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.

An Incredible Journey to an Incredible Little Boy

For the past year and a half, I have had a sideline seat to one of the craziest, most beautiful stories that has accented my life...the adoption of this sweet boy into one of my most favoritest families on this planet:

Timothy Natnael

When I was given the incredible privilege of moving in with this family in September of 2009, I had no idea what God had in store for my heart. My dad had gone to heaven only a month and a half earlier, so the overwhelming grief of not having him with me on earth was still somewhat consuming. I was also beginning the new unknown of nursing school. I was overwhelmed, to say the least! So many emotions--one of the strongest being excitement! I was giddy to have been given the gift of a place to call home...with some of my favorite people in the world, no less!

That fall, God began to perform surgery on my heart. Through my dad's illness and death, my eyes had been opened to the incredible hurt and suffering of so many on this planet. As I grieved the loss of my dad, I could no longer remain ignorant to the plight of the oppressed in this broken world. In October, God opened up a new page to this journey of mine as the Kirks officially began their adoption process. It is hard to believe that there has hardly been a moment in my time living with this family that they HAVEN'T been in the adoption process!

I'm not sure that words could express how these past 17 months have impacted my life. Wow!
God has blessed me with a sideline seat to this family's journey to their newest treasure. I don't know what He has in store for me, but I know that I have been forever changed by this one little boy!

Checking out brother's tiny toes

There have been mountaintop highs to this journey (like THIS one), and challenging, arduous lows. I have seen, in new ways, God's heart for the orphan. I have also seen, in new ways, Satan's incredible disgust for and opposition to adoption. Through it all, I have also witnessed, firsthand, God's faithfulness through every twist and turn that has brought this little boy together with this family.

all 7 brothers and sisters...together at last!

This past Friday, the journey of bringing Timothy home officially ended...and what a joyous occasion it was! (You can watch a video of their homecoming HERE). We cried, screamed with joy, jumped up and down, hugged, laughed...and most of all, celebrated. We celebrated the homecoming of a little boy to his forever family. We celebrated the completion of what has been an incredibly long journey, full of unexpected twists and turns, to Timothy. We celebrated the beginning of new relationships between Timothy and his brothers and sisters. We celebrated, praising God for remaining steadfast through it all. {and crashed into our beds that night!} In some ways, the journey has only begun with the family being united--COMPLETE--for the very first time.


Friends, adoption is beautiful. It is beautiful because it is God's heart. It is beautiful because we have been adopted into God's family...and, in some ways, the adoption of an orphan is one of the closest metaphors we have to our own adoption as sons and daughters of God. I pray that you, too, will be blessed with a window into adoption...whether it be through your own journey to a beautiful treasure or through the journey of someone you love.



"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).

I did not know when I moved here that I would get to be a part of this adoption journey...but God knew! The scope of His work is unfathomable, beautiful from beginning to end! I feel blessed beyond measure to have witnessed such an incredible start to what I am sure will be a beautiful, beautiful story.

Welcome home, Timothy!

THANK YOU!

"Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus" (1 Thessalonians 5:18).

Sometimes, "thank-you" is inadequate to fully convey heart-deep gratitude. Often, though, "thank-you" is all I have. So today, I want to offer up a thousand "thank-yous" to treasured individuals who know the reason and are the reason my heart sings.

God has graced my life with so many incredible blessings, many through the hands, prayers, financial support, and encouragement of fellow believers. I can't possibly even know where all these blessings have come from. My prayer is that those of you who have blessed me a thousand times over will also receive an abundance of blessings from God himself!

Today, I have no other words...only THANK YOU. Thank you for serving me, praying for me, encouraging me, supporting me financially, and feeding into my life...may God make me a faithful steward of these countless blessings!

God's grace...In a thousand gifts

Today, I am celebrating Valentine's Day by counting God's love-notes to me. I am reading this book... (if you click on the image, it will take you to the author's blog)...

and the book in itself has been a grace gift from God. I needed the reminder...the reminder that we will never experience the fullness of our salvation until we are living minutes, days, LIVES of gratitude for God's continual grace to us. His grace did not stop at the cross...it is a continual gift, maybe in the form of frosty breath on windows, a hand to hold when life gets rough, gooey chocolate brownies, a slobbery peck on the cheek from a little one...

I'm learning the practice of thanksgiving...of counting God's graces, and in doing so, impregnating my life, my days, with new wonder and awareness of God's goodness. We say it so flippantly--"God is good...all the time"--but do we really believe it with our lives? It is only when I take the time to stop, to pull out a pen and my journal and write out these simple and not so simple goodnesses, that I truly understand down to my toes what those complex and yet painfully easy-to-say words mean. God is good...all the time. All the time.

And so...the counting begins. The challenge is to make out, to take hold and hold onto, a thousand grace-gifts. And yet, somehow I have a feeling that a thousand will turn into two thousand before the days of this year role into the next. Because God IS good all the time...every second and minute and hour and day. And He never grows weary of telling us, lavishing our lives with gifts of the sweetest kind. Today, my list grows, and I am thankful.


204. a new start...every day!
205. blankets piled atop my frozen-no-more toes
206. a chance to learn incredible things about the human body
207. little chocolates in a tiny red mailbox
208. a bird chirping in the creeping warmth
209. A phone call...declaring that a beautiful child of God--once an orphan, now a forever KIRK--will be coming HOME forever! (see details HERE)

my "thankful board"

He loves me...enough to tell me every day in a thousand new ways. What beautiful gifts has He given you today?

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.

A Divine Roadtrip

I've struggled a lot recently...with waiting, with trusting God for my future, with jealousy as I watch other beautiful people doing the very things I long to be doing. Today, I began to wonder if my issue had less to do with trusting God...and more to do with believing God too much. I mean, I KNOW that He is only going to do what is best for me...that's what gets me. What if I don't like His best?

Tonight, as I was driving home in the dark, I realized that I had allowed the illusion of surrender to give me a false sense of humility before God. It's like I am headed out on a divine road trip with God, and I say, "Wherever you want to take me...I'm game!" Only thing is, I have a pretty good idea of where I want to be going, so I add, "Well, Florida's lookin' pretty good, though...or maybe Montana? I've heard there's good skiing out there." Then, daunted by the idea that God just might take me to somewhere like Iowa {where, by the way, the cornfields just might swallow me whole}, I say, "You know what, here's the map, complete with step by step instructions on how to get to where I want to go...On the bottom, you'll see the full itinerary! Don't forget to stop for gas, though!" Fake surrender.

Honestly, there is a part of me that wants to settle for a "Saul"...for easy fulfillment, for a quick fix to my deepest desires. Sometimes I find myself saying, "God, I'm tired of waiting. Can you just give me what I want, even if it's not best?" Oh Lord, save me. I don't want to settle for less than God's best...I want to give the wheel--and the map--completely to Him. Hands off, I'm outta here. Even if that means I have to wait longer than is comfortable. Even if it means I end up in the cornfields of Iowa instead of the thrilling mountains of Montana. Even if it means I have to be on 'standby' while seemingly everyone else is hopping on a plane to their ultimate destination. Complete surrender.

Somewhere along that road I believe there is an insurmountable joy and peace to be found...and I want to find it.

The Day the World Stopped

My Daddy and I two weeks before He saw Jesus

To be honest, I don't really remember the day I found out my beloved grandmother was dying. Brutal honesty? I had wondered when it would happen for quite some time. Gruesome, I know, but she was pushing 97...and she was oh-so-ready to leave this earth. July 2009. Pancreatic cancer, the devil of all cancers, claimed her earthly body less than a week after she was diagnosed.

Two months later, my dad was diagnosed with the same devil. I do remember that day; I remember like it was yesterday. I remember the terrifying anticipation, knowing that tests were being performed and suspicions had been raised. I remember the tears I wept, against my stubborn will to maintain all composure, as I sat in class waiting for my mom to call with the results. I remember the annoying sympathy, the he'll-be-okay looks and the i-have-no-idea-what-to-do-with-you hugs. All the while, I just wanted to scream, "You have no stinkin' idea the kind of abyss my world is slipping into!"

Then the call came. It was weird. As the words, words I already knew and had rehearsed in my head, came out of my Mom's mouth, an eerie peace sank over me. Resolution gained control over out-of-control emotions. I had to go home, to face the beast head-on. I had to save my Dad, because I knew he was dying.

Ten incredibly short--and yet, brutally long--months later, my Daddy went to be with Jesus. My world stopped. I didn't know how to live, how to have passion and dreams again. I just got out of bed and did meaningless things, watched meaningless movies, said meaningless words. All the while, I wondered why the rest of the world kept going. Didn't everyone else see what had just happened?!? The greatest man I ever knew had left the world, and people were still laughing, still going to the grocery, still saying and doing the wrong things while neglecting the right things.

Sometimes I forget that feeling. Sometimes I forget what it is like to have your world crash while everyone else seems to be living on a bed of roses {even if they are fake}. Today I remembered. Today I remembered, because today I read THIS. A sweet little girl, living on the other side of the country, found out that her respite from a silent evil that had taken root in her head was over. The devil has returned, and although she must cling to hope because sometimes hope is all one has, the odds are not in her favor. Today I remember that feeling...while she and her family are FEELING that feeling. I am sad for them.

While I am sad, I also can't help but wonder if we have it all wrong. You know, we dread death, avoid it like the plague...sometimes avoiding the plague itself with research and drugs and body-disfiguring surgeries. I just wonder, if we saw eternity through God's eyes, would we be working so hard? Probably not, but right now we don't have God's eyes. So tonight I am pleading for God to give this little girl His eyes, or to heal her physical body so that her Mommy and Daddy can blossom under her love a little bit longer...or to do both. All the while, I long to remember that there is always someone around me whose heart has been smashed...could I be the one to take him or her to the Comforter, the Heart-Healer?