Monday, December 8, 2014

Preparing....for the Prince of Peace

Every year at Christmas, I find myself deeply longing to feel some kind of Christmas Spirit. I dig out the Advent Calendars and books. I read the Gospel accounts of the birth of Jesus. Usually I make it to about day 5 before realizing that the Spirit of Christmas is something lost on me. Sure it's Jesus' birthday, I get that. But most December days don't feel any different than any other day of the year. I generally beat myself up over this and chalk it up to being a bad Christian. Well, this year - I've made it to day 8 of Advent and I have no intention of stopping. God has shown up in a very unique way for me this year.

Advent. (Noun) the arrival of a notable person, thing or event.

The past three years have held more despair and hopelessness then I ever thought I would face. After the adoption of our last child, I've been stretched in ways I never imagined - as a mom, as a wife, as a friend, as a Daughter of Christ. Not one aspect of my life has gone untouched from our "new normal". Over the past year, I have grown increasingly .... well .... hopeless. I have doubted God's ability to redeem the hard and broken. Scratch that - I have not doubted his ability to do so, I have doubted that He will do so. In adoption there are many wounds, much betrayal, hurts that run deep, anger, resentment and frustrations. And I'm not just talking about the child. In the words of Dan Allender, "Betrayal begets betrayal". Or more fittingly, hurt begets hurt. In other words - a vicious cycle full of sorrow and bitterness can quickly become the norm when parenting a child that has been taken from Plan A.

Plan A? You won't ever hear me say the words that God planned for my adopted children to be mine. At least not in the sense that those words at face value would mean. Adoption was never plan A. Our children who have come to us from another mother should not be with me. They just shouldn't. Their world's were broken. And in typical God fashion, He is redeeming the brokenness through adoption. But redemption comes with a cost. It comes with pain, loss, sorrow and much effort.

What does any of this have to do with Advent?

This year, the book I picked up in my effort to "get it right" was, Good News of Great Joy - Daily Readings for Advent, by John Piper. It has been like water to my dry soul the past 8 days.

For starters, on Day 1 - I was challenged to prepare. Piper writes, "...engage in sober self-examination. Advent is to Christmas what Lent is to Easter. "Search me, O God, and know my heart! Try me and know my thoughts! And see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting!" (Psalm 139:23-24) Let every heart prepare him room....by cleaning house." He goes on to write, "Is not my word like fire, says the Lord! (Jeremiah 23:29) Gather 'round the fire this Advent season. ..... It is healing for a thousand hurts. It is light for dark nights."  I LOVE that picture!

(By the way, I'm writing outside by the fire at this very moment. I'm freezing. Oh, but the fire....)

In all my years of going through Advent readings and candle lighting's, I don't recall a year that the single word - Prepare - has actually hit home for me. Prepare for what? I'm not an Israelite. He already came. Am I supposed to be preparing for his second coming? What do I, as a 21st Century Christian, prepare for during the month of December?

A few days later, I was hit with this fantastic truth: "Do not think, because you experience adversity, that the hand of the Lord is shortened. It is not our prosperity but our holiness that he seeks with all his heart. And to that end, he rules the whole world."

In a season of feeling such failure and hopelessness - these words held much healing.

I could write you tidbits from each day that have been especially meaningful - but you should just download the (FREE) book for yourself.

You're probably wondering how these two worlds collide - the world of our growing family and the hardships that have come over the past three years and Christmas.

Allow me to tie it up with a pretty red bow.

Every year, the day after Thanksgiving comes and I am determined to "get it" this Advent season. I want to really get it! You know....Jesus is the reason for the season and all that jazz. But every year, my heart goes basically unchanged. Glittery things, yummy foods, party and presents all take over. Oh forgive me, Lord. This year, however, I entered December broken. Not just because of the hardships we face with a child, but because of many areas...remember all those areas that have not gone untouched? Yeah. Them. In this particularly hard season, I chose on December 1 to prepare him room. It's hard to prepare room for someone when you don't really think they will show up - but my hearts desire is for Him to show up, so I made the bed and vacuumed the floor. And guess what? He showed up.

In the past week, I have had a couple of moments with our daughter that I have longed for since the day she came into my care. Hard moments, but needed and good moments. And then it hit me. God came down to this very broken world....to hers and my very broken world... to offer hope. Most years during Christmas, I haven't let myself reach broken. The problem with this is that Jesus didn't come to redeem the glitter and the gifts. He came to redeem the broken. He came to give us peace, and hope, and joy everlasting. But to see the areas of our heart that need such a savior doesn't feel good. And I want to feel good during December. So I'll just say the right words, go to the appropriate amount of church events and call it good. How backwards. I shudder to think that had I not prepared the way, this year would have passed like any other. And on December 26, I would feel just as lost and hopeless. But in my state of longing for redemption, of longing for a Savior....He showed me today in such a unique way that he indeed is redeeming all that I am walking through. It's what he came for. It's what he does.

He offers redemption. He offers hope. He offers peace. He offers joy. To the willing heart, he IS Advent....the arrival of a notable person, thing or event.

So this Christmas season I ask you - what are the broken and hopeless areas of your life? Where have you given up? Where do you NOT see his hand? Where are you waiting for the Messiah to come? Where do you need peace? Go there. Because these are the moments that Jesus came to redeem. I urge you, prepare Him the way!






Saturday, November 29, 2014

The Ghost of Christmas Past....and Present


I am often asked about how things are going with the new Church, how can people be praying, etc.... It has been a hard question for me to answer more often than not, but I do have something that has been on my mind lately that I wouldn't mind inviting you into.

The Holidays.

For the past 15 years, my children have lovingly been referred to by anyone who ever grew up in the church as, "Church Rats". What that has meant during the Christmas season specifically, is that our family traditions look very different than most. During the month of December, it sometimes has felt like we are at church more then not. Well, I guess the honest truth would be that it has felt like Aaron was at church more than he was home. There were various Christmas concerts to be planned and executed, other ministries that required his services (or mine), Town Holiday Parades, Caroling, Staff Christmas Parties, Worship Team Parties, Small group parties, and obviously - the infamous Christmas Eve Service (not to mention the Sunday before and after Christmas Eve). It was A LOT. Somewhere throughout the years I began to call Aaron, Scrooge. He would tire quickly of Christmas music and anything else remotely "festive" that was required of him during the month of December. All the meanwhile, I love the idea of tradition and all things Christmas, and have tried so hard to make our December's meaningful to our kids despite our weird schedule. I did not want them to look back on the Ghost of Christmas Past with disdain for the church.

December has always been an exhausting month. For the first few years at our last church, there was a family that had the sweetest gesture - they would bring us a Honey Baked Ham on Christmas Eve. Most years, I struggled with the gesture, as I had not expected the gift and had already purchased all the food for the next day. One year we had a particularly busy December, and I was so looking forward to our Christmas Ham...knowing that I at least got off the hook for the fancy Christmas dinner. The ham didn't come that year. I was so sad. We went out for dinner to Dave and Busters that Christmas Day. I cried. The kids loved it.

That story had nothing to do with anything..... sorry....

Now, lest you think I'm bragging to the World Wide Web about all we had to do and how amazing of a mom I am to make it special for our children, let me just tell you - I did not do it well. I would complain and sulk and huff over the hours that Aaron was away from us. As for the day of Christmas Eve itself, which most years required a 10 hour day for Aaron, myself AND our children - it took a lot of effort to go into that with joy. As long as I could sing my favorite carol, "Oh Holy Night" - I would find a way to settle down. (You think I'm kidding. My poor husband has had to deal with me for 15 years. I'm not kidding.) It took even more effort to get our kids to go into it with joy (admittedly so because of the expectations I had put on the season). . Every year they would moan (just like their mother) about how they just wanted to go look at Christmas lights and eat our Christmas Eve chili at 6 pm instead of 9 pm. Turns out, letting them have the run of the church, letting them eat the food I would bring for all the other volunteers, be a part of the band, and dress up as Nativity Scene creatures did the trick.


Our Little Church Rats

She's with the Band

Oh night....Deeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeevvvvvvvviiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnne.

I'm sure he was singing some Christ Tomlin song in this picture...or Barenaked Ladies.

This year, for various reasons, there is no Christmas Eve Service, programs or concerts for us. (Except for our 6 month anniversary/Christmas Party.....but that's just super cool.)  We will just be a normal family this December. Two weeks ago, my kids began to realize that this year would be different. We would not be at church all of December, but mostly all day on Christmas Eve....and they were not okay with this. They truly have come to view our 10 hour "work day" as tradition, and while we all complained about it every year to some degree - they loved it....who am I kidding ..... we loved it. We are all feeling the weight of our new normal, because the last 15 years is what we have known. It's what WE did. It has become tradition. I say weight because traditions don't come quick, nor do they come easy. This year we have to get to start over.

So there was my really long story about how you can pray for us. There has been an increasingly growing amount of "new norms" for us during this season....and I'm not always doing well with it. Whether it is because I miss the people, miss the places, or miss the traditions and am not sure how to start again....I don't know. Probably some of each. But it just doesn't feel like "Christmas" this year. And I don't like that. So pray we develop new traditions, pray we enjoy being with each other this December, pray our kids (and me) do not grow weary with the many changes, and I suppose same as before - pray they do not look back on the Ghost of Christmas Past with disdain for the church.

One special little gift I have from season's past was when Aaron and I had a band with some very dear friends. We made a little 3 song Christmas Album to gift to our church that year. Take a listen. And feel free to mock us.


Oh Come, Oh Come Emmanuel
 
 Glory to God
 
 Jesus Came to Save
 

And if you get nothing else from this blog post, know that your Pastor, Minister, Reverend, Father, whatever...is going above and beyond this Christmas season....and his wife just may welcome a nice ham to take at least one pressure off. Me?? We'll be at Dave and Busters.







Friday, November 21, 2014

Old men, dope dealers and Pastors


When I was a kid, I remember the Pastor at our church being gifted a Cadillac. The only reason I know it was gifted to him is because he stood up in front of the church one Sunday morning in defense of his new, sweet ride. As I remember it, the rumor mill had begun about how in the world could the Pastor afford a new, luxury vehicle (Gasp!) - and he felt the need to defend himself. 1) It was a gift. 2) Even if it wasn't, how was anyone to judge how he spent his money. Sadly, I've come to understand over the years his need for such a defense.

A month and a half ago, Aaron's car (which had been basically gifted to us four years ago) died. So we've spent the last several weeks trying to find something that would fit into our budget. Unfortunately, our budget for a new vehicle is currently non existent. As I was perusing Craigslist the other day, I asked Aaron why he couldn't have been a Dr. or something. To which my cheeky son turned to me in reply and said - "Why couldn't YOU have been a Dr., Mom?" Touche.

When I told my parents that Aaron needed a new car, they offered to give us my dad's old, dying (a slow death) Buick. Um, thanks Dad - we're good. My mom brought up that childhood story about our Pastor and said that maybe someone would give us a Cadillac like Pastor Bob got. Haha. Very funny.

A good friend -a young woman at our church who also happens to live off the support of others - told us that she was praying for someone to gift us a car. Um. Right. Who does that? Outside of our close friend who gifted us her vehicle four years ago....no one really just gives someone a car, right? Well, my friend started spreading the word that people should pray for us to be gifted a car. Even Aaron and I joined in her prayers. Every day I sang in worship - "Oh Lord, won't you buy me a Mercedes Benz!"

Philippians 4:19
And my God will meet all your needs according to the 
riches of his glory in Christ Jesus.

Mathew 7:11
If you then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts
to your children, how much more will your
Father in Heaven give good gifts
to those who ask him?



This week some friends contacted us telling us that their Grandfather was needing to get rid of his vehicle. It only had 130,000 miles on it, he was the original owner and has taken great care of the vehicle. They would like for us to have it. What?!?!? Really God? WOW! You are really answering our prayers with this ....... you all see what is coming, right? A Cadillac. Not just any Cadillac. A 1989 Cadillac Seville. In the words of our friend who offered it to us, "it is the vehicle preferred by old men in their 80's and dope dealers". Well....apparently the Cadillac is now for old men in their 80's, dope dealers, and Pastors.

Isn't she a beauty???!!! (this pic is for you Angie O.)


That was a pretty story, huh? Just perfect! Isn't it so great how God meets our needs?

Yeah....let me tell you the rest of the story. Wanna know what is NOT pretty?

My heart.

When our friends first told us about this car, I texted my friend and asked why she couldn't have been a little more specific with what kind of car to gift us. Maybe a pretty Volvo Wagon? A sharp Honda Accord? A Mercedes? I told her I blamed her for the fact that we would be the new owners of a 1989 Cadillac Seville.

I have cried about having to receive this gift...and not tears of joy. I have begged Aaron to let me drain our accounts to purchase ANYTHING but this vehicle. A Princess doesn't drive an old man, dope dealing Cadi. Why does it have to be this car? I'm tired of being a charity case. I always feel like a charity case. Why is this our life?

Yes, that really was my response to God's gift. I looked him right in the face and spat on him. I denied his goodness. I wanted to deny his gift. I wanted better. Don't I deserve better? It took him all of about 5 seconds to give me a big fat spanking in the form of conviction. He longs to give us good gifts, and he had just given us one. A safe, reliable, FREE vehicle. Pay no attention to the aesthetics.

Into my heart he brought a wave of reassurance that in his love and provision for me, he gets to do it His way. And his ways are always best. God actually had different plans for the measly $500 we had set aside for that car, and I'm so in awe of how he orchestrated the entire thing. Once I saw the actual purpose for that $500 that he had, I couldn't help but stand in awe and give him all Glory. Now I'm moved to tears of joy and thankfulness.

There are a few things in my life that have been lingering for several years that I have been begging for God's provision, his gifts, for his hand to intercede. I wonder how many times I miss his gifts to me because in my Princess mentality - I don't see them as good enough. So I keep moping around, asking for him to provide, telling him that what He's doing just isn't good enough. All the meanwhile I'm missing the beauty of the bigger picture of how he is orchestrating everything. Oh what a wretched (wo)man I am.

So I repent. And I say thank you. I may never will never love this incredibly ugly, old vehicle - but I will love what my God has done through it. And every time I look at it or (shudder) have to drive it - may I be reminded that He is the giver of all things good. In His time. In His way.

Monday, November 10, 2014

Out of joint




There never seems to be a shortage of running or gardening metaphors when it comes to our spiritual lives. I like that.

As a runner (I hesitate to call myself a runner anymore, but I'm going with it for now) - some verses and analogies just make my heart a little clearer to me at times.

I was reading in Hebrews 12 today. (And all the other Runners are rolling their eyes right now...)

Heb 12:1 (ESV - emphasis mine)
Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us

Some translations would say - "let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles or ensnares us".

So that verse is kinda obvious, right? As I kept going though, another piece of chapter 12 stood out to me that never has before.

Heb 12:12-13
Therefore lift your drooping hands and strengthen your weak knees, and make straight paths for your feet, so that what is lame may not be put out of joint but rather be healed.

I've been in and out of this sport I've come to love for the past 2 years now due to some bad knees and shins. I've recently taken to Crossfit with the hopes that some muscle balance and strengthening will help me heal up enough to get back to running. So how very practical to read - "strengthen your weak knees....so that what is lame may not be put out of joint but rather be healed".

But then I started taking this running and joint metaphor and using it as a lens into my heart. I had originally been meditating on the first part of Hebrews 12...thinking through those pesky sins that cling so closely. So when I got to verses 12 and 13, I took pause. How does one, in light of the sin that entangles us, strengthen what is weak so that it may be healed? Training of course. Just a different kind of training.

I can't keep running to strengthen my weak knees. That just doesn't make sense. (Although I've known and read about many runners who do try that...) So in the case of sin, to go on sinning in the areas we know are sin obviously does not lead to healing. There's this thing called muscle memory, where our muscles find a way they want to be (or have been trained to be), and settle in a certain way....even if it isn't the way they are supposed to settle. This can cause all sorts of pain (and things being "put of of joint") if the muscle isn't healed and retrained. Our hearts are no different.

We have a choice: to lean into sin, or strengthen what is weak. I can act out of anger, or choose to overlook a wrong. I can grow bitter or I can forgive. I can despair or I can hope. I can cling to my "vices", or I can come broken to the feet of Jesus. 

It's a choice. And as with everything, the Bible generally has the answers to my silly little questions. So how do I make straight paths for my feet? What is the Crossfit for my soul?

Proverbs 3:5-8
Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths. Be not wise in your own eyes; fear the Lord, and turn away from evil. It will be healing to your flesh and refreshment to your bones.

And in all of this, I'm ever so grateful that it is in repentance and rest that my salvation is found, and that quietness and trust is my strength (Isaiah 30:15), because I cannot say I've been strengthening these weak knees or lifting these drooping hands very well at all.

Clinging to new mercies today.

Sunday, October 26, 2014

Bowling Buddies



For as long as I can remember, my Mom has gone bowling every Thursday morning. Yes. Bowling. She's had a handful of friends that have lasted through the years. I remember our families getting together for outings and vacations, Christmas cookie exchanges, and Bible Studies that all included the same general group of friends. I don't know that I realized how sweet of a thing that was until recently.

Being an adult is hard sometimes. Jobs change, kids are crazy, friends move. It makes community hard more often then not. Darn adulthood.

With adulthood comes the analogy of settling down - letting your roots grow deep. I guess that's what my parents did. I don't remember many of their close friends moving away or leaving the "circle" (or heaven forbid, the bowling league). We moved away once, but came back after a year or so. The same friends were there to welcome us back.

There's a tree I saw in Uganda. It was a massive tree, but the roots appeared to all be above ground. Open to the elements. Perhaps easily destroyed? Strong, but exposed. Then there is the maple tree in my backyard. Huge. Lovely. Strong. Shelter. Home.



I guess I would say I feel more like that tree in Uganda then I do the 70 year old Maple tree in my backyard that has roots so deep it destroys the entire blocks sewage system. (Not really...I don't think.)

I've tried my entire adult life to set and grow deep roots. God has had other plans, I suppose. We've moved away from family, friends, churches and cultures (seriously - have you ever been to South Jersey? For this Nebraska girl - talk about culture shock!). We've changed jobs and churches and neighbors. I've lost track of how many children I have and where they came from. Life seldom has seemed settled. I find myself often wondering if that is just a thing of our generation and the time we live in, or if it is our choices and God's plan in our life. Whatever the case may be - it can often just feel lonely.

Thanks to the introduction of Facebook, one can have over 1000 friends and still feel very alone. Ask that person how many deep and meaningful relationships they have in "real life" and you may be shocked. But this isn't a post about Facebook. (However, FB hasn't helped....)

I don't believe I am alone in my pursuits to belong. Believe me when I say that I've tried it all. I've joined moms groups, Bible studies, play groups. business ventures, adoption groups, groups for Pastors wives, PTO, hobby related groups, running groups, cycling groups, and most recently CrossFit (Lord help me). It's how we - the human - move toward belonging. We search for those who are like us and we play the game. We cry out to know and be known. Sometimes the cry is heard, and other times it isn't. Most of my ploys for community have come up very short for many reasons. Maybe I should try bowling. 

Church planting has created an entirely new dimension to this. It's very strange to be living in the same town for 13 years....only to find yourself starting over (to a degree). I have not done well with this aspect of our new life. 

I wonder if the women of generations past have dealt with this. Didn't they just sit around knitting and quilting all day? That sounds glorious to me. Except for the whole knitting and quilting part. But to be with people all day who know us....and get this...still love us??? That sounds beautiful.

But today it just feels like we hide. We hide behind our kids, our jobs, our families, our status, our agenda. Mix that with the reality of life - new jobs, new locations, etc....and well, how many people feel alone? Unknown. Unnoticed. This is not good. 

Roots are roots, I suppose. Above ground or below. So I can try to choose to see my above ground roots as strong and meaningful... not as something to easily be destroyed, mowed over, climbed on and given over to all of natures elements. I have roots that stretch far and wide. I have roots in Nebraska, New Jersey, Ethiopia, Uganda, Cypress, Australia, Minnesota, California, Missouri, Florida, Alaska. Christ Community Church, CORE, The Lighthouse, Flatirons, Calvary and Gospel Life. I may not be leaving the same communal legacy my parents left for me - but I pray that our vast roots reach down to our children and their children as meaningful and purposeful. Oh, may I live with purpose. Be it alone or be it with a tribe.

Being an adult is hard sometimes. Saying goodbye, changing our worlds, it's just hard. And to be honest, terribly lonely some days.

Anyone up for bowling?

Wednesday, October 15, 2014

A mother's heart - for all the children we never could hold.

I saw a few posts today on Facebook about National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Day. You know, one of those days you probably wouldn't know was a "day" until you did see it floating around on social media.

Well, I joined in. 1 in 4 women suffer from the loss of a child. That's a lot of women! And having been there, I believe it is something to mourn. Some women are effected by this loss more than others for various reasons. But that doesn't so much matter. A life is a life is a life. And with the loss of life, mourning and grief is called for.

Our oldest daughter was just shy of one year old when we found out we were pregnant again. I still remember showing Aaron the pregnancy test that evening. I remember calling our families. I was thrilled. We were having another child! Fourteen weeks later, God had a different plan. I found out the child in my womb had died. And because I was fourteen weeks along, they did not want me to wait to "pass" the child on my own. So I went in for surgery (but only after 6 ultrasounds to be SURE). A D&C is what they called it. At one point, the Dr. referred to it as a "spontaneous abortion". That didn't seem right. I did not choose this. I was heartbroken. This child had grown in me. I fell in love with her from the moment I thought she may be. Before that, probably. I had the procedure done, and all I remember is waking up from surgery with the most incredible void I have ever felt in my life. My womb was empty. My child was not safe with me where she belonged. She was gone.  Forever. That is a feeling that I cannot put into words. But I know I am not alone. 1 out of every 4 of you know what I'm talking about (assuming you are females).

I grieved. A lot.

A song called, Glory Baby, by Watermark was on repeat for months. I would drive the NJ Parkway with Providence asleep in the back and that song playing over and over and over.

Glory Baby, you slipped away as fast as we could say baby. You were growing. What happened Dear, you disappeared on us baby. Heaven will hold you, before we do. Heaven will keep you safe, until we're home with you. But I'll miss you everyday, miss you in every way, but we know there's a day when we will see you. So baby let sweet Jesus hold you, till mom and dad can hold you. You'll just have heaven before we do.

13 years later, and I just typed those words out from memory as if I had just thought of them. They hold fresh in my heart as if it were yesterday. Sara Allison Britton was my daughter. For 14 short weeks, I got to love her. I got to bond with her. I was the only one who knew her. Other than Jesus. He did knit her after all, however perfectly imperfect in my womb. And I believe that her days were known and ordained from the beginning of time - just like yours or mine. She is whole in the arms of Jesus. I'm jealous.

Over the years, I have had some dear friends suffer the loss of children in a depth far greater than I had to endure. It's been heartbreaking. So it seems funny to talk about what I went through. It really could have been worse. I suppose that's always true though, isn't it??? It could always be worse? But women everywhere who have to deal with the loss of a child at any age need to know that it is okay to grieve. A mother loves her child from the second she knows she is carrying the child - which is generally long before a test shows the little pink line. I actually took solace in this truth. If the greatest command is to love God and love others - what an amazing privilege it is as a mom ... I am the only one who knew my daughter - to be the one to have loved her. But that lost love left a broken piece of my heart that I will forever carry.

A mother's love is fierce. It is not to be reckoned with. I've never tried.  
Instead I will carry that brokenness and that love with me.

This is long and sad. Sorry. I'm not done yet, though.

So having experienced such a real pain, and knowing friends who have suffered more than I - where I'm about to take this feels risky. But here I go.

I have now birthed three children, and adopted two. I remember vividly during our first adoption process having a conversation with a man who asked me how I knew I could love my adopted child as my own. We joked about how guys need to see and hold their child to begin to actually love THEM (rather than the idea of them), and women just know and love. I laughed - remembering Sara. While Aaron was a rock during that time - he did not KNOW Sara as I knew her. I told him it was similar to that. While I knew and loved my children from the moment they were growing inside of me, the same was true for my adopted child. I didn't need to see him or hold him. I just knew that I knew that I knew that he was to be mine, and I loved him with this fierce love that claimed him as so.

When Aaron and I began the adoption process the second time around, I very nonchalantly blogged about HOW we started the process, and the two boys involved in bringing us to the place of adopting again. So here is the part that seems calloused to say after having lived through miscarriage and the pain I've seen my friends go through  .....

I was asked this summer what made us pursue adoption the second time around, and for some reason - I began my story talking about these two boys. And I began to cry. WHAT?!? Where in the world did that come from?

The last few weeks, these two boys have come back to my heart and mind in a way I cannot explain. I have cried for them and prayed for them. The good news is, they were probably adopted by someone else. So they are, Lord willing, living a good life. But wow. My mom heart had taken these boys in as if they were my own. If there is such thing as an adoptive miscarriage - I had one with these boys. When we decided to not pursue adopting them, I told Aaron at the time that it felt like I had lost Sara all over again - that is how deeply I loved these boys. But I pushed their memory aside, and for some reason - it has returned. They too, left a piece of my heart broken - never to be whole again. And I don't know what to do with the sorrow.

I know that last paragraph came out of left field (who am I kidding....I know nothing about sports  - what does left field even mean?). But it's where I have been the last few weeks. And it is an awful feeling. So today when I saw that it was National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Day, my heart was to encourage moms that it is OKAY to grieve the loss of your unborn child. And maybe even to tell myself that it is okay to grieve the loss of these two boys. Maybe? I pray they have a mom and a dad that love them as much as I did. Do.


For all the Glory Babies:

Thursday, October 9, 2014

Though You Slay Me



If Bloggers blogged (what a funny vocabulary the Internet has brought about) about a bad day, or a hard season, or a friend struck down, or a marriage that was struggling, or loneliness, ....it probably would feel pretty uncomfortable, wouldn't it? Yet every single one of us goes through seasons where we feel uncomfortable....where we feel broken. So why is it uncomfortable to read of someones suffering, I wonder?

In response to some stuff in my own heart right now, and also those around me that I am seeing wrestle through things un-imaginable to me - a song has resurfaced that made its way around the inter-webs a while back. So if you are in a tough season right now, may this bless you.

My favorite line from John Piper in the middle of the song is this:  "Every millisecond of your pain from the fallen nature or the fallen man...every millisecond of your misery in the path of obedience is producing a peculiar glory you will get because of that."

Did you catch that? "In the path of obedience". Obedience is HARD when you are slain.

Still let our song be:

Though You slay me
Yet I will praise You
Though You take from me
I will bless Your name
Though You ruin me
Still I will worship