Rolling

This morning, these lyrics are rolling through my head...

"This is the day, this is the day, that the Lord has made, that the Lord has made!"

"I may be weak, but my God, you never fail..."

"You pull me out of darkness, You pull me out of all my emptiness, You are Your instrument of grace!"

A pretty good soundtrack for the day, I'd say....thank you, Lord!

Reflections on 42, Part 3

It seems that I'm back to being a night owl. I wondered how long that would take me...I think, honestly, it was having my mom here that did it to me. She's a big time night owl, too, so with her here, I had lots of opportunity. (What a lame attempt at the blame game!)

But she left today, so what's my excuse now?

The night is so quiet, and these last few nights, my head and heart have been racing again...tonight is no exception. We buried Ralph a month ago today. In a span of 2.5 weeks, our family was given four new days to remember every single month--the 27th and 1st (days that Dad died and was buried) and the 6th and 13th (days that Ralph died and was buried). 

I don't really like that. I would prefer it were not that way, thank you very much.

But God. God is God, and I am not. So as we accept good from His hands, we accept this. I believe I will be in a near constant state of sadness for a long time...while at the same time, choosing to live and laugh and serve well again.

How do the two go together? Only...only...by His grace. I am so desperately in need of Him, and I thank Him for His reminder yet again. 

One was 86; one was 29. Both were loved and both are very missed...

Twelve days separated these two scenes. Life is short, people...get right with God while you have a chance. He loves you and wants to be in relationship with you...forever. 

Praise God from whom all blessings flow...

Reflections on 42, Part 2

I sit down to write, and the baby starts to cry.  Oh, I have been given such great blessings in my children!  Crying in the night doesn't happen often anymore, as Bart is now over 2.5 years old...the days are passing so quickly, and I'm trying to soak it up and enjoy each moment, as so many have advised me over the years.  (Oh, if I could only remind my anger streak that in a few years, whatever it is that's making it flare up isn't going to matter all that much anymore.)

My birthday...it was just as it needed to be.  Memorable, but rather than the "what" that made it so, it was the "who".  My mama is here, so yesterday was a celebration of me AND her.  She made me my favorite brownies, I introduced her to Cheesecake Factory, we went to Bible study together, and we watched Perry Mason...sort of.

CBS All Access should be renamed CBS Some Access.  Or CBS Some Access Sometimes Whenever It Decides To Work.

But enough about how much I love technology.  Let's talk about my mom.  She's awesome.

These last two months have been a whirlwind, to say the least.  Highs and lows, lows and highs.  I have to get to my to-do list eventually, but each day that passes is full of such emotion, such I-can't-believe-what-has-happened, such "Lord, help me!"  I am still numb in some ways, and that's part of why I didn't want yesterday to be a big thing....I love my birthday and normally love celebrating it, but yesterday...low-key, quiet, mostly-just-me-and-Mom is how it was supposed to be.

For dinner, we had pizza.  Mom and I love eating pizza together.  Then after dinner, we serenaded whoever was listening with a little piano duet action.  Then we tried to introduce my friends to Perry Mason. That was....frustrating at first, then eventually fun...before becoming frustrating again.  Eventually, Andy (Griffith) beat Perry in an arm-wrestling competition, and we closed the night out with some good, solid black-and-white DVD playing.

Mom's only here for a few more days, but I'm determined to enjoy every minute.....love you, Mama!

Reflections on 42, Part 1

I was recently told once that in order for an author to start writing something great, he needs to just start writing something.

I think that's good advice, even for me.  I don't exactly consider myself an author, but even for a blogger or a person writing a diary, it makes sense.  Who knows when something ordinary might eventually turn into something great?

Today was the first day of my 43rd year of life.  Forty-two years of living.  I'm a mom, a daughter, a sister, a friend, an aunt, a great-aunt, a church member, a Cru Inner City staff woman, a wife. So many things happen in a given day in our crazy inner city life--both good and bad--that I'm really wanting to write it down.  So that someday, when I can't remember, someone will.  If it even matters by then.

I started the day with this verse:  "The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full." -John 10:10

Jesus came that life abundant would be possible, even on Earth, and even when pain surrounds us. Amen.

Forty-third year...let's do this!

Two Months

Again, I ask....

Where does the time g
                                   o
                                     ?

Am I using the time I have well?

(Not today, no.  Certainly doesn't feel like it.)

When my time is done, will I have "wasted wisely" my days, as I so long to have done?

God, you are my God, and I will ever praise you, even in the dry and weary land, where there is no water.  Today, life feels full of dry and weary.  But just today.  Tomorrow might bring bright and sunny again.  Why?  Why does it so often go that way?

Because I am finnicky.  And fickle.  And so needy.

Jesus, be my Strength, be my Guide.  Use my weary hands for your glory.  I want to waste my days with wisdom and valor.  Today, in my so-far-from-where-I-want-to-be-ness, will you refresh and restore and do your work?  So that the time that I have....is used well.

To God be the glory.

Home is...

It's dark, after midnight.  The fan is running, pulling the cold air from one of two window air conditioners into the living room, where I sleep.

When I was a kid, we only had one window air conditioner.  Serious upgrades are happening around here.

I love being home.  I just do.  Today, Mom and I went to town with the kids while Dad's caretaker was here, and as usual, when we stopped for a quick bite to eat, I saw someone I know.  Or knew at one point, anyway, way back when.

It's always good to see familiar faces.  Always.  This one was a guy who went to my church growing up, and he told me of how he has never left town, always lived here.

That's how I thought I would be.

I had ideas of how to renovate this very house to the kind of dream home that I and my future family could live in, complete with a balcony and spiral staircase.

Instead, I live at 2319, and that is the place that my kids will always think of as home.

This summer, though, home for our little family of 7 was a 622 sq ft apartment...and it was perfect.  It helped us remember the reality of the cliche that wherever we are as a family, that is home.

(Clearly, I'm not remembering the actual cliche.  Work with me, here.)

In just a few days, the kids and I will return home, where we will be reunited as a family, and we will begin to readjust to life in a great big house.  A house that has hundreds of corners where messes can be made and where sibling rivalry and angry reactions will too often take center stage.  By God's grace, though, this year will be one where grace will abound in our house, offsetting in miraculous ways the sin that will abound there, too.

I call two places home, here with my parents and there with my husband and children.  How blessed I am!  May my blessings be used for the glory of God and the good of others, as the Lord leads....His ways are perfect.

Remembering...as I think ahead...

Twenty years ago this night, I was in North Myrtle Beach having the most life-changing summer of my life.  I loved everything--well, nearly everything--about that summer.  Amy, Anne, and Tanya were the best roommates I could have hoped for, and God clearly chose them for me.

When the staff left, the project got even better, something that was rather surprising to me.  I didn't think it could possibly get better....it was already so wonderful.  But our staff did leave, and they left to join the masses out here...in Ft. Collins...long before I knew that I would be among the masses just two years later.  I would be on staff...and 20 years after that summer, would still be coming to CSU for our staff conference...but with my family in tow.  My children would remember Ft. Collins as a huge part of their growing-up years.  My heart would be challenged, refreshed, and renewed over the years here.

And here I sit again...the night before the masses, the quiet before the storm...full of gratitude for Your very good gifts--friends, talent, opportunities, love, You....the list goes on, and this summer again, I have been blessed beyond measure.

Thank you, Jesus.  You are worthy of my life.  Now. Still. Always.

The Thankful Game, Part 2

Today....what to choose? Well, as I sit here staring at my FB cover photo, I am thankful for my family....my mama, my dad, my brother, my sissy, and of course, the reason for the picture, my wonderful nephew and his bride.  Becky, Tim, Mom, and Dad....how thankful I am for each of you. If we were together around the dining room table right now, the stories would start flowing and wouldn't stop for hours. I love the adventures we had as kids, and I love that we are still journeying together now. Tim, I love picture of us. You will always be my big brother, and I love you very much--and I forgive you for all the times you cheated at "Odd or Even" when we were little. Becky, you were so gorgeous on the day of Richie's wedding--I loved everything about the way you looked, because I think it matched the pride that was in your heart.  Richie, I'll never forget the day you were born...it was one of the most special days of my childhood, and watching you get married in September was a joy. Stacy, we are all so happy to have you as part of our crazy family! You chose well, and so did he! wink emoticon What a beautiful day you had for a wedding!

The Thankful Game, Part 1

The thankful game...call me late to the party or just trying to do things a little differently. (It's both, I assure you.) Either way, I'm thankful today for so many things...how do you choose??! Okay, here we go...today, I am thankful for my sweet boy, my baby Bart. He is a treasure and gift to me every single day. Though I could do without his newfound squeals, I will take them, every one, for it means that when nap time comes, I can sing him our song, and he will snuggle in close. And when nap time is over, he will hold his arms out and give me the biggest grin, and he will put his forehead to mine and move in for kisses. He is the sweetest baby I know, and everyone loves his disposition...how could they not? My heart still longs for my Aaron....for Bart's twin brother to be here living life with us, too. But God knew what I needed, and He knows so much better than I...He is trustworthy and kind, and here is yet another thing for which to be thankful. Thank you, Lord, for giving me Bart to hold in my arms...my heart is full of gratitude.

40 Days, 40 Years

Today is the beginning of lent.

But I'm not Catholic, so what do I care?

I saw a post today, full of wisdom, that said that if it's something you should give up for lent, it's probably something you should be giving up for every other day as well.  Possibly true, also possibly a bit of an overreaction.

Then tonight, our friend, Shanice, was telling me that for lent, she's not "fasting" from something; rather, she's "feasting" on Someone.

That was exactly what I had been trying to say all day.

Feasting, not fasting.  Feasting on Him, digging into His Word, breathing His life, walking around with Him, always surrounded in His love.

True, this should be happening every day.  But I think there might be something quite good about using these days on the calendar to be specifically reminded of what He's given, what's to come, and what kinds of things might be hindering us in our walks with the Lord.

My birthday is Sunday.  This year, 40 posts in 40 days to commemorate the 40 years I've so graciously been given.....thank you, Jesus.

Where I've been and where I am...

Saturday time.  That's what I call it when I leave the house and get alone.  Alone with the Lord, alone with my thoughts, alone with a pen (or, in this case, a keyboard).

I'm out for my Saturday time.  It's happened about 3 times in the last 6 months.  And I can feel it.

So many memories NOT recorded.  So many thoughts NOT expressed.  So many feelings NOT processed.

At least not out loud.  And for a verbal processor, that can be rather painful.

A year ago, life was so different than it is now.  A year ago, Aaron and Bart shared space--and blood--in my womb.  They lived together, and I'm quite certain that even now, there are times when Bart feels Aaron's absense.

I feel it every day.

And yet....life goes on.  Time marches.  Days pass.  And I love, love, love the little one in my arms, even as the other is in Another's.  (Oh, how much safer His are than mine!)

Now, other matters hold my attention:  pain in the life of friends, joy in the lives of my children, struggles of parenting, laughter returning.  I am still a ball of emotions, often feeling sad.  Not a sad that an acquaintance would recognize...in the everyday, the sadness hides.  But rather, one that those who know me well see.  It's a sadness that remains, and, I am beginning to think might remain for quite some time...maybe even until I'm Home.  It's a sad that says that the world isn't right, that brokenness is the identity of this place in which we live.  I can either embrace it and figure out how to live anyway...or I can pretend it isn't there and let it creep up on me in ugly ways unexpected.

I am so blessed.  God has graced me with blessings untold.  Grace upon grace is my reality.  And yet, my posture in the grace is often one of grief and worship these days.  Grief for the missing, for the sad, for the loss.....and worship for the What Is that is much more solid, eternal, and everlasting than any of the misses, sadnesses, and losses of this broken place.

God is my rock, my strength, my portion.  Blessed be His name, yesterday, today, and forever.

Ahhhhhhh....

I sigh.............

It's up.  It's not fully decorated yet, but at least the tree is up, and it has lights on it, and I can sit in the quiet with the blankets pulled up all around me and think and pray and process and wonder and worship.

I love this time of year.

Could it be?

I don't know what's happening, but...

-tears came on Sunday when I saw a very recent picture of her.
-her first name appeared on a waiting child list.
-the top-of-my-newsfeed news tonight was a friend who had a baby yesterday...named the same name.

I just want her to have a family so badly and for said family to want to be in contact with our son as badly as we want him to be in contact with her.

And if there is no "said family", then can I please be her mommy? Please?

Only God could make it happen.  Then again, He IS a God who does some pretty cramazing things.

We shall see.

Dec 1 - The Thankful Game

I'm in the middle of reading 1000 Gifts, a book I've been told to read by so many people.  It. is. wonderful.

Really.

God is speaking to my heart as I turn the pages, and I am grateful.

She calls it a thousand gifts.  I'm calling it here "The Thankful Game".  You know, there can be joy in anything....the good, easy things, of course.  But also the painful, challenging things.  How will I choose to give thanks during this advent season?

I mean, the truth is that on any given day, there are about a bizillion things for which to thank God.

Maybe even more than a bizillion.

In any given day, I can choose to look to the heavens, taking my circumstances and turning them into joy, or I can complain, whine, and walk around in defeat.

She is challenging me, that Ann Voskamp person!  What she says resonates because she is putting into words the meditations of my heart over these last several years and then forcing me to go a step further.

I've definitely been missing the further.

The Thankful Game begins for me with a list of things remembered from this weekend alone.  I will start the timer for 5 minutes and type.  And..............go!

-time for reunioning with kids from India
-sitting around the dining room table with my family telling stories
-a brother and nephews to joke around with, even when I'm irritated with them
-my sister and her intentionality toward my son
-time with my mom and my sister, just the three of us
-the fact that my dad is still with us over two years after we almost lost him
-kids who are good travelers
-Chick-fil-A
-coke in a styrofoam cup....yum
-Skype for crossing oceans with a ring-ring
-laughter with Hoffbeast and the kids
-whining for pretend...just to prove a point...and laughing about it as we understood
-beautiful photographs that make me remember...
-difficult conversations that make you think
-watching my boys run around the block while my dad walked
-my mama's pumpkin pie
-advent calendars from Aunt Jill

And the list literally goes on.  I'm stopping myself at the 5-minute mark, but my head and my heart keep going....and isn't that part of the point?  That as I stop and look, I actually can see?

Give me eyes to see You during this Christmas season, Lord.

Grace and Tears

I've been doing a lot of thinking about baby Aaron recently.  The grief ebbs and flows, of course, and I feel myself heading into an ebb.

Or is it a flow?

Either, way...it was just about a year ago that we got pregnant, and unbeknownst to us, the God of the universe was forming two babies from one fertilized, microscopic egg.

A miracle.  Two miracles.  TWO miracles.  We had been hoping to be pregnant for months by this point last year, but month after month, cycle after cycle, the answer was no.

And then.....our gifts.

I'm a sentimental girl, so it's no surprise that my heart is venturing to the place of remember.

And even in that place, He is there, so I go with grace and tears and The God Who Sees.

I go.

My heart is heavy tonight.

Not sure why.  Exactly, anyway.

Loss.

Break-ins.

Jail time.

Unexpectedness.

Holes in windows.

Anger.

Disappointment.

Much, much brokenness all around.

We weren't made for this place, and tonight, I have tried to escape its harshness by watching a new show, eating ice cream, avoiding the necessary in every way possible.

What I need to do is to go to bed, rest in Him, and begin a new day, breathing in His mercies that will surely be new on the other side of the sleep.

By faith, to bed I go.

Over and Over

I have gone over every scenario in my head, it seems.  But each time I do, I come to the same conclusion.

"I am the LORD, and you can trust me."

I don't need to figure it out, or prepare perfectly, or practice my reaction to any given scenario.  I simply need only to trust Him.

We received good news a week ago when I went for my third ultrasound.  It was nothing short of awesome to see two babies who were growing and moving on the screen.  God answered the prayers of His people in the affirmative, and we are so grateful. 

But Aaron's heart is still very weak.

And so we have continued to pray.  Tomorrow we go for our first perinatologist visit of this pregnancy.  They are specialists in pre-natal care; it's what they do.  So I am counting on the fact that they will have a lot of insight into what's going on. 

Still, they don't know everything.  But HE does.

So I'm looking forward to the appointment and to, like before, seeing God at work, no matter the outcome.

He is our rock, our strength, our portion forever.

Amen.

Our Growing Happy Little Fleet

Sometimes, I can't believe I'm really pregnant.  Carrying a child inside your body is, without a doubt, one of the most amazing things a women can go through.  (Many would say it is THE most amazing thing, but I know different, thank you Neil and Tom.)  The reality that life is happening inside and, in a sense, separate from you, is astounding, miraculous, and mind-boggling.

And I am experiencing it yet again.  Amazing.  Really, really amazing.

The Hub and I spent almost a whole year hoping to be pregnant, but it wasn't happening.  Month after month, the answer was no.  God was good in His answer.

And then He said yes.

Twice.

He is still good in His answer.

As we have told people our news, some have called us crazy.  We have even looked at each other and joked, "Are we crazy?"

But no........no, we're not crazy.  We are walking with Jesus, choosing to trust that when He says that children are blessings from Him, He means it.  Choosing that HE is the One who makes and takes life, that HE knows what is best for our family, that HE has the means and ways of making His best known and providing for us in the midst.

Will I be tired?   Yes.  Does "retirement" get pushed back a little later?  Yes.  Will our resources be stretched a bit thinner?  Yes.  Will I regret one single nanosecond of holding my children in my arms?

Um........a resounding no.  No, no, no.

Two babies.  What a profound miracle!  Our babies are most likely identical.  One egg which just happened to decide to split and become two.  God is awesome.

I go back to the doctor on Thursday.  She is expecting to see one baby thriving and one baby dying.

I am expecting to see God at work.

God, the Maker and Taker, Sustainer and Life-giver, Breath and Health, Great Physician, All-knower, All-lover, and All-trustworthy One.

I'm not sure what exactly my eyes will see as I look on the ultrasound screen, but I know for a fact that I will be watching the work of a Sovereign God, the One I serve, love, and to whom I have given my life and my dreams and my future and my all.

Because I can trust Him, all is well with my soul.

Here Again

I've been here before.

Writer's block.

It certainly is not for lack of material.  I could spend all day recording the antics of my beautiful and hilarious children and still not be able to get each precious memory committed to screen.

Time definitely plays a part.  Tonight I'm giving myself permission to stay up late and blog, but this year, since school has started, that's not been much of an option for my new, disciplined-to-go-to-bed-earlier-and-get-up-earlier self.

Tonight, I'm here in Valley Forge.  I've been here before, too.  It is beautiful here, both the physical surroundings and the people with whom I'm sitting in hours-long meetings.  It's hard to believe that for months on end, this was not such a happy place nearly 250 years ago.

It wasn't then.  But it certainly is now.

Today as I sat on the porch and looked out at the fall colors painted on the scenery, there was quiet.  Space.  I read my Bible.  I read my new book.  And as I opened my journal to write, the familiar feeling came back, and I realized that it's one of the reasons that I haven't blogged in so long.

I miss her.

It's hard for me to sit in meditative silence without thinking of her.  I wonder how she is filling her days.  I wonder if they are laughing.  I wonder if we will ever reconcile. 

But for now, I wait.

And wait.

At first, I grieved.  A lot.  But in the back of my mind, I thought that probably it would get fixed somehow.  But the days turned into weeks, and the weeks have now turned into months.  I miss her.

After Hunt went to be with Jesus, I measured time by how long it had been.  "This is the first October without him.  If he were here, we'd be introducing him to leaf piles and crisp, autumn air."

She lives close, but I feel similar measurements sitting stale and sad and somber in my heart.  And I can't spend very many quiet moments without them creeping in.  "Last year at this time, we hung out and picked apples with our kids.  This year, I thought we would be making Halloween costumes together."

She didn't die.  But the separation feels somewhat like a death.

There is hope.  He's the same hope Who makes me smile when I think about Hunt.  He can restore and renew, breathing life into the dark and wounded places.  He is my hope.

But in the day to day, my heart feels sick.  What if this never gets resolved?  Memories of our friendship are all around me all the time.  And I like it that way!  But the pain stabs again and again at the memories.

Does she miss us?  Does she long for reconciliation, too?  Or has she moved on, never to look back?  I wish I knew.  I think I know, but I can't be sure.  The movement that I see (no movement at all) does not display what would be my assumption.

When I think of her, sometimes I worry.  Sometimes my mind wanders and I find myself ten minutes later just imagining their possible adventures. 

What I should be doing is praying.  God is the Healer, the Restorer of Streets with Dwellings.  He is the one who can fix the broken places, who can mend the broken hearts, who can bring hope where all hope has seemed lost.

She doesn't want Him.  And that's okay.  He is a gentleman and will not insist.  Neither will I.  But tonight I pray for a trade--that one day beauty will again reside in the place where ashes do today.

I can't do it.  It's not in me.  I have tried and failed and tried again.  And failed again.

But He can.  So by His grace, I wait some more.  And pray and trust and fail and pray and wait and trust some more.  And then I wake up tomorrow and do it again.

Soli deo gloria.  Yes, even this.

Not Tonight

Tonight, they were not statistics. They were young men, destined for greatness.