a committed prayer it isn't really over.  The surrender to God's will on the topic continues.  It isn't fulfilled in a single moment.  It just changes. 

I never doubted that they would be parents.  I believed.  I prayed.  Many prayed.  It was a long hard road for them in ways I am sure I can't imagine.  But every tear cried, every prayer lifted, every day that passed was not in vain.  It brought them to this moment in time when a baby girl needed them and God brought them together.

It is with great joy that I introduce to you Baby H.  She might just be the most prayed-over little girl I will ever know.  She is a gift to her faithful parents and I can't wait to meet her.  To meet the precious angel who made our dear friends her Mommy and Daddy.

Her arrival was perfectly timed.  Not a moment too soon.

And so our prayers continue.  For her parents.  For her little life.  That she would grow up to know how much her Heavenly Father loves her.  That He chose from the beginning of time to place her in the arms of two godly parents.  That she would always feel loved and prayed for because we can't hardly stand to stop now.

Oh yes.  Our commitment to praying for this sweet family continues.  How blessed we are to know El Roi, the God Who Sees.  Congratulations friends!  We love you so much.      

be still and sit close

If you have spent any length of time with Babydoll, you may have been able to gather that she is equal parts of her Mommy and Daddy.  It humbles me to see who she is becoming at such a young age and I often wonder if I had that much personality back then.  We adore her.

We have also chosen to parent her independence with care.  We give her space to do and be who she wants but also create boundaries around respect, obedience, and kindness.  She does not run this house--although I am sure her desire to do so is one of the parts that comes from me.

I have noticed lately that her busyness--that part is from Daddy--has decreased her interest in affection.  I have had to remind myself to slow down and give her hugs and kisses throughout the day.  She has always been good about expressing her needs when she has exhausted her efforts first, but doesn't generally make herself vulnerable to be loved on by me unless it is on her terms.

I call her to my side as I pause mid-task and ask her for an intentional kiss and hug.  She resists.  She squirms in my arms.  She doesn't have time for this when there are baby dolls to cart around in her stroller.  A little while later I ask again.  She turns and runs.  After my eyes were opened to this about my daughter, I start having feelings of guilt.  Did I not snuggle her enough as a baby?  Was I too busy trying to balance two kiddos that I forgot to just sit and be with her?  I know that the obvious answer is no and yet it stings.

Then it happened and continues to happen.  She pushes me away at my mere suggestion of intimacy and yet in her own time she asks to snuggle me.  In the midst of all she has going on her in her day, she decides she is ready and calls for me.  I drop everything because I am aware of it now and I make myself available and I soak up this moment of closeness that she initiated.  It feels safe to her because it is on her terms.  That stubborn will she definitely gets from me.

I start to think.  How often God must call out to me while I bustle around (or lie around lazily) asking for me to be still and sit close.  I don't have time for that.  I am not always ready to make myself vulnerable at his call.  And how humbled I am that he "drops everything" when I say his name and ask to "snuggle" awhile.  Oh how he must soak up the moment of closeness and smile that I finally initiated.  How he patiently waited to love on me and fill me with his peace and joy and strength as soon as I was ready.

complete and willing

My Love was giving the kids a bath before bed tonight.  I closed the bathroom door so I could muffle their happy squeals and lie on our bed in semi-peace.  It had been a day marked with feelings of hopelessness for the first time.  

I rolled away from the window and found myself looking directly at the framed vows that have been on display in now our fourth bedroom together for over nine years.  The sun was just low enough in the sky that His day's light was peeking through the cracks in the closed shades.  

No matter how hard we try, we can never really keep Him out.  His love for us shines brightly on exactly the path he wants us to take.  Complete and willing obedience.  

This morning I was overwhelmed by my own tears.  Tonight I am overwhelmed by His love for me, and in fact us.  Oh the joy that is promised to come with the morning!  I look for it with anticipation.

the undate night and fifth seizure

It started on Friday.  I made plans with a friend's daughter to watch the kids for just three hours on Sunday early evening.  We would be back in time to put our bundles to bed.  The sitter was booked and I surprised My Love on Saturday with the news that I was planning our date.

Sunday morning after church we got to talking about finances and both (mostly me because I'm cheap like that) decided that it would probably be smarter if we waited until after pay day to spend the money.  "We could spend the afternoon painting the hallway instead," I said as an alternative plan.  It had also been a long weekend for the kids being in childcare at our church during the marriage retreat we attended.  My Love agreed but was bummed after I told him what I had in store for our date night.  There will be an opportunity another time.

We fed the kids lunch and put them down to nap and then got to work.  We have become a good team in the wall painting department.  We each have our own jobs.  There really isn't much talking going on but it is strangely fun to spend the time doing it together.

A couple hours later the kids emerged from their naps and even helped some before we started cleaning up after our first coat of paint.  The hall looks great.  My Love sent me downstairs to start washing some rollers while he used up the rest of the paint in the pan.  I looked from the kitchen sink into the family room to find the kiddos both intently watching an episode of Dora the Explorer.  Babydoll was leaning backward in a weird angle and then suddenly slid off the leather couch onto the floor.  Brother didn't take his eyes off the TV.  I calmly walked into the room and called up to My Love, "Can you help me down here?!"  By God's grace he interpreted my masked sense of urgency and he came right down.  I had already scooped up my shaking daughter and carried her into the play room out of sight of her impressionable four year old brother.  I am still so thankful that after five seizures in six months, Brother has not seen one happen.  God is good.  My Love was by her side with me as soon as I placed her on the ground.  Her face was turning blue and we weren't sure she was breathing as she took some short shallow gasps while seizing.  Her fists curled up in balls and her arms were twisted.  I prayed out loud asking God to let it pass quickly.  A few seconds later her body went calm and limp.  Thank you, Jesus!  My Love kept talking to her trying to get her to answer him. "She's not there yet," I said.  "She IS there!" he insisted. 

My Love took her up to her bed and I scurried around to find the Motrin and Tylenol that we had taken on our recent trip and that were still not unpacked a week after returning.  The thermometer read 100.4 degrees and the wall clock was just after 4pm.

Babydoll would open her eyes from time to time with a scared look on her face like she didn't know what was going on but couldn't speak or move to interact with us.  I just knelt by her bed and whispered words of comfort.  Sometimes she would nod her head in reply but she did not have complete control of her body.  It didn't take long before I realized that had we kept our date plans this whole scenario would have played out just as I would have been off to pick up the sitter.  God is always good, people.  Always.  We were able to be home with our baby girl when she needed us and we even got a painted hallway out of a day's work.  His sovereign plans are always better.

45 minutes later I heard the sweetest word come from down the hall.  "Mom!" she said.  I went in to find my Babydoll sitting up with a groggy grin on her face.  She was back!

Tomorrow I hope to get her in to see her pediatrician.  Please pray for good rest for our Babydoll and a speedy recovery from whatever has caused her fever.

the one losing

"We think pain is owed apologies and then it'll stop
Truth be told it doesn't matter if they're sorry or not
Freedom comes when we surrender to the sound
Of mercy and Your grace, Father, send Your angels down."

forgiveness

The topic of forgiveness has been on my mind recently.  I have known many people who have let the decay of unforgiveness consume their lives.  Strangely I have been able to offer forgiveness at times when apologies were never made.  It was a part of surrendering a past hurt to the Lord and asking Him to redeem it.  Often times the people involved are unaware of their offense toward me.  And isn't that just it?  Forgiveness is a matter of the heart.  Another person really can't do or say the right amount of things to make a relationship right again.  It is only by God's strength and grace that we can even offer such a gift to someone who maybe doesn't even really understand the pain they caused.  70x7.  That is how many times Jesus said that we should forgive our neighbor.  Yes that is a calcuable number of 490 times but the point is there should be no end to how many times we forgive.  If you are keeping a tally of how many times you have forgiven someone than your heart probably isn't in it.  I don't know about you but I am thankful for a Lord that didn't stop forgiving me at some calcuable number because you can be sure I have exceeded 490 offenses toward Him.

In one of my marriage studies last week, there was an exercise where you had to write out every sin your husband had committed against you.  Every way he has failured or disappointed you.  I sensed that God wanted me to take some time to put everything out on the table and not rush through the assignment leaving some hurt unturned.  I searched my mind and heart but I took too long in the process.  A couple days into the work and Satan had set himself up a nice little camp on the foothold I had prepared for him.  As I thought upon all the ways My Love had offended me I started to get more bitter toward him.  Fights we restirred between us that he had no part of.  Of course that blew up into a major ordeal.  But God brought something so beautiful out of it.  He put his finger on an issue that was buried so deep that I didn't even know was the cause of some festering resentment. 

Shortly after that reconciliation I completed the study homework in which I told God I forgave My Love for each offense and that I wouldn't hold it against him any longer (per the assignment instructions).  Saying each thing on my list out loud so my heart and mind could acknowledge the act of forgiveness.  It did take some time of discernment to figure out what things about my husband were actual faults and which were "just the way he is".  One's heart sure is revealed in such an exercise.  In the days to follow I found situations popping up that brought to light the things I said I had forgiven.  God immediately spoke in my mind and didn't let me wander into bitterness.  There was a real spiritual warfare going on and the voice of truth was louder.  "No!  You forgave that, remember?  Don't go there."  I allowed him to take the thought captive.  With each reminder I could feel the resentments washing away.  After each item on the paper was listed and verbally forgiven, the sheet was destroyed and was never shown to My Love.  Most issues of the heart are between me and the Lord anyway.  The Holy Spirit is more than capable of showing him the ways that he falls short.  And in fact, when I spend too much energy pointing out his sins to him I may be getting in the way of him hearing from the Spirit.  What a hot mess I have created!

A week later in Bible study again, the speaker gave us two pieces of paper.  One was labeled HUSBAND.  The other was labeled ME.  She asked us to repeat the exercise.  Mind you My Love was aware of the assignment but did not know anything I had written down.  And nothing had really changed from his part.  The difference was my heart toward him.  I sat there and had a hard time thinking of offenses he had committed against me.  It was like God was blocking my memory and not allowing me to slip back into bitterness.  I was free even though our circumstances hadn't really changed.  Next she had us write down all the ways we had sinned against God lately.  Oh boy did the thoughts come like an ocean wave crashing over me.  Seeing my offenses against God in writing next to a blank sheet of paper of the wrongs My Love had committed against me was powerful.  Suddenly I became overwhelmed by how much God loves me and how much more I am in need of His forgiveness than My Love is of mine.  We stapled the two sheets together.  The speaker said "If you want God to forgive you of your list, than you have to forgive what is on your husband's list!"  Gulp.  After some time with the Lord, we walked out front and threw our lists into a lit fire pit.  We watched God take all our sins away. Powerful.

Fast forward to the next day (yesterday).  I totally blew up at a close friend over the phone.  In the midst of some raw emotion and hurt I felt she had caused me, I allowed my anger to spew in her direction.  It didn't take long before God showed me that I needed to seek His forgiveness and HERS.  Yet again he put his finger on a deeper issue that I allowed to fester.  An eruption was inevitable.  I feel ashamed and embarressed and broken.  It continues to amaze me how God brings more and more dark corners of my heart to the surface so he can scrape off the dross and keep working at transforming my heart and mind toward the imagine of Christ.  "Surrender more!" I hear Him say.  "You think you have it all together?  That you have forgiven much?  We'll see.  There is more work to be done."  He has poked at several close relationships this year that he wanted to do a healing in and really it boils down to forgiveness.  In many of those situations I thought the other person's wrongs against me were enough to fill up a whole sheet of paper when in fact God showed me that I was really in need of forgiveness FROM THEM.  Oh how the pride gets wounded!  But with humility comes forgiveness and reconciliation with God...even if the circumstances from the other person's side never changes.

Pray about it.  Is there anyone in your life that you need to forgive?  Is there someone who you need to seek forgiveness from?  In either case take it the Lord and watch as he burns up the heavy burden you are carrying around.  There is freedom found in forgiveness.
   

his sunflower

Bundle Brother came home from Sunday School one day with a small paper cup filled with dirt.  Down inside was a sunflower seed.  Daddy helped him plant it in our front yard and we had fun watching it grow and bloom.

the right thing at the wrong time

I talked to KB for 2 1/2 hours yesterday (God kept my Bundles napping for most of it).  I am not usually a phone person.  An unfamiliar area code came up on my phone as it rang and for some reason I answered it.  She spoke as if she knew me but I couldn't place her voice.  Once she told me who it was I was overjoyed to receive a call from her while on the ground in Haiti.  She is halfway through her thirty days of serving with a ministry called Danita's Children this summer.  As she told me story after story of things she saw and what God was doing.  I couldn't help but feel a flicker of light being lit back up inside of me. 

During the months that we were praying about, preparing for and completing our foster parent training the idea of God using our family and this home for his glory was heavy on my heart.  I read books about foster care.  I set up the spare bedroom.  I envisioned little faces at the dinner table and in the back of the car and pushing the shopping cart.  My heart ached for God to use us.  

God asked us to wait.  I kept preparing believing with all my heart that a phone call could come at any moment (which it still can) and felt I needed to be continually learning about what God was walking us through.  Then one day I realized that I was so busy dreaming of the future that I was missing the now.  I actually said out loud to My Love one day that, "If this is all that there is I will probably become discontent with my life!"  Huh?!?!?!  Are you kidding me?  Look around Girl!  You have a BEAUTIFUL life.  But what I meant was I felt so strongly about what God was going to do that I couldn't see myself being satisfied with the American Dream that we live that the world strives for.  My life can't only be about myself and my husband and my two healthy kids.  I am ready to be used.


God has changed my attitude since then during this period of waiting.  He has given me great contentment for this day because he has written it for this day.  I don't spend too much time longing for the children "who might be out there in the world right now" because they are first and foremost God's children and he has them safely in his hands.  He will bring them to us when the time is right.


But as I listened to KB talk, I began to ache again.  For the millions of people whose lives only include suffering and who have to rely on God for EVERY THING.  We were out of power for two days in the heat and we thought that was misery.  When our phone call finally came to an end she left me with several very specific prayer requests to get her through the rest of her time there and as she returns "home".  My stomach hurt.  I felt a nagging in me again.  My house suddenly seemed gigantic like it has at times in the past and I told God I was ready for him to fill it up already.

KB and I have a very unique relationship.  God bound us together before we even met and he continues to use our conversations to bless each other even though we are in very different circumstances.  I asked her what God was teaching her while in Haiti.  Her answer was long and detailed after pausing to think but she shared something from a sermon given there on the compound.  "The right thing at the wrong time is disobedience," she said.  Other than briefly speaking before she got on the plane to fly to Haiti we hadn't spoken in about a month so KB wasn't really up to speed on all that God was teaching me here in Virginia.  I told her that she thought this was a morale call for her but really God was using her to bless me.  Yes.  Foster care, adoption is the right thing for our family.  But if we pursue it at the wrong time we are outside of his will and are disobeying God.  

Gulp.


So we wait...patiently.  We wait in this six bedroom four bathroom house for God to work everything together in his perfect time.  This is the time for our marriage.  To prepare us for the journey ahead when he will grow our family.  I know he will.  I imagine my thoughts and emotions will continue to fluctuate between peace and discontentment like on a roller coaster from time to time.  It's God's way of keeping my mind fixed on him no matter the circumstances.  Please pray for my heart.  It is a Mama heart for more than just these two and I want to be completely transformed so I may be better used by God when His time is right.

homeschool update

Two years ago I am pretty sure homeschooling was completely out of the question. We knew many people who did it but really that was good for them but not for us. Little did we know God had other plans. And while I think about the same attitude we had previously while praying for friends going through the adoption process, God transformed our hearts on that topic too so be careful what you say is impossible. God has a way of asking you to surrender all of your "no way" areas of life to Him. 

As you know, we prayed about it and God confirmed in both our hearts that he wanted us to homeschool. Now what? I was doing some activities with Brother at home when he was interested and when I was motivated but really there were more gaps in my consistency than anything else. Brother got older. Sister got older. He started getting bored and thus chose to entertain himself by terrorizing Babydoll and driving me crazy. Rather than spending my entire day dealing with discipline issues (which I still seem to do), I decided to buckle down and start "researching" curriculum based on a few that people had mentioned to me. Once again, God confirmed in both of us which to pursue (note: I hope it happens that easily in the future) and it was like Christmas morning for me when the school stuff arrived in the mail. Now I was going to get really organized. We started the introduction unit before our trip back to visit family and I brought two units of course work to do while on the road which we didn't get to :). Once back home we hit the proverbial books and got us some structure. Brother LOVES it. It is fun and smart and he thrives just knowing that school comes after breakfast and then the rest of the day is a mystery. 

The funny thing is though that Satan is not loving it. He slithers his way into my mornings some days and places doubt and fear into what we have chosen to obey God in. I do not think homeschooling is for every parent or child. I do know that God has directed us down this path for our family and he is walking in it with us. But there are days when I completely lose it. I get frustrated and annoyed and question if I am going to totally give my kid a complex because he thinks he has to "do it right" so I can be self-controlled. He is four. We spend an hour or less a day doing "school" that is fun for him just so he can have some structure. He loves to learn and does so quicker than I do. I am not putting pressure on him or myself to move at any pace. But some days Satan makes me dream of a life spent with kid-free time and school buses and a clean house. I do not worry about socialization. I don't even question my ability to teach them well. I am excited about it really. I do believe that Babydoll will be a different kind of student than Bundle Boy but I am choosing not to worry about what that will look like now. She is two. She plays. When she helps glue the letter of the week on an envelope, Babydoll feels like she is doing school too and that is enough for me/her. 

Yesterday Brother was fidgeting with something in his desk while I was trying to give him instructions. His attention was repeatedly distracted. I had to keep repeating myself. I totally lost it and threw everything out of his desk (which contained blank papers, coloring books, and some little toy he was playing with). He was stunned. I was too. This little voice in my head said, "How can you do this? You aren't even technically homeschooling yet and you are losing control. You can't do this. He deserves better than you." Of course that was not the voice of truth. And although I still get very heartbroken WHENEVER I model a lack of self-control as a way to deal with the inconvenient, God continues to provide an opportunity for me to model something else(and to convict my heart). Several times a week I seek forgiveness from my children and we pray about it together. We all need a Savior. I am not a perfect parent, people. But God always shows up. 

Amongst the flying papers and feelings of frustration he continues to confirm that we are doing exactly what he wants us to be doing. I am not kidding. Today has been particularly supernatural. I think we are in unit five of the year. Every single week God has brought up the topic of our study in some other area of my life. While studying the sun and moon I heard countless songs and read in scripture references to the concepts. It caused me to further marvel at his creation. During leaf and apple weeks, I kept reading imagery about trees and vines in studies and while at the convention two out of the three sessions I sat in on brought up apples (which we were studying at the time). That is when I really started noticing God speaking to repeat himself. This week we are learning about nests. Last night during week two of our women's Bible study, the speaker shared how Eagles toss their eaglets out of their nests repeatedly so they can swoop down and catch them on their backs until one day they learn to fly (with scripture referenced). Two blog posts (which included scripture references as well) that I read today talked about birds and nests. A friend on facebook posted a photo of a robin's nest that they found under their deck. And while watching a Little Einstein's animated cartoon from the library during pizza night, they talked about eagles and their nests again. I laughed out loud when I heard it and I saw My Love smile from under his layers of blankets (he was out sick today hence the blogging). It doesn't make me feel like we chose the right curriculum really. It just confirms in our hearts that we are doing the right thing by obediently schooling our kids at home because that is what he has called for our particular family at this time. "Just keep doing what you are doing!" is how My Love interpreted it. It gives me confidence. It makes me cast out all doubt. Brother might be having fun and learning some new things here and there but I feel like God is revealing himself to me in a whole new way. Is it possible that homeschooling could be just as much about God's plan for my life as it is for my kids? We are moving forward not doing anything perfectly but trusting that God will continue to guide us as we put our trust in Him. Pray for me.

shots and blood

We have been at the clinic a few times this week. The first time was so Brother could finally get his annual well-child check up. Everything went well. The doctor gave the kids lollipops (which is what they love most about him) and suggested that Brother get some shots after our visit. I had warned him of this very real possibility on our drive in. It has probably been a year or two since he had a vaccine last. And I think I recall the most recent one being a flu shot that I had him get before his sister so he could be brave for her turn (and so he wouldn't freak after watching her scream). We were about to come face to face with his first I-know-what-is-coming shot experience. It didn't matter that I told him that he was getting these shots so that it would keep him healthy. That it would only hurt for a brief moment and that God would heal it. He expected pain, agony. He was nervous. The tech who checked him in cringed when he saw that Brother was in fact getting FOUR shots at one time. Poor Bundle Boy. He was going to have to put on his brave face. Two women lined up their supplies prepared to simultaneously inject him with two and then two more. I had the pleasure of standing by his head and holding his arms down. Babydoll was lucky enough to sit by and watch the trauma unfold before her while she snacked on a cheese stick. Brother squint his eyes and tried to hold it together. I whispered encouraging words in his ear. They wiped his thighs with alcohol swabs and he asked if it was over yet. Not yet Lovey Bug. Then it happened. The sharp pain that made him let out a scream. He thrashed his legs. They stuck him again quickly and then it was done. He cried for about a minute and then was distracted by the stickers they gave him (and his sister) for being so brave. The nurse told me his leg on one side would probably bruise quickly because he jerked suddenly while the shot was being administered. It didn't really matter how many times I told him to remain really still, his body moved in reaction to what was happening to him. We started walking down the hall and I praised him like crazy before breaking the other news. On top of four shots, Brother's pediatrician ordered a lead test that would require his blood to be drawn. He took it rather well but did still opposed the idea. I mean, who wouldn't at least suggest not doing something that we know will cause pain? I sat down in the chair and my firstborn found comfort in my lap. Once again Babydoll took her place in the corner facing the scene. The nurse was really sweet and tried to ease the blow by chatting with him casually at first and then telling him exactly what she was going to do. Meanwhile a couple big field grade officers came and got blood drawn in the same room. They further modeled their patriotic bravery by encouraging a freckle faced red haired boy. I was thankful for their kind words. Attempt number one and the nurse couldn't get the needle into Brother's vein. I wasn't too surprised. The nurse really didn't want to keep trying for fear of traumatizing him so she came up with another method. She had planned to prick his finger and squeeze out drops of blood one at a time until she got enough for them to test. I trusted her experience. Like I did the time before, I held Brother in my arms and turned his head toward me and away from the direct cause of his pain. "Look at me!" I said. He cried with the prick but again the nurse was so reassuring. It didn't take long and he was looking around the room at posters on the walls and talking to other people coming in and out. That is when the real work began. She started squeezing his finger catching drop after drop and scraping it into a tiny tube. The mood was more pleasant now but Brother remained secure in the care of my arms. After several minutes it was almost like he had forgotten what was really happening to him. The process was tedious and draining but it was manageable. Another nurse came in after being asked to come help massage his finger. That is when they noticed. After 10 minutes of meticulously pinching out droplets of my son's blood both collected samples were of no use. They swirled the tubes in the air up toward the light and confirmed that they had both clotted and had to be thrown out. My very first thought was how much Blonde would probably die to be able to have such an inconvenience in her four year old son's regular doctor visits. Oh how we take things for granted! By this point we were in no hurry. They decided to try the vein in the other arm again but gave me the choice of whether to do it now or to come back another time. I decided to push forward so we didn't have to deal with this again for a long time. I turned his head toward me and started singing his newborn lullaby to him in a whisper. "You can cry, but please don't move. Be very still," I said. He let out a loud yelp and the ladies managed to pierce the vein. Five seconds later two tubes were full enough to do the routine tests they needed. The kiddos got more stickers and we were on our way. It didn't take long and the Lord brought my thoughts back to Him. There are chapters of our lives that bring pain. Some come in two swift jabs. It doesn't matter if we know if it is coming or not, we can't expect how it will really hurt. Our first instinct is to thrash and kick and for that it leaves a bruise. We question why anything good could come from something so sudden and even expectantly painful. We think good is wrapped up in lollipops and stickers. But what if we understood that the greater good is found in enduring that pain to prevent something much more harmful? Wouldn't we be more eager to sign up for the quick needle prick as opposed to the long drawn out "illness"? *NOTE: This is not a vaccine debate.* How safe we are in the lap of our Father, wrapped up in His arms. He whispers into our scared faces, "Look at me!" while gently tilting our chin toward his Word and away from the fading cares of the world. "You can cry, but please don't move. Be very still." The pain is real in our hearts. We know it is coming. But there is something about choosing to be still and trusting fully that God has a good and perfect plan for each of our lives. Some seasons of pain are brief. Others seem to linger for years like watching tiny drops of blood slowly filling a test tube. But both are spent in the Father's arms choosing to be still even while crying because our eyes are fixed on Him. Can you even imagine what our Heavenly Father felt when our Savior and Lord, his Son, spilled His blood for us? Overwhelmed.

die to be in communion

Romans 12:1-2 NLT "And so, dear brothers and sisters,[a] I plead with you to give your bodies to God because of all he has done for you. Let them be a living and holy sacrifice—the kind he will find acceptable. This is truly the way to worship him.[b] 2 Don’t copy the behavior and customs of this world, but let God transform you into a new person by changing the way you think. Then you will learn to know God’s will for you, which is good and pleasing and perfect." It must have been some time last year when I was stirred to read Romans 12 every day for a month. I didn't make it the whole 30 days though. Our Bible study leader had mentioned that he had done it years ago and was greatly encouraged by the challenge. God repeated the reference to Romans chapter 12 many times during the months that followed. I think during that time of reading Romans 12, I really started thinking for the first time about what it means to die to self and to make my life an offering to the Lord. I have gone through phases of discouragement lately. Well for some time really. You see, the closer I draw near to God the more I see my own dark, ugly heart. In light of his perfection, grace and unending love, I see mostly my own selfishness, ungratefulness and lack of submission. I try to die. I long to die. NOT physically of course. I truly want others to see God when they see me. There is a song on Christian radio that mentions how people can't see God because they are busy tripping over "me". Much of the time I am in the way of people really seeing God. Especially for those, like family, who know me well. The only way to show the lost world who God is to "die" first so they don't really see you at all. Everything in you should be like the moon reflecting who God is not you trying to shine (with no light source of your own) by your own strength. I have been puzzled because I am starting to believe that complete dying to self is an impossibility. What I mean is you will never one day "get there". No matter how much more humble/selfless/compassionate that you think you are than you used to be, there is still a layer of flesh that lives within you. Self will always be there trying to break free. That is why it has to be a daily sacrifice. It doesn't matter if I died yesterday and lived completely for Jesus not speaking a harsh word to my kids and putting the needs of my husband before my own. If today I demand my own way and refuse to submit to my Good Shepherd, all that my family (and the world for that matter) sees today is me. The daily surrendering can be just plain exhausting though. I have to choose to die every single morning and frankly most days that is not my first thought. Brother has been waking up in the night crying for some lost toy that fell out of his bed while sleeping lately. I end up launching from my room annoyed and loud and unloving toward his situation. Our flesh is always right there under the service trying to make us think that dying to self is an impossibility so why make wasted effort. The truth is God commands us to "give our bodies to [Him} because of all he has done for [us]". The way to truly worship Him is to be a living sacrifice daily. And maybe the point isn't to figure out how to really live by dying to self. Perhaps the very act of surrendering your life daily is really His was of bringing us to our knees in communion with him. There more I get to know him, the more I realize I need him every hour. On those days when dying to self seems impossible because it doesn't come naturally, just remember that it never really will. It isn't supposed to. It may get easier--to rely on Jesus for everything-- but the very act of dying goes against everything about living. That is why it is a sacrifice. I am so thankful that God doesn't leave me to my own selfishness. He desires to transform me into a new person by the renewal of my mind. I choose to take up my cross and follow him daily so that I might be in constant communion with my Savior and Lord. PS. Blogger still hates me but I press on.

a long drive to nowhere

Note: Blogger made this post into one huge paragraph. Deal with it. Let me see...how far does this story go back? Maybe March? I was able to fit in a homeschool group gathering at our church before taking the kiddos to a friend's birthday party. I talked to several women and got some ideas of how to get the ball rolling with homeschooling. Then we circled up so that people could ask questions of the group in order to get support and encouragement. I was the only one there who wasn't officially teaching my kids at that time. There was a wealth of knowledge and experience in that room and I am thankful for the resources God has put in my path during this chapter of our lives. After a couple of questions, I had to get up to leave to head to the party. They felt badly that I didn't get a chance to ask my question (which was probably going to be something really eloquent like "how in the world do I get started?!?!?!") so I gave a little speech as I got up to leave basically introducing myself and telling everyone that now that they know me they can be my friends. :) I also told them that we were training to become foster parents and felt God wanted us to get started on homeschooling sooner rather than later. The overwhelming answer was to go to the Virginia Homeschool Convention that was coming up in June. And wouldn't you know it but parents of a preschool-aged kid as their oldest child could attend for free. So when the registration opened online I signed up to attend. During the circle time several women mentioned the curriculum (while answering other questions) that I was interested in finding out more about. Needless to say it was a very fruitful time. Brother is thriving with the program I am doing with him now and I had planned on learning more during the upcoming convention for homeschooling. So...over the next month and a half I would get periodic emails about the convention. Tedd Tripp was to be the keynote speaker and there would be many other workshops offered during the three day convention. Since we have no childcare and my husband works weekdays, I only registered for Saturday (which was to start on Thursday). The location of the convention is about an hour away from our home in good traffic. Although some from our church were planning to spend the night in town, I was going just to make a day trip out of it. One thing the ladies in the support group said several times was that the convention would be overwhelming but it is where many of them found the curriculum and ideas they needed to get started with their families. As the convention date grew nearer, I kind of started trying to convince myself that I didn't really need to go. I wasn't going to be out any money since it was free for me and Brother was doing so well in the school structure I was already doing with him. I thought overwhelming me before he is officially in school might be too much. Plus I wasn't going with anyone so I really had no accountability, except My Love who pretty much never let me back out. :) Fast forward to a couple weeks ago. We were eating lunch at our local Chick-fil-A when Bundle Boy started asking every girl nearby to leave their meals and come play with him in the play place (the same one that Babydoll Sissy peed in a month ago). Eventually two girls came and another little boy. The five of them were playing so well together which isn't always the case in those places. Another Mom was particularly chatty with me and a grandfather in the room. So much so that I learned that she was also homeschooling her preschooler, grew up in our county and then returned after serving 17 years in the CIA, her daughter was about to turn five and was having a Veggie Tales birthday party and she was also registered for the homeschool convention but was apprehensive about going. She asked for my phone number and gave me hers. The kids were playing so well and we seemed to have so much in common (except for the secret government service thing) so I thought what the heck. Maybe we could get a playdate or two out of it. Several days went by. I didn't call. She didn't call. What is the etiquette for correspondence when being picked up in a fast food play place? Somehow I decided I would go to the convention after all. My Love kept encouraging me to attend. I actually like to drive places myself because then I feel like I can leave whenever I want to. I figured I would drive into town early, take in Tripp's message and then sit in on one or two workshops that I thought applied to me before browsing the exhibit hall. My Love was planning to have a much needed Daddy Day with the kiddos (which included no set plans) and I was looking forward to a day away myself. I woke up at 5am and hit the road by 6am with all the documents printed out I needed to navigate around the convention. The traffic was empty on that early Saturday morning. The music was playing loud and there wasn't anyone in the back seat telling me not to sing. I was enjoying the time to just hear from the Lord. I made it to the capital city in great time. They suggested 16 different parking structures and I made it easily into the first one I drove into. The city was dead. I decided to sit in my car for a while before wandering next door to the convention center to register (ie. pick up badges, etc) and then make the session at 8:30. At 7:15am, I called My Love to let him know I made it in good time. I hate driving in unknown cities with one way streets. It stresses me out. There was no anxiety during this trip though. I started looking through the papers I had brought and told My Love what my plan was for the day when I first noticed it. Thursday, June 7th. My eyes skirted to the top of the page. June 7th-9th. "What is today's date?" I asked My Love, realizing my error. "June 2nd," he said slowly. "Why?" In that moment I felt like an idiot. I actually said, "I am an idiot!" My Love was gracious to not agree with me on the phone and chuckled briefly before wishing me a safe trip back home and suggested I stop for a (decaf) coffee first. I was back home with the family by 8:30am (after paying $8 to sit in the parking structure for 10 minutes) and we had a whole Saturday before us to spend together. That drive home was a long one. Not in terms of time at all. There was still no traffic. It was just full of conversation in my head between me and the Lord. So many questions rushed over me. After that first "doh!" moment I really let it go. God had so many opportunities to let me notice the date between the end of March when I registered for the convention and the morning I printed out all the papers before hitting the road. He kept me from seeing it. I didn't see it. Somehow I got it in my head that the convention was on June 2nd and I couldn't see anything else. Then I thought of the process. I had to wonder if I had called the random girl from Chick-fil-A she would have shown me the error of my ways. I didn't call her. I could have asked any number of people at church if and when they were planning to go to the convention in an effort to drive with them or meet up with them there. I didn't bring it up at all. It gave me the ability to back out that way. No accountability equals an easy escape route. But then I had to consider what God had to do to actually get me on the road that morning. I went. I got in the car and drove to the city. But in the end I wasn't fully obeying. So what is my take away from my long drive south? Sometimes God shines light on the unknown path before you and then waits to see if you are willing to walk in it with Him. Are you going to walk the path eventually but only on your own terms? I will admit I have thought a few times this week that maybe I don't actually have to go to the convention AGAIN this Saturday. I mean, I learned the lesson. Maybe the actual convention attendance wasn't part of the process. But alas that wouldn't be fully obeying yet again would it? Funny how we can sometimes justify what it looks like to obey the Lord. We followed, Lord. We did the training to become foster parents. Now what? Maybe He just wanted to see if we would follow him into the unknown... Doubtful. But perhaps we have been busy telling the Lord how we will travel this journey with Him. So I guess I will be making a phone call this week to some random Chick-fil-A girl. If for no other reason but to encourage her to go and invite her to attend with me.

the full vs. new moon

I continue to be awed by God's amazing creation of the moon.  We look up and notice it more when it is bright and full but somehow even if we don't see it we know of it's silent presence.  As an adult I understand that the moon doesn't actually change shape.  

Depending on where the moon is in relation to the earth, we see the (sometimes small) part of the sphere that is reflecting the sun which is God's light source.  Did you know that we see the full circle of the moon when it is in fact behind the earth?  While it faces the sun from back there, the light reflects directly down into our night sky.  When the moon has orbited between the sun and earth, the inhabitants of this planet don't see the light at all.  Even though the moon is now closer to the sun it essentially has it's back to the source of light.  In an attempt to show the earth who God is, the people end up seeing nothing at all (the new moon) in the dark night sky.

Oh Lord help me to take a back seat to your marvelous powerful light.  Let my life only fully reflect--not waxing and waning--who you are at all times.