Advent: Anticipate the Light

I admit that it's been harder for me to celebrate Christmas the past few days and I'm guessing I'm not the only one.  It's hard to look at my childrens' presents under the tree and not think of unwrapped presents waiting for children who won't come home.  I struggle to sing Joy to the World when I think of the pain that parents and brothers and sisters are enduring right now.  My girls are 6 and 7 years old and looking at the list of innocent children, all 6 or 7 years old, that were massacred in a place they thought was safe, it just crushes my heart,  Matt and I decided to talk to our older girls about what happened before they went to school today because we wanted them to hear the truth of what happened from their parents, and not some other version from kids on the bus or the playground.  And we wanted them to know that while many people in the world are safe and kind even, there are bad people who hurt others.  As much as we'd like to preserve their innocence and let them believe that the world is a safe place, we also want them to know enough of the truth to make sure their world stays as safe as possible.  They've practiced "code red drills" at school before, but they never really thought about what those drills mean ( they said they were told that the drills are for "in case there's a robber.")  Apparently an adult approached a child at their school once and offered them a ride home and they put the school on lock down and had code red drills for a week, so they're assuming they'll have code red drills for two weeks at least (I didn't remind them that it's only 1 week until Christmas break.)  I laid awake last night trying to find a reasonable excuse to keep them home today, and I hugged them tighter and stalled the goodbyes before they got on the bus today, and I suppose I won't breathe easy until they come back home again.  

The questions that we are all wrestling with in the aftermath of Friday's horrific tragedy are difficult - why did this happen?  Where was God in all of this and why did He not save these children?  These are not easy questions and they shouldn't have quick or simple or pithy answers.  I get really frustrated when those who call themselves Christ followers answers these questions rationally or even "Biblically," without compassion or wisdom or even some common sense.  If I hear one more person comment that we've taken God out of schools so why do we act surprised that He didn't stop this tragedy I'm going to vomit.  As if we actually have the power to remove an omnipresent all powerful God from any place let alone a building full of innocent children.  I understand what people mean when they say this, I get the rational point they are making.  But the truth is that God was there in that building, He didn't abandon those children, He is not in the business of forsaking people to make a point or get revenge.  If that man had walked in my kids' school instead of the school in CT, I don't know that God would have spared my girls' lives, but I do know that He would have been very real and present for them throughout the nightmare.  I know that He has promised never to leave or forsake them (Hebrews 13:5), to be their refuge and ever-present help in trouble (Psalm 46:1), and to guard their hearts with peace that transcends all understanding (Philippians 4:7).  God is present in their school today, not just because God is present everywhere, but because my children and all children who believe carry God with them in their hearts.  I pray often with my kids that they will shine God's light wherever they go.  I teach them that their actions make it possible for God to remain in their school (where incidentally they say the pledge every day, including the words "under God" and pause for a moment of silence, during which they pray.  Every day.  And yes, it's a public school).  If we are so concerned with God being in or out of our schools, then we should make it our mission to carry Him in with us when we volunteer, and teach our children to be a living example of God's love in the classroom, the lunchroom and on the playground.  

But back to Christmas.  One of our family's favorite Christmas traditions is lighting our Advent candles.  It wasn't a tradition we grew up with, so I'm not sure why we decided to start it with our own family, but it's become this special time in our week where we pause to light a candle, say a prayer, remember why we celebrate Christmas.  Advent means "anticipation."  During advent we celebrate in anticipation of Christ's coming - both His first coming as a baby and His second coming as King.  We remember the years spent waiting, longing for that first coming.  Many of those years spent in darkness, in slavery, in chains of injustice and violence and fear.  Today more than ever I think about those 400 years between the last prophet's final breath in the Old Testament and the sound of God in human form, erupting as a baby's cry on that first Christmas.  How that silence must have echoed, how distant God must have felt.  400 years without hearing from God, not a word or a prophecy, only hope that one day He would come.  Then light breaks forth from darkness, angels split wide open the night sky, a star appears and shines as if to say "what you have waited for has come at last!"  2000 years later, we celebrate that first coming and the ever-permeating light it brought to our world.  Emmanuel, God with us.  Here.  Now.  Forever.  And we anticipate His coming again, to rule and reign and bring an end to all that is evil and unjust.  Today more than ever I long for that time where God will deliver us from this world wracked with sin and pain.  But recently I read something that made me look at Advent in a new way.  It was an advent devotional (I wish I could find it again, but I have no idea where it is), and it spoke of anticipation in the here and now.  You see Christ's coming is not just a past and future event.  Emmanuel, God with us, means that He is here now and we can anticipate, long for, look for His presence every day.  In this dark world, we must look expectantly for His light to shine, knowing that light shines all the brighter in the midst of darkness.  There's a story floating around the internet about something Mr. Roger's mom told him when tragedy strikes - she told him to "look for the helpers, you will always find people helping."  While that is true (and great parenting, if you ask me), the greater truth is that we should look for Jesus, anticipate His light shining through the darkness.  In words of comfort, in selfless acts, in an outpouring of heartfelt support, in peace that passes all understanding.  Like a candle lit in the darkness, God's love will burn bright.  What if in the darkness we simply look expectantly for His love to shine more clearly?  And as believers, shouldn't we anticipate, long for, expect to shine that light for the world to see?  One of my favorite verses is Isaiah 58:10, "and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry and satisfy the needs of the oppressed, then your light will rise in the darkness, and your night will become like the noonday."  Earlier in the chapter Isaiah writes, "Is this not the kind of fasting I have chosen: to loose the chains of injustice... to set the oppressed free... Is it not to share your food with the hungry and provide the poor wanderer with shelter - when you see the naked, to clothe him, and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?  Then your light will break forth like the dawn, and your healing will quickly appear" (v 6-8)  Instead of reacting emotionally, let's pause in this season of advent to let God respond through us so that His light is seen by all.  Let us pray that the world that screams out "where is God?" will look at us and see Him, Emmanuel, God with us.  

Knowing that God is with us, being comforted by His presence, it doesn't answer the questions that echo throughout our country today.  We will never know "why" this happened, not in this lifetime.  But we do have hope to hold onto.  Hope that this pain and suffering will one day end.  Hope that God will draw close to us if we draw close to Him.  We know that this world will never satisfy our longing, can never fulfill our anticipation, doesn't begin to meet our expectations.  The truth is we don't belong here, we were created to be in relationship with our Creator, and until we are home with Him we will always wrestle with the emptiness this world offers us.  But as we celebrate Advent, that longing and anticipation and expectation is met with Christ's light, giving us hope to hang onto and to shine out into the darkness.  

O come, Thou Day-Spring, come and cheer
Our spirits by Thine advent here
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night
And death's dark shadows put to flight.
Rejoice!  Rejoice!  Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.      

30 Days of Gratitude

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas....

wait, who am I kidding?  My halls were decked a week ago.  Yes I am one of those offensive people who dares to string the lights and hang the stockings before Thanksgiving.  I don't know we're supposedly offending by trimming the tree before the 1st of December but I for one am happy to start counting down the days until Christmas before I can pack away the kids' halloween costumes.  I love Christmas.  That, my friends, is an understatement.  Blame it on the fact that my name means Christmas, or the fact that growing up we had more Christmas trees than bedrooms, I just can't get enough of it.  This year however, I gave a lot of thought to the idea that as believers we should give more than a tip of our hats to a holiday that is centered upon the idea of giving thanks for our blessings.  Thanksgiving wasn't invented by the Pilgrims and Indians (or Native Americans), God's people have had celebrations centered around giving thanks for centuries.  Psalm 107:1 says: Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good; His love endures forever."   While I'm still not convinced I should leave my Christmas decorations in their boxes for an extra week or two, I was inspired to take more time as a family to practice thankfulness, or gratitude.  So when I happened upon a gratitude-centered idea on Pinterest, I pinned it with great excitement.  And then I put it on my digital calendar so it wouldn't collect virtual cobwebs amongst all the other fabulous ideas wasting away on my Pinterest boards.  (Because, really, when am I going to find the time to make a family mission statement out of wood pallets or make those holiday themed cake balls that will never look as cute in real life?)

Imagine my delight when my phone kindly reminded me on the day we were to begin our family gratitude project.  The project was actually a photo challenge - aptly named 30 Days of Gratitude.  Each day we were given a word prompt and the challenge was to take a picture of whatever that word was or reminded us of, taking a moment to thank God for blessing us with, well whatever we were photographing.  I loved the simplicity of it - the prompts were simple, nothing you had to think deeply about or travel far to find.  We quickly learned that we are surrounded by innumerable blessings, big and small.  

                                       Like the morning sky...

 

                                                                             And leaves...

Hands...

(Sofi took this picture of her holding hands with her uncle Josh)

                                                                                            Written word...

(Isabel wrote her favorite verse on a box of meals
our church packed to send to starving kids
in Nicaragua)



 

And an inspiring person.  (Matt totally copied me on this one.)

We included the whole family in the project (even some of our extended family), with each person taking their own pictures on their own devices.  Our 3 year old was a little young to hand an ipod over to but she had fun watching us run around taking pictures every day.  At the end of the project, my husband, myself, and our 2 older daughters each had 30 pictures of things we were grateful for.  That's 120 pictures, which we printed off (a small miracle for this family who hasn't printed pictures since we bought a digital camera in 2007) and had a blast looking through them together.  I loved seeing each person's perspective, how some things were similar and others completely different.  It gave me a window in my daughter's hearts and my husband's as well.  Take "Happiness" for example.   

 For Isabel, happiness was seeing 

her grandpa and sister smile

And Sofi felt that candy was the ultimate definition of happiness (a perspective she may have gotten from yours truly)

What I loved most about this project was that it encouraged me (and I think each member of our family) to be grateful for the little things.  Things I take for granted, things I grumble about, things that I couldn't earn or create or buy with money.

Like the geese that soar and gather and land in the field behind our house...




It's hard to see in the picture but there are hundreds of them.  We see and hear them often but have never stopped to watch them like we did that afternoon.  Groups of them would fly past our house, follow the same arc as they turned around and then landed in the field.  Hundreds of geese followed this same pattern and were still coming and going when we finally went inside.  The girls, of course found this amazing.




I even found gratitude in a basket of laundry, waiting to be folded and put away.




Because piles of laundry mean that we have nice warm clothes to wear.  More clothes than we need, in fact.
















My favorite picture, though, was of Lights:

Because what better to be grateful for than Christmas?  (I wasn't kidding, I truly love Christmas)









When we finally strung them up all up at my mom's house on Thanksgiving (along with my parents' and brother's pictures) we had quite the display.  Definitely a new take on "counting our blessings."  Check out the end result:

The girls had so much fun looking through the pictures with their grandma

 This picture shows just a small section of our clothesline of gratitude, that looped around the dining room and into the kitchen.  It was a great reminder of all the little things we take for granted every day.  And a few days later when we celebrated Thanksgiving Part 2 with my in laws (is there anything more amazing than TWO Thanksgivings?!) the girls proudly showed off their photographic display again.  

Whether we're preparing for the Thanksgiving holiday or stringing up Christmas lights, or even sipping lemonade in the summer sun (doesn't that seem like ages ago?), our hearts should sing with gratitude.  At any given moment, God has surrounded us with a hundred reasons to give thanks.  So take a moment, get lost in the expanse of the milky way, marvel at your child's perfect fingers, breathe in the aroma of your morning coffee, listen to the chorus of birds singing.  Give thanks for the breathtaking handiwork of an Almighty God.  Give thanks for the blessings He has filled your life with (and yes, that includes laundry.  And the dirty dishes that mean you have food to ward off hunger, the gas tank on empty that means you have a car to drive, the blaring alarm clock that means you have a job to rely on or kids to cherish, even the housework that means you have a home worth caring for).  Better yet, involve your kids in this miracle of gratitude.  Even though Thanksgiving is over with, what better way to start off the season during which we celebrate God's greatest Gift?  

As I'm writing this, my three year old is singing in the background, "I wanted to thank You, thank You, thank  You," a worship song that she has heard perhaps in the car or in church.  Our hearts were made to sing His praises, and the miracle of thanksgiving, the divine gift of gratitude, is that it fills us with joy.  It is impossible to give thanks and not be joyful.  

So deck your halls, sing falala, have yourself a merry little Christmas.  But most importantly, give thanks.  It's the surest way to find joy this Christmas season, and throughout the year.  

So what are you thankful for?

Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep...

I find that the end of the day, when my girls are snuggled up in pjs and tired from a long day at work and play, I have this window of opportunity to connect with them, really connect in a transparent and unfiltered way that makes the day's drudgery of cleaning and laundry and homework helping and car shuttling seem so unimportant in comparison.  It occurs to me that I spend 99% of my day doing these "unimportant" tasks, and just a few minutes snuggled up with my oldest girls in their bunk bed (yes, imagine all three of us in a twin bed and feel free to laugh) or my youngest on her rocking chair, and these few minutes usually yield the most fruit.  Which makes me think I should hire a maid or nanny to take care of the "unimportant tasks", because then I would be an amazing parent ;)

I don't always take advantage of these moments.  In fact, I am often too tired or frustrated and have had it "up to HERE!" at this point of the day and I am all to happy to switch off lights, close the doors on my children's darkened room, and collapse on the couch.  Or even the floor.  The amount of talking that happens in a house full of 3 little girls is incomprehensible at times and at the end of the day I am ready for a break from all the talking (which comes in many forms - whining, tattling, arguing, complaining, shouting, giggling, singing, sharing, complimenting, expressing... you get the idea).  But the other night, I took those few minutes with my 2 oldest girls and made the most of it.

Isabel was ironically refusing to speak to anyone at the moment - the long day had gotten the best of her and after a series of unfortunate events that sent her to bed a bit early she was curled up under her blankets shutting out the world.  So of course I just invited myself in.  I snuggled in next to her, and started a conversation.  Being the chatty little thing that she is, she couldn't resist the temptation for long and reluctantly joined in.  I don't remember what we were talking about, but she had shared some frustration and I encouraged her to pray, telling her that after a long day and before a new long day ahead, it's a perfect time to spend a few moments talking to her Heavenly Father.  To which she responded, "I don't know how!"  I resisted the urge to lecture her on the countless times we have discussed prayer and prayed together, and the obvious fact that she prays frequently herself.  We often talk as a family about how we can talk to God like He is right here with us, because He is.  And that our prayers don't need to be fancy or formal, it's just us having a conversation with Jesus.  But that night I talked to her about the types of things we can include in our prayers.   I encouraged her to thank God, to present her requests, to confess and ask forgiveness for her sins, and finally to praise God.  She asked how to do the last part - to praise God.  So I suggested to do it together, taking turns.  I started out by saying something that was true about God, like God You are holy, then she responded with another word.  At some point Sofi joined us and there we all were, snuggled up on that tiny bed, praising God together.  This was not an elaborate and planned lesson on prayer.  It wasn't a regularly scheduled family Bible study.  It was just us, taking a moment, making the most of an opportunity, giving the glory back to the God who created all the moments before and every one yet to come.

Isabel was the last one to name a truth about God and she said "You are merciful."  It was like the icing on the cake, because I knew that day she needed to experience and appreciate God's mercy.  Just a few hours earlier, she had run into her sister (accidentally or on purpose was the much heated debate) and it had sent her into a tailspin.  After some tears and poorly controlled anger, I pulled her aside and asked her why she was so upset.  The incident wasn't the end of the world, everyone had moved past it, and yet here she was, jaw clenched, fist tight, head bowed.  She wouldn't speak it out loud, and I insisted that I'm her mom, so she has to talk to me (this ploy still works... for now) so she wrote the words instead.  And here is what she wrote:

"I HATE making mistakes."

Mistakes - proof of our imperfection, tools that we use to remind ourselves that we're not _______ enough.  Smart enough, calm enough, thoughtful enough, strong enough, old enough, experienced enough.... good enough.  I watch helplessly at times as Satan uses my daughter's mistakes to convince her that she's not good enough, and no amount of preaching and teaching on my part can defend her little heart from the weight of her mistakes.  Which incidentally, are few and far between.  No child is perfect, and mine are no exception, but Isabel is truly a good girl.  She has a heart full of compassion and hands that are quick to serve, but oh how she strives to be perfect.  The truth is that I can't heal the wounds caused by her mistakes and the guilt she feels because of them, but God can.  So laying there in the quiet darkness of her room, the truth that God is merciful was just the truth she needed to speak, to accept, to experience.  Because mercy doesn't just cover her mistakes, it obliterates them.  It makes them as worthless and powerless as the lies spoken by the one who reminds her of them over and over again.  Praise God, for He is merciful.

What do you know to be true about God?  Take a moment to speak those truths, praising God for who He is and not just what He has done.  If you have children, praise God together, snuggle under the covers and make the most of those little moments before they're gone.  

Isabel's Story

So I shared in a recent post that I was going to have Isabel tell her story of how God spoke to her before her surgery, so here it is!  I was so excited to sit down and write this with her (she dictated while I typed).  She started out by explaining to me how stories needed an introduction and a main idea and a conclusion... future writer perhaps???  But no matter how many times I hear her tell this story, it always fills my heart to overflowing.  I know that God speaks, I have heard that still, small voice countless times throughout my life.  And I know that God's love is deep and wide and is full of mysteries I will never fathom in this lifetime.  I do my best with God's help to put my kids, as Michelle Anthony (author of Spiritual Parenting) "on the path of the divine" - to walk with them on a journey that continually moves us deeper into a relationship with Jesus.  And yet nothing compares to those moments when your child reaches milestones in their faith journey, then shares those moments with you.  Suddenly they become the teacher and you become the student.  I am so grateful for a Heavenly Father that loves me, but I am profoundly comforted by the way He loves my children.  So without further ado, here is her story...

Isabel about a week before surgery -
this little girl was sick and miserable!

One day I found out that I was having surgery.  I got really, really, really scared.  I wasn’t trusting in God, I only thought the doctors could help me.  But I felt the Holy Spirit touching me – I don’t know how to explain it, I couldn’t hear Him but I felt His words.  Then He said “I am the Son of God, trust me.”  I still wouldn’t believe Him.  He kept telling me the same words over and over again.  When that happened, I felt weird inside, like I haven’t felt before.  There was a little tingling feeling the 4^th time God told me to listen to Him, to trust Him.  I knew God was talking to me but I didn’t trust Him so I was nervous about the surgery.  I wasn’t eating that much because my throat hurt (she had strep) and everything was just hurting really bad, I didn’t know what it was.  

Feeling much better at the American
Girl Doll Store!

But then we were going to the American Girl doll store and when we were going my Grandpa took a wrong turn.  We passed by the hospital that I was going to for my surgery, which was Children’s Memorial.  Finally when we passed by that I said in my head, “Oh yeah I know that is God” and then I trusted Him.  And then I wasn’t scared at all!

Before I trusted God I felt terrible.  After the surgery, I felt like a new person because I just felt stronger because I listened to God.  It felt good that a lot of people were praying and it made a big difference.  When they prayed and when I trusted, the doctors were testing for Cancer.  But then I heard the news and I was so excited that I didn’t have Cancer!!!  I learned that I need to trust God!    

               

 


These last two pictures were taken at the hospital before Isabel's surgery.  Isabel is a nervous and anxious kid by nature - she suffers from anxiety related chronic stomach pain (which is a fancy way of saying she gets anxious often and then her tummy hurts) and has seen specialists for the pain and even a counselor .  So to see her so at peace and even cheerful before her surgery was nothing short of a miracle.  There was a marked difference in her from before that day we "accidentally" drove by the hospital and after.  It was weeks after her surgery that we finally realized why.

Here is what I learned, and what I reaffirmed with my daughter:  God loves her so much that He will speak to her, and even when she is filled with doubt, He will go before and behind her and will press after her until she realizes how much she is loved.  Too often we feel that we're not good enough - that God can't use us, love us, reach us.  That if we make a mistake or miss God's voice or heaven forbid flat out ignore it, God will punish or turn away or let us go.  But God says "trust me."  And when we ignore or argue or doubt, He repeats: "trust me."  Until finally we can't fight or argue any more.


What is God trying to speak into your life?  Your kids' lives?  If you aren't sure of the answer, take a beat and listen.  Encourage your kids to listen.  Open God's Word, take a quiet moment and pray, and wait expectantly for God to speak.  And know that God speaks to His children, and when we are too stubborn to listen, He speaks again.  Just like He spoke to Isabel.  

(How's that for a conclusion?)

5 Year Plans... and other things I don't believe in

A few days ago, Matt and I were driving in the car and he asks, "What would be the title of your autobiography?"  As if my life is so interesting that I could write an entire book about it.  Of course, he has several ideas for his own autobiography and then we start discussing my own fictional version.  A book that I have always joked that we should write together would be called Things I Never Thought I'd Say... And Then I Had Kids.  Some of the chapters would include: "We wear pants in this family!!!"  And "Actually the thing you hang your coat on is a hook, not a hooker."  HA!  I still laugh whenever I think of that story :)  Then Matt suggested 5 Year Plans... and other things I don't believe in.  Which is perfect.  If ever my life became interesting enough to write a book about, that would be the title.  It's completely ironic, and I will tell you why.

I am all about plans.  I love them.  Lesson plans, vacation plans, holiday plans, and yes, 5 year plans.  Even 10 year plans.  In fact, why stop there, we have so many years ahead of us that I could plan!!!  One of my favorite verses in High School was Jeremiah 29:11 which begins, "For I know the plans I have for you..."  Ahhh, even God loves plans.  Right now I'm planning a little getaway for Matt and I at the end of the month and I have spent hours, literally hours, on travel websites searching for the perfect hotels, restaurants, and activities.  I get so excited when I find the best deal possible and the perfect plan for the perfect trip.  I could go on but I think you get the point.  I am always saying that whenever I make a plan, God laughs.  Here's what I've decided: God let us know in middle school that we would spend the rest of our lives together (true story); so He figures after that kind of a heads up, He can pretty much hand us a mystery package with a major life change and shout "Surprise!" whenever He wants.   I have no theological support or Scriptural backing for that statement so you can take it or leave it ;)  However, it seems to be a pattern throughout our marriage that whenever we sit back, survey the life that we are blessed with, and give it the "5 year plan" stamp of approval, God pulls out the piece in the middle and it all falls over like a tower of Jenga blocks.  Before you think that I am blaming God for ruining my life, let me finish. After our tower falls down around us, we are always amazed at how God picks up the building blocks of our lives and puts them together into something we couldn't have dreamed up on our own.  For example, just over a year ago Matt and I had a conversation like so many before it.  We looked at our lives - Matt was working in Kids World and was running or starting some other ministry adventures on the side (if you don't know this about Matt he loves to work and he loves to start things.  Some men play golf to relax, Matt starts a new side job.  It's how he rolls).  I was enjoying my life as a preschool teacher, we were volunteering as a Safe Family and planning to have another baby.  We had calculated how much space we had and how long we could live in this home before we needed to move.  And as we looked at each other and our life, we decided it was good.  Things were perfect just the way they were.  5 year plan approved.  

Then Matt got this voicemail late one night from his boss' boss.  It was non-urgent but important so he should check in the next day.  At which point we spent the rest of the evening panicked and scrambling our brains to figure out what on earth that phone call was about.  I'll never forget Matt coming home and sitting down to tell me that he had been asked if he would be interested in being the campus pastor at Bartlett.  You want to know my reaction?  I laughed.  Out loud.  Then I laughed some more.  Not in a blasphemous or Abraham and Sarah kind of a way, but in a "there goes the Jenga blocks again" kind of way.  I should have known better - the 5 year plan was the clincher, it always is.  As we went through rounds of interviews and were continually asked how we felt about the changes that this new venture would bring I just smiled.  This wasn't the first time our lives were upended and I know it won't be the last - but the thing I have always learned is that no matter how scrambled our plans get, God always something better.    

This picture of Sofi was taken about 10 months after our 5
year plan was amended to state "wait 3 years to have baby #2."
You'd think I'd have learned my lesson then...

I wasn't always so flexible, I can assure you.  When we first moved here from Madison 5 and a half years ago, I struggled with the change.  And I confess that I did more than my fair share of pouting of our ruined 5 year plan.  It took me several months to not just see but acknowledge God's hand in our lives and finally confess that His plan was so much better than my own.  When you look back at wasted weeks and months spent fighting God instead of trusting Him, you have two choices.  Ok, you probably have several choices but here's what I came up with.  I could beat myself up and spend more time feeling sorry for myself or guilty for my poor decisions.  Or I could learn from my mistakes, enjoy the life that God had blessed me with, and make a decision to trust God next time.  Because there is always a next time.  There is a concept in teaching called scaffolding, and the basic idea is to introduce a skill, then help the student practice the skill, then eventually stand back and watch the student use the skill independently.  The point is that you work with and support the student as they move towards mastery, proving plenty of practice but less and less assistance as they become more confident.  In a way, God does this with us all of the time.  We learn a concept - either we read it in scripture or from a message at church or sometimes God speaks it to us more directly.  Then we put it into practice, with God's constant support until we become more and more confident in what He has taught us.  I have grown up in church, so I have always known that God has a plan for my life and that I should trust Him with that plan.  But as I began to put that into practice, I found it was a lot harder to do than say.  Philippians 1:6 says that "He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus."  God is a God of second chances - the whole of scripture attests to this.  From the moment man sinned, God put into motion a plan that would redeem him and restore the relationship between God and His creation.  Now life is a lot easier when we master the lesson quickly, but when we don't, when we struggle or even fail, God doesn't close the book, end the lesson and mark a giant red "F" on our lives.  He continues to teach, offer practice, provide support, and if we will as Paul writes "press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus" (Philippians 3:14), we will with Christ succeed.   In Romans 8, we learn that God works all things for our good (v28) and that nothing can separate us from God's love (35-30) - not even our own shortcomings.  Verse 37 says that "We are more than conquerors through Him who loved us (emphasis mine).  

I'm going to let you in on a little secret.  If you are continually facing the same type of problems or trials in your life (like angst over a continually wrecked 5 year plan), ask yourself if it is possible that God is trying to teach you a lesson that you just won't learn.  If the answer is yes (and it might not be), then learn the lesson already and get on with your life!  Yes, at times I have failed in learning these lessons myself, and God has been faithful to give me plenty of practice, always teaching, supporting, moving me closer to the person He has created me to be.  And I certainly haven't mastered the concept; at times God has to come alongside of me and carry me through a time when I am struggling to trust His plan.  But I have found myself at times anticipating the winds of change and looking forward to what God is going to do in my life.  

So when Matt asked me the other day where I thought we'd be in 5 years, I answered "I have no idea." Oh I have plans, lots of plans, but I know that God's plans may be different and I am unshaken in my belief that they are better.  I am in a place right now where I feel that things are good, but I also have the sense that things are about to change.  There is so much up in the air with our lives right now - we're thinking of moving (not leaving the area, just moving homes), we have no idea what will happen with our 3 year old (they keep telling us her case will probably take years; apparently they don't believe in 5 year plans either), and those 2 things alone leave a lot of loose ends.  But God knows the plan.  Jeremiah 29:11 continues and states that God's plans are "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."  God is speaking this verse to His people who are in exile.  They had turned from Him and had faced the natural consequences of a life spent making your own life plan and ignoring God's.  But the words He spoke to them were "hope" and future."  Yes, they experienced a season of pain, but true to His Word and His character, God rescued and redeemed and restored the relationship.  

Tomorrow we celebrate the 1 year anniversary of the Bartlett Campus.  It's hard to imagine how different our lives would be if God didn't work beyond the scope of our 5 year plan.  We are blessed and so grateful for the changes He has brought to our life.  So I sit hear at my computer and boldly declare "I don't believe in 5 year plans."  And the Noel from 10 years ago would have had a panic attack before making such a declaration so I am making progress!

This picture was taken a year ago at Super Second Saturday, when all 4 CCC
campuses raked leaves throughout neighborhoods in Bartlett.   Hard to believe
it's been a year!  We've come so far and have loved every minute of it!

What's in your 5 year plan?  Have you left room for the plan that God has for you?

   

Limps and Scars

I was making dinner last Wednesday (which involved me heating up dinner that a kind friend made for us), when my cell phone rang, and I saw my husband's picture on the screen.  So I'm shuffling dinner, homework with Sofi, my miserable patient in the next room, and my very bouncy 3 year old, and I pick up the phone and answer.  I hear Matt's voice on the line, obviously strained with emotion and his words didn't register - all I could hear were the tears he was holding back and I thought for sure he had been in an accident.  And then he repeated himself: 

 It's.  Not.  Cancer.

3 days before we were expecting any news.  Before I even had the chance to jump every time the phone rang, waiting for the test results that would change our lives.  I had been so busy taking care of my little girl that I had not allowed myself to think beyond the moment, until I laid down at night and sleep wouldn't come.  So I stood there in the dining room, letting the words sink in.  It's.  Not.  Cancer.

I had imagined how I would react if I heard those words, and I thought I would be overjoyed, giddy even.  And while I immediately felt relieved and grateful, I also felt exhausted.  Once the weight was lifted and I didn't have to be strong, I think it just all hit home.

I walked into the room where Isabel was snuggled up on the couch, and shared with her what we had just heard.  She immediately replied increduously: "What?!  I almost had cancer!!!  I would have died!"  And then she and her sisters (ok, and me, too) broke into a fit of giggles, because when Isabel laughs it's infectious and you can't help but join in, regardless of how inappropriate it may be.  

So now we go back to "normal" life.  With normal people problems like broken vacuum cleaners and dirty carpets and kids that talk back or argue or hate to do their homework.  But after all that we've been through over the past few months, doing normal just doesn't feel, well, normal.  We have this long list of things that needed to be done but we just kept putting them off until after the surgery and whatever came next.  So now I'm looking at this "To Do" list and I'm not sure how to get started.  It's hard to care about replacing your mismatched kitchen chairs after stroking your baby's face, scarred and swollen from surgery and wondering all the while what you would do without her.

But while I'm absolutely exhausted from it all, I wouldn't erase these past few months even if I could.  Which sounds so cliche and absolutely ridiculous, so you're just going to have to take my word for it and trust that I mean it.  People always say that when they go through really difficult times, it's in those heart-crushing, soul-searching moments that you find yourself so close to God that you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that He is real and present and holding you close.  Now I get it.  I understand what Paul is talking about in Philippians 4:7 when he promises that "the peace of God, which transcends all understanding will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."  Over the past few weeks, we have been so incredibly amazed at the emails and calls and conversations we've had with people who were praying for our little girl and for our family.  And not just mentioning our names in a routine mealtime prayer, but truly interceding on our behalf.  I know that those prayers made a difference.  Before we left for the hospital, our families met us at our house and we spent some time in prayer and I was just overwhelmed at how blessed we are.  We have this incredible faith community of family and friends who stood in the gap for us and carried us through a difficult time that could have been so much worse.  I don't fully understand the mechanics of how this prayer thing works - obviously God is all powerful and doesn't rely on our prayers to get Him up in the morning.  But to stand in the middle, surrounded by people who's collective faith offered up in prayer hits you like a hurricane, well it's just indescribable.  It may seem a bit trite, now that I'm standing on this side of things, but I just had this overwhelming sense of God's presence with and for us.  Romans 8:31 says "...if God is for us, who can be against us?"  I truly can't fathom how people get through life without God, without knowing and feeling that, as it says in Psalm 139:5, "You hem me in, behind and before.  You have laid Your hand upon me." 

A few nights later, I was up late with Isabel and we were talking about her scar.  It was the silliest thing, but when Matt and I first saw her after surgery, lying there unconscious and so very small on the hospital bed with the tube still in her mouth and her face red and swollen from the tape they had just removed, the thing that struck us was her scar.  It seemed so big on her tiny little neck and she's so beautiful and it was so ugly.  But as I was fretting over it again later, the story that came to me was the story of Jacob.  Now that guy was drama, so he has lots of stories.  But the one I was thinking of is in Genesis 32 and it talks about how he wrestled with "a man until daybreak."  So I explained the story to Isabel, how Jacob was going to meet his brother, and when he stopped for the night he began wrestling with this man and they wrestled through the night.  Finally the man touched Jacob's hip, which was enough to later make him walk with a limp.  But Jacob still wouldn't let go and insisted the man bless him.  At which point there's an exchange that results in Jacob's name being changed to Israel because he had "struggled with God and with men and have overcome." (v 28).  Jacob then realizes that he had seen God face to face, had wrestled Him even, and his life was not only spared, but he received a blessing.  Isabel thought the whole story was pretty interesting and we compared Jacob's limp with her scar.  Because in the way that his limp was a reminder of his struggle and his blessing, her scar would be a testimony of how she had been afraid, and how God had rescued and healed her.  Every time someone asks her how she got the scar, she will be able to share her story - God's story.  How she "almost died!" as she so eloquently put it, but how so many people rallied around her and prayed for her and how her God moved and her life was spared.  Let me just say that had things turned out differently, her story would still be God's story and His story is always one of redemption, and His promises are no less true when they don't bring the answers that we pray for.  God is still God and He is still good regardless of whether there is healing in this life or the next.  I say that confidently now with a sigh of relief, and while I didn't endure disease or death, I walked through it's shadow and I felt peace that can only come from a God that is as real as the scar on my daughter's face. 

The other day Isabel shared this amazing story of how God spoke to her a few days before her surgery.  It's a great story and deserves it's own post so I'll share it soon!  

I don't really know how to do normal yet, but that's ok.  We'll limp around for awhile, and we'll remember what God has done, for us and in us and through us.  And we'll celebrate His story and the part that He has invited us to play.  Wherever you're at in your journey, whatever your going towards or leaving behind, ask yourself this question: what's your limp?  What points you back to who God is and what He's done in your life?  And if you don't have one, roll up your sleeves and start to wrestle.  Grab onto God and don't let go until you come up changed.  Who needs normal anyways?  It's totally overrated if you ask me.    

So Long August

Ok, so it's been awhile.  This month has been crazy, and a bit of a roller coaster.  I know you have all been sitting on the edge of your seat, wondering where I've been and when I would post next, so here I am.  And now I'll get off the delusional train.

So every year around this time I have a mantra, and it goes like this:

I hate August!

I know, really mature.  But August is a crazy month for us.  It's a busy season for ministry, so Matt is gone a lot, it's back to school time and while many moms have the good sense to rejoice over their newfound freedom I tend to fall into a pit of despair at the thought of my kids being whisked away on that giant yellow monstrosity for 8 hour stretches.  And then there's all those shopping trips with crabby kids in tow trying to find shoes that don't pinch, clothes that aren't "furry" (an absolute deal breaker for Sofi), and those ever-increasing and overly-specific lists of school supplies.  And so there I am, standing in the aisle at Walmart looking for a non-existent box of 48 Crayola crayons, taking deep breaths and muttering my mantra.

I hate August!

All grown up and off to 1st and 2nd grade!

I should have written this post in July.  In July I was in a much better mood - I mean, a really great, joyful, God-praising mood.  Why, you ask?  Well let me tell you.  In July I sat on my bathroom floor holding a pregnancy test.  After 18 months of trying, or not not-trying, I finally held in my hands a positive pregnancy test.  I cried like a baby, and thanked God for answering my prayers.  I gave Matt the news the night before our 10th anniversary and we were over. the. moon.  4 days later we boarded a plane for Colorado to celebrate us - our life, our marriage, our family.  I couldn't have been happier.  We had to go through full-body scans at the airport and I told the security lady that I was pregnant and couldn't go through - I have never been so happy to have a full-body pat down.  I love looking out the window when I fly, watching the clouds around and below us, always amazed at the sight of the world below us.  I had this sense that everything was turning around.  God had answered our prayer, He would heal Isabel, everything was perfect. And then it wasn't.

Fast forward to 3 am and I found myself sitting in the ER in Denver, listening to a doctor tell me that I had lost the baby.  I had to go to the ER because my blood type is negative, so I have to get a shot every time I have a baby.  Or lose one apparently.  As if having a miscarriage wasn't bad enough, they had to go and stick needles into me.  At one point they were trying to get a blood sample, and I have these invisible veins apparently so the nurse hoisted the full weight of her body onto my arm trying to squeeze the blood out of me.  At which point it squirted all over the floor.  I thought Matt was going to pass out.  Happy anniversary, babe, let's spend the night in the ER; it'll be great.   

Let me quickly insert the reason I am sharing this with friends and acquaintances and complete strangers - it's not to get pity; truth is I hate it when people feel sorry for me.  And while there is a lot of stress and sorrow at this point in my faith journey, there is also hope and redemption interweaved throughout the story, my story, God's story.  So I share this part of my journey because the lessons I am learning are lessons that are propelling me forward, and I hope they will do the same for you.

On the airplane I had started the book 1000 Gifts.  Basically it's a book about gratitude, learning to be content in all circumstances, thankful even, for the tiny miracles that surround us.  Without giving too much away, the author writes in the beginning about this idea of open and closed fists.  When God blesses us, we throw our hands wide open, arms outstretched to receive His blessings.  But when we don't like what has sifted between His fingers, when what falls from His hands hurts or pressures or rubs us the wrong way, we close our hands and shake our fists at God.  And what right do we have to respond that way?  I'm not saying that God caused me to have a miscarriage (which, incidentally, is a lame word).  I don't for a moment believe that God causes bad things to happen or wants us to suffer. But sometimes, for reasons I may never know, He allows life in all of it's pain and brokenness to happen.  God didn't create evil and doesn't revel in our sufferings, but nothing happens that God doesn't allow to happen.  It was easy to read that book on the way to Colorado, but as I sat on a bathroom floor, crying yet again, it wasn't so easy to be grateful.  Which is why, as I sat on that bathroom floor, I began to make a mental list of the things I was grateful for.  And before long I learned something: gratitude is healing. So I kept listing, healing, listing more... 
       1. Health insurance 
       2. The sound of little girl voices on the phone
       3. Fresh air
       4. Flying over white pillow clouds
       5. Lightning over the mountains

When we got home, it was August.  Of course.  And the back to school madness began.  It was halfway through August when we went back to the pediatric ENT again for another check up.  Matt didn't come this time - we had been to so many doctor appointments this summer and at the last visit this doctor seemed really calm about everything, unconcerned even.  "Kids have really reactive lymph nodes," he told us.  And we breathed a sign of relief.  I checked her lump the night before and thought maybe it was bigger but then again, I'm her mom which makes me prone to paranoia.  So when the doctor took one look at the lymph node and said "it needs to come out" I just wasn't prepared.  Excisional biopsy is the official procedure - they will cut open her neck and remove the entire lymph node, then send it off for tests.  I had so many questions, but my little girl was sitting there, trying to hard to be brave and smiling like she wasn't scared out of her mind and I just couldn't say words like "cancer" with her in the room.  He went through the risks, talked about how close it was to her corotid artery and nerves that go to her voice box and one that can cause spasms in her shoulder.  But he reassured me that he does these surgeries all the time, on itty bitty babies even, and he has never had a problem.  He didn't suggest the surgery, didn't offer options, he said it needed to be done.  So I left that office with a lump in my throat that was big enough to swallow the one in my little girl's whole.

And now we wait.  Wait for the surgery (it's coming up on Monday - September 10th), wait for the results (they take about a week), and let me tell you, I hate waiting.  We are praying for healing, desperately praying for a miracle, but we are also preparing ourselves for the worst.  Because the reality is, they have tested her for so many things and ruled all of them out and the diagnosis that we find ourselves preparing for even as we pray against it is lymphoma.  Lymphoma.  Just saying the word, or writing it, for that matter, it terrifies me.  And I can feel my fingers curling, curving into a fist ready to shake at the God who knit this very child together inside of me.  Arms outstretched, I pulled her close and thanked Him for giving her to me 7 and a half years ago.   Now those same arms hold her tightly when she sleeps as I beg Him not to take her away.  Not to let her suffer.  Not to let this sift through His hands.  

My mom had matching bracelets made for Isabel and I and she had a word engraved on them: Trust.  I know that's what God is asking of me right now, and so I started a Bible reading plan on that very topic.  The first day I read and memorized Exodus 14:14 "I will fight for you.  You need only to be still."  Still.  That is so not me, not in crisis, not when I am afraid, not when there is a battle looming on the horizon.  Not when my little girl could be sick.  Trust.  Be still.  These words keep coming back to me, and I have come to realize that it is one thing to trust God FOR something - it feels good to trust that God will heal, protect, save.  But often the Bible asks us to simply trust God IN something.  In suffering, in trial, in pain, in loss, in the midst of distress and heartache and even disease.  I don't like that so much.  But I am trying, every day trying.  I have to ask God a thousand times a day to help me trust, unclench my fists, be still.  And I keep practicing gratitude, making a mental list of things I am grateful for.  

Of course deciding to practice gratitude meant that I would get heaps of practice ASAP.

not even a sprained wrist will
wipe off that smile

So last week on Tuesday I left work to meet my family at urgent care after Sofi had hurt her wrist... and Matt and the girls had been sitting there for over 2 hours by the time I get there, but Sofi grins when I walk in like she's having the time of her life.
     6. the way Sofi smiles even when she's had a rough   
        day
     7. a family that is always happy to see you

Thursday I took Isabel for her pre-op check up and our 3 year old came along for the ride... then ended up getting (count 'em) 4 shots because I had the misfortune of receiving and then handing over her shot record.
     8. vaccines that prevent disease
     9. the power of a cute band-aid

That night Isabel refused dinner and went to bed early, then woke up the next morning with a high fever.  Back at urgent care and you'll never guess... strep throat it is.
     10. getting the pink medicine instead of the nasty white stuff 
     11. finding out it's a normal kid illness, not a symptom of something scarier

I sat with Isabel on Friday as she whimpered that her throat hurt, and I stroked her head hot with fever and somehow we started talking about Heaven and how when we get there we won't ever feel pain or sadness again.  And she looked at me with this hopeless expression and said "yeah, but that's a long time away!"  Then she sighed, and paused a moment, then said "or maybe it won't be.  It might not be that long, you never know."  Then she sort of perked up, happy with her little revelation. 

And I had to pretend to be happy too.   

Because the truth is, I believe the world is a better place with my little girl in it, and I know that my world is a better place with her in it.  So my heart races at the thought that she could leave this world, my world, before I am ready.  I am so very fearful that I could lose her, and that the hole she would leave behind would swallow me alive.  You see, it's not her I fear for, it's me.  My worst fear is to lose one of my children, but the truth I live by is that in death we are made whole.  Our hope is Christ, and in Him there is no death.  The end of this life is only the beginning of Eternity with Him.  The Creator of the universe, the One who called forth light and the ocean and creatures great and small, has a place prepared for my daughter where she will never have to visit another doctor or fight another illness or struggle with anxiety or strep throat or the kid that picks on her.  But the truth is, I don't want that place for her right now.  So I will pray for her healing, and sit nervously through her surgery, and wait impatiently for her test results.  But I will also practice gratitude, and try to be still, and even as I fold my hands in prayer I pray that God will give me the strength to open those hands to receive whatever He allows.  Because whether I open my hands or shake my fists, life will happen.  But I can't imagine this life without the hand of my Savior, my Creator, my Father and Friend carrying me through.  Isaiah 41:10 says "So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God.  I will strengthen you and help you.  I will uphold you with my righteous hand."  
     12. A God who's hands are so much stronger than my own

I don't have all the answers because I haven't arrived.  I'm on a journey, and I don't know what's ahead.  But God does, so I will trust.  I will be still.  And I will give thanks.
     13. God's peace in the middle of life's storms
     14. September (so long, August)