Over and Over Again

Some of my thoughts from back in May about baby girl's health:

It's a lesson God's so patiently repeated to me time and again this month and the last.  I heard it loud and clear on the day they discovered something might be wrong.  For most of the month of March and all of the month of April I struggled with the worry.  The last thing I wanted to hear as a parent was that she wasn't perfectly healthy. 


This little one and I put in a lot of time at the hospital at the end of the pregnancy.  Twice weekly visits to the obstetrician and twice weekly non-stress tests.  Nurses would stand in groups listening to the crazy little beating of her heart.  Amniotic fluid levels were low and the doctor said "bedrest" and "hopefully we can wait until you are 37 weeks".  So we prayed and I rested and I hydrated and I saw the specialist and soon everything looked perfect again.  The doctor said the arrhythmia was "absolutely nothing to be concrned about" and my fluid level soared above where the ob expected and now she was saying "hopefully we can get you to 39 weeks" and we praised God for his faithfulness to answer prayer.

When 38 weeks came the fluid levels dropped again, the doctor said it was time.  She scheduled the induction for the following morning and it was answered prayer in my eyes because I had a feeling she was coming soon and I knew that another doctor would do a c-section.  Our sweet baby girl was born and the doctor made jokes about labor that only lasts 3 hours and delivery that takes only a minute and how next time Jeff could just deliver the baby.  She told me to get a good look and then they rushed her over to the incubator and a whole crew of doctors and nurses who took a good look at her.  She was pretty and pink and perfect and yet that heart still beat out that unusal rhythm.  They ordered an EKG and an echo and told us we'd hear more tomorrow.  And we didn't worry because we were confident that God had already told us she would be fine.

Then Thursday morning brought the pediatrician in and the confidence flew far off. He told us of PDAs and PFOs and frequent PVCs and aortic coarctation.  He told us time would tell and that we needed to watch for the signs that our girl's heart wasn't doing its job.  My tears held off until he left the room and then all I could do was cry and hold my baby and wonder what the future held for her.  All of that knowing what God had spoken was gone and all I could do was worry. 

We could read on her face a much different story than the one I had heard from the doctors. It was the same way when I was pregnant.  The doctors would say something that would bring on the doubt and I would feel her dancing around inside - so strong and extremely active.  And with every movement I heard the message over: "Do not worry."  Now I was holding this baby who was strong and alert and eating so well and everything looked perfect.  And she was speaking with her eyes the same words her Daddy was saying out loud: "Do not worry!"

They said when they sent us home that the arrhythmia was sounding better and that they had high hopes that it would go away on its own.  An appointment was set with a pediatric cardiologist and they sent her home with wires - a portable EKG machine. The machine came off 24 hours later and I was confident again that she would be ok.

Her little life has been like a broken record playing the same tune over and again.  The doctors find something new to worry over and she keeps telling us she's just fine.  Another hospital stay for RSV and she never shows a symptom.  More monitoring of that tiny heart and they say everything looks fine.  We won't know for sure for another month, then another 6 months, but it looks like all is well.  A positive test for Organic Acid Disorder and still she grows and looks so healthy.

This recurring scenario feels a whole lot like God patiently teaching me to trust.  And I can't help but be so grateful for the way he calmly walks me through it all time and again.  The worry springs up and he teaches me again and again, even though this lesson is taking me a lifetime to learn.

The newest update is that the PFO (one of the holes in her heart) is still open, but it's not a big deal - up to 1/4 of the population has a PFO.  The PDA closed! Thank God!  The aortic coarctation was never present - the hospital pediatrician mis-read her chart!  She never showed even the slightest sign of RSV.  The Organic Acid Disorder scare turned out to be nothing at all.  The only thing that has been even the slightest issue was a little bit of acid reflux, which seems to have cleared up.  The PVCs are still present, but only enough to warrant a repeat check in 6 months.  They are far less frequent than they were when she was born.  We have one healthy, happy and extremely content little one on our hands.

Taking the Joy Dare from A Holy Experience: writing down three gifts each day for a year.

January's Joy
February's Joy
March's Joy
During the month of April (an incomplete list, since I was so busy soaking in the joy of a new baby that I forgot to look for all of these specifics):
1.  3 gifts round
white ball of dandelion seeds that delight my boys * candy filling those eggs that wait for Easter joy * sweet little baby cheeks
2. 3 gifts white
new piece of paper all ready for another month's joy * milk mustache * white gravel drive against vibrant green grass
3. 3 gifts surprisingly found
fluid levels even higher * peaceful, quiet lunch * encouragment
4. 3 gifts in His word
living sermons from little ones bringing to mind that we must "become as little children" * conversation with a 4 year-old about Jesus' teaching that "No man can serve two masters" * reading the passion story together , feeling the sorrow and reminding that Sunday is coming!
5.  3 gifts at 11 am, 2 pm, 6 pm
commandments not to worry even when things look bleak * asking forgiveness and recieving grace from little ones * hard eucharisteo - working hard all day and experiencing mess & chaos & disappointment despite it all - yet God is so glorious in all this brokeness!
6. 3 gifts nailed together
nails in the cross and in his hands * nails in the walls holding their pictures and shelves * the screws and nails he drives all day to put food on our table
7. 3 gifts waited for
baby girl * Sunday morning * hearing little voices yell, "Christ is risen, indeed!"
8. 3 gifts rising up
sun rising as I hid eggs in the yard * the overwhelming joy of Christ risen * rows of green shoots in the fields
9. a gift hiding, held, heard
little guy always finding new hiding places * all snuggled up together * hope that we'll be holding her soon
10. 3 gifts opened up
the doctor opening the door to announce it's baby day tomorrow * opening the door to our home where my boys wait for me * opening the menu at our favorite restaurant to celebrate her coming so soon
11. 3 gifts budding/blooming
new little life * pink flowers * surprise lilacs waiting at home
12. 3 gifts worn
my own clothes * dinosaur sticker from Cap on her receiving blanket * precious bow in her hair
13. 3 gifts bright
baby eyes open wide * little boy smiles as they welcome us home * sun peeking through clouds
14. 3 gifts found looking up
her looking up as her brothers smile down on her * rain falling to quench dry earth * no time for looking up when such an amazing gift is lying in our arms
15. a gift in a bag, in a box, in a book
lunch brought by friends * little hospital room that feels so much like a box * him reading for school with her in his arms
16. 3 hard eucharisteos
the not-knowing * blue marker on white carpet * 3 kids by myself with a headache
17. 3 gifts woven together
purple blanket Grandma made for me * pink cardigan passed down * them all cuddled up together
18. 3 gifts inherited
the way she looks just like the boys * long fingers and toes traced back to her great-grandma * generations before who tended their living epistles
19. 3 gifts square
books piled up that the boys are reading to their sister * square pretzels he keeps sneaking off my plate * garden plots laid out
20. a gift stacked, stashed, stilled
books full of baby pictures * plenty of food in the pantry * fears stirring & stilled
21. 3 gifts found in Christ
inheritance of a son * the freedom of being not my own * reminder that he will provide
22. 3 gifts close
little ones held close as we worship * her resting on Grandma's chest * kids all cuddled up on Grandma's lap
23. 3 gifts reflecting
silly boy watching his reflection in the mirror * time to think & new conclusions * beautiful moonlight
24. 3 gifts fragile
tiny little body working just right * tender feelings of little ones * joy shattered by discontent
25. a gift cloth, steel, wood
precious little dress * doorknob turned that's long been still * space in a tree just the right size for sitting
26. 3 gifts moving
three squirmy little ones *
27. 3 gifts "ugly beautiful"
all these emotional growing pains * need fulfilled * dirty mop water - clean floors
28. 3 gifts orange
cheetos on little fingers * carrots-to-be * orange light reflecting
29. 3 gifts in dirt
deep, rich, rain-soaked fields * garden so close to planted * grapes and strawberries planted
30. a gift given, made, sacrificed

Messy Days

Something I wrote back in the middle of May after a really rough day...

There is always joy in motherhood.  But some days can just exhaust.  The days where the almost- 3-year-old runs down a steep hill right next to a road and out of my reach and then runs into a big patch of weeds that very likely contain poison ivy and THEN runs right into the parking lot.  Days when you take 3 young children to the zoo without a stroller.  Days when you have lots of errands to run and a million places to go and it's hot out and everyone is tired.  Days when the almost-3-year-old can't quite make it to the bathroom in time and poops all over the carpet just outside the bathroom door and you clean him up only to find he's no where near clean and you go to put him in the bathtub only to find that it's full of the clothes that you left soaking there last night after they got washed with muddy shoes. Those kinds of days are exhausting.  Those are the days when I feel all used up - like there just isn't any more of me left to give.  Those are the days that I just need to stop and rest.  And yet, they still need and so often there isn't rest.  The 5-year-old puts the flip flops  back on your feet because he wants you to take him outside and that 3-year-old soaking in the bathtub is going to need to be scrubbed and then they'll need attention and dinner and very likely more baths and eventually bedtime will come. 

Right now it all brings to mind just how exhausted Jesus was and yet he saw the crowds and had compassion on them.  He put off his own rest and lovingly met the needs of those who surrounded him.  Oh, Lord.  Give me compassion.  When I just want to scream (or when I actually do scream) remind me that you continually take such breathtaking compassion on me and give me the grace to lovingly look at the mess and put aside my own rest and have the compassion to meet their needs.

What About Grace?

It struck me right away as I was reading: the grace.  The blog post I had read was a little unsettling: a mixture of humor, brutal honesty, some poetic embellishment and lots of vulgarity.  I started reading the comments at the bottom of the post.  They contained a pretty polarized set of accolades and condemnations, interspersed with replies from the blogger.  They were stunningly grace-filled replies, acknowledging the worth and honoring the opinions of people who were basically calling her one of the worst people to ever walk the earth.  These people were angry with her.  Deriding her for her honesty and scolding her for her actions and calling her ignorant.  Most of them didn't get the point of what she had written and some understood, but disagreed.  The comments were nasty.  She could have ignored them.  She could have deleted them.  She could have stood up to them in self-defense.  She could have mocked them for completely missing the  point she was trying to convey.  But she didn't.  She responded to each of these comments with humility, admitting her opinions could be wrong and gently saying that she was just trying to be honest.  She responded with grace, speaking politely and kindly to every person who belittled her. 

It bothered me to read the screen names.  People who were claiming the name of Christ in their online identity were visciously attacking this woman and she, an avowed seeker, was the one offering them grace.  I couldn't get it out of my head.  And that Sunday we sang "They'll Know We Are Christians By Our Love."  And I wanted so badly to get on my knees and confess that what we are doing is so wrong.  Because, honestly, where is the love?

I really get it.  It's complicated.  And I'm so guilty of it too.  My convictions are strong.  I know right from wrong.  And it's hard to live in a culture that keeps turning things upside down and saying that wrong is right and right is wrong.  It's difficult to watch as cultural Christianity gets washed away and our world seems to set up shop against the cores of my belief.  All of a sudden we're not the majority any more and, instead, we're the weird ones.  There's an impulse to fight, to get angry, to lash out, to guard our territory.  And maybe there's some validity in that.  It can terrify to consider the reality of living and raising children in such a mixed up world and I wonder if sometimes it isn't fear that drives us.  And it's a lesson we have to keep relearning - that fear is the wrong motivator; that there is no room for fear.  At any rate,  I'm pretty sure we're using the wrong weapons of war.

Our culture changes and sin becomes more and more blatant and mixed up people in a mixed up world are unrepentant.  And in our eagerness to stand up against what we know to be wrong, I'm afraid that we dehumanize.  It's like all we can see is the sin.  And we react with disgust to what is wrong in our world and we lash out against it.  And who wants to be drawn in to something that seems to be always attacking, always disgusted, always condemning?

Our vision is so poor without aid.  Don't we know that we once were a people who could not see and our God stepped in to give us sight when we were blind?  He has offered us these lenses that allow us to see the reality of our world.  And we are so very fond of the side of the specs that makes clear what is righteous.  We have the ability to see with such clarity the right contrasted with the wrong, the sin in opposition to the holy.  But, so often, we seem to close our eyes to grace and to love.  We can see that people are doing wrong, but what we seem unable to see is that they are people.  The truth is, whether we acknowledge it or not, we are all created by God and we are all loved by God.  We were all made good and we all fell so, so short.  Not only is my unChristian neighbor unrighteous, I'm unrighteous too.  And every good thing I ever did, every good thing I ever am is only by God's grace.

What is it that attracts us to Jesus?  What made the Samaritan woman at the well go running?  Yes, he knows our sin (Come and see a man who told me everything I have ever done! John 4:29a).  Yet, still he looks on us with love, offering us this unspeakable gift of life that overcomes death.  In all his righteousness, he doesn't turn his eyes from our filth in disgust.  He opens his arms to gather us in, sin-stained and broken as we are, and he promises to re-make us, new and fresh and perfect.  It's his overwhelming righteousness mixed with his overwhelming love for us that makes Jesus so hard to resist.  It's grace that draws us in and sends us running out to tell.  Here is a man who can tell me everything I've ever done and who loves me anyway.  Here is a man who knows exactly how depraved I am and he offers me freedom and friendship and even kinship.  We know from a young age that if we let our real selves show, we open ourselves up to shame and a whole lot of loneliness. Who could love us if they really knew who we are?  But this man who knows it all, this man who has seen every secret sin, who knows the real state of our heart, who has such a better picture of our true identity- he is willing to put his arm on our shoulder and offer to take us home, make us part of his family.  Knowing all, he offers the antidote to shame and lonliness. It's grace that draws us out of the dark corner we've been trying to hide in.  It's grace that makes it ok to admit that we're broken.  It's grace that leads us on the road to who we were meant to be all along.

How can we, who are so dependent on grace, forget to show it to the people around us?  How can we get so wrapped up in the sin we see around us that we forget that the people underneath that sin are no different from us?  Isn't sin the robe we wore of our own choice before we encountered grace and let Jesus change our clothes? And aren't those clothes supposed to include compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, patience and love? (Colossians 3:12)   How can we not show them grace?  Why is it that our first response is to stand up and point fingers and deride and attack and name-call when we see sin in the world? 

He has shown you, O man what is good. 
He gave us vision when we were blind.
And what does the Lord require of you? 
To act justly...
yes, but also
...to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God. 
bold print from Micah 6:8

The truth is that God had mercy on us.  The God, for whom nothing is impossible, saw us, who are unlovable, and loved us anyway.  Grace.  We cannot forget that.  We cannot get so wrapped up in holiness that is given to us freely, a new robe to replace the old one,  that we forget that we are only good with God's help.  How wrong is it for us, children born new of grace, to let our actions towards others be so full of hatred, so ungraceful?

It's not to say the we let sin go unchecked, that we never stand up to wrong.  Justice is a part of the package and it is not grace-full to let wrong present itself as right.  But I think our response has to be different.  If we have been given eyes to see the reality, don't we know that hatred and disgust and shame and ridicule don't win the day?  Love does.  Grace does.  Grace that sees the wrong and still finds a way to love. ("True love invites and helps the beloved to become the best the beloved can be. Anything less is selfish affection."- the words of my  husband, Jeff) The truth is, we all know we're not quite right.  What we need to know is that, somehow, someone can love us even when they really know us.  That's what changes things and that is exactly what we have to offer.  Grace.

All of My Best Plans

The fear sets in when the plans come crashing down.  When I prepare and plan and give all my best effort to getting my ducks in a row only to watch those plans fail.  Sometimes everything comes to a halt and there is absolutely nothing left but to wait.  I can't help but laugh a little at the way it keeps happening - the way all the work comes to a sudden end when so much is undone and the waiting sets in and I must learn this lesson all over.

It happened a few months ago.  We set aside the packing for praying.  For two weeks we prayed that God's will be done while we waited for the moment we would know if we were moving or not.  For two weeks we knew that we probably wouldn't get an answer until moments before it was time to act.  The moment came and we went downtown to sign contracts on the house God said yes to while friends and family picked up where the packing had left off.  And we moved that very night.

It's happening again today.  This nesting momma has been given orders not to nest.  It's time to wait.  The not-knowing gnaws.  Baby's heart beats irregular and we wait for answers.  Fluid levels drop and we don't know if it means she'll be here too early or if she'll be here in a few weeks or if she'll stay and grow until the time we were expecting her. 

And the truth is we're just not ready.  The bags aren't packed and the clothes aren't put away.  The cars aren't fixed and the carseat sits in the house.  We haven't bought a crib and are probably expecting a baby that won't fit into a stitch of clothing we have for her.  And my orders are to sit and wait and not do anything.

It can overwhelm so easy.  My plan A comes crashing down when the doctor says "soon" and I make a plan B and watch while it too nose-dives when I hear of specialists and hospital stays.  Everything spins and the only thing that is clear is that I'm not in control and that I won't be in control. 

The fears threaten to well up when the best laid plans crumble.  I know the what-ifs can strangle if I let them.  So I take time to count joy.  I sit all day in that hospital bed knowing that it's not the magazines or the television I need to distract me from worry.  If I seek distraction those fears will still eat their way in.  What I need is eyes to see.  The only way for me to fight the fear that comes with the unknown in the middle of my crumbling plans and spinning world is to taste and see the goodness of God that is surrounding me and even sustaining me in the middle of the chaos.

This storm, it isn't calming yet and her heart keeps skipping beats despite my prayers and things grow worse and there are threats of danger.  Yet I can look around me and see God's love shine brightly and know that even if I'm not in control, God is.  He is here and I know that he has only what is good in store for me - that all he gives me will be gifts and grace and he will work everything out for my good.

And so I am free.  Free to let go of the fears.  Free to let the plans fall as they may and just hold on tight to God's goodness.  Free to experience joy instead of trembling in darkness.  So, today I count gifts.  I record the little glimpses of God's love all around me and offer thanks for them:

Thank you, God, for:
(Starting with today's gifts)
270.  pictures of baby we'll see today.
271.  everything that is going just right.
272.  the way boys grow and even though it can break my heart to see them no longer babies, it can delight to watch them get so big.
273.  Cap's little button nose and those eyelashes resting on his cheeks that remind me that 5 is still little.
274.  a doctor that inspires my trust.
275.  the way tears can bring those endorphins that make it hurt a little less.
276.  the generosity and help of so many.
277.  friends who love me enough they'll even clean my house if I need it.
278.  the patience of nurses.
279.  access to all the water I need.
280.  pigeons pecking outside the hospital window.
281.  the carpet being in and the boys in their room just in time!
282.  a husband who brings me what I ask for.
283.  a husband who brings me flowers from our yard.
284.  a husband who would even put a dandelion in a vase.
285.  a husband who could make me smile by bringing baby's toy monkey for me to cuddle.
286.  pictures of my three little ones all lined up on the tray by the bed.
287.  a doctor who sits right down to chat.
288.  a doctor who knows I'd be more comfortable at home and thinks that's what's best.
289.  getting to go home and take my boys with me!
290.  little boys wrestling and chasing and using up the energy I can't spend.
291.  prayers surrounding
292.  the way words make thought clear and heal hurts.
293.  Jeff taking such good care of the work I can't do.
294.  hugs from nurses.
295.  the fact that cuddles and conversation and stories are part of a mommy's job and I can still do those!
296.  the way sinks will clog and messes will be made and there will be way too much to do at all the wrong times, but it will still be ok.
297.  the secret of contentment - Philippians 4:11-13

(and backtracking to count the gifts not yet typed out:)

Thank you God for:
144-188
189.  Cap figuring out how to write my name all on his own.
190.  the way he always wants to be Luigi - putting others first while so young.
191.  pastel heart candy in the frilly crystal dish - the one he insisted I keep because it's dainty & beautiful & he knows those things can inspire joy.
192.  the bold way Grandma will come right out and ask where we stand with God.
193.  them eating their fill of good food.
194.  reminders of the responsibility to teach them to share with those who don't have.
195.  pretty journal full of neat words resting on top of a messy scrawled to-do list - a visual reminder of how he gives me all this joy from  the work he has called me to.
196.  a time for work and a time for rest.
197.  order coming slow but sure from chaos.
198.  motivation and energy to get stuff done.
199.  floors all mopped clean.
200.  the way he points out to his son how hard I worked.
201.  home lights burning brightly
202.  talking on the phone with Captain Silly Wiggles.
203.  time to create.
204.  the boys calling me "mother".
205.  remembering how Cap would ask for a song at bedtime in the old house.
206.  getting to meet Jeff for lunch.
207.  seeing those blue eyes across from me in the middle of the day.
208.  sitting long at the table with my little guys.
209.  the way Skidamarink says "munner" instead of "mother".
210.  how much they miss their Daddy when he's not there.
211.  Skid running into our room first thing in the morning, book in hand.
212.  warm weather.
213.  snacks for the park.
214.  picnics.
215.  watching them run and chase each other.
216.  the way Skid kept looking over his shoulder to make sure I was watching.
217.  meeting Daddy at the park.
218.  watching the three of them play so rough-and-tumble.
219.  the way sometimes Daddy-rules are different from Mommy-rules.
220.  that I get to go home to them.
221.  that he fell where he did and not a half inch closer to the table.
222.  time to just be silly.
223.  baby waking me up with her dancing at 2 am.
224.  knowing that in a matter of weeks when she wakes me up at 2 am, I'll get to hold her in my arms and kiss her cheek.
225.  Skid joining in to sing hymns & retelling the stories he is learning about Jesus.
226.  a time to teach & a table full of students.
227.  little boys sharing what is left of my lap.
228.  Ben spotting a cardinal on his own & pointing it out to us.
229.  a healthy boy who will get the hang of this potty-training thing.
230.  success & jellybeans.
231.  Skid finally getting it!
232.  little hands on my face.
233.  Cap so proud to help in the kitchen.
234.  the way work brings extra joy when it is shared.
235.  two whole days with my niece & nephew.
236.  baby smiles.
237.  Cap thinking of things to teach Skid.
238.  the way the boys love their cousins.
239.  big little guy cuddling that baby girl.
240.  eyes to see the glory.
241.  little green shoots in the yard.
242.  anticipation of discovering what spring holds in this new place.
243.  conversations with a 4 year-old about seeing God's love. 
244. a full table during Sunday School.
245.  bare trees standing black sillhoette against purple-orange sunset.
246.  hearing the phone ring and knowing it's Jeff calling to say he's heading home.
247.  being just plain silly together.
248.  green paint on our noses.
249.  little handprints marking freshly painted surfaces.
250.  the joy of exploring.
251.  pirates in the backyard.
252.  pirates in the car on the way to the grocery store.
253.  kid-sized imaginations.
254.  time with friends.
255.  the opportunity to hear the God-stories of others.
256.  wise words.
257.  a friend so willing to help.
258.  long phone call with my boys.
259.  friends with refridgerator rights.
260.  hard honesty.
261.  conviction.
262.  your faithfulness to answer prayer.
263.  baby girl kicking my arm as I write.
264.  knowing not to worry.
265.  Cap finding his first toad at "the farm".
266.  the carpet fresh laid.
267.  feeling the discontent rise and knowing it doesn't have to control.
268.  things going oh-so-wrong when brothers fight and how it's really an opportunity to teach the things of God.
269.  freedom not to hurry.

Reflecting Love Divine and "Dancing in the Minefield"

The quotes in this post are from "our song": Dancing in the Minefield by Andrew Peterson.

We said goodbye and I closed the door and all I could do was sink to the floor.  I didn't take a step. Just turned around, my back on the door and slid down and sat.  For a long time.  I sat in complete bewilderment and amazement.  I knew.  I have always been chronically indecisive.  That's why the knowing was so important, so significant.  It was one of the greatest gifts I have ever recieved - a moment of clarity like I have never experienced.

"I was nineteen, you were twenty-one

The year we got engaged

Everyone said we were much too young

But we did it anyway"

Really, it didn't make any sense.  It wasn't even really a date.  At least, it wasn't a date in the "we're acknowledging it out loud" kind of way.  It was more a date in the "we're going to say were just friends running in the park, but I'm pretty sure it's a date" kind of way.  I knew he felt the same way because he held my hand.  He said he was warming it up because it was cold in the chilly March air, but I saw right through his disguise.  He held my hand and I was thrilled and it was a big deal for me - I hadn't let a boy hold my hand since my sixth-grade "boyfriend". 

He dropped me off at home, we made plans to watch movies together the next day and our "not really a date" date was over.  That's when I sank.  That's when I knew.  Knew that I would marry him.  Knew that we belonged to each other.  Knew it with absolute certainty.  (If God hadn't given me that gift, me the one who can never decide, how much I would have missed!)

"We bought our rings for forty each

From a pawn shop down the road

We made our vows and took the leap

Now fifteen years ago"

I remember wanting the years to pass quickly.  Wanting to get some time logged to make what was so clear to me look a little less ridiculous to everyone else.  What business does an 18 year old girl who has never really dated have  giving her heart away forever to someone she barely knows?  We dated all of 3 months before we started talking about getting married.  It had been 6 months when he proposed.  I know it looked stupid.  People were worried.  How could it possibly last?  But, I knew.

"We went dancing in the minefields

We went sailing in the storm

And it was harder than we dreamed

But I believe that's what the promise is for"

We are closing in on 10 years from that run in the park.  It hasn't always been easy.  There have been plenty of storms.  Mostly they have been storms from the outside.  There were days when others wounded us deep, when we felt like expendible commodities rather than children of God.  There were days we had to make decisions that ripped us in two - choosing to leave places and people we loved because there was no was no way we could stay and be true to who God called us to be.  There were days when the future was so incredibly uncertain and there was a baby on the way and one in our arms and nothing but long, hard work days for little pay and still only peanut butter and jelly on the table.  There were days when we grieved losses and agonized over others' pain.  Hard difficult days when we clung to each other and to the cross.

"'I do' are the two most famous last words

The beginning of the end

But to lose your life for another I've heard

Is a good place to begin"

There have been a few storms from the inside too - the struggle of two individual people learning how to be one.  Times when sparks flew as iron struck iron (Proverbs 27:17).  Times when our faults and sins were exposed and bits of us we didn't even know were held captive were redeemed. 

"'Cause the only way to find your life

Is to lay your own life down

And I believe it's an easy price

For the life that we have found"

Where would we be now without those storms?  Without those struggles and those damaged, broken pieces of our souls brought to the light by the friction of two people trying to figure out how to love and failing miserably and trying again?  Where would we be without those tough decisions, those hard times?  Who would we be if it wasn't for those storms we faced together?  Funny how God is strongest in our weakest moments and how he turns our mess into masterpiece.  Those times when the winds wailed all around us?  He has used them to re-make us, to re-fine us, to re-deem us.  I have learned to give thanks for those times.

"So when I lose my way, find me

When I loose love's chains, bind me

At the end of all my faith, till the end of all my days

When I forget my name, remind me"

We've spent these last 10 years Dancing in the Minefield.  Even on the days when we could hardly stand to look at each other, I've never been able to pretend it wasn't the right choice.   And on the days when the storm rages wildest and the iron strikes iron and love is hard, I can't help but feel that ring on my finger and look at it and smile.  This love isn't about something easy and pretty.   It's not just a feeling.  It's a promise.  It's one I meant and one he meant and it's not going anywhere.  That's what makes it safe - that promise.  The knowledge that even when sin looms large and ugly and the worst parts of me are visible in open daylight, I am his and he is mine and that won't change.  No fear.  Only boldly dancing on, knowing that sometimes the dance will be beautiful and wonder-filled and sometimes we'll hit those mines and be dismembered.  We can do it because we know Jesus dances with us and he'll use our injury to build us up, make us stronger in our weakest places, and - most significantly - make us more and more his. 

"Cause we bear the light of the Son of Man

So there's nothing left to fear

So I'll walk with you in the shadowlands

Till the shadows disappear"

"'Cause he promised not to leave us

And his promises are true

So in the face of all this chaos, baby,

I can dance with you"

The nine years we've danced the dance of marriage have been the best of my life.  God has used them to wake me up to life like I never knew it before.  Jeff, thank you for dancing with me.  Thank you for making sure I know your promise is for real.  Thank you for being gracious with my stumbling  steps and for loving me beyond belief.  You really do bring me close to home.  God speaks loudest volumes to me through your love and the little ones we share.

"Let's go dancing in the minefields

And sailing in the storms (kicking down the doors)

This is harder than we dreamed

But I believe that's what the promise is for"

And, just to be clear and in case this sounds like the road has always been long and tough and almost impassable - it hasn't.  It's been a wild, unbelievably delightful, gloriously beautiful, adventure!  So thankful God gave me you to love!

Big Questions & Another Reason

The fears set in for him so young.  Tears in his voice, he asks us, "What if our Skidamarink gets very, very sick?  What if he can't get better? What if he gets so hurt he can't be fixed and we lose him?  I would be so sad if I lost my brother."  He's concerned about the hole in the basement where the sump pump sits.  Skid might fall in it.  "You can fix it, Dad.  So Skid and our baby don't get hurt." 

He follows up his worries with the hope:  "If Skid couldn't get better he would go to heaven and Jesus would give him a new body.  But I would miss him."

My momma says he gets it from me - the always thinking serious thoughts.  He and I were both old before our time.  "You were 18 when you were 2," she tells me.  Little child with grown-up questions.

Grandpa speaks words that feel like prophecy.  He talks about our sweet little boy and his big questions, big faith, big understanding.  He says he's special.  He can see that God has big plans for our Cap.  He is different.  Grandpa says there is a reason our little guy is in such a hurry to grow up.  He says this boy needs to grow up fast.  Grandpa can't tell us why, but he feels this burden to tell us that there is a reason our little man will need such big faith.  He exhorts us to tend this plant carefully so his roots will grow deep.  He'll need deep, deep roots.

My mother's heart worries.  Why will he need deep roots?  Grandpa can't see it, but he feels there is something coming and I'm absolutely terrified of the storms that might be on the horizon.  I want deep roots for him, but I would prefer him to be safe - to have a hold on the anchor but never face a storm that requires its use.

It's been a year since Grandpa called us to him, sat us down and spoke those words.  I can't ignore them.  They make me wonder, what do I need to give a boy like this?  A boy with such big questions, such big fears, such big understanding?  Is it a gift of time?  Extra time to sit and grapple with the questions and the fears?  Extra time to play so he can stay young and have rest and enjoy life without fears and questions always pulling?  Extra time to take chances and be bold and strong and courageous so that he doesn't let the fears overwhelm?  Extra time to ask questions of us and of God? 

It's so clear that growing those roots is his most important work right now and I need to give him all the time he needs to grow them.

Seeing the Glory

And all of us, with unveiled faces, seeing the glory of the Lord as though reflected in a mirror, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another; for this comes from the Lord, the Spirit.

- 2 Corinthians 3:18

In giving thanks, what are we doing but stopping to see the glory of God that is evidenced all around us.  As we stop to notice the work of God around us and to offer up our thankgiving and wonder doesn't he transform us? Our gift of thanks to him, his gift of new life to us.

Thank you, God, for...

68-112

113.  first seeds sprouting.

114.  Cap talking to his baby sister - tickling my tummy as he talks through me.

115.  holey-kneed jeans - the evidence of hard play.

116.  provision for new jeans when we need them.

117.  food in the cabinets and that my family's cries of hunger are always met.

118.  the gift of all we need and more.

119.  Skid falling asleep in his great-grandma's lap.

120.  the boys riding on my Grandpa's lap, making circles in the wheel-chair.

121.  memories of riding on my Uncle's lap in his wheel-chair.

122.  that growly voice Skid uses when he makes his toys talk.

123.  all that time to pray for her while I sort and fold and paint for her.

124.  the way they play together.

125.  that he gets to build for her just like he built for them.

126.  Cap so eager to help his Daddy build.

127.  that all we have to do is "cry out to Jesus"

128.  lessons in story-form - parables and children's books.

129.  getting lost in 2 Corinthians and reading longer than I realized.

130.  snoozing little boy.

131.  crazy baby gymnastics - even when they prevent sleep.

132.  freedom from worry about how he will learn.

133.  confidence and, finally, a decision.

134.  the way Skid says "too-mon-oh" instead of tomorrow.

135.  extra time with my adorable nephew.

136.  the delightful wonder of blanket forts.

137.  the joy of listening to scripture as we drive.

138.  beautiful, spring-like days at the end of January.

139.  more peace when there is normally stress.

140.  cuddling up and reading.

141.  them running to grab more and more books.

142.  the priviledge of having time to learn to read.

143.  finding long-lost library books.

Over and Over Again

This list is so repetitious.  Time and again I find myself writing the same thanks.  Nearly every morning those cold little toes climb into bed with us and I can't help but be thankful.  Each time I look out my windows I find the beauty staggering and I must give thanks. 

The thing is, I know that the day will come when those little ones won't come running and clambering into our bed.  In a few months tall rows of corn will prevent us seeing for miles.  I know there will be a time when the gifts I receive in this season will come to an end.  I am confident that they will be replaced by other gifts - other glimpses of God's goodness specific to the seasons that lay ahead.  Still, it's bittersweet to think that these days won't last forever. 

I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.  John 10:10b

I have to wonder if this practice of thanksgiving isn't part of the key to recieving that full measure of life.  Maybe, in part Jesus gives us life abundant and joy to the full when he awakens us to the beauty of the moment and inspires the giving of thanks.  We stop to fully recieve the gift, to express gratitude for each evidence of God's abundant love for us.  And maybe it's a little more ok, a little less bittersweet to realize that this too - even these perfect little moments - will pass, because by stopping to offer back our thanks we experience so much more of the gift than if we just let the moment pass.  And because we know with each sign of God's love that gifts beyond imagine are heading our way.

Thank you, God, for...

1-67

68.  The water dripping like diamonds  in the sun from the leaky faucet.

69.  A husband who points out leaky faucet diamonds to me.

70.  Beautiful country views out of every window.

71.  Boys climbing in bed in the morning to cuddle.

72.  Such soft little cheeks to nuzzle & kiss.

73.  Fog rolling over empty fields.

74.  Seriously - these views! Breathtaking beauty with every glimpse out the window.

75.  Plans for Spring and seed cataloges.

76.  Kisses on top of her two-week-old head - my newborn niece.

77.  The cradle in our room, full of sweet little things for our newest little love.

78.  Brothers giving hugs.

79.  Cap's eyes sparkling as he laughs.

80.  Skidamarink just wanting to sit together.

81.  The chance to wash the tomato soup from their faces - everyday priviledge.

82.  Time to sit and talk at the table.

83.  An early morning conversation with my Grandpa.

84.  Sunlight slanting across the yard.

85.  Time alone to plan for my loves.

86.  A little man so happy to see me.

87.  Chasing him to wash the sticky face and collapsing in giggles.

88.  Cap catching me by surprise from his hiding place and even more giggles.

89.  Pink, purple, blue & white mingled in the sky.

90.  That they come to me for comfort.

91.  The joy of being held close.

92.  That I am loved.

93.  My amazing Grandmother.

94.  Rest at the end of the day when all the work is done.

95.  Good conversations with good friends.

96.  Car ride conversation.

97.  The reminder that Jesus is all we need.

98.  Stopping to read words I normally would skim.

99.  Time spent just with Skid.

100.  A boy who seeks out ways to bless others.

101.  Work to do in preparation for our baby girl.

102.  Jabs in the ribs reminding me she's here.

103.  That he takes care of me when I don't feel well.

104.  Him paying attention to things he doesn't care about just to bless me.

105.  The reminder that your generosity knows no limits - we will always have more than enough.

106.  His prayers for his brother's health and safety.

107.  His reliance on the truth of the resurrection.

108.  That I can give thanks over and over for the exact same things.

109.  That our boys are such good friends.

110.  The overwhelming excitement that she will be here so soon - just 13 more weeks!

111.  The scratchy-soft feling of my great-great-grandma's blanket.

112.  A warm and cozy bed.

Scripture memorization

I was not a big fan of scripture memorization during the years I worked in children's ministry.  It wasn't that I had something against the idea of memorizing scripture.  I just didn't feel like it was a good use of time.  I had my kids for 1-3 hours per week.  There was lots I was concerned about teaching them in that very short amount of time.  The vast majority (with a few exceptions) of the kids in my program weren't receiving any Christian education at home.  Many of my kids came to church on their own - their parents weren't involved at all.  Some of the parents & guardians were verbally non-Christian.  Others came on Sunday mornings, but didn't take their faith any further.  Those who actively discipled their kids at home were certainly in the minority.  To me, that meant that my limited time with these kids was vital.  I wanted them thinking.  I wanted to devote the time to learning whole stories more than snippets.  I wanted them to have some time to play together and look for opportunities of living out and working through the values they were learning.  I didn't like the idea of memorization because I anticipated the rote learning of words and phrases that would not likely inspire deeper reflection in their day to day surroundings.  They would parrot the verse back to me and not likely think much of it again.  Most of them didn't have guides at home to help them realize the important of the words in their day to day experiences.  So we didn't memorize scripture.

I still work in a volunteer role in children's ministry and we still don't memorize scripture.  Yet, Cap has lots of scripture memorized.  He started on his own by learning God Rocks! songs.  Now the preschool curriculum we are using is centered around a weekly memory verse.  So, why am I ok with memorization now?  Because it doesn't stop at memorization.  He learns the verse and we talk about it.  Often.  He's learning to think critically about his environment through the lens of the Bible.  I bring up the verses he has learned in different scenarios.  He claims he can't do something and we talk about the implications of Philippians 4:13.  I don't just respond by saying, "Remember, I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me!"  We stop and really talk about what the verse means.  There are things he can't do.  He can't fly without a plane.  But, with faith we have the promise that Christ will empower us to do all that he calls us to do.  We pray about it.  When he's not sure of the right decision in a given situation, we discuss Matthew 5:16:  which choice is a way of letting his light shine?  In these discussions, I've got a newfound love for memorizing scripture.

The Greatest Gift

"Mom! Look! There's a present hanging on the tree!"

I hadn't really expected him to find it yet.  It was tucked in the branches and I thought we'd have to help them hunt.  I wrapped the gift the night before.  The box holds the baby Jesus from the kids' nativity.  On Christmas morning we'll look for that present first.  We'll unwrap it and hear the story and play with the nativity.

I tell him, "That's a very special present.  It's the greatest gift you can ever imagine."

His eyes grow wide with excitement and the knowledge of something I'm not sure I grasp to this day. "Mom, God must be in that box!"

I gave him a big smile and a big hug and we talked about how Jesus really is the best gift.

Later as I retold that story to his father, the tears filled my eyes.  What wisdom from such a little one.  This child has big hopes of toys and special blankets and flashlights.  He knows what he wants and he is all eager anticipation to find out what's under that tree.  Not a morning goes by that he doesn't check his stocking to see if it's been filled. 

And yet, with all of the stuff he wants, he knows.  He knows without blinking an eye that the greatest gift imaginable isn't that Batman cave he really wants or a Transformer.  He doesn't pause for even a second before proclaiming that the greatest gift he can imagine is God himself - Emmanuel.

God, grant that I may gain that insight and that he will keep that knowledge close to his heart as he grows.

Grocery Store Encounters

He spotted us the second we walked in the door and commented on my Skidamarink's white-blonde hair. He had hair that color when he was a boy. Now it's grey. The man approached us from his spot by the oranges, asking Skid, "What's wrong with your ear? Did you know there's something behind your ear?" He pulls a quarter out from behind my boy's head. Skidamarink smiles and says thank you as the man hands him the quarter. The man chats about how when he was a boy he would ride the bus into town and watch a movie and eat "a bag of corn" and ride the bus home for a quarter. "Not much you can do with a quarter these days." He smiles and chats for a few minutes more about white-blonde hair and quarters. Then he hits us with his news: "I have to go to a funeral today. My daughter's funeral. Paren't aren't supposed to live longer than their children." And before I can say a word to him, he turns and walks away. All I can do is pray for him, so I do.

When Cap asks me in desperation, "Mom, why am I staying 4 forever?!?" I understand why he is frustrated. He's in a hurry to grow up. He says he wants to marry his friend from school and have a baby of his own and have whiskers just like daddy. And I know it's frustrating to wait so long to grow - to feel like you can't do anything important. But, when I think of the man with the quarter in the grocery store I know how important 4 and 2 and all of those young years are to the world.

The man didn't do much more than glance at me. He didn't ask my name and didn't offer his. I wasn't the one he needed to talk to. There are some gifts that can only come from children. I know that on that particular day - likely the worst of his entire life - he recieved a blessing from my boy. Skidamarink brought a smile to that man's face. He gave him a gift of joy and a memory of happy days. I couldn't have done that. But my sweet little 2-year-old did. God's loving embrace through the smile of a little blonde-haired boy.

Worry...

I started this blog to help me through the process of discerning the right choices for my family - be they physical, educational, emotional, or whatever.  There are so many decisions to make and today I suddenly found myself very emotional, wondering about one decision in particular.  During a spontaneous crying session, I found myself at the feet of God, with nothing to say but the words that stuck out to me from our scripture lesson this morning:  Abba, Father.  (I honestly didn't hear much else from the lesson, what with two preschoolers to wrangle.  But, somehow, I heard those words.)  I found myself crying for help from my Daddy.  There was a lot of comfort in that - knowing that God is my perfect heavenly Father, that he loves me unconditionally, that I can trust him for everything.  And with the comfort of that trust, I was reminded in a new way of something God has shown me over and over again.  

As I was sitting at the feet of my Father I realized that not only am I worried about making the right decision, I am worried about making the right decision in time.  I feel confident that there is a choice God would have me make in most circumstances.  And I've heard the verse about asking and receiving, so I know that if I ask for guidance I’ll get it.  What I'm concerned about is that I'm on a timetable.  I need to know what it is God wants now.  Right now.  I worry that the revelation will come too late or at an inconvenient time and I won't be prepared - I won't be in control.  

 That’s the key phrase: I won’t be in control. My search for knowing the right answers and my need for answers in my own time is often just a symptom of a lack of faith.  Why do I need to know every step of the right course before I head out?  Harsh honesty tells me it's probably so I can double check my footing - put more bluntly, it's so I can double check that what God tells me is right.  I’m realizing that what I’m actually saying is, “I trust God… but I don’t trust God.”  It’s nonsensical.

 And my ludicrous cling to autonomy leads me to worry: if I demand to be in control, there is a very strong possibility that I will make the wrong choice despite all of my lists of pros and cons and hours of research I pour into decision making.

Worrying is one of my biggest battles.  I’m a worrier.  I have been for as long as I can remember.  But worry is certainly sin.  Sure there is concern, but that’s a different thing.  Worrying, which is my area of expertise, springs from a lack of faith and there is no room for worry in my life. I have had to acknowledge the sin of my worrying over health and safety and every little bump in the night and rely on God to free me from that sin.   In the same way I must also acknowledge the sin of my worrying about if and when God will show me the choices I should make.  There is no doubt.  He will show me and it doesn’t matter when, because he’ll show me at the right time.  The only thing I need to be concerned about is listening and following.

So, no more approaching decision making from the land of worry.  No more checking the clock to see how much more time I have before I have to make that crucial decision.  I know that I need to let my Father lead me, resting in the confidence that he will not lead me astray.