Choosing Thankfulness

Because I sometimes (believe it or not) struggle to find something to say, and because I need reminders of God's faithfulness so desperately right now, I was flipping through old posts recently. Two years ago this month, I posted these words written by my dad. He was in the thick of treatment for pancreatic cancer when he wrote them in February of 2009. And yet he was joyfully thankful.

“Nothing that happens to the follower of Christ, to those of us who with great joy call Him Lord, takes our Savior by surprise. His brilliant and awesome foreknowledge allows Him to know every detail well in advance. That is the stuff of thanksgiving, even in the midst of pancreatic cancer…God has asked His servants to be thankful in all circumstances. Sincere obedience is often carried out in the absence of happy, joyful feelings…but He is in control, and He can take something like pancreatic cancer and use it to accomplish great eternal good…Yes, we can give thanks for pancreatic cancer because of all this and for so many other blessings that He has poured out on us…”

Yikes, I needed these words. Like a smack upside the head. The reason I can be thankful tonight is because God sent His son Jesus to die in my place, to cover my eternal destiny. Therefore, nothing takes my Savior by surprise. Every mountaintop, valley, and pit...He knew them all well in advance. And He asks me to be thankful here. And yet here I am complaining too often, when he asked my dad to be thankful for a brutal diagnosis. For pain and suffering. For death. In the midst of my ick, I am so blessed. I am not withering away from a terrible sickness...even though I often whine like I am. Lord, give me your perspective and the thankful heart that is born out of a heavenly perspective...

Soaking in TRUTH...

I am allowing these words to pour over me...

to change me...

to bring peace and rest to my heart...

and to remind me of His love.

Even in a broken, shattered world.

Remind me of your truth, Lord. Capture my heart once again.

The Grief Onion: Getting real

I hugged him tight in a mummy-hold, speaking the words over and over: "It's okay. It's okay. All done! No more hurts." Who knows if any of my meant-to-be-reassuring words actually made it into his head and heart, between my {very} broken Spanish and his incredibly limited English. I do know that he looked up into my eyes with crocodile tears running down his cheeks. As my school clinical day came to an end, I could almost read his thoughts. It's okay? It's NOT okay! It's all done? How do I KNOW it's all done, when you just scooped me up in your lap like we were gonna be the best of friends, then stabbed my finger with a needle? THAT'S not okay!

***What I'm about to share is not meant to elicit pity or even words of advice. I share it to be transparent in a grief journey that is long, rocky, and layered. I share it to encourage and walk alongside those also experiencing grief over the loss of a loved one, whether that loss is recent or years ago.***

I feel like that little guy I wrapped tightly in my arms. I hear Jesus whispering into my broken and battered heart, "Trust me, child...I've got you. It's okay." Meanwhile, my heart screams back, "It's okay?!? It's NOT okay! You've got me?! Well, where were you THEN?" I realized recently that I have never fully allowed myself to be real with God about the pain and hurt I have experienced over losing my dad...Feelings I may even describe as anger and a corroding mistrust in Him. I know it's not healthy to stay in that place. I also know it is not healthy to bury those feelings without ever carrying them to the cross. I have to admit, both to myself AND to God, that I am ANGRY.

It's not FAIR that my little brother doesn't have his dad in the stands at his soccer games, cheering for him and yelling at the refs like all the other dads. It's not FAIR that all my friends will have their dads walk them down the aisle at their weddings, while my sisters and I will walk alone. It's not FAIR that my mom, by no choice of her own, has become a single parent. It's not FAIR that I rarely get through a day without thinking about death or cancer. It's not FAIR that I have forever imprinted memories of my daddy, my knight-in-shining-armor, gasping for breath and slowly losing control over all bodily functions in the last days of his life. It's not fair that my dreams were shattered in one day, with one phone call. It's not FAIR that I am doubly broken and hurt with every new relationship loss and change, simply because I am reminded, once again, that everything on this earth is temporary...especially relationships with the people I have allowed myself to love. It's not FAIR, and there is a part of me, deep inside, that wants to know how God could have thought this was a good plan.

In my opinion, grief is like an onion--layer upon layer must be peeled back and revealed. I'm on the "get-real-with-God" layer. {It's only taken me 2+ years to get there.} Just as I had to hold and rock and whisper comfort into that little boy's heart in order to earn back his trust, I am praying that, as I deal with this layer of the "grief onion," God simply holds me in His arms and reminds me of His forever and unconditional faithfulness. I'm ready to find a new level of wholeness in my relationship with Him as I learn to trust, once again, in His perfect sovereignty.

And for the person reading this who is feeling the same way--Wherever you may be, I am praying the same thing for you. Find healing at the foot of the cross...where Jesus invites us to dump ALL our baggage.

I'm in the desert...

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...and it's hot here. Vast. Expansive. And waterless.

I'm thirsty, and I have a water bottle sitting right next to me...full. But I can't open it. I'm too tired; my brain is too fuzzy to understand how to twist, twist, twist the cap until it slides off.

So I just sit, waiting for the desert to go away.
******
Do you ever feel that way? Like you are in a spiritual desert, like the water you need so desperately is sitting right at your fingertips, but you physically and emotionally CANNOT bring it to your lips? I do.

I've learned that the desert is a season {often a long one}, and that God will sometimes lead us there Himself. Because it's only when I'm thirsty, tired, delirious, and at the end of myself that I will start crying. I'll hand Him the water bottle and let Him open it. After resisting for so long, I'll finally let Him scoop me up and cradle me in His arms. And for once, I will be His little girl, not the I've-got-this-thank-you Queen.

We don't like to admit when we are out of water.

But I am.

I'm weary from a long season of pain and heartache that I am just beginning to crawl out of. With the change of color on the trees all around me, and with the gloriously healing changes going on right now in my life, I am reminded on a daily basis that my God makes all things new. Tonight, as I fall limp into His arms, as I guzzle down the crisp water He offers, I will choose rest.

“Therefore I am now going to allure her; I will lead her into the wilderness and speak tenderly to her. There I will give her back her vineyards, and will make the Valley of Achor a door of hope. There she will respond as in the days of her youth, as in the day she came up out of Egypt" (Hosea 2:14-15).

Finding peace and rest in CHANGE

"Because of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness" (Lamentations 3:22-23).

Whispers of change swirl around us, promising death and new life ironically coupled in the dance of seasonal transformation. I find it interesting that fall is my favorite season because in every way possible I resist change.

I let weeds fester, afraid to cut down what has been for so long. In His gracious kindness, God
saves me from my own stubborn fear.

He brings peace to the mess, burying it under the icy death of snow. Soon, new life will replace what was lost and wilted.


For the past two weeks, I have been on a blessed time of sabbatical rest. I pray you make the sacrifice to do the same. Newness of life cannot be found beneath the tangled mess of busyness. I have slept {more than usual}. I have laughed {harder than before}. I have regained hope {for a future uncertain}. I have rescued courage {necessary to face the trials of this life}. I have savored time with family {praise God for His many blessings through the ones who love me}. I have been silly with friends {evidence below. And no, the baby--both, in fact--are not real. We were playing a game with my former youth group.}

As I have enjoyed soul-deep rest, I find myself humming along to the age-old hymn {with words that will forever ring true}:

Great is Thy faithfulness, oh God my Father;
There is no shadow of turning with Thee;
Thou changest not, Thy compassions, they fail not;
As Thou hast been, Thou forever wilt be.

Summer and winter and springtime and harvest,
Sun, moon, and stars in their courses above
Join with all nature in manifold witness
to Thy great faithfulness, mercy and love.


Pardon for sin and a peace that endureth
Thine own dear presence to cheer and to guide;
Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow,
Blessings all mine, with ten thousand beside!

Today, may you find rest and peace in His forever faithfulness.

***Speaking of wonderful blessings, all of these photos were captured at my childhood home. What a beautiful piece of God's creation!***

My scraps...His quilt

Today, as I was sorting through my *measly but somehow incredibly cluttered* possessions, I stumbled upon an old journal of mine. Well, actually I stumbled upon several old journals. See, I am one of those people who will buy a new journal just so I can have the "experience" of a fresh start. You know what I'm talking about. The first time you crack open that blank book...take in the "new" smell {all you book lovers out there are nodding your heads in agreement right now}....you find yourself wanting to say AHHHHH. Problem is, that feeling wears off after a couple weeks, and the no-longer-new journal finds itself on a shelf or in a drawer somewhere. And suddenly, my "fresh start" becomes just another blurp in a seemingly disconnected and random life journey.

Do you ever feel like your life story is no more than a blank book with lots of random notes and letters and pages stuffed in it? Like there is no peace, no overarching theme or unity to its contents? I must admit there are days when I wonder, days when I ask God questions like, "What the heck were you doing there?" or "Where does this leave me now?" Sometimes all I can do is look at the mess of chicken scratches scattered between books and journals and post-it notes and say, "God, I don't understand."

Today, God gave me a window. You see, there is something about weaving a story, about finding bits and pieces of it scattered in this book and on that shelf, then working to sew it all back together...there's just something about the process that is not only exciting, but also healing.

Not long before my dad died, God strengthened me for the hard road ahead in ways I did not anticipate or even see at the time. As I read the words I scribbled in a journal days before and after my daddy went to be with Jesus, I find bright hope for my tomorrow...because I am once again reminded of His faithfulness, a never-ending, always-overflowing gift of grace. And though I often find myself in a metaphorical pile of life scraps, not sure how to piece them together...well, today a thread was woven, sewing pieces of my story--of GOD'S story for my life--back together. And though I don't always know how they will fit in the end, I do know that He is good...and everything will somehow, through His handiwork, piece together into the most beautiful life quilt.

Restless

Do you ever just feel restless? As I grow to know Jesus more and more each day, I better understand this restlessness in me. It used to be a squirming, an uncomfortable longing for something I couldn't even name. It turned into a desire for the beauty, peace, and comfort that always seemed just out of reach. It became a longing for the perfection of a day in heaven, sitting next to my dad and feeling fully satisfied.

I am still restless. I am still "running hard for the other side, the world I've always been denied." There are days when I drive down the road, burdened by emotions and feelings I can't even sort out or explain. I am still trying desperately to find His face in everything, in the mundane, in the joys and aches of everyday living.

Lately, I find this song resounding with my heart. I understand now that, through this restlessness, I am looking for Him...trying to make sense out of this crazy world and the crazy world that is inside of me. On the days when I feel scrambled inside--restless--I pray that He draws me closer to Himself. I pray that, through the incompleteness (or pain, brokenness, heartache...you fill in the blank) of this life, I am reminded of the greater story He is writing, a story that will one day answer this restlessness with everlasting PEACE. Until then, I will always be looking for Him...in the tears, in the monotonous tasks of daily living, in the moments of sipping coffee with dear friends, in the longing for renewed relationship.

Are you looking for Him too?

Believing relentlessly

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After sharing with you what God has laid on my heart regarding foster care, I also have to share with you that my first instinct as I start to look down that road is to start making lists of everything I need to read and research, everything I need to DO. If only it were that easy. And while all that is not necessarily bad, God is revealing to me that it should never be first.

I have been reading through the book Relentless Hope, by Beth Guckenberger, and last night I had a chance to finish it over a cup of coffee. I had such a sweet time of prayer and reflection, and I really felt like God taught me a lot in the hour that I spent sitting outside in the dark with Him.

God has begun to give me a vision for the ministry He has laid on my heart, speaking to me through His Word and some of Beth's writing. Beth writes the following in Relentless Hope:
"Relentless hope has a fierceness about it, but it shouldn't be mistaken for ruthlessness or inconsiderateness. The fierceness represents the seriousness with which we face our opposition in this world. It's a fierce way of praying, a fierce way we stare down the lion circling the prey, or a fierce entrance into a fiery furnace. A kind of standing-your-ground that refreshingly isn't dependent on the latest polls, the opinions of others, or even a track record. It is instead a fierce hope in the One who has already accomplished all that is needed to bring peace and grace into a chaotic world and a confidence we are on the right team."

Friends, I am not a parent. I have certainly watched a lot of parents raise their children. I have cared for a lot of children. But I myself have never parented. It is easy to become overwhelmed with the thought of jumping into the parenting journey with children from "hard places," but God began to whisper to my heart last night that I need to grow in my confidence that I am on the right team...His team. And more important than any "correct parenting style", I need to be willing to fight for these precious kids with a relentless hope...to believe against all odds that they can find healing and peace in the midst of their chaotic worlds through Christ Jesus alone.

Beth interviewed a man facing considerable grief over many different losses, and he shared the following with her, recounted in her book: "The most helpful people to me are those who are willing to count the cost of stepping into the experience of someone in deep pain and who allow themselves to offer what truly matters in that moment--a heart willing to share the pain." God brought this question to my heart: Am I willing to the count the cost, to step down into the muddy pit of pain that so many of these kids face? Am I willing to offer them my heart, to share in their pain? I can learn thousands of parenting techniques, but Jesus is the only one who can capture and transform broken hearts. Am I willing to carry these kids to Him? No matter how broken their little hearts are? Am I willing to stick with them through the valleys and the mountains, to hold onto relentless hope for them and with them?

As I have already begun to pray for these kids, God has given me the vision, the calling, to be a part of "extracting the precious from the worthless" in the lives of these kids. The following Scripture passage (from Jeremiah 15) has become my plea, my prayer, and my mission:

¹⁸ Why has my pain been perpetual
And my wound incurable, refusing to be healed?
Will You indeed be to me like a deceptive stream with water that is unreliable?
¹⁹ Therefore, thus says the LORD,
“If you return, then I will restore you—
Before Me you will stand;
And if you extract the precious from the worthless, You will become My spokesman...
²⁰ “Then I will make you to this people
A fortified wall of bronze...
For I am with you to save you
And deliver you,” declares the LORD.

I am praying that God empowers me to extract the precious from the worthless...to see the beautiful things that God wants to plant in the mud, to believe in His redemption for these kids and to cling to it with relentless hope.

I will still read parenting books, I'm sure. I will still make lists and I will still research. But through it all, I will pray. I will whisper these words over and over again:
"Show me the right path, Oh Lord. Point out the road for me to follow" (Psalm 25:4).

And more than anything, I will believe that He makes beautiful things...no matter the mess we give Him to work with.

Thankful

God has made everything beautiful for its own time.

He has planted eternity in the human heart...

but even so, people cannot see the whole scope of God's work from beginning to end.

Ecclesiastes 3:11

Today, I am choosing to be thankful. I am choosing to be thankful for His grace, His guiding hand as I face the future, for His unconditional love. I am thankful that He is still at work in my heart...and will be until the day I am made whole forever in eternity.

What are you thankful for today?

Guatemala: my dad's legacy

We were rumbling down a mountain, heading toward our last night in Guatemala. The bus held many tired but content people, and I couldn't miss the Holy Spirit's quiet voice ministering to my heart as the song "Great is Thy Faithfulness" played from the speaker. As the song faded into another, I was slightly jolted from my meditation of thanksgiving. These words poured over every part of me, coupled with tingles and goose bumps:

"In the morning, when I rise
In the morning, when I rise
In the morning, when I rise, give me Jesus..."

My mind raced back nearly two years, to a time when I stood next to my brother in a church, singing those very words. The refrain of my dad's life and legacy:

"Give me Jesus,
Give me Jesus,
You can have all this world,
But give me Jesus..."

That day in Guatemala, on the bus, I was overwhelmed by God's presence as I remembered.
Two years ago next Sunday, my daddy went to be with Jesus. As I watched the hills roll on by the window, big tears began to pour down my face because I realized something again: In all the pain I experienced throughout my dad's illness and death, in all the pain of missing him and longing to be with him again, GOD has been and IS faithful.

"When I am alone
When I am alone
When I am alone, give me Jesus"

There have been many moments since my dad left this earth that I have felt alone. I have felt the acute ache where he once resided. As I looked out that bus window, though, God gave me a glimpse of how far He has taken me since that awful day two summers ago. I realized that I never would have been sitting on that bus seat, had my daddy lived. Perhaps even more jarring a thought, I may have never known Jesus, had my daddy not made the life choices and taken the journey he did.

"Give me Jesus,
Give me Jesus,
You can have all this world,
But give me Jesus"

My daddy lived to know Jesus, but he died to see Jesus face to face. He was the closest glimpse I have ever had to knowing the Father. He instilled in me a love for people, a love for the lost...a love that took me to Guatemala. I wept on the bus, wishing that I could go home and sit in his lap, tell him all of my stories. It was all worth it, though. The pain of losing him, the pain of missing him, it led me to a beautiful country full of broken people. And I couldn't help but see him in my mind's eye, smiling because I was doing what he would have loved me to do, what he, on his death bed, pleaded me to do...I was loving Jesus.

My dad taught me that God can bring beauty out of pain. I think about the girl in the wheelchair, the pain she suffers every day. If I could tell her and her mama one thing, it would be that God redeems pain. He has redeemed my pain...and made beautiful things out of the dust that was once there. And He will redeem her pain too.

"When I come to die
When I come to die
When I come to die, give me Jesus

Give me Jesus,
Give me Jesus,
You can have all this world,
Just give me Jesus."***

Those words sum up my dad's life-and-death wish. He may not have lived an extravagant life, but when he came to die, he most certainly received the ultimate fulfillment of his deepest longing. As the music on the bus came to an end, the music in my heart only began. "You make beautiful things, you make beautiful things out of the dust..."


***lyrics to the song "Give Me Jesus"***

Reaping Hope from Desperation

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I remember the day like the back of my eyelids in a slumberous sleep. I stood in my Dad's classroom, eyes fixed on the portrait continuously flashing across the TV screen. I was 12. A young girl, only a few years older than me, had been kidnapped at knifepoint. My worst nightmare had become someone else's reality. The footage, on replay, felt like a blade to MY throat.

It is amazing how events impress themselves on the human brain, changing lives in ways unexpected. Just a few images can live inside the human brain for a lifetime. Today, those images--nearly a decade old--came flooding back. Elizabeth Smart's kidnapper faced sentencing today and, just like that, the storybook of her tragedy slammed shut. At least in the world's eyes.

From one headline to the next, I find tears spilling over my cheeks. I read about two little boys, instantly snatched from their mother's loving arms into the death grip of a fierce tornado. I look at satellite photos of Joplin, Missouri...the astonishing before and after pictures that scream of damage too great to ever see total repair. I sit next to a woman at school, a woman grieving over the ravaging effects of a deadly cancer on her family. I watch another friend walk the hard road to recovery after a devastating allergic reaction. I read the pained words of a mother who just gave her infant son his last bath, cradling him as he said goodbye to this world.

So much pain. So much brokenness. So much death.

And then I read: "Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have" (1 Peter 3:15).

Hope? God, where do I find hope in all this mess? How do I face a grieving father of two dead little boys and whisper tales of hope? How do I convey such a scandalous message in the face of such despair?

The pictures...the interviews...the tears...
They all remind me.

The happy don't pine for hope. The unbroken don't go searching for Super Glue. The healthy don't sell all they have for a cure. Jesus came to heal the broken. To give hope to the hopeless, help to the helpless. There is no greater time than now to raise this lantern of hope, to magnify the name of Jesus before a dying world.

"Always be prepared to give an answer..." Oh Lord Jesus, give me the words...the servant hands...the tender and gracious heart...to share your eternity-transforming hope with a lost and desperate generation.

Crazy people...faithful God

Since the beginning of the year, I have been working my way through the Old testament. You know what ALWAYS blows me away? It doesn't matter if I've heard the "stories" once or a thousand times...God uses the CRAZIEST people to do His work here on earth! Seriously. I mean, we've all heard the account of Noah, and Abraham, and Moses...all loony in their own way, of course. But really. A donkey??? A woman shoving a tent spike through a man's head??? An "army" of 300 men, "fighting" by banging a bunch of clay pots together??? Wow. If one thing is clear, it's that God has quite the imagination!

All silliness aside, I have been so encouraged by my time in the Old Testament...I am reminded day in and day out that God loves to use ordinary, sometimes stupid (and always inadequate) people to do His work. I'm encouraged because I pretty much ace that description.

I left school today feeling a little bit disheartened. We had been practicing a very important nursing skill, and I just couldn't seem to get it right! If I had been "practicing" the skill on a live person, he would have been dead 3 times over! There are days when I think, "God, I don't think this was such a good idea. How am I EVER going to do this?" Today was one of those days. But then I climbed into my car, and you know what blew up on the sky-canvas right in front of me?

The most beautiful reminder of God's faithfulness...in the form of a ribbon of color lacing the stormy sky. At the same time, these words crooned through the radio: "'Cause if He started this work in your life, He will be faithful to complete it...If only you believe it!" He knew I needed these simple reminders of His faithfulness...and His ability to take my inadequacy and use it to His glory.

A couple of months ago, I shared with you all about the new journey God is taking me on. It is hard to believe, but in 2 months, I will be in Guatemala! To be honest, I don't know what I stepped into when I signed up for this trip!

A couple of weeks ago at our team meeting, we met the doctor who will be traveling and working with our team. While he lives and works in the United States, he humbly shared that he has been on more than 90 medical missions trips. 90! I think my eyes were probably bigger than ever as he went through a slide show of tropical diseases we could encounter as we seek to love and care for the people there. Ahem. I won't post any of those pictures here, as I would hate for you to have to make a not-so-fun trip to the restroom = ) Needless to say, as I think about this upcoming trip God is preparing me for, it is easy to feel overwhelmed, unprepared, and yes, inadequate. Thankfully, He loves inadequate! And He loves to prove His faithfulness!

I want to share a huge praise and some prayer requests...humbly asking that you would consider praying for me in the next few months as I prepare to follow God's leading to Guatemala:

First of all, I am MORE than fully funded!!! Praise God for His provision, and thank you so much to those of you who have partnered with me on this journey!

As the time of my departure nears, please be praying for:
~My heart, that God would continue to instill in me a deep love and compassion for the people of Guatemala
~For team unity...we are essentially going to be setting up makeshift "urgent care" centers in churches, a feat that requires quite a bit of team work and patience!

~For the people we will encounter, that God would go ahead of us and prepare their hearts.
~For health, safety, and organization as we prepare supplies and medications for our departure in late June.

I stand before you as a work in progress...and as a reminder that God uses the foolish things of this world to shame the wise!

All for His glory,

He cares about the details

I've been thinking this week about how grateful I am that Jesus meets me where I'm at. When I'm tired, when I'm scared, when I can barely walk (30 day shred, remember?), when I'm content, when I'm not content...No matter where I am emotionally, physically, spiritually--He's there. Can you imagine if we had to meet HIM where He's at?! I know I would never get there.

I finished my second week of the school quarter, and while I am definitely busy and challenged, I am so incredibly thankful for the Lord's presence and comfort. It is so easy to lose sight of Him in the midst of the storm, but when I keep my eyes fixed on the Author and Perfecter of my faith, of ME, everything else starts to fade away.

I have so much running through my head and racing around my heart, but I wanted to share a thought with you all...remember that He cares about the details of your life. In fact, He delights in the details of your life. "The Lord directs the steps of the godly. He delights in every detail of their lives. Though they stumble, they will never fall, for the Lord holds them by the hand" (Psalm 37:23-24). Allow Him to hold your hand, to meet you right where you're at.

If you are facing anything scary or challenging or daunting or exciting...I would be privileged to pray for you. Just leave me a comment on this post or shoot me an email at the address listed under the "Contact" tab above.

At peace because of Him,

Just Show Up!

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"It is starting that is essential when we face a difficult task." Tonight, as I read these words so eloquently penned by my dear friend, Kathy, I was reminded of something my dad used to say to me. Whenever I was nervous about something, or dreading it more than anything in the world, my dad would say, "Ab, all you gotta do is show up. Just show up, and let God do the rest." What a great reminder for my trembling heart! Too often, I am focused on the hows and whys of what I am about to do, losing sight of the One who "delights in every detail of my life" (Psalm 37:23), the One who will most certainly take care of the hows and whys in His perfect timing. As another dear friend, Rebecca, was reminding me this past week, sometimes all God asks is that I take the next step. Often that next step will be right into stormy water...and yet He still calls me to take it, believing that He will part the sea.

This week, as I begin a new season in my training to be a nurse, I will be stepping out into stormy water. I am nervous...I am excited...I am eager to see God show up as I trust Him to give me the strength to finish what we started together! I am resting in these wise words from my friends tonight, and tomorrow I will take my dad's wonderful advice once again: I'm gonna show up and let God do the rest!

What about you, friend? Where is God asking you to take the next step...to just show up and allow Him to do the rest? As I'm praying for strength for my next step tomorrow, I am also praying for yours!

Facing the Lion of Fear

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When I was little, I was afraid of everything. If you knew me back then, you would know I am not kidding. Not kidding. I would lay in bed at night, staring out the window at the moon and wondering...What if someone climbed in the window? What if the house burned down and I couldn't get out in time? What if I got sick or had a heart attack? I lived my young life scared. Even when I overcame a particular fear--out of necessity, not out of choice--I didn't revel in victory. I lived in the oppressive state of fear...of distrust in a God I doubted to be good.

As I have grown in relationship with Jesus, I have come to know Him as the good God He proclaims to be. He has comforted me in the shadow of His wings, even while placing me face-to-face with the vicious lions of fear attacking my heart. I haven't always liked it...actually, scratch that. I've never liked facing the lions. But every single time He has directed me to face a lion, He has never failed to amaze me with His power over each and every fear that seeks to turn my heart away from Him in distrust.

"Fear keeps life small. The music dies and the joy drains. I've lived the strangle. What if I opened the clenched hands wide to receive all that is? A life that receives all of God in this moment?" (from One Thousand Gifts, by Ann Voskamp). I have lived a small life. I, too, have lived the strangle. I have cried tears of apprehension when faced with the diving board, all the while missing the exhilarating experience of slapping into the cool water and being enveloped by the joy of tasting the moment. I have moaned for hours on end, pleading with God to spare my life, all the while missing the life He has given me. Thankfully, God has opened my clenched hands. He has put me in front of the lions, requiring me to square off with the foe He knows will never defeat me. But, there are always new lions to face. And because God knows that our faith blooms as we find Him present in the struggle again and again, the lions often seem to get bigger and bigger...and yet, as we defeat them, they become smaller and smaller.

The past couple of weeks, I have given in to the strangle. My "lion" may sound silly--but aren't all lions ridiculous figments of our imagination? Aren't all fears irrational? Well, I have been scared--truly anxious--about my clinical experience next quarter. I've listened to the rumble {and wavered like Peter}. My assigned instructor was said to be a scary person, a scary person who supposedly makes the clinical experience a heart-death-inducer. I listened, and I wavered. I--momentarily--forgot to remember, to recount His faithfulness {like, what He did for me HERE}. I became Israel...stubborn in her forgetfulness.

Thankfully, God lifted me out of the water and whispered in my ear, "You of little faith...why did you doubt?!" Oh, friends. I am here to say..."Truly He is the Son of God." Today, after wrestling with God for days about this...after facing the lion and being reminded that God is for me {and if God is for me, who can be against me?!}...I found out that I will no longer be having said assigned instructor.

I don't always expect God to remove the source of my fear. In fact, I'm not sure He has ever done so in my life before....and I'm thankful He hasn't, because my faith in Him has grown as He has asked me to spear the lion {even while I quiver in my boots}. My clenched hands have been opened wide to receive all that is, to receive every gift of His...even the hard days and moments when I must remind myself over and over again of His forever faithfulness.

I am here to testify..."Fear keeps life small." Please don't live the small life, cowering from lions that are hardly a nuisance to the God who holds you in the very palm of His hand. Please don't follow my example and listen to the rumble, allowing the pressures of this life or those around you to turn your gaze from His face. Instead, join me in opening wide the clenched hands, in receiving the gift of this moment--every moment, whether it be good or seemingly bad--from the God who delights in you.

Joy in Brokenness

If you haven't picked up on the hints from some of my previous posts, the last few months have been hard for me. Healing hard, but hard nonetheless. It's not that I haven't been graced with a thousand joys, because I have. But there is brokenness between and all around and even in the joy. There are new friends, but also friends lost and friendships changed and loneliness in lost relationship. There is laughter, but also gut-deep sorrow over battles lost in a war I know has already been won, but who remembers the war won in the midst of lost battles anyway? There are beautiful memories, but also haunting ones laced throughout of gasped breaths and paling skin and sobs screamed...memories I often wish had died with the one who died. There is happiness, yes, but also grumpy days and plans thwarted and hours of cramming for cruel tests and questions about tomorrow and who can find joy in all of that mess?

I remember. I remember that easy joy is no sacrifice at all. Joy in the laughter, joy in child-like giggles and days gone well and gifts never-ending...that kind of joy cannot be contained. It is the joy in long nights with screaming babes and broken dreams and tests failed and fears crouching that is difficult to find and even more difficult to cling to. It is that kind of joy that promises healing, if I can withstand the breaking and cracking and honing that allows the joy to seep through to bring wholeness. Anything easy to find is not worth much at all. It is the hard to find that earns great worth, and I think, so it is with joy. Easy joy...well, easy joy is cheap. It's not hard to scrounge up when things are going well. But hard joy...joy that sings in brokenness...that kind of joy is of great worth.

I sit by open window streaming sunlight, and I ponder the familiar Jesus-story. He says to his friends, "Let's go to the other side of the lake." They climb in the boat eager, I'm sure, to move on to the next adventure. They hadn't prepared for the storm, though, the storm that shakes the boat and their souls and everything they thought they knew about their Messiah-friend. He's sleeping! Resting in the storm. Can it be? They wonder, does he know the storm is threatening to pull us under the angry waves? They shake Him, and He shakes them: "Why are you afraid?" [Uh, maybe because we're about to DROWN!] "Do you still have no faith?" [Silence. Souls shaken.]

I wonder, as sun streams in and feet move overhead and birds sing of spring coming...What did Jesus want them to do? If they had HAD great faith, what would they have done in response to the storm? Would Jesus still have calmed the storm? Or would it have raged on, them unmoved by fear because of great faith?

I hear Him whisper, ever gentle in response, I wanted them to rest.
Is it possible? Is it possible to lie the soul-head down in the middle of the storm and rest? Then I remember that He promised them...He said, "Let's go to the other side." He promised to get them there. He promises to bring me to the other side, to carry me through the storm. He just wants me to lay down my heavy soul-head and rest, to live in a deep trust in who He is and who He promises to be.

How do I rest in the brokenness, in the angry words and shattered promises and dead hopes? How do I rest when I must search for joy in the difficult mundane, like a gold-digger decades too late, digging deep into the empty dirt for treasures stolen? How? Again, the gentle whisper: "You remember."

And so I do. I remember His promise {"Let's go to the other side."} and I remember His grace-gifts {the easy and the harder-to-sprout} and I remember His presence. He's here. He's here, in the grumpy and the smiles and the gut-wrenching cries. He's here. Sometimes I just have to dig deeper, to find the treasure of greater worth in hard joy. The whole time, I hum this line from song once sung: "The valley of descent has made me whole."

And so it will be. The hard joy has--WILL--make me whole.

Because He is...

Faithful, I will...
Keep putting one foot in front of the other.
Keep recounting His blessings.
Keep longing for Him.

I shared that I have been struggling with, well, being thankful. Do you ever have those days (or months, or years) when life just seems unfair? When everyone around you seems happier and more content than you? Yeah, well...I have had some of those days recently. Let me tell ya...it ain't pretty either! After wallowing with...
some G*lmore G*rls and toenail polish, I gave up and let God work on me.

Friends, He is so faithful.

I decided to pull one of those stunts Bible heroes always seemed to perform and asked God for a sign. Something, anything to tell me that I'm on the right track...that this seemingly never ending footrace of life I'm running will actually end up somewhere.

I didn't get a lightning bolt or anything of the kind, but God was gracious to reach out and care for my broken heart. I was reading about Moses leading the people out of Egypt, and I stumbled upon some verses I don't ever remember reading before:

"When Pharaoh finally let the people go, God did not lead them along the main road that runs through Philistine territory, even though that was the shortest route to the Promised Land. God said, 'If the people are faced with a battle, they might change their minds and return to Egypt.' So God led them in a round-about way through the wilderness toward the Red Sea. Thus the Israelites left Egypt like an army ready for battle" (Ex. 13:17-18).

Wow. God's people were leaving slavery, fleeing bondage that had been a part of their story for years...and God took them the long way out. He was protecting them...from unnecessary battles, from enemies, from themselves. I'm sure they questioned His directions, wondered why they had to trudge further than was necessary when they were just so ready to be free. They didn't have the full story, though...but HE did, and He knew exactly what He was doing!

There are so, so many times that I wonder, "When, God? When will {fill in the blank} happen?" I question why I have to do it this way. And then I am reminded, through this passage, that I do not see the big picture. I do not know what He is protecting me from. Maybe He is taking me the long way around to protect me from myself, from my own weakness and vulnerability. Maybe He is protecting me from unnecessary battles, all the while equipping and preparing me for the REAL battle.

While waiting is hard {especially when everyone else seems to be there already}, I will keep on trusting...keep on putting one foot in front of the other...keep dwelling in thanksgiving, because HE IS FAITHFUL and HE KNOWS WHAT HE IS DOING.
I will not be shaken.

Adoption News and Thoughts on Waiting

Timothy is officially a KIRK!!! We are rejoicing tonight! Although there are 147 million orphans in the world, ONE MORE has a forever home! We got the phone call tonight that the Ethiopian courts had ruled today on Timothy's case...there was lots of screaming in this house = )

I am reminded tonight, once again, how often God uses WAITING to bring His plans to fruition. This morning I was reading the account of Joseph. For those of us reading the story thousands of years after it actually happened, it is easy to forget just how long Joseph waited on the Lord. He was 17, the Bible says, when God gave Him a dream...then he was thrown into a well, sold into slavery, harassed by his owner's wife only after he made them wealthy, and thrown into prison. I am intrigued and somewhat humored by the phrase that comes next: "Some time later..." I wonder how much "time" really passed. I wonder if it felt like a million years to Joseph, while to God it was obviously just a drop in the bucket of eternity. I wonder how Joseph passed his time in jail, if he began to question God's hand in his story.

I have to continually remind myself that God is writing MY story, that these days I am living ARE the destination. I often wonder when I am going to step into my God-ordained purpose, and then I remember that I am LIVING it right now, if only I will have the eyes to see it and the willing hands and heart to take hold of it. God never left Joseph. In fact, if I reflect on the account of his life in its entirety, God impacted a lot of people through Joseph in his years of "waiting." God wove an incredible story out of Joseph's life, a story that would have fallen apart without those painful years of serving an oppressive master and sitting in prison.

There are still days when I question God and wonder what I am doing in nursing school, why I can't be doing "greater" things for God...and then I remember that each day I live and breathe is another opportunity to serve those God has placed before me, to care for little hands and hearts, even if only in a gentle word of encouragement. If God can change the entire history of a nation through one man's willing hands and patient spirit while sitting in jail (for a crime he never committed), then I hope and pray He can use me as I flounder through school and often question His always PERFECT plan.

"WAIT on the Lord. Be strong and take heart and WAIT for the Lord" (Psalm 27:14).

Christmas...and clinging to the vine

Sometimes I find it hard to put into words what has been going on in my life. I have been home in Indiana (yes, amidst hay bales and cornfields...beautiful if you look at them the right way!) for Christmas.

It has been a special Christmas, mostly because I have taken the time to truly soak in the beauty that brilliantly laces the life God has given me. It has been such a blessing to just BE, to play games and sip tea and read books and enjoy moments of calm with my family. I have loved seeing new glimpses into the ways God is working in the hearts and lives of my brothers and sisters.

This year, God has begun the work of opening my eyes to the beauty in "mundane" life. On Christmas morning, while most of the house still slept (teenagers, mind you), I set out on a walk...the slow kind that leaves room for conversations with Jesus. I was so blessed to see the roads empty and looking like this:
In a way, I kind of got to spend Christmas with my dad...or at least, the snow was a constant reminder of him = ) I also loved receiving this love-kiss from God:
Watching the sun rise through the ice-covered trees was like getting a letter in the mail from God, gently saying, "My mercies are new every morning...and great is my faithfulness!"

Of course, it was wonderful to return from my walk to this:and this...
Simply a wonderful day with family, remembering God's incredible love packaged in the form of Jesus! A gift two thousand years ago...a gift for me today and tomorrow. He is faithful indeed.

If I allowed myself to, I could be overcome by nervous energy and anxiety. I start school again (after a long break...like 3 months long) in 5 days. I am reminded almost constantly of my inadequacy, of my desperate need for the VINE. I am so thankful I can be a branch and not a vine, that I can turn to Him for strength and courage and grace when I most need it.

I was reminded recently that I cannot live in a state of complacency. God clearly led me to nursing school, but I can't assume that I'll just fly through with no challenges or redirection. I cannot fall into the trap of relying on my own strength to complete what is before me. And I desperately don't want to. In 2010, I saw God provide for me in miraculous ways. I experienced what it was like to throw myself completely into God's hands. I passed tests and skills checks and board exams I shouldn't have passed on my own. As I head into 2011, I find myself once again on my knees, begging Jesus to remind me, once again, of these words:

"I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing" (John 15:5).
Bring on 2011!


This year, Lord willing, I am anticipating:
*what?! I'm gonna be 21?!
*147 million minus one! A special baby finally coming HOME forever!
*a medical mission trip to Guatemala...more on that soon
*completing 4 of 6 remaining quarters of school
*learning more than I could ever fathom now
*continued healing from a grief that began 1.5 years ago
*continued growth in my relationship with Jesus...a daily journey I am thrilled to be taking!

Honestly, I'm more excited about what is NOT on that list...Never know what twists and turns God will throw in my plans!

Tell me about your Christmas...and what you are looking forward to as 2011 nears!

Beautiful Things

Two years ago, I had just moved back home after the devastating blow of my dad's diagnosis made its way to my heart. I couldn't allow myself to be a newly independent college student exploring the world anymore. I was torn apart, yet unable to understand or piece together my "new" life--a life marked by visits to doctors and dreaded scan results. Days of watching my dad lay in bed, his body failing him as he tried to survive the "healing" chemicals dumped into his veins. Two years ago I was breaking.

A year ago, I had just started school and was overwhelmed with grief--emotions I had no built-in "equipment" to handle, no past experiences to guide me as I attempted to traverse the waters of my life without a dad. I was sitting in a counselor's office, sobbing as I tried to put words to the storm inside me. I was sitting at a table beside other men and women facing the ugly effects of death on their once happy lives. I was trying to find the "new" me--the me without my dad, the me who would never be a normal 19 year old again. I was broken.

Today, I am listening to the words of this song...and my heart finds rest, knowing my story has finally found a way out. The jumbled pieces of my brokenness have found expression in these words:

You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of the dust
You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of us

By Gungor

Today, God has made beautiful things out of my dust. Two years ago I was breaking...A year ago I was broken...Today, out of the broken and dry, barren and cracked soil of my heart, beautiful things are sprouting. Because God makes beautiful things out of dust. God makes beautiful things out of cancer. God makes beautiful things out of death. God makes beautiful things out of loneliness and grief. God makes beautiful things out of gut-wrenching tears. God makes beautiful things out of BROKENNESS.

So today, as I begin to discover the loveliest of things sprouting out of my brokenness, my prayer is that you will begin to understand the power of God to not only create galaxies out of nothingness, but also to mend broken hearts. To create beautiful things out of US. To make beautiful things in YOU. Do you believe it?