He's good holy to me

Seven years ago today I was sipping tropical drinks, pool-side in Cancun preparing to welcome in 2003. I had a shiny new wedding band on my finger and my handsome, new husband by my side. We had just experienced a 3 day whirlwind wedding weekend. I felt on top of the world.

Could it seriously get any better?

Little did I know that it could and, because of God's grace, it would.

You see, if you've read our story, you know that at this newly-married point in my life, an intimate relationship with Christ was something that I did not possess. In fact, I felt confident that because Luke and I had made it through some pretty tough times on our own, we really didn't need anything or anyone else helping us out.

We rung in 2003 with smiles on our faces and hope for our future. I am so glad that God's plans for our marriage were so much better than our plans for our marriage. I'm so very, very glad.

Seven years later I think about the naive, young wife that stood in front of a crowded church and promised to love, honor and obey the man in front of her. And today, I am so blessed by the handsome, not-so-new husband I continue to be paired with. I've blogged much about Luke but what I would like to add here is above anything I have ever realized before. About 2 weeks ago, while were in in the midst of a vacation that proved to be incredibly stressful, I had never thought of my husband in this way. And since this revelation, I have yet to be able to see him as anything else.

It is often that people see me with all of our children and they ask, "Girl, how do you do it?" While I think that there are many answers to this question, my most common two responses are,

"God gives you what you need."

and

"I am blessed to be married to Luke. He's excessively good to me."

But now, I realize that I need to have a change in my reference of my husband. He is not excessively good to me. Rather, he is excessively HOLY to me. There is a huge difference and if you're still with me, I'd like to explain.

According to Ephesians 5 a wife is called to submit to her husband as the head of the home. In turn, a husband is commanded to "love your wife, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her" and to "love your wife as your own body."

I think so often we (I) get so hung up on the submit part that I gloss over God's command for husbands. Can I just tell you that it is remarkably easy to submit to a man who is loving you as himself? As his own flesh?

It is. Let me show you by examples in action.

When Luke and I run out of contact solution and we are down to 1 final bottle, after he uses it in the morning he will move the contact solution across the bathroom so that it is beside my sink when I'm ready for it.

When I buy new flavored creamer for my coffee, Luke will remove the paper seal under the cap when he pours his own coffee in the morning. Luke doesn't used flavored coffee creamer. He does this just for me.

When we were driving into Memphis 2 weeks ago and I just knew that I was right in my directing him to take a "shorter" route through his hometown, he quietly obliged me and allowed us to take a one hour detour through the most interesting parts of town. All because he didn't want to argue with me after 15.5 hours in the car.

He turns the coffee pot back on before he leaves so that it won't automatically shut off on me and I'm left with cold coffee.

He allows me to be mean and nasty and rude to him and then offers to rub my back because he can see I've had a bad day.

He forgives quickly often before I ever even ask.

He's slow to anger and prays for me fervently.

There is so much more but I think you're getting the picture. He loves me like his own flesh. He gives of himself just as Christ gave of himself for his church.

He's more than good to me. He's HOLY to me.

Even though I don't deserve it. Even though I'm selfish. Even though I am rarely holy back.

And since I've realized just how holy my husband is toward me I see it everywhere, in all that he does. And I realize that in the last seven years I have blessed by a man who often goes unrecognized in the little things. I have been paired with a man who desires to love me despite my unworthiness of his love.

And, most importantly, I have realized that when people ask me, "How do you do it?" my new response will most surely have to be,

"I am blessed to be married to Luke. He's excessively HOLY to me."

Happy 7th Anniversary Luke! I love you beyond anything I am capable of understanding.

Hands Full Overflowing

I have never denied that Luke and I have our "hands full." I may have not always wanted to admit it openly, but never have I denied it.

Still, I can't help but think...."Surely we are not the only ones, living in complete chaos, desperate to seek God's desires and yet wondering if we REALLY heard God right when He called us to this place."

After all, 6 kids ages five and under IS a little crazy. Not to mention we are trying to sell our house and homeschooling and fostering and ...well, you know, everything.

Then, today I found this blog (thanks Holly):

http://kissesfromkatie.blogspot.com/

Now, before you click away and say..."Oh, ANOTHER blog" hear me out. This girl, this YOUNG girl, is 20 years old. She followed God's call to Uganda and is now mothering 13 children and supporting 400 more through her ministry. A ministry that God began and is consistently providing for.

Yes, Luke and I have our hands full. But as tears stream down my face after only reading 3 entries on her blog, I KNOW that having hands full of what God is given us is the ONLY place that I want to be. What if we ALL got so uncomfortable by following God's commands that everyone else thought we were crazy? What could we do for lost people then? And how would God fill up our hands so much that blessings overflow them to the point of no return.

I can't even imagine.

I'm Not Who I Was

Last Saturday we had a yard sale. Okay, actually we carried all our stuff out onto our driveway, let it sit for about 6 hours, sold twelve $1.00 items, carried it all back into our garage then ordered pizza.

Successful we were not. Anyway, I spent most of my time "preparing" for the yard sale in the weeks preceding it by sorting through old boxes and looking at pictures that I had not seen in years. I found letters from old friends and photos of me and people that I had not spoken to in nearly a decade. The trips I took down memory lane brought smiles, fears, tears and much thought.

My past, well the past prior to my marriage, isn't one that I always enjoy remembering. Sure, I have great memories with wonderful friends. But overall my memories, particularly the ones I have from high school, are tainted. They include pain from broken relationships, less than desirable (but unfortunately true) rumors about my dating life and recollections of never being good enough.

Wait? Doesn't everyone feel the same way about their time in high school? Maybe. But maybe not. You see, when I got the invitation via email last year for my 10 year high school reunion I knew that there was no way in you-know-where that I was going back. Ever. I couldn't click delete fast enough. But let me make it very clear, it isn't because of shame that I refuse to go to that place. It isn't because I feel like I'm better than the folks who still live in my hometown or because I think that part of my life was pathetic. It's not that it all.

The truth is, I'm not who I was. I'm different now. At the time, I saw no reason to not do the things I did. I saw no reason to not have sex with the guys I dated or allow my body to be put on display for whomever to see. I saw no reason to live my life for anything but pure, selfish pleasure. My only fear was getting caught by my father, which actually happened anyway.


But looking back at those photos I realized that I was so broken. I was so lost. I could fix everything myself and if I couldn't, well I just pushed it to the back burner and hoped it would resolve itself.

You see, I'm not who I was.

I am changed. For as long as I could remember I wanted, desperately, to be rescued. I'd watch romance movies and just cry because I wanted that dramatic rescue from a man who would love me forever for who I was. That man never came. Sure they allowed themselves use of my body and tried their best to live up to my high expectations. But they couldn't fill the void. They couldn't rescue me in a way I needed. They let me down.

Finally, I realized a rescuer wasn't coming. I loved Luke and when you love someone and you're out of college you get married so that's what we did. Life was good. Sure it had its bumps but in general it was good. But the longing never faded. I still wanted the dramatic rescue, the unfailing love and the risk of a man losing it all just for me.

Then it happened. I met my Rescuer. I don't remember when and I don't remember how but I remember knowing that it was a Rescue of unfailing proportions. He did it, for me. He knew I wasn't the girl I was. He knew the girl I was going to be. With one mighty display of love, He rescued me in a way that I could never imagine. He wiped away all the sin, shame and scars from the life of a decade past.

And now, I'm not who I was.

Surrender

Surrender.

That is the word that continues to roll through my mind. The word that is moving through my heart. The word that resonates through my soul, and scares me to pieces.

Surrender.

What does that mean? What does that look like? It's not a white flag. It's more than just a mindset. It's life, a life I am called to live. A life that ALL believers are called to live. We are asked to live a life fully consecrated to God, refraining from selfish desires.

But what does that look like?

The basics for all believers are the same, but the deeper issues, the ones where God isn't black and white, those are the ones where I wonder...what does fully surrendered look like for me?

Does that mean all of our "stuff" should be given away or sold? Does that mean that I cannot enjoy a nice house, a fun life filled with vacations and thrills or comfort?

Surely the Lord's blessings upon my life are meant to be enjoyed? Surely He does not expect me to lament over the nice things that I own? No! God's blessings are a gift, to be enjoyed.

But, where does full surrender fit into the grand scheme of loving the Lord? Where do my countless blessings fall onto a spectrum of fully surrendering everything to the God I serve? How do I find balance between praising Him for all that I have and not hording possessions? What does that look like?

It looks like open hands. It feels like an open heart. It loves like a heart that knows no pain. To fully surrender, I've realized that I must simply be willing. Willing to offer whatever I have. You see, I know that blessings are directly related to offering. I'm not talking about money here, I'm talking about life blessings. BIG blessings. Little blessings. Blessings of health, joy, happiness, salvation and love. Blessings of giggles, hugs, snuggles, freedom and mercy. Blessings of trials and challenges. Blessings of grace.

To stand with clenched fists, holding onto everything as tight as you can is not a life surrendered. A life surrendered is open hands, offering everything in it back to the One who created it and purposed it in the first place. That includes your home, your finances, your "stuff," your life and,...even your family. All of it.

Surrender. It still scares me to pieces. But I know, that with open hands, not only am I able to freely surrender all, but countless blessings may flow in as well. After all, do I really believe that the God who offered up His own Son, the God who spared nothing for me, would really give me anything less than all of His mercy, grace and love? I think know not.

Therefore, I surrender. I surrender.

Hope Lives.

I know that I need to announce Baby D's new name and show you the good pictures from our family picture session, but something much more pressing is on my heart, and I must share it with you.

Sometimes God brings events and people into your life that change you forever. Yesterday was one of those days for me. Our church had an event yesterday for the people in our community. Joy, hope, tears, passion and love are only a small sample of the emotions that I felt after leaving the building yesterday. I have been blessed and honored to begin new friendships and I pray, that the people we ministered to yesterday felt loved on, cared for and immensely blessed. Below is a news clip from a local station about what our church tried to offer to the community.





Over 24 hours after the "hoopla" of this event, I am seeing, more than ever, why I wrote a post, just over 6 months ago. However, what I can see now, even more clearly, is EXACTLY why I love these people that also call my church home. Over 300 volunteers turned out yesterday, not because we wanted personal glory or gain, but because we all know, very deeply, the One who has changed our lives forever. It is with Him in mind, that we offered ourselves, our possessions, our time and our hearts to a hurting group of people.

But what those people may never know, is exactly how much they touched us. They will never know or see the conversations that I had this morning with our youth and how those youth left that place feeling better about themselves.

They will never see or know of the conversations Luke and I have had about how we will never be the same. They may never know that I will think of them often and praise God for all of His creations. What an amazing church, but better yet, what an amazing community. Thank you Lord for giving me this blessing and for changing my life.

This is the original post I wrote on September 3, 2008. Although this post is getting rather long, I hope you will stay with it to the end. You're almost guaranteed a laugh!

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More Than Bricks

Dictionary.com defines church as "a building for public Christian worship" (plus about 14 other definitions).

However, I know that church isn't a building but rather the people who fill it. I am so incredibly blessed to attend and be a part of an amazing church. Initially, Luke and I were attracted to Rich Fork because of the former pastor. He had such a way of expressing deep Biblical truths but with an air of ease so that new believers (or even non-believers) could understand and seasoned believers felt challenged. When he announced that he was stepping down as pastor, my heart sank. He was the biggest reason we'd chosen that church. What if the new guy sucked?

Let me take you back to April of 2002. Luke had moved to North Carolina to start working for my step-dad as a traveling furniture rep. I was still in Arkansas, finishing up my senior year of college. On May 4, 2002 I graduated and loaded up everything I owned and moved. It was the best move of my life. I was engaged to a wonderful man and moving into a fresh start. Luke and I had started to meddle in scripture and prayer but I was, by no means, a believer.

We had regular pity parties because we had no friends in our new town. We spent a lot of time hanging out with my parents and their friends. They were great but they weren't our friends. We bought a house in June of 2002 and I moved in while Luke continued living with my parents (yes, that's right). We were married in December of 2002 and quickly found some friends that we loved to hang out with. However, due to some outside circumstances, we once again found ourselves friendless. That's when we aimlessly wandered into the doors of Rich Fork.

Luke and I met the Madisons in our Rich Fork 101 class sometime in the Spring of 2003. Little did we know that they would continue to be close confidants and a connection to the most amazing group of friends. They invited us to their Sunday School class and Luke and I quickly realized that we had found a group of people to fill the void of our college friendships. God was graciously providing. I gave my life to Christ and found that these people, these believers, were actually a lot like me. I was amazed.

Luke and I had just gotten settled and involved when our pastor announced he was leaving. We talked about whether or not we'd move churches, since, as I said before, he was a huge part of our love of Rich Fork. We decided that we liked our friends too much to leave so we'd just stick it out, for now. I don't remember ever praying out this decision...now I think that's funny, and scary.

It's so obvious to me now, how out of touch I was with the whole "church" scene. Clearly there was an obvious choice to succeed our former pastor. When they announced that the nomination committee had chosen Michael, I jumped to my feet and applauded. I remember thinking so clearly,

Wow! Why am I standing up? This is really exciting! Wow, I'm really yelling. Okay, calm down, calm down.

In the following weeks we voted, as a church body to have Michael as our senior pastor. When the ballot came to me, I thought

Wow, so this is how this works. Some people may not like this. There is a possibility that he may not be our pastor.

Then it hit me. Why am I here? What does this church offer that all the others don't. The answer was incredibly simple:

The People.

I could go anywhere else, to any other corner in our town and find God. The only place that could find my home, my church home, was with these people.

In the last 5 years, God has continued to confirm that for us. We have the most amazing group of believers that we humbly call our friends. They hold us accountable, challenge us and, most importantly, point us to God. Most of them are also pretty stinkin' hilarious.

If you look over to the right side of this page, you'll see a long list of bloggers, over half of which are friends of ours who call our church home as well. I love these people for so many, various reasons. The least of which is because of the building I met them in. This past spring, Luke and I ventured down to the youth area. It's a decision I will never regret making. Once more, God led us to amazing people. Youth I feel privileged to call friends.

Check out these videos and pics and you'll see, just as I do, exactly why I love these people and I feel incredibly blessed to call them friends. They are hilariously amazing, unconditionally loyal and, most incredibly, tolerant of my frequent mistakes. God has so richly blessed me. Oh, and in case you're wondering...that new pastor doesn't suck. ;)

Our first "new" friends. The Madisons and the Hanners. Nice 'stash Phil!! I'm about 1,000 lbs heavier and I think Sarah's about 16 yrs old in this pic. Wow, have we all changed!


Ringing in a new year. Nice helmet 'Tiney!


Dorf (if you don't know Dorf, google it)


Baby D and The Thompsons. Another example of God's perfect timing.


Birthday celebrations are much better with friends.

Our amazing friend Britt, aka "girlfriend" doin' her thang.





This is a video from almost a year ago. I tried to edit some of it b/c it was almost 8 minutes long. It might be the funniest thing I've seen in a while.

This was at our house last Saturday night. Yep, that's our Pastor Micheal (the one I mentioned above) racing Kevin K. I think he was having flashbacks to the Faster Pastor race.

Merry Christmas!

I know I haven't posted much lately. Along with they busyness of family time and going from here to there, I've had a lot on my mind and in my heart. I promise to roll it all out to you soon.

However, don't think for one second that I'm not excited to celebrate the birth of the Greatest King to ever live!

I pray, that above all else, you will find true joy in the greatest gift we can receive, Jesus Christ.

Merry Christmas to you all!

The First

Okay...I was about to post this back on October 9th, but while proof reading it, we got the call for Baby Girl. I wanted to still post it, especially now, because of it's relevance.
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Written on October 9th:

Below is my first post I wrote way back in January. Since I was lacking thoughtful words today, I thought I'd look back at some old posts (back before anyone was actually READING my blog) and see if anything struck me as worthwhile. This post jumped off the screen at me.

Lately, I have struggled so much with consistent quiet time (actually ANY quiet time). I feel like I'm in conversation with God, but right now, it's pretty one sided. I had all but forgotten about my Life Verse until I re-read this post (some life verse, huh?). When I read those words again, they jumped off the page at me, just as they did that first day God revealed them to me.
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Originally written January 31, 2008

About 6 months ago I was reading the book "Calm My Anxious Heart" by Linda Dillow. In it, she suggests creating a life purpose statement. I have been captivated by this concept since I read it. Although I have thought that I had purpose for my life, I have never before looked at it from this vantage point. I have never thought of my entire life as a time line and referenced where I been and where I am, in contrast to where I want to be. Read my life purpose verse, then I will attempt to explain its meaning in terms of my heart:

I'm not saying that I have this all together, that I have it made. But I am well on my way, reaching out for Christ, who has so wondrously reached out for me. Friends, don't get me wrong: By no means do I count myself an expert in all of this, but I've got my eye on the goal, where God is beckoning us onward—to Jesus. I'm off and running, and I'm not turning back. ~ Philippians 3:12-14, The Message

Here's what I take this to mean for me:

1. I will never be the person that says, "I've got it all figured out." I am trying desperately hard to become the Wife, Mother, Daughter, Sister and Friend that Jesus Christ wants me to be. However, I fail in every area of my life daily. I don't know how I can let God down so much, fail so often and still be considered so valuable to Him. That baffles me. I know that every time I am in the Word and in prayer or just sitting with friends, I learn so much about this God I love. I think about it a lot in reference to 1 Corinthians Chapter 3. I know that there are days when all I can tolerate is God's milk. Then, when I am ready in a new area, He gives me meat. I am continually amazed at how He works on my heart in simple ways, continuing to reveal Himself to me.

2. I know that if I continue to seek God's will for my life, then I am headed in the right direction. I may have NO CLUE where He is taking me, but when the Creator of the universes is in control, who am I to ask questions? Not that I don't, because believe you me, I have SOOO many uncertainties. I also know that my God is big enough for me to doubt Him, have questions about Him, not believe Him and yet He still loves me. Amazing.

3. Lastly, (at least for now) I know that I am being made new. I am headed down the path that leads me to "Christ-likeness." Not that I'll get there anytime soon, but I know where I'm going. I don't want to go back to the old me. Not that I think that I was a horrible person before, the the new me is just so much better. I have a lot of fond memories of the time I spent before I knew Jesus. I know those memories will never fade, and many of them shaped me into who I am today. But the Spirit has taken over the old me and transformed me from the inside out. I have been made new. I am still the same old girl. I talk too much, say it too loud, laugh when no one else thinks stuff is funny, gross people out....but now, I'm different. I love looking for God in the every day. I realize that things in my life don't happen by "coincidence" and there is no such thing as "luck." Everything in the universe is held up by the God I serve. What an awesome way to live my life!

I still have many hurdles to jump, lots of mountains to climb and so many bridges to rebuild. But I know that with the power of Christ, I can overcome anything, because of His sacrifice for me.
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Looking back at this post just makes me even more aware of how amazing my God really is! Look at all He has done in our lives this year and how He has shown Himself time and time again. I know that no part of me deserves any of what He gives me, but the blessings we continue to receive through obedience are humbling.

Thank you all for your prayers of support lately. I can really feel them all around me, sustaining me, encouraging me and whispering truths when the author of lies tries to creep in! You all mean so much to me and I appreciate you journeying with me.

Normally Prejudice

**If you're going to read this post, you must read the entire thing. Reading it partially, you will certainly miss the point I'm trying to make and probably think I'm a prejudice jerk.**

Today, I get to go and spend some time in a place that always challenges me to evaluate myself, my prejudices and my interactions with others.

I'm not going to a political rally or a revival or even to a self-help conference. Today I get to spend some time at our county's health department.

I will go today to pick up more WIC vouchers for Baby D's formula.

Let me start by saying that my prejudices are not toward the people in general who need this incredible program. When I was pregnant with the twins, Luke and I took advantage of the fact that we qualified for the WIC program. We used and enjoyed our WIC vouchers for almost 10 months until our income became such that we no longer met the qualification requirements. Trust me, if we still qualified, we'd still be utilizing this resource.

And, when I say prejudice I am not speaking of racial assumptions. Yes, like everyone else, I can sometimes struggle to find balance in treating all peoples equally. However, this is not the prejudice I am refering to either.

When I visit our county health department, I find prejudice as a parent. I find prejudice as a citizen. I find prejudice as a tax payer.

Let me start by giving you the definition of prejudice. It may not be what you think. It is not specific to black/white relationships but rather

1.	an unfavorable opinion or feeling formed beforehand or without knowledge, thought, or reason.

2.	any preconceived opinion or feeling, either favorable or unfavorable.

I chose these two definitions because I feel that they encompass the emotions I feel.

As I walk through the doors of the health department I am greeted by no one. The receptionist sits off to the side of the lobby in an uninviting, cold, glass box. You may only speak to her when she takes time out of a pressing assignment to acknowledge your presence.

I make my way upstairs to a familiar waiting room only to be reminded that through out the health department the furniture is cold, hard and unfriendly. I make my way through more doors and down a long hall way so that I can check in.

I am sent back to the waiting room for my name to be called. If my appointment is at 2:00pm (which is the case today) I am not ensured that I will be promptly called at 2 o'clock. Instead, I wait, sometimes in the upwards of an hour.

I am now forming my opinions of this establishment. Why must it be so cold and hard? Why are these workers, though usually friendly, always rushed? Why is this building so....dirty?

As I sit, waiting for my name to be called, I must evaluate more of my prejudices. I see people from all races waiting for their turn. I find myself questioning them and asking myself how they could

1. Not be properly dressed.

• This includes wearing appropriate undergarments. Some women are clearly not addressing the need for "support" if you catch my drift.
  
• Clothing that looks as though it would be more suitable when used at a night club. More specifically a club that caters to gentlemen.
  
• Clothing that has vulgar messages and/or pictures

Let me say that I understand that not all people have access to a washer and dryer. Dirty clothing is understandable. Clothing that give my children a new metal picture that I wasn't ready for them to see it not acceptable. I'm glad that my kids are still non-readers.

2. Allow their kids to

• Crawl on a public floor. It's obviously dirty and their hands show the filth of a publically used building.
• Teethe on a public toy.
• Chew on a public chair.

3. Have little to no self control. The last time I went, I overheard a conversation between two other folks who were waiting. They discussed how angry they were for having to be there so early in the morning. They proceeded to tell each and every person that would listen how pitiful the service was and how terrible it was they had to wait. It was not a complaint made with tact, to the proper person but rather a public assault on the exact program that provided food for their family.

As I watch these interactions and events unfold I am reminded that all people come from somewhere. It is where you came from and what you know that, all too often, determines your social behaviors and your perception of what is acceptable.

I used to teach middle school in a low income school district. It was told to me that anywhere from 80-95% of the students were on Free/Reduced Lunches. This program helps determine the income level of the school district. Ours was one that ranked fairly high in the state when listed in order of poverty.

I loved these children, just as I love all children. The difference was, I truly had a heart for these kids. They took all of me and I gave all freely. It wasn't until I had children of my own that I realized just how much my students needed. It was then I had to make a choice. Who gets my left-overs? My students deserved a teacher that could give without reservation. My children deserved a mom that had fresh energy and excitement end of the day. I could not be both, so I chose my family.

I have so many good stories about my time teaching. Most of them are filled with laughter. However, some are not. I remember making a home visit one of the first weeks I taught. The house was barely fit to live in. There were maybe 11 people living in a 2 bedroom house. There were boards and plastic on the windows. No electricity. I doubt running water.

I kept asking myself, "How is someone living like this when just miles away there are million dollar homes?"

Another student I had....how do I say this tactfully.....became a woman at school. She began her cycle. I gave her a week's supply of sanitary products and explained to her the importance of using and changing them. Midway through the next day, it was obvious that she had not taken hold of the importance of frequent changing. I pulled her into the hall and asked her about it. She told me her mom said you only change it every other day, so you'll have enough. I was floored.

The point in those stories is so I can ask the question,

"What is normal? What is your background? Where do you come from?"

All of us are educated by something. The question is not lack of education but rather knowing where the education was received.

We all live out the customs that we were taught in our homes growing up. As with most of my students, they did what the did because that's what they knew.

These people in the health department do what they do because that's what they know. I will not judge them for their life experiences. I will not place my perceptions of their life on a scale weighing them as less. I say will not because it will need to be a conscious effort. I must remember Christ.

I remember when I was 10 and my mom and I moved to North Carolina after she married my step-dad. It was our first few weeks here and I kept wondering when it would get back to normal. Days and weeks went by and things never went back to normal.

You see, I was waiting for what I knew to be true. In my previous world, my Dad's side of the family was always together. We ate almost every meal with everyone squeezed around my Granny and Paw's table. There were aunts, uncles, cousins. There was lots of laughter and tons of food.

Here in my new life, little of that applied. It was a culture shock. My new family was wonderful, but based on my past education of family, they were weird.

As I head off for a day of reality checks and waiting, I challenge you to respond to the following questions:

What is normal for you and how does it influence your opinion of others? What role does your faith play in your perception of people who are different than you?

Good Company

Tonight we had the privilege of getting to know some new friends. As I said in my last post, I am unable to go into great detail, however these friends have a special link to Baby D. They too are foster parents with our county. Being with them, hearing their encouraging words and knowing that they totally understand strengthens my spirit.

Have you ever met someone and instantly had an unspoken, maybe even un-identifyable connection? I experienced that tonight. As Luke and I shared our hopes, disappointments and frustrations these folks offered support like no one else could. Once again, God confirmed that we are in the right place doing the right thing. I took a few pictures and I wish desperately that I could post them. Maybe one day I'll be able to tell you all the story of Baby D, his connection with this special family and show you some precious pictures. Until then, I pray desperately for God's will, hoping it aligns with the desires in my heart.

SK,
As we were talking tonight, this went through my mind. I know it was put there by our Creator:

Mother and child are not bonded by the womb,
but through her heart.

Thank you for encouraging me.

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Last night, I scribbled this in my journal. As I watched the children tonight, I was reminded of it:

Because I'm your mother:
*I check on you each night before I go to sleep.
*I cover you up so you won't get cold.
*I tell you about Jesus and His sacrifice for us.
*I love your father, even when I don't like him.
*I miss my favorite TV show, and lay with you so you aren't afraid.
*I know when you're feeling bad and I can see it in your eyes.
*I'd rather hold you when you're sick, even if it means smelling like puke, snot or worse.

Because I'm your mother:
*I pray for you each day, with each breath I take.
*I pray for your spouse. That he/she will love the Lord an serve Him with all his/her heart.
*I remember each picture stored in baby books and I know the reasons they were taken.
*I vividly relive the day of your birth over and over again. My eyes well up with joy at each thought.
* I remember the day we brought you into our home and the way my heart felt complete.
*I wish you could stay young and innocent for ever, never seeing the true cruelty of this fallen world.
*I can pick your voice or cry out of a crowd.
* I know when you need me.

Because I'm your mother:
* I serve myself last.
* I willingly endure heartache so that you will not feel hurt.
* I eat cold meals.
* I wake up, even when I want to sleep.
* I wipe snot, butts and eyes and kiss boo-boos with pure joy.
* I wear spit-stained shirts.
* I will rock and hold you, even though there are dirty dishes, piles of laundry and filthy floors.

Because I'm your mother:
* I have a purpose in this life.
* I see a clear need for my Savior, His grace and His mercy.
* I'm more alive than I've ever been.
* I smile with just the thought of you.

Because I'm your mother:
* I praise my God from whom the blessings of you came to be.
* I thank Him for the miracle of your life.
* I love wholly.

My Purpose

My purpose is that they may be encouraged in heart and united in love, so that they may have the full riches of complete understanding, in order that they may know the mystery of God, namely, Christ, in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge.

~ Colossians 2:2-3

A Season or A Spell?

I've been going through a dry spell lately. Hopefully, I'm not the only believer on the planet who experiences this, so some of you can relate. Basically, I've not made time for God lately. Other things, that are so obviously not important, have edged their way into my time with Him. The part that really perturbs me is that it is stupid stuff. You know, things like creating a new blog header, cleaning my house, or better yet, napping. I feel like I can almost justify the napping considering that I have a newborn in the house. Just last night, Baby D decided that he wanted to be awake from 3:00am - 4:45am. He wasn't fussy, he just wanted to be awake and be held. Part of me can almost justify the cleaning, have you been to my house lately? However, I know that even these things, justifiable as they may be, are just another thing separating me from the blessings I could be receiving from time with Him.

A few years ago, I honestly don't remember if it was after Elizabeth was born or when the twins were born, my friend Emily and I were talking about being a mom and having quiet time (or for me, the lack thereof). Emily, being the wise, wise woman she is, offered me a different perspective. She said, "Jessica, in this season of your life, God truly knows the desires of your heart. He knows how much you have going on. Make your day constant worship to Him, while you mother your children." That spoke such volumes to me. I know that God cares about details because He's shown me that time and time again. Yet, this time it's different.

Yes, I'm suffering from lack of sleep. Yes, I have 4 children under 4 in my home. But in all honesty, those things aren't what's keeping me from Him. It's purely me. I feel like I go through spurts of intense study. I will go weeks and immerse myself in God's word, gulping in the freshness of the Spirit that is feeding me as much as I can take. Then, without warning, it fades. I begin to go a day or two without picking up my Bible. Those two days turn into a week, and before I know it, it's Sunday morning and I'm frantically searching the house for my Bible, because I have no clue where I last put it. Finally, I discover it, still in the car from last Sunday.

Where is the balance in my life? Where can I find that perfect harmony between too much and not enough? How can I orchestrate my days so that God is my #1 priority? Out loud I say that God is at the top of my ever growing list. However, my actions do not truly portray that. I certainly put my family, house and even computer time ahead of my Savior. As I struggle with it all, I am reminded of my life verse. Philippians 3:12-14 pretty much hits me like a ton of bricks each and every time I read it.

I'm not saying that I have this all together, that I have it made. But I am well on my way, reaching out for Christ, who has so wondrously reached out for me. Friends, don't get me wrong: By no means do I count myself an expert in all of this, but I've got my eye on the goal, where God is beckoning us onward—to Jesus. I'm off and running, and I'm not turning back.
~The Message

When I read those words, I'm reminded just how far I've come in my walk. I'm reminded that when I first began, I would go months without reading my Bible, and never feel convicted until someone or something pointed it out. Now, a few days without my God time and I'm thirsting for it. Maybe I go through drys spells so that I can see how far I've come. Maybe I go through them to see how much further I have to go. Either way, I know that I'm a work in progress. My walk with Christ changes daily. I am truly off and running, and I'm not turning back. Now....where's my Bible?

Hearings and Reminders

This morning we went to court for the Adjudication and Disposition Hearings for Baby D. Basically, as I understand it, an adjudication hearing is the court proceeding where the petition accusations (the document that the judge initially signed for Baby D to be removed from his parents) is reviewed and if the parents feel that the child was unjustly removed, then they can contest the petition. If that happens then the case goes to trial (no jury, just the judge). However, Baby D's parents did not contest. All of the allegations in the petition were confirmed so we quickly moved onto the disposition. The disposition is where the attorneys recommend what needs to happen for the parents to get their child back. Then, the judge takes those recommendations and either modifies, adds to or omits any he/she deems necessary. It was all quite interesting. If you'd like more info on foster care court proceedings, click here (it will open a word document).

Of course, Baby D's birth parents were there, so I had all of the nervousness and emotion that I normally have when I am around them. Luke was there too, so that helped immensely. Can I just brag on my husband a minute....(of course I can, it's my blog!)...he is so amazing. He took the entire morning off to go to court. Now, if you know my husband at all you know that taking off work is not something he does lightly. In the 5.5 yrs we've been married he has NEVER called in sick (except 1 time when I was sick and couldn't take care of the kids). The only other time he's taken off work is when we have guests in town or for holidays. So here he is, beside me through this whole process. I was so thankful. Then, as we were sitting the parking lot waiting to go into the courthouse, he reaches over and takes my hand and says the most sincere prayer. He prays for the condition of our hearts (I especially needed that) and for our sweet Baby D. My husband is such a godly man, and I am so, so, so blessed.

Okay, so we get into the court room and it really wasn't that bad. The hardest part was listening to each attorney recommend that Baby D be reunified with his birth parents. I knew that this would be the case, but hearing it out loud crushed my heart. My mind immediately went to that moment when I would have to return him. I envisioned putting him in the car seat. My fat, chubby, handsome 1+ yr old, being buckled in and then watching the social worker drive him away forever. It makes me cry just thinking about it. I know that if that is where God leads us, He will sustain us, but I just can't let my mind go there...not yet.

Basically, the birth parents have A LOT to do. They have a long road ahead of them. Selfishly, I'm glad that they have so many things to do, because that decreases the chances of him going back to them. Then God whispers in to me, Don't you want them to know me? Be a light. It's too hard to swallow.

The most intriguing part of all was that the birth parents never even asked us how he was. When they came into the court room, before it all started, birth mom walked over to me and just said, "Does he need anything?" I told her diapers, because what else would I say? I'm so glad that I didn't blurt something inappropriate out like, "He really needs a loving, stable home...why don't you work on that, huh?" Praise God my filter has become better developed these last few years.

They never asked about him. They didn't ask who was keeping him while we were there. They didn't ask anything. How is that possible? How is it possible for a mother to look at the woman caring for her child and she not ask a single question about his well being? I don't understand and maybe I never will. Afterward, Luke and I went to get some coffee and digest what we'd just experienced. We continued to be baffled by their behavior and Luke continued to remind me that Jesus loves them the same way He loves us. I need to be reminded this continually. I need to be reminded that I should show them Christ's love. I need to be reminded of why we started this process in the first place...so that we could show the love of Christ to everyone we came in contact with. Remind me Lord, remind me, but please do it gently.

The Sheerest of Gifts

Consider it a sheer gift, friends, when tests and challenges come at you from all sides. You know that under pressure, your faith-life is forced into the open and shows its true colors. So don't try to get out of anything prematurely. Let it do its work so you become mature and well-developed, not deficient in any way.
~ James 1:2-4 (The Message)

Pure joy, huh (That's the NIV translation)? A sheer gift? Really? If such is the case, then I'm so tickled I could pop! I love how it is written in The Message version because it reads,

when tests and challenges come at you from all sides (emphasis added).

I totally feel that way right now. I am being tested from every angle. Family frustrations, homeschooling worries, volunteer duties....then of course there's the usual, things. The "simpler" stuff like parenting, marriage, keeping my house up. Wow, a sheer gift? I struggle to see all the joy.

Where I AM finding joy is in the fact that I am yearning for time with my Father. I am desperate for His word. I'm thirsty. Not that I've opened my Bible more than once this week, but the longing is still there. 6-12 months ago, I would have just continued through my day lacking nothing. The stress would be piling higher still, but the outlet never identified, the desire never sparked. That is sheer joy for me. I have prayed so many times, "Father, let me desire to spend time with you. Let me long for your word." He has answered. He has provided the desire, the longing. Many times this past week I've walked right past my Bible, glancing at it with such longing. Knowing that a half hour, fifteen minutes, in it's goodness would replenish my soul. But life's demands have called me away. Now I can see the attacker roping me into his snares.

Two years ago, shortly after the twins' birth, Luke and I were laying in our bed, exhausted from the day. Our new precious babies, were snoozing softly in the bassinet next to our bed. As one of them squeaked out a sweet baby noise, we both smiled. Almost in unison we spoke of how much fun this parenting thing was. Yes, we were EXHAUSTED. Yes, we were strained, but it truly was pure joy. It really was the sheerest of gifts. Looking back, I totally see what verse 4 means when it says,

Let it do its work so you become mature and well-developed, not deficient in any way.

We could not have felt more completely exhausted. I wondered a lot back then if we'd ever make it to the twins' 2nd birthday. I wondered how we would ever endure. However, I can see so clearly that God sent us Lucas and Ashlee exactly when He did so that we could become more mature, more developed parents. We don't have this parenting thing all figured out by any means. However, managing newborn twins and a 22 month old wasn't easy. It was physically, emotionally and spiritually exhausting. Having 3 kids under two certainly prepared us for having four kids under 4. This is WAY easier than it was when the twins were newbies, and I'm so much more spiritually mature. Knowing all of this, I know that this stress and these troubles are for God's perfect plan. I know that I am being tested because of a greater good. I know that He is sovereign, faithful and above all, LOVE. Because of that knowledge and my faith in Him, I will persevere. I will endure and I will try to consciously recognize the sheer gifts I have in my life at this very moment.

PS-Thanks Mandy for bringing these verses to my attention. I needed it so much more than you could know.

Veruca Salt-iness

I have to confess that lately my prayers have become quite selfish. When Baby D first got here, my prayers were purely for God's will. My heart's earnest desire was to see this family come to know Christ and be reunited. Over the last several days, they have turned VERY selfish. I struggled with whether or not to post this (its been sitting here since last Wednesday), but I felt that I had posted every other emotion I've felt so far, so why not this one too?

My prayer life has started revolving around my own selfish desires. As I continue to work through Experiencing God, I read about George Müller and how he prayed in the Spirit. To do this, he first prayed for God to take all of his own desires out of his heart, each and every last one of them. Then, he asked for the Spirit to place God's desires within him. So, knowing I am being very selfish lately, yesterday I asked God to take my desires. As I sat there, waiting....wanting God to take them, I felt my heart begin to lift. I felt a tinge of relief...then suddenly as if I was physically moving I felt my heart reach out and grab all of my emotions and pull them back. Almost as if they were being smothered within me. Imagine a balloon that is about to float away into the clouds, then at the last minute you grab the last inch of string and violently pull it toward you, engulfing it with your arms.

I feel this inner struggle constantly. I want to release it all to God, but for some reason I'm holding on, unable to let go completely. Am I afraid of God's desires? Am I fearful of what I might feel? I'm busying myself with other things, like arguing or picking fights with my husband. In my quiet time, I'm searching for answers to my questions, rather than opening my heart to hear what God wants to say. I am looking for signs rather than God.

I'm being very selfish. I want to know ALL of the answers NOW. I want MY WAY. I want what I FEEL is best for me. Where is that refuge I had mere days ago? Geesh, I'm such an Israelite! I forget so quickly how redemptive God is and I turn to myself to solve my problems. Surely this too will pass, but I know that I must pray my way through it, and I just don't have the strength right now. I want Baby D forever, not just for now. I want everyone to see that we would make the best home for him. I want God to answer the cries of my heart.

I sort of feel like Veruca Salt on Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory..."No Daddy, I want it NOW!" Unfortunately, God has never answered these demanding prayers in the past and I don't think He'll be starting anytime soon. So, I'm back to waiting, praying and trusting. I'm back to offering up my thoughts on a minute by minute basis. I'm back to asking God to change my heart. I mean, the world doesn't need another Veruca, and I certainly don't want THAT as my legacy.

My Comfort, My Refuge, My Strength

Yesterday's doctor visit went well. The birth parents showed up (even though I selfishly prayed they would bail out). Luke and I sat, in a small waiting room in the back with his birth parents for almost an hour. During that time I felt such peace. I must thank each of you for praying for us, because I know it was those prayers that kept my heart from racing the entire hour (though it probably would have been good cardio, and I need to burn all of the calories I can). I know it was prayer that led me through the day yesterday. For that, I thank you.

I must say though, that quite a few of my friends have said that I am "special." Or that our family is "amazing." Please, please, please do not give us the credit. It is not on our own accord that we are being strong. It is not through our own initiative that we are finding peace. We are not anything special. Trust me on this one, it's ALL God.

If you look at us and see peace, turn your eyes to heaven and give God praise. If you listen to us with our kids and hear selflessness, turn your ears to God and give Him glory. If you think, for one second, that Luke and I have exponential love, turn your heart to Christ and feel His goodness. This is SO not a Luke & Jessica thing, but a God thing.

I am so weak, so anxious and so incredibly dependent. I have "nubbin" fingernails because I chew them on the regular. I take acid-reducer medicine on a consistent basis as to subside my ever churning stomach. However, since this entire foster parent process started I have felt peace. Sure I've had moments of anxiety, frustration and questions. But, for the most part, (and I would say that's about 98% of the time) I've felt PEACE. Unsurpassed peace. Peace that I cannot explain. I can only look to Christ as the source of my strength.

The song "Shout To the Lord" plays through my mind so much. So, I decided to search my favorite line of that song on BibleGateway.com (my absolute favorite Bible site). The part of the song that sticks out is "My Comfort, My Shelter, Tower of refuge and strength."

When I searched "tower of refuge," it came back with Psalm 61:2-3:

From the ends of the earth I call to you,

I call as my heart grows faint;

lead me to the rock that is higher than I.

For you have been my refuge,
a strong tower against the foe.

Sheer perfection. Precisely how I see myself. Letting go and trusting God with all of my questions has been quite a struggle. Each time I want to pick up the phone and call someone to get their opinion, God whispers once more, I'm enough, remember? He is my refuge, He is my strong tower when my heart grows faint.

So please, if you pass us in the store, see us in the halls at church or if we even come to mind, please give God all the glory. Although it's humbling and flattering to hear of others praising you, we truly can't take any credit. God has totally taken over this situation and brought us more peace than we could ever imagine. It is not our own, it is purely Him.

Shout To the Lord
(click the title listen, I like the Skillet version best)

My Jesus, My Savior,
Lord there is none like You.
All of my days,
I want to praise,
The wonders of Your mighty love.
My Comfort, my Shelter
Tower of refuge and strength.
Let every breath, all that I am,
Never cease to worship You.

Shout to the Lord,
All the Earth let us sing.
Power and majesty
Praise to the King.
Mountains bow down
And the seas will roar
At the sound of Your name.
I sing for joy at the work of Your hands.
Forever I'll love You, forever I'll stand
Nothing compares
To the promise I have in You.

My Abba, My Dad

I received a call from our social worker today. It was the call that I have been anticipating for a few weeks now. Even though we're not "official" we're close. She spoke with the person at the state department, and our application has been reviewed, approved and processed. Next comes the final step of it being "keyed" into the system. We're not official until all is keyed in and we obtain a home reference number. Most likely, that should all be done by Friday (6/6).

As I was in my quiet time this morning, I felt God calling to me to just be still. I felt Him calling me to cuddle. I know that sounds weird and as I heard Him say that to me in my heart, I blurted out "Really?" I felt Him saying, "Come close, rest your head on my chest and let me hold you." I've never experienced anything like that before. Suddenly I was overwhelmed with emotion, not in a tearful sense, but in a childlike way. I felt Him close, I snuggled up with an oversized pillow and visualized myself cuddled into my Father. I've never had this type of intimacy with Him before so it was strange, yet marvelous. As I sat there, on the floor of my living room, hugging a pillow, I felt Him loving me as a father loves his daughter. One word flowed from my heart and burst forth from my lips ABBA.

I had read somewhere before that Abba is a name used to reference God in the most endearing way, almost like calling Him Daddy. Although there is no specific word in the English language to properly translate Abba, today I felt the emotion tied to that word.

Flash forward to this afternoon, I hang up the phone after speaking with the social worker. I feel overwhelming emotion. I feel myself anticipating, much like childbirth, a child that is coming to our home. I don't know when, I won't know how and I can't understand why, but a child is coming to us.

Today, my Abba allowed me an intimacy I've never felt. As I thought about that today, I realized that He is also holding that precious child, cuddling her. Keeping him or her safe until they can become a part of our family, even if it's temporary. I pray that as we journey down this path that will be rocky, tiresome, joyful and lovely, that my Abba will continue to hold me, secure against His chest, reassuring me "I'm here, I'm here..."

Come Thou Fount

This song has been in my heart for several days now. Along with it, Chris and Lindy have been on my heart as well. As I searched Youtube for a video with the lyrics, I found the video below. It was by no "accident" that the two (Africa and song) were combined.

So, Chris and Lindy...here is my prayer for you both, as we sit exactly 1 month out from your departure. I love you. God is good, and His goodness proceeds you.


PS-When Elizabeth saw the zebras in the video, she exclaimed "Mom, it's Zachy!" Thanks for putting this constant reminder in her life. We'll never see zebras the same way again.

Mom And The Rack Of Many Hats

I have recently gotten into a debate on another blog. I won't go into details of the debate, but I will say it has caused me to think about my actions more and how people view Christ in me. I started thinking about all the different "hats" I wear. You know the ordinary ones; mom, cook, chauffeur, wife, daughter, maid, etc., etc. In the serenity of the shower this morning, I started thinking, "Is Jesus written on each of my hats? Do I exude love, faithfulness and Christ when wearing each of these hats? As I went throughout my day today, I thought about what each hat said as I wore it.


The first hat I wore this morning was a waste management hat. When I opened the door to the twins' room, I found Lucas, completely naked in his crib. He had taken off his pj's and diaper. Unfortunately, his diaper contained his morning poop. He had smeared, thrown and smushed it all over himself and his bed and everything he touched was a poopy brown mess. As I scrubbed him in the bathtub, then disinfected and cleaned his bed, I thought about my role. Glamorous? No. Necessary? Yes! Such was also the life of Jesus.
Next up, breakfast. After disinfecting the bathtub, I put the girls in the tub and took Lucas to the table to get breakfast. While bathing the girls, Lucas proceeds to reject his food. Not just in a casual way, but in the only fashion that a 23 month old knows how to do, by throwing it as far from his reach as possible. After offering several detestable options, we settled on a chocolate chip muffin.

I resume my duties washing the girls in the bathtub only to return to the kitchen to find that I must now wear another hat.

Lucas has apparently now rejected the muffin, but not before he decided to crumble it and disperse it all over the table top and floor. Needless to say, I was not happy with my little man. So far this morning, he's caused more mess than he's worth. I set into cleaning up his second mess of the day. I wasn't too "Merry."
(I couldn't find an appropriate image when I searched "Maid's hat" so this will have to do.)
Next, I load all 3 kids into the car and head out the door. I play chauffeur for the duration of our ride to the City Lake Park. The big difference between my "clients" and those that pay, other than the monetary gain, is the noise level. Today was no exception. My kids are either full tilt or quiet as church mice. The latter only happens when we are watching a movie.

We arrive at the park just in time for lunch. It was a volunteer picnic for volunteers for the hospital. Since I'm on the Breastfeeding Support team as a volunteer I was invited, along with all 3 kids. It was a little chaotic, but fun to see the other moms on the team and especially their kids.


While at the park, Ashlee bumps her chin. Therefore, a new hat is adorned. This is one of my least favorites because usually I feel helpless. I wonder if Christ looks at my "boo-boos" and feels the same way?




Now it's time for snack. We're getting loaded back up into the car and Elizabeth let's out an ear piercing scream. I sprint around the van, sure she's smashed a body part in the door, only to see her entire bag of doritos spread all over the ground. She's not hurt, physically, but she's crushed. Her snack is gone. Time for a new hat, but this one I usually can't wear appropriately: MAGICIAN!


We complete our afternoon of "fun" when we arrive back safely at home. I torture our kids (I'm not googling "torture hat") and make them take a nap. Meanwhile, I try to take a break. I'm exhausted.

A couple hours later, my wonderful husband shows up and now it's hat time again. I want to be a pleasant wife for him and be happy and joyful to see him. I try my best to let him know how much I appreciate it each and everyday because he gives me the option to stay at home with our kids.

This is my favorite time of day because I'm with the people I love most.


As I reflect on the day, I wonder if Jesus was written on each hat I wore today. Can others see Him in me? Can they see Him as I change from person to person, fulfilling each task I've been assigned?

I know that our Savior wore the most painful hat of all. I know that he bore the burden for me and for that I'm truly grateful. Of all the hats I wear, I'm glad this one will never rest on my brow.