Category Archives: On being a wife

What do you do with a dream once you’ve caught it?

We all have dreams.  Some dreams emerge over time, taking shape like an image coming slowly into view as it moves closer to us – or we move closer to it.  Other dreams are like seeds planted in our hearts from birth. Innate desires and passions that in their stubborn nature cannot be squelched or quenched regardless of circumstance.

Bruce and I have dreams.  Some overlap.  Some do not.  It’s what makes our marriage interesting.

Those that overlap have been with us since childhood – to be married and have children.

God granted those dreams and turned them into reality for us, and we are grateful.  However, something happened when we got married.  Something we didn’t expect.

We’ve given witness to this account before, but there is specific purpose in sharing it today.  If you’ve heard it before, read until the end. :)

We were newlyweds (he was 23 and I was 19) working our way through college.  Bruce worked full-time and went to school part-time.  I did the opposite.  We found a very small foreclosed home and were able to move out of our one bedroom apartment and purchase this sweet dollhouse with all of its issues.  Fannie Mae fixed the things that made it livable – the rest was up to us.  We loved working on that house.  It was our hobby when not working or studying.

About a year and a half into our marriage, we were exhausted.  School, work, school, work.  Bruce worked all shifts.  I worked days.  We seldom saw each other and could only afford occasional lunch dates and took advantage of every free thing there was to do: walks, picnics, bike rides, the beach, sitting at the airport watching planes come and go, etc.  It was a beautiful, simple life.  Still, we were tired.  Very tired.

One Friday night, we made plans to fall off the grid for a little while.  A needed respite.  We packed up our cooler, kite, blankets, etc. and picked up our favorite dinner on the way – Subway sandwiches, chips and Sprite.

We drove to our favorite spot on our favorite beach (in FL) and walked what seemed like forever to get to our favorite spot.

There wasn’t a soul for miles – and we could for see miles in every direction.

The sun was about to set (FL folks know exactly how to time the sunset just right :) ) and we scurried to set up everything just so.  It was perfect.  A warm breeze blew, the sun boasted colors of pink, red and orange. Bruce staked the kite down as it gently floated.  The picnic was perfectly arranged on the blankets, and the best part was – no one else was around.

We are extroverts, but this night there was something different working in our hearts.  I’ll speak for myself…mind you my mom brought me up properly.  She taught me well, but everyone has a sinful nature…I was feeling very selfish.  It went something like this, Finally.  I have arrived   After a horrible childhood filled with drama, tragedy and loss I finally get my happily ever after.  I finally get my wish come true.  I want the world to just go away.  This is my time with my husband at our picnic and I don’t want to think about, talk to or acknowledge that anyone else in the world exists.

Pause – there is a time for rest and rejuvenation for sure.  There is nothing wrong with falling off the grid. However, my heart was cold and selfish toward anything else except what I wanted.  There lies the problem, and Bruce’s heart felt the same.

We had literally just finished setting out everything perfectly, timing it to the spectacular sunset melting into the Gulf Coast, when we breathed a big exhale of relief.

Suddenly, a man and a woman were standing there…not just anywhere…on our blanket!  What?!?!?

Where did they come from?  We could see for miles, and we knew for a fact there was no one as far as the eye could see.  Yet, here they were – on our blanket and in our space.

Bruce and I were so taken back we were completely speechless.

I can still see them in my mind’s eye.  Both with brown hair.  Both all in white.  She wore a long, white dress and was barefoot.  He wore a white pair of pants and a white button-down shirt (like you see in the movies) and was barefoot.

Stunned, we didn’t know what to say.  The man said hello.  The woman never said a word and stood slightly behind him.  They never even told us their names.

Oddly, we never felt unsafe or scared – and I am a VERY skeptical person.

The man called Bruce’s attention to the kite.  He began to talk to Bruce very causally, yet confidentially, about the physics of how a kite flies.  He spoke with ease and authority.  I’ve never heard anyone, ever, speak like he did.  The physics he spoke about was the EXACT same thing Bruce had just learned in his physics class all week.  Exactly the same.  Bruce said it was like the guy was in his class.  Bruce couldn’t find a word to say.  He just stood there listening in amazement.

The woman and I stood silent.  I had no words.  Odd for me, I know.  Typically I love talking to new people.  This time, I had one train of thought in my head, Leave.

Ouch.  That’s cold.  But, it’s how I felt.  After a long semester and tough week with work, I wanted to be left alone.  I wanted my man, my night, my dinner, my sunset, my beach trip, my life to be mine.  I was angry they were there.  I wanted them to go away because they were about to ruin our sunset moment.  So did Bruce for the same reasons, though both of us had been raised better than that.  This was not our shining moment.

After the man finished talking kite physics, he turned to us and looked down at our modest picnic all ready to eat.  He smiled and said, That’s looks good.

I thought, Okay, really???  Now he wants our food?  You’ve got to be kidding me.  Why won’t they just leave! I’m not sharing.  Nope.  Not gonna do it.  No way.  No how.

I dug my stubborn, bare feet heels in the sand.  I felt the pull of my upbringing to always share, but my selfishness would have none of it.

The four of us stood there, on a small blanket rather squished together, looking down at the subs that the man called attention to. All of us stood in awkward silence.

I thought to myself, Well, I can stand here all night if that’s what it takes.  I’m not sharing.

After a very uncomfortable, long pause the man smiled and said, Well, we should be going.

Oh!  Leaving so soon? the bratty little girl inside me thought to herself.  I am so embarrassed to be confessing this.

Bruce and I pathetically mumbled, Well, okay then.  If you have to…

We still had no idea who they were, what they wanted, or how they appeared out of nowhere and were standing on our blanket.

Feeling guilty, we turned away from they as they began to walk away.  Bruce and I looked at each other said at the same time, We shouldn’t have done that.  We should have offered them dinner.

In the five seconds it took to say that, with changed hearts we turned back around to invite them back…and they were gone!

Gone! Gone! Gone!  Vanished!  Disappeared!

For all intense purposes, they should have been a few feet away from us in the seconds it took for us to change our minds.  Let’s get crazy and say they bolted as fast as they could and ran – so they would still have been just several feet from us – well within view.  Remember, we could see all the down the beach in all directions, and it was quite a hike for us to reach the edge of low tide.

Gone.  Bruce and I quickly looked at each other bug-eyed and breathless as I said to him in shock, You don’t think they were…

Angels, he replied.  Who else could they have been?

My heart sank in guilt. I asked God silently, What was that?!?!?

He answered with six words, And don’t let it happen again.

I knew exactly what He meant.  He saw our selfishness.  He tested us.  We failed.

He spoke to my heart, Your marriage is to be an extension of my open hand – always.

I knew.  I understood His point.  He blessed me with a happy ending from a horrific beginning of life, and I took that blessing and ran with it clutched tightly in my grasp.  I turned His blessing into my possession.  I wasn’t willing to share – not my food, not my man, not myself, not my time, not my energy, not my attention.  Nothing.

It’s ironic, all I wanted this man and woman to do was to leave.  Now all I wanted was for them to come back so I could have a re-do, a second chance.

After all, just think for a second about the missed opportunity!  These were angels!  Think of the questions we could have asked over sharing a Sprite.  Just think about it!  No.  Those questions would never have had the chance because before God ever put us to the test – He knew what our answer would be.

I’ve told Bruce several times over the years that I was so GLAD he was there to substantiate this account.  He has said the same about me.  In a time where there is so much falsehood, lies and twisting, no one knows who to believe.  We know exactly what happened on that Florida beach in 1992 and we’ve never been the same.

After that, we knew our marriage was blessed to be an extension of God’s hand, but didn’t know how.

Childhood dreams began percolating in our hearts to begin a family.  Three children later, we wanted a home to provide for our family.  This meant steady work for Bruce to help realize another dream we shared which was for me to stay home while our children are in our nest.

With a marriage, children, work and a larger home in play, we settled into a great church and neighborhood and the calendar began to fill up.  Having no idea how to raise children, we did what everyone else did – rec league sports, dance, gymnastics, and home parties selling Tupperware and Pampered Chef.  My days were busting at the seams as a volunteer at school and church, organizing play groups and working as both a cake decorator from home and as a freelance editor into the wee hours of the night.

We went to Disney World, Sea World, many beaches along the East Coast, camped, rafted, hiked, helped with homework, held garage sales, hosted Superbowl parties, bunco and Christmas shindigs.  I was a secret admirer for Valentine’s Day to my family, created leprechaun scavenger hunts for the kids on St. Patrick’s Day, oh I could go on and on and on.

We had the perfect life, right?  Wrong.

With all of these good things, came another side to it all.  It’s the side no one likes to talk about.  With all of this big life came big bills and big responsibilities of maintaining it all.

We had never had so much – either of us – in all our lives.  I don’t mean just tangible stuff, but so many places to be, people to see, things to do, commitments to keep, events to organize – it was too much.

We got our dream…in spades.  That season reminds me of when the Israelites were wandering lost in the dessert for 40 years and they craved meat.  They threw a hissy fit, so God gave them meat – until it was so much that it literally came out of their noses.  Gross!

He didn’t do this to us, rather we did it to ourselves.  It reminds me of Paul’s words in 1 Corinthians 10:23, ”Everything is permissible” – but not everything is beneficial.  ”Everything is permissible” – but not everything is constructive.

We were into good things, but we had lost sight of balance and direction.  We had ourselves so over-committed that there was nothing left of us to give to God’s open hand.

Without realizing it, we had been consumed with the American ideal.  We had morphed into people we didn’t even recognize – all in the pursuit of the American dream.

That dream landed us in more debt, heavier weight, more exhaustion, and less peace than we’d ever experienced.  It also cost me my health by contracting mono.  That was the turning point for me.

I thank God He allowed me to get mono because it made me not just slow down, but stop.  I could barely lift my head off the pillow for weeks.  In that time, God taught me that there is such a thing as too much fun, too much work, just simply too much.

Dr. David Platt’s book, Radical, was part of the learning process.  I should’ve known by the tag line of the book “Taking back your faith from the American Dream.”  Naively, I continued to read it.

This book opened my eyes for the first time that the American dream has nothing to do with Christian living.  My toes felt stepped on.  I felt duped.  It was as though scales had fallen from my eyes when approached with the fact that the American dream was created by man, not by God.  God’s dreams and purposes for His people are so much bigger than 2.2 kids, a house, a job, a car and a great vacation with a retirement nest egg growing every year.

Being an American all my life, and living in America all my life, it’s like the doctrine of where I live got tangled up with God’s holy doctrine of what His grand design is for each of our lives.

Literally, I never gave a second thought to how, or if, these two are related.  They’re not.  There is nothing wrong with wanting to provide a decent life for our families.  Work is biblical.  Doing good works is biblical.  Providing is biblical.  But what are we pursuing?

What is our heart pursuing?  Is it God’s passions or ours?  That’s what my heart wrestled with.

Bruce and I had many deep conversations about life and goals and passions and dreams during this time.  We agreed that we had become swept up more in the pursuing of the American dream than in pursuing God’s purposes for our lives.  We never meant to.  It was like a slow I.V. drip of disillusionment that kept us in a hazy, sleepy stupor all in the name of family…but not necessarily in the name of God.

More than wanting to look like a Norman Rockwell painting, we needed our world to be rocked.  It wasn’t a perfect life by any stretch.  We faced unemployment, family deaths, difficult seasons of our children’s lives, and personal struggles.  Drama begets drama and we didn’t need more of that.  We needed something to wake us up…to save us from ourselves.

Enter missions.

When the prospect to go to Kenya came, our world was flipped upside down and turned inside out.  Suddenly, everything we saw, touched, tasted and heard was different.  God replaced our Americana viewpoint with lenses that reflect His passions, His hurts, His love and His dream.

Since Kenya and Ukraine, and now as we prepare for this year’s mission, we feel no ownership of anything that passes through our hands – and those things have no ownership over us.

I remember the day when Salvation Army came to pick up our dining set.  An expensive, nice set complete with seating for 12, a sideboard buffet, mirror and huge hutch with glass shelving and recessed lighting   All in excellent condition.  The reality was that we didn’t need it, and we got excited about the prospect of it being a blessing to someone else.  I remember the deliver guy looking at it and saying to me, Wow, this is nice stuff you are donating.  I smiled and thought to myself, Yep, and someone will really enjoy it.

We’ve had so much fun getting rid of stuff!  With every bag came the thought that someone else has really been needing or wanting this.  That gives us way more joy than hanging onto it.

We finally got what Jeff understood in Radical, “For the first time, Jeff realized that God has a purpose for his life that was greater than the pursuit of the next bigger thing.  So Jeff decided to walk away from the American dream.” (Radical, pg 81).

We are in the middle of some major kitchen repairs, and neighbors who see the trucks coming and going are kind and curious to ask how everything is going.  I am happy to talk about it, but I’d much rather talk about this year’s mission and what God is up to there.  Or Kenya, and what God is doing there.  Or Ukraine, and how God is moving there.  Or here in the States and the ways He is touching lives here.  THAT is what excites me!

We need the kitchen repairs and gutting for maintenance & property value purposes.  However, at the end of the day I am grateful for the blessing of doing it, but can now keep it in its proper place in our lives.  I don’t get up in the morning to simply run out and stand in the kitchen.  But I do wake up every morning with places on my mind and the people whom we’ve never met but have already taken hold of my heart.  I get excited about the cooking camps we will be hosting as fundraisers to get us to our destination, and how much better the layout and flow will be for the girls and boys cooking in our home.  I think about baking for the bake sale that benefits Samaritan’s Purse in this kitchen.  I think about the deep conversations we will have with our children at the table about life, love and dreams.  I think about the dinners Bruce and I will share – just the two of us – and am reminded that missions begins at home.

This new way of life, pursuing God’s dreams and not the American dream, has helped me loosen my unhealthy grip on my children – and accept that fact they have always been God’s first.  Doing that has led me to deal with heart issues and baggage that have weighed me down far too long.

See how beautiful the tapestry of God’s grand design is?  He works for the good of His children – both those who call Him by name and those who have yet too…but will.  It is for these that missions exists, but God in His faithfulness heals both them and those sent to them.  He is so good.

I believe that 21 years later, we have come full circle to that evening on the beach.  I am just now beginning to understand what His open hand means to our family.  I’ve learned a lot in the last 21 years and will chew on these lessons the rest of my life.  Praise God He is in the business of redemption and restoration.  He restores the years the locusts have eaten (Joel 2:25).

God used missions to minister to us so we might minister to others.  Missions, to me, is like the toggle in the movie Inception.  In a world that is becoming more of a mirage every day, distorting and confusing us, the Great Commission given by Christ in Matthew 28:18-20 is my toggle that I look for to keep this world separated from the new world that is yet to come.  It keeps me focused on the bigger picture, God’s passions and what kind of life pleases Him.  It takes my eyes off of myself and places them on people and places that have God’s fingerprints all over them.  Missions allows me to become less so that He may become more.

I love being an American, but I’ve walked away from the American dream.  I have chosen to follow God’s purposes which will outlast everything else.  If I cling to the American dream, then I would never be open to what God may ask us to do.  After all, the Americana lifestyle is one of tangible success and comfort.  Jesus came for neither of these.  He came to serve, not be served.

If Jesus followed me around for a day, would He be excited about the work I do in my 24/7?  Guess what?  He does follow us around because He is always with us.

I had to release my life from my own grip so that God’s open hand could be extended. I don’t ever want to miss His divine appointment again because I couldn’t see past myself.

We haven’t had anymore angelic encounters on the beach, but we do have many opportunities to be His hands and feet.  May it never take an angel to call us back to a place we never should have left – right in the middle of God’s heart.

Diary of Thankfulness

Today I found myself saying, Thank You, Lord, throughout the day and want to write these moments down so as to not forget the blessings that make an ordinary day extraordinary.

I am thankful for the opportunity to stay home with my sick child.  I remember when I was his age, if I was sick I had to stay at my grandparents’ home for the day while my mom worked.  She wanted to be home with me, and I knew that even as a tween, but she had no choice.  My grandparents were wonderful people.  I loved them dearly.  But, no one fully replaces a mother’s touch.  She knows what your favorite drink is, television show is, and when you took your medicine last.  I got to be that to my sweet boy today.  With every cough, I winced in compassionate pain.  With every ringing of the thermometer, I said a prayer it wasn’t high.  I loved being able to put socks on his feet and kiss the bottoms of them, breathing in the smell of clean laundry.  I loved propping his pillows, filling his humidifier and stroking his hair.  I am blessed to be here for my family and there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.

I am thankful that I had to park so far from the doors of Wal Mart this evening.  I trolled the parking lot in my van, like everyone else, hoping for a close spot.  It’s cold and wet outside – bleck – and I wanted to get inside asap.  But, no such space could be found.  Two blessings popped up in the parking lot aisle.  First, I was stuck behind a couple walking so slowly I thought I would go insane!  They never once cared that I was behind them.  They were intent on their conversation, pushing their cart and looking at each other while speaking.  Their gray hair and wrinkled skin were signs of many years together.  My frustration (because had they moved over a few feet I could have driven around them) turned into a longing that I hope to be old and gray, leaving the store with my man, and be so in love after all those years that I cared not who was around me as long as I was with him and listening to the sound of his voice and admiring the smile on his handsome face.

I am thankful for grace.  I am a rule follower, but not perfect by any stretch of the imagination.  After meandering around the super center (overwhelming!), I snaked my way to check out.  The endless checkouts were full of people.  My head spun.  I found a 20 items or less lane and dashed for it.  Once in line, I began to count my items.  Ug.  There were a few more than 20 hiding beneath the bulkier stuff that covered them.  I don’t care if someone with more than 20 is in front of me, but these days everyone keeps their panties in so much of a wad that I had no idea what society would do to me.  Trust me, I’ve had people say the weirdest things to me over the years for far less than 20+ items.  The cashier was just as friendly to me at the end of the sale as she was at the beginning – after ringing up said 20+ items.  I really appreciated her turning a blind eye.  And, for the woman behind me.  She could see into my cart – full view.  But, she said nothing.  I was late picking up my other kids, it was dark, hubby was at home with sick son waiting with dinner…I really just needed to check out and leave.  It’s as though God shushed everyone and let me pass.  If we are honest, we all need a pass sometimes.  That’s why I don’t freak out when I’m the one waiting in line behind said 20+ item customer.  It must be their turn for a pass.

I am thankful that I could go to the store and replace the empty bag of cough drops, a bottle of vitamin C and honey without fearing an overdraft in my account.

I am thankful for driving my teens all over town tonight to their activities because: it means they are healthy and can do a sport they love to do, we have a van to drive around in that is warm and reliable (and although it’s 6 years old it’s paid for!!!), and it creates stolen moments of time with my teens that lends itself to great conversation with a captive audience – and that goes both ways.  My son drives, so he gives me a break and the 3 of us get to shoot the breeze about our days.  It is precious time that is the fabric of our days.

I am thankful for a faithful husband and children who love me no matter what.  We are a motley crew of love, forgiveness and laughter all wrapped up into one ball of organized chaos and I love it.

I am thankful for my dog who always greets me at the door – every single time.  She thinks each of us hung the moon!  Everyone needs someone in their life who thinks they can do no wrong – even if that someone is furry and walks on all fours.

I am thankful for a hot meal and deeply spiritual conversation with the family tonight.  Good stuff.  Nothing taken for granted.

I am thankful for a moment tonight to reflect on some of the blessings of the day.  These are just a few.

I am thankful for the opportunity to pray for friends and family.  We are community and have each others’ backs.  What would I do without them?

I am thankful for praying over my children.  What an honor.  I love that my oldest son, in the nest for only a couple of more years, still comes to me at my computer late at night just to tell me he loves me one more time.  And for my daughter who asks me to help fix her hair.  For a teenage girl to ask her mom to help her with her hair – that’s a huge compliment!  I love how she and I have our own girl club here, being outnumbered by the guys and all.

People spend too much energy rating their blessings.  If it’s big, then it’s special and deserves praise.  I love the big blessings, but it’s the small ones that remind me how well God knows me – and that’s a big deal.  He finds ways to bless us that are so personal, so unique to just our lives, it makes me smile and shake my head in wonder.

I am thankful for His love, protection and hand of mercy that leaves its fingerprints all over my life.  When a believer begins to grasp the grace and mercy and unconditional love God has for us (and the whole world), then we can release all of our worries and fears and fully trust Him to work His plan in our lives.  That is true contentment, and I am going to sleep tonight feeling very content.  I hope you can, too.

Lastly, I am thankful for a healthy body that was able to do all of these things today.  Clarity of mind, physical strength and good health are far too often taken for granted.  I’ve watched loved ones suffer without one or more of these.  I’ve suffered without physical strength and good health.  When I lay down to go to sleep, it will be with a tired body that will know it’s a good tired because it was used in love and service to my family and community.

Tomorrow is another day, and I will look for the hidden blessings along the path God has willed for my life.  I pray the same for you.  Until then, here’s to being thankful for one of life’s sweetest, richest blessings…rest.  Ahh.

I prayed the wrong prayer

I’ve had missions on my mind heart and mind so much lately as sign-up deadlines approach.  In the post, An honest look at missions, I divulged some of the fears I’ve felt this year about returning to the global mission field.  In, The day I touched fear, I explored more deeply what those fears look like from the inside out.

Today, it’s a totally different story.  Just when I thought things were beginning to settle down in my mind, God had something unexpected prepared for last Thursday.

It began on Wednesday night.  We were at church for dinner before nightly activities began.  Serving the salad bar was a man I highly respect and admire (though I am not sure he knows it).  His and his wife have dedicated their retirement years to taking their grandchildren, one by one, on mission.  It is their gift to them.  I had never heard of this, but now, Lord willing, Bruce and I would love to do the same thing one day.  So my dear friend, Kermit, said Hello – always with a smile – when he saw me approach.  Hi Kermit!  I replied cheerfully, always happy to see him.

When I see him I think of one thing…Kenya.  He and his wife were part of our team in 2011 that went on mission to Kenya.  Let me just tell you that this man was incredible throughout the entire journey.  He never uttered a complaint, never said No, never looked tired, nothing!  He trucked on every day with whatever the agenda was.  Our team leaders, Don and Pat, also grandparents, as well as Kermit’s wife, Kay, were exactly the same way.  They have no idea how much I watched them work through every unexpected trial and celebrate every great moment.  Kenya was my first global mission trip as well as the first time I had ever left the States.  I was wide-eyed at the whole thing and loved every surreal moment.

Kermit was a mentor to me on that trip whether he realized it or not.  Whether it was sawing wood at an orphanage, washing feet at a children’s school on the side of the mountain, digging trenches for a foundation, or harvesting corn for an orphanage, his attitude was always an enthusiastic Yes.  At any given time you could find him quietly working – never for accolades, never bringing attention to himself.  He simply did what he came to do – serve.  And serve with a joyful heart he did.

Copyrighted photos for Real Deep Stuff - Page 194

Copyrighted photos for Real Deep Stuff - Page 195

He and his wife brought one of their grandsons with them who was graduating high school and wants to go into medicine.  He was able to observe surgeries at the only hospital in the entire area servicing 850,000 people.  So in addition to tireless efforts of physical work and long van rides across unbelievable bumpy roads, Kermit and Kay spent quality time with their grandson in the evenings encouraging him in his passion for medicine.

You can see why I am so taken back with them.  Role models.  Inspirational.

A few Sundays ago, when I was really struggling with feelings of fear of going on global mission, I stood with the congregation at church while everyone sang – but me.  Tears streamed down my cheeks.  I could not utter a word.  I was overwhlemed with emotion because in the choir stood men (including Kermit) and women who have been on mission all over the world, and yet they were able to stand and smile while singing Chris Tomlin’s song Whom Shall I Fear…

You hear me when I call, You are my morning song, Though darkness fills the night, It cannot hide the light…

Whom shall I fear?

You crush the enemy, Underneath my feet, You are my Sword and Shield, Though trouble lingers still…

Whom shall I fear?

I know Who goes before me, I know Who stands behind, The God of angel armies, Is always on my side.  The One who reigns forever, He is a Friend of mine, The God of angel armies, Is always by my side…

My strength is in Your name, For You alone can save, You will deliver me, Yours is the victory

I know Who goes before me, I know Who stands behind, The God of angel armies, Is always on my side.  The One who reigns forever, He is a Friend of mine, The God of angel armies, Is always by my side…

Whom shall I fear?  Whom shall I fear?

And nothing formed against me shall stand, You hold the whole world in your hands, I’m holding onto Your promises, You are faithful, You are faithful, You are faithful

I know Who goes before me, I know Who stands behind, The God of angel armies, Is always on my side. The One who reigns forever, He is a Friend of mine, The God of angel armies, Is always by my side…

I know Who goes before me, I know Who stands behind, The God of angel armies, Is always on my side. The One who reigns forever, He is a Friend of mine, The God of angel armies, Is always by my side…

The God of angel armies is always by my side.

(Read more: CHRIS TOMLIN – WHOM SHALL I FEAR (GOD OF ANGEL ARMIES) LYRICS)

 It has been people I know who have inspired me the most to take our family on mission.  Celebrities make headlines and win humanitarian awards, but far and away it is people who quietly go about the Lord’s business, sacrificing their hard-earned money and vacation time, who I look at and think, Maybe I can do it, too.

With that thought, an unexpected conversation came up between my husband and me.  I was sitting in the Wal-Mart parking lot with the bright morning sun beaming into the van last Thursday.  I called him to briefly chat about missions.  We’ve been so upside down and inside out about it that we seem to talk in circles.  Frustrating.

I told him that I felt a new passion to go back to Ukraine.  As for Kenya, that is still undecided.  I heard myself say to him with confidence and certainty, I’m going to Ukraine.  He basically said, Okay, but I’m not sure what I’m doing.

After the phone call, I sat silent in the van.  Something didn’t seem right.  Why wasn’t I excited that half of my decision for this year’s missions had been finally – at long last – decided?  I should’ve felt relieved, joyful and sure.  Instead, I felt very anti-climatic about the whole thing.

God spoke to me in the van and said, Why is this only about you?  Are you not half of a whole?

Immediately, my heart understood.

To know me is to know I’ve struggled my entire adult life trying to live a life of biblical submission to my husband.  It’s not how I was raised, as my biological father and step father both left my life at early ages.  I grew to be a headstrong, independent and self-reliant woman.  Partially out of mistrust of men, and partially because I never wanted to be hurt again and believed people will only let you down – especially those who are supposed to have your back.

I have such a stubborn, independent streak in me it is nearly impossible to ever ask for help of any kind from anyone.  It’s not a control thing.  It’s an I’m going to end up having to do it anyway so why go through the grueling process of involving others because they are only going to let me down thing.

So, without me even realizing it, missions had become yet another area where I took the ball and ran.  Rather than looking at these opportunities with my heart toward my husband, I was peering through the glasses of practicality and reasonability.

I had been praying the wrong prayer of God, where do You want to send me?  Instead of, God where do you want to send us?

I didn’t even realize I had morphed my independent nature into missions!  Bruce and I are different people with different passions.  But, we are two halves of a whole.  When we made a covenant oath at the altar almost 23 years ago, we were joined into one flesh.

Leaving consideration for him out of my prayer was selfish.  And it was the feeling of, I got my way, that I felt in the van that left me celebrating alone.

Despite my good intentions of doing God’s kingdom work here on earth, my carnal nature creeped into my thoughts.  Here’s why…the first two mission trips were very scary for me.  I am not a seasoned world traveler.  I am not bilingual.  I am not proficient in cultural differences around the world compared to my own – other than the obvious ones.

It was all of these I’m nots that kept me from feeling qualified or invited to go on mission for my entire life until now.  Fast forward – jumped those hurdles, but it still took more courage than I could muster up to commit, particularly because these mission trips involved taking our children which I take very seriously.  I needed Bruce to make the final call.  As the leader of our home, I needed him to say yes or no.  So for both trips, I passed the baton to him to decide.

This year, however, it felt very different for me.  I’ve been to both places, so there aren’t near as many unknowns.  I also understand more what is expected from me from the team.  I simply feel more prepared than before – as much as it is possible to feel.

Enter my stubborn independence.

I was ready to possibly take an entirely different mission trip from my husband, without ever hearing his final point-of-view…and God let me feel every last ounce of that loneliness.

There is a time and season for everything, and I am sure there will come a time when we do participate in different mission trips, but neither one of believe that time has come yet.  It was out of sheer self-reliance that I went ahead and told him what I was going to do.  Hmm.  Then God brought to mind our crazy life.  Between work, kids, and all of our commitments, we have to scratch and claw for anytime together.  It could always be worse, but it’s not ideal.  We know this is a season of life, and all too soon our house will be deafeningly quiet and I will mourn for the wonderful chaos that greets me in the morning and tucks me in at night.

Given that, why would I not bat an eye at the possibility of spending weeks apart?  I believed my own lie of being too independent.  God brought to mind my biological father and his wife.  You’ve never seen a closer couple.  They were best friends.  Inseparable.  Loving.  Considerate.  Two halves that made a beautiful whole.

I want that.

Watching her care for him in his last days, the intimacy they shared – the eye contact, touch, whispers, – was the result of many years of building a marriage that was committed.  Resolute.  I used to think it was a little over the top that they always had to sit together, go places together, etc.  Now that he is gone, I see that they were intentional about making the most of their time together.  There were their own persons, yes, but they never forgot they were two halves of a whole.

After pondering all of this, still sitting in the parking lot, I texted Bruce.  This is what I wrote, Hi Honey, I wanted to tell you that after giving it a lot of thought, I would rather go with you on mission to wherever than without you on mission to wherever.  I often think about Ray and Gail and their relationship.  They were inseparable.  They were best friends and did everything together.  I would like to see that for us in missions, so I concede to wherever it is you want to go just as long as we can be together or unless God says differently.  We are one flesh, one team, and I don’t want to break up the team.  Think about it and let me know.  I love you.

That text was surprisingly freeing for me!  I felt like my heart was finally in a place of peace.  Funny, the first two years I needed him to make the decision as to where to go. This year, I asked him to.  I may have felt my inner wild horse buck and kick, but my heart knew that missions isn’t one more thing I want to lead us on different paths.

Yesterday, a dear friend of mine (who went to Ukraine with us last year) asked me if we were going to sign-up for it this year.  With a calm, peaceful smile I was able to genuinely reply, I’m waiting on Bruce to make that call…and if so, I’m leaving it up to him to sign up us.

That, friends, is the work of the Holy Spirit because the independent woman writing this would normally take matters into her own hands.

She smiled at me and said, Oh, you’re working on the “s” word, huh?  I laughed because I knew what word she meant – submission.   Indeed I am.  Waiting for Bruce to write our names down is very important to me for whatever reason.  I suppose it shows his iniative after much prayer and discussion, though I haven’t told him this is my wish.

Last night, before we left to watch the Superbowl with some friends, Bruce casually told me as we gathered coats and a chocolate cake,  Oh by the way, earlier today I put our names down for Ukraine.

His words stopped me in my tracks in the middle of the kitchen.  Later, I circled back with him and inquired.  He agreed that this is the only option for our family to go on mission all together.  He feels a peace about it and we are all excited.  God knew my secret wish for Bruce to write our names down on any of the trips we take this year, and He directed Bruce to do so out of loving consideration for me.  God is the good God and knows our secret thoughts.  Incredible.

So, one decision down and one to go – Kenya.  God has given us much peace that this decision will come in His timing, not ours.  So be it.  For now, I look forward to going back to people we fell in love with in Eastern Europe; to work with a team we greatly admire; we get to take all of our kids; and…most of all…Bruce and I have the blessing of going on mission together.

God is good.  Actually, He is amazing!  Every year, the decisions we have made about missions have been completely unique to the trip.  This year is no different.  God’s ways are not our ways, and His timing certainly doesn’t hold itself to our society’s demand for instant information, but His ways are best.  Had He given us the answer early on, I would have missed a teachable moment to see that in this process, Bruce and I walked dangerously close to the line of separating our longitude and latitude, once again, for the good of the cause.  We do enough of that in our daily lives.

When the time comes to travel separately for missions, God will give us a peace about that and we will perfectly okay with it.  For now, I write to testify that Philippians 4:6-7 really works in and through all things – even with a strong-willed, autonomous person like myself. ;)

Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Today, and on mission, I won’t forget I am half of a whole.  Colossians 3:15 reminds us - Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace. And be thankful.

Thankful, indeed.

The day I touched fear

Copyrighted photos for Real Deep Stuff - Page 193It was a hot, sunny day on the west coast of Florida.  I was with my husband and his family visiting his younger brother in college.  Beach-dwellers that we are, we embarked on a day of sun, sand and water.

I stood at the tide line and gazed out at the watery horizon.  We were planning to snorkel, not something I’m crazy about doing.  There just seems something really unnatural about breathing through a tube underwater.  I usually wind up semi-hyperventilating because I am unable to regulate my breathing.  I imagine all kinds of what-if scenarios:  a drop of water spilling into the snorkel causing my airway to close, a wave engulfing my snorkel with the same result, etc.  Let’s just say it, I don’t like to snorkel, but was willing to be a good sport and go along with the family plan.

A long, thick, dark line rippled in the water.  Squinting, I saw it was a large band of seaweed that stretched across the water in both directions as far as I could see.  To make matters worse, the seaweed began The Deep.  You know, where the tidal shelf drops into oblivion and  creatures of the sea play in their playground.

I love, love, love the sea and all that is in it.  From sharks to angler fish to sea urchins, I will never stop getting a kick out of God’s creativity, imagination and ingenuity that is so proudly displayed in the creatures of the sea.  But, I also know humans weren’t meant to live in it, and thus we enter their territory. I fully respect that it is their home and not mine.

Splashing around in shallow water is one thing.  Venturing into the deep, dark unknown is another.  I swallowed hard and felt my stomach turn.  I reasoned that as long as I didn’t touch the seaweed, I would be in the safer, shallow water.

Got it.  The seaweed is my marker.  It was the beginning of The Deep.  I will tolerate snorkeling as long as I don’t touch a thread of the nasty stuff.

Bruce, his brother and I waded out into waist-high water, fighting against the crashing waves and stubborn under toe.  They both dipped headfirst into the water with only the tips of their snorkels spouting up in the air and an occasional flipper kicking behind them.

My turn.

I took a deep breath then practiced a few normal breaths through the snorkel.  My chest was already heaving.

Just go already, I said to myself, not wanting to fall behind.

I leaned forward and fell face-first into the murky water.  Phase 1 complete.

I began to kick my flippers, swimming parallel to the beach as the current tried to pull me toward the shore.

Don’t touch the seaweed, Kristi.  Whatever you do, don’t touch the seaweed! I reminded myself over and over.  I didn’t want to be anywhere near the abyss that housed mysterious creatures lurking who knows how closely by.  Florida, after all, is home to some of the largest shark populations in the world.  Love them!!!!  But, I don’t need a close encounter with them unless its through a cage.

I tried to follow the shadowy figures of my husband and brother-in-law.  It was really hard to see in the water thick as pea soup.

All of a sudden, you guessed it, I felt the seaweed.  It brushed up against my left arm, then my left leg.  It tickled my stomach, and longer strands grazed my hair.

Before I knew it, I was completely tangled up in the mess of it!  It was all over me as if I were a small fly caught in an enormous spider web.  The more I struggled to break free, the worse it got.

Couple this moment with the fact that I’m definitely hyperventilating through the dumb snorkel and I can only imagine the show I must have given the sun worshipers on the sandy beach.  I probably looked like I was wrestling an alligator (which have been known to make an appearance!).

My body was flailing horizontally on the water’s surface as I struggled to remain clam.  Nope.  I was too far gone for that.  My lungs grew hot as I held my breath, not wanting any water to fill my snorkel, and my arms and legs were utterly caught in the disgusting seaweed.  I could no longer see my husband or brother-in-law and knew I had been separated from them.  I was in big trouble.  I had been pulled into the seaweed by the current and was in The Deep – alone.

Just don’t try to stand up, Kristi.  Then you’ll know how really deep you are and that will make matters worse, I counciled myself.

No such luck.  The will of self-preservation kicked in and I shot out of the water like a rocket, breathing a huge, obnoxious gulp of air with eyes bulging and body shaking.

To my surprise, and embarrassment, I nearly tackled my poor brother-in-law!  He was only about a foot in front of me, and I landed right in his face.  He had turned toward me in the same moment I sailed through the air like a swordfish with a sheer look of horror on my face.

When I landed, my feet plunged into the sand much sooner than I expected to in The Deep.

Well, that is because I wasn’t actually in The Deep.  I stood up and realized the water was barely to my waist.  There I stood, with seaweed draped on me like a swamp monster, heaving, snorkel floating nearby in the water, trembling with mouth agape at the whole escapade.

He looked with shock and bewilderment at the scene I had created.

I quickly gathered my composure (on the outside), gave a sheepish smile and apologized for my weird behavior and told him I was fine.

He gave me an Okay, but I don’t really believe you, you crazy woman glance, then turned around and continued snorkeling.

I, however, could only stand there and process what had happened.  I looked again at the band of seaweed, and from where I was standing in the water, it wasn’t drifting as far out to sea as it looked like from the shore.  Nor could I judge how deep the water was with sand in between my toes.

We were, in fact, a safe distance from The Deep.  Everything changed when I saw it from a different longitude and latitude.  Boy did I feel ridiculous!

That experience has never left me – nor the lesson it taught me.

I learned that fear is powerful.  Very powerful.  It can affect us mentally, emotionally and physically.  Fear of the unknown allows much room for us to fill in the blanks with worst-case scenarios.

What began as a fun day at the beach with my extended family turned into, in my mind, a life-or-death situation where I was being pulled out to sea and straight into the mouth of something much larger and stronger than me.

There were multiple layers of fear that day.  Fear of being separated from my family.  Fear of being alone.  Fear of not being able to control the situation.  Fear of what may have its eye on me.  Fear of just how deep the trouble I was in – way over my head.  Fear of not being able to breathe.  Fear of being helpless and being beyond help.  And fear that this horrible moment will never, ever end!

Were any of those fears real?  Well, some – to a point.

If I had been separated from my family, I guess I believed I would have been lost forever.  This stems from abandonment issues – 20 years later I am still working on courtesy of childhood scars.  The truth is, my family wouldn’t have left the beach without me.  They would have, at some point, noticed I was gone, and felt like I was worthy enough to come find me.

I don’t know many people who like being alone lonely.  Let me clarify that.  I love being alone, but have a very hard time handling loneliness   I had that in spades growing up, and if I never feel lonely again it would be too soon.  I thoroughly enjoy time by myself, but that’s not the same as being lonely.  Being lost in the ocean would have been the bad kind of being alone, but again, I didn’t believe at the time that I was worth searching for.  Enter lonely and afraid.

Fear of a lack of control.  Please raise your hand if you struggle with this, too!  Don’t we all want to be the captain of our ship in some way?  It’s our carnal nature to turn our compass in the direction we want to go.  And, if we could control the weather, the water, the sun and the moon so as to plan our trip, well, that would be even better.  In the moment of sheer panic in the ocean that day, trusting God for my safety was the last thing on my mind.  Was He not watching?  Seeing?  Still sovereign on His throne? (Psalm 121)  Does He not care for us all of the time? (Matthew 6:25-34)

And yes, anytime we venture into a world where we are the minority, the foreigner, there is risk.  Listen to survivors tell their stories of being lost in the Amazon, on the African plains, in ice caverns, etc.  When we are in these places – we play by the rules of nature there.  Sure, there could have been something in the water, but again, I had total amnesia as to God’s hand of protection or His plans for my life.  Even if I had been attacked by a shark, could God still not find a way to use it for my good and His glory?  He can…with our cooperation.

Sometimes we get into trouble over our head either by choice or by default.  I had lost sight of God as Rescuer either by the hand of a loved one or stranger, or any other creative means He may choose to save me.  I believed the situation was bigger than me and God.  That is wrong.  Lots of things are bigger than me, but nothing is bigger than God.  I never asked Him to save me.  That makes me sad.  He is my Good Father and I forgot to call on Him when I needed help.

Life feels suffocating sometimes.  We feel helpless.  This is a recipe for panic and anxiety.  God is God of peace and order.  He controls all, all the time.  Nothing happens to us that hasn’t passed through His hands first.  He can never be surprised, shocked or unprepared for what life may bring. We can be blindsided.  He never closes His eyes.  When we are at our worst, weakest and most helpless, He is our superhero, our Savior.

Ah.  The last fear – that the moment will never end.  That was a low blow from the enemy.  Nothing on this earth will last forever.  No, I take that back.  There are two things – God’s Word and our decision as to where to spend eternity.  Everything else will fade away (Matthew 24:35).  Everything.  When we are caught in a moment that feels like a downward spiral pulling us further from the oxygen we need so badly to get through a tough situation, it is easy to merely see the darkness enveloping around us.  But, broaden our lens and we see that even darkness is as light to God.  Nothing is hidden from Him (Psalm 139:12).

I’ve been thinking about this experience lately in regards to missions.  I’ve let fear take me hostage on a runaway train of imagination and exaggeration and have felt every fear that I did at the beach that day.  There are risks to missions, but there is risk walking to our mailbox, driving to work, and anything we do.  Anything.  When deciding what to do about missions this year, it would behoove us to deliberately, intentionally, boot fear to the curb.  It has no place in God’s calling.

What are you fearful about?  Have any big decisions weighing on you?

I think God understands we feel fear because He remembers we are made of dust (Psalm 103:13-14).  We aren’t superhuman like He is.  But, when we choose to see things from His longitude and latitude (a heavenly perspective, I might add), we are reminded of just how much He loves us and never takes His eyes off of us (Psalm 17:8).  And, the more we turn from our natural instinct to fear and choose to think like Him, the more we can see His divine plan at work in our lives.

Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will. ~ Romans 12:2

Whether heading out for a fun day at the beach, or stepping out in faith on mission, there is one Truth that remains – and it is enough for all who call on Christ as Savior…

Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go. ~ Joshua 1:9

Dear Lord, lead on.  Amen.

An honest look at missions

I’m wrestling against an enemy I cannot see.  Right now, our family is making some difficult decisions regarding missions for this year.  As I sat at the dinner table last night, a raw thought spilled out of my mouth.

This used to be fun, I said resting my fork on the table and blankly staring out the window.

You know, the mission decision.  It was exciting.  Adventurous.  A radical move of following God where He leads.  Now, I am so twisted up in knots I can’t think straight.

My children looked at me in bewilderment.  This wasn’t their fearless mother who encourages, instructs and motivates her children to say YES! to God before we know the question.

I hesitate to write any further in the event I come off sounding like a whiny, spoiled American.  The fact is, I have nothing to complain about on a global spectrum of needs.  I feel guilty for even writing this post because I have no room to complain compared to the billions of other people who share this planet.

But, I am also human.  Finite.  Flawed.  I have weaknesses I cannot deny, and it’s those weaknesses that want to keep me from leaving my nest.  I have feelings.  I have emotions.  Sometimes when thinking about missions I wonder how much my heart can take when I see the most basic of needs or witness the power-hungry, cruelty of humanity.

I am a woman who has been on 2 different mission trips to very different parts of the world – Africa and eastern Europe.  On each trip, I’ve never felt so alive.  So…New Testament, if you will.  I’ve never in my life cast everything aside to follow God and trust Him for every step.  It was blind faith like I’ve never had before.  It was perfect peace that is ridiculous to the world’s ears.  So, why aren’t I dragging out our bags and grabbing our passports this year?

I will be completely honest and tell you it is fear.

You see, when I went on those trips, I had no idea what to expect.  The trips were going to be what they were, and I was perfectly fine with that because I didn’t know any differently.  I lived moment-to-moment in each continent and abandoned all of my plans, agenda, requirements, everything.  I fully immersed myself in the culture and in God’s leadership.

However, when we returned from Kenya two summers ago, a tsunami-sized wave of what if scenarios hit me hard and brought me to my knees.

My eyes were no longer blind to what could happen on a mission trip, or simply traveling overseas by myself or with our children.  I know it was the enemy that tried hard to steal my joy of all that God did on that mission trip, and I felt powerless to stop him because what could I say?  God never promised safe passage, only that we’d never be alone in it.

There were times when we were completely relying on God to help us – like when we arrived in Nairobi and customs took far longer than we thought.  The driver who was to pick us up at the airport, when the clock finally struck midnight and the airport was closing, wasn’t there.

I thought, That’s okay.  Our leaders have this under control.  I’ll just wait with the kids and our luggage until something works out.

On a warm summer afternoon, as we drove back from visiting a school totally off the grid, rain began to fall.  The water mixed with the powdery dust and made the roads as slippery as ice.  Our van slid and skid and we hung on tight as I looked out the window to see deep trenches on either side of our van.  I simply hung on, smiling, knowing everything would be alright.

When our oldest son fell at an orphanage and suffered a severe, and I mean severe, concussion, we did all we could for him without the availability of any proper means for exam or treatment.  In fact, the next day we had to travel hours to another school, which proved to be the worst roads I’ve ever been on.  We were literally thrown out of our seats for the hours-long ride.  Not at all what a concussion patient needs to rest and mend.  However, choices were limited and we trusted God with our son’s health – in addition to pain relievers and waking him up every two hours and doing all we cold to keep him comfortable.

Even on the safari we had the privilege to take after our mission work was done proved to make the hair stand up on my neck.  At one point, our Land Rover got lodged on a large boulder on an incline up a mountain.  If that wasn’t nerve-racking enough, there happened to be two Cape Buffalo on either side of our vehicle, so close we cold touch them.  Our driver was out of cell phone reach and we were stuck.  That was one moment when I truly felt like I was going to have a panic attack as our vehicle had no windows or roof.  We wound up having to back off the boulder, going straight down the mountain backwards.  Oh my soul.

Upon our arrival back in the States, something in the water the ONE TIME my husband and I consumed it via ice on the plane made us so sick we wanted to die.  We broke our family’s 8-year streak of not throwing up.  Friends had to come take our kids to their homes so Bruce and I could just lie there and not talk or move or anything for days.  It was wicked.

I could go on and tell of the times that I felt vulnerable and completely out of my element…but it was awesome.  When I was at my weakest, God was at His strongest. Never have I needed to rely on Him more.

I could tell you how much I learned from the loving Kenyan people that contentment is a state of mind, not a tangible luxury.  They blew me away with how happy they were in the midst of suffering, gentle in the face of hardship, at peace in the midst of crisis.

I could tell you about a little girl, 5 or 6 years old, who lost her leg in a fire and dragged her little body on her stomach every week from her house to church – by herself.  The church, using scrap lumber from a donation to build a small, plywood structure, constructed a crutch for her, and how team members with us made some phone calls and lo and behold a pediatric prosthetic surgeon was going to be making her first-ever visit to this region and with donations from our church this precious little girl now has a prosthetic leg and runs and plays with the rest of her friends for the first time.  Her mom, a former prostitute, was so overwhelmed by the love of the church that she gave her life to Christ and has begun an honorable career to provide for them both.

I could tell you about the wonderful man who runs a dearly loved orphanage with children that we fell in love with so much our hearts nearly burst.  He has dedicated his life to providing for these children, when he himself lost his oldest son in a piki piki (motorcycle) accident last summer.  Yet, he continues to serve these precious little ones who are so full of promise if only they would be given a chance.

I met a boy at this orphanage who is so brilliantly smart, will he ever have an opportunity to change the world?

Our daughter fell head over heals in love with a little girl at this orphanage and the two became inseparable.  A photo of the two of them hangs on the wall of her bedroom still today.

The worship, the joy and the trust these Kenyans have in God is breathtaking.

In Ukraine this past summer, we met some of the most inspiring young people I’ve ever seen.  They are a new generation whose hope is in God of the possible.  They welcomed us as family from the first greeting, and clung to us in sorrowful tears when we left.  They are unlike any group of teens I know.  They have committed themselves to the leadership of their church.

Working with them was such an honor!  They don’t know the word impossible, and have a pure faith in Jesus that is hard to find in the States.  A few boys and girls befriended me and I carry them in my heart still today.

One young boys’ dream is to come to the States so he can be healed of his crippling disease and deaf ears.  His heart is so tender and smile so big, he captivated me with his gentle spirit and quiet determination to be involved in what everyone was doing with us.

However, the remnants of Soviet control are everywhere – and it was daunting.  The search light towers, barbed wire, and antiquated barracks of military and political oppression were merely feet from us and proved to be an ominous presence for a woman like myself who has never been more grateful for her freedom in the United States.

I also had one of the worst sinus infections I’ve ever experienced the day we were to return home.  Flying with a 101.5 fever and climbing, a head so stopped up I could hardly hear and definitely couldn’t breathe well, it took everything in me to step on the plane. The first leg of the flight was 10 hours, then an overnight stay and connecting flight.  I tried to count the hours until I could get to a doctor, as well as muster the courage to get on the second flight.

But for the time being, I had to succumb to the fact that I would be airborne for 10 hours with this horribly severe sinus infection. I wanted to just let the luggage fall off my shoulders and let my body fall into a heap in the middle of the airport.  I wanted to cry. But, I had to keep moving.

On both missions, the good outweighed the bad for sure.  But here I sit with some big decisions to make with my husband.  Dynamics are different this year.  We are confused. I can’t hear clearly because of the what-ifs taunting me.

It would be so easy, so comfortable, to just say no this year.  We have a full life right here, and most days we feel we are hanging on by our fingernails.  We wonder if it’s too much to ask of our children again.  Perhaps some will stay home?  Perhaps not.  Bruce’s work is a demanding job, and he enjoys it very much.  But, it consumes a lot of his time and as a wife I worry about balance in his life.  Can he handle missions this summer, or will it be too taxing on him mentally, physically or emotionally?  I get concerned about my own health, as since traveling overseas I’ve realized my ankles blow up like balloons and am not sure how bad or not this is for me.  I wear compression hose, but still…  Also, our typhoid shots expire soon and we may need new ones.  Will this be the time one of us has a reaction to the vaccine?  Will the fundraising come in as I honor my husband’s (and children’s) requests (which is also my heart’s desire) to stay home for this season of life as wife and mother and we live on one income?  Will international travel go okay this go round?  Will more injuries occur?  Will more illness break out?

So many questions burden my heart.

The first time around, we were giddy knowing that God simply said Go.  Ignorance truly was bliss.

Now, we’re not so naive, and the knowledge I’ve gleaned about serving on short-term mission trips scares me.  There is so much that could go wrong that I never ever imagined. Now my eyes are open and I kind of wish they weren’t.

I have a whole new appreciation for Christ’s words to pick up our cross daily and follow Him.

To go or not to go isn’t about leaving my comfort zone, although I shocked myself with how uncomfortable I was feeling dirty the entire time in Africa.  I hid these feelings and they turned into shame and guilt – which discouraged my desire for missions.

I was overwhelmed the entire time we were in Ukraine regarding the language barrier.  I remember riding in a bus on the highway trying to make any sense of the billboards.  It was almost a panicky feeling that swept over me in an enormous need to simply read or hear English in the community.  Again, I was so ashamed of these negative feelings I hid them.  Stuffed them.  And the enemy is using them against me.

Perhaps some of it is a loss of control of my life on mission.  I am a team member and follow the leaders.  Here in my daily life, although Bruce is surely the head of our house, I am the site manager who oversees the house, kids, volunteering, everything that is in the scope of my job while he is as his job.

Empty hands feel odd.

I’m so okay with following an agenda bigger than myself, the loss of sleep, the different foods, etc. so what’s my problem?

I don’t like flying at all.  I must leave some creature comforts at home – and with my back that’s easier said than done.  And I’m afraid of the known and unknown.  Okay.  I said it.

I hate admitting fear because it’s admitting a lack of trust in God, and I want to trust God with everything in me.  Mark 9:22-24 sums up my heart the best.  In the words of a worried and scared father over his possessed child…

“…But if you can do anything, take pity on us and help us.

If you can? said Jesus.  Everything is possible for him who believes.

Immediately the boys’ father exclaimed, I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!”

Yes, God, I do believe…help me overcome my unbelief.

I’ve been yearning for direction and confirmation about what to do for missions this year. We feel the squeeze of time to make decisions.  I’m so tangled up in this I can’t think straight.

Oh how I wish I could just say, Yes, now what’s the question?

However, yesterday we received a letter from our Compassion daughter in Africa.  She has had such a hard life – losing her mom and dad – yet she has accomplished a nursing degree and is now working and supporting herself and her little brother.  We are so proud of her.  She’s come a long way since she became a part of our family when she was only 7 years old, living with her grandmother and brother.

In her recent letter, she told us her grandmother died and she is working in a different town than where she grew up.  She has had family and location changes.  Totally out-of-the-blue, in her letter to us she wrote, I encourage you don’t worry, for God is with you everywhere you are and He has good plans.

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I have been struggling inside over what to do about missions.  I have been beside myself and lay awake at night and mull it over and over in my head. I continue to ask God, but my thoughts drown out His voice. Our Compassion daughter’s words jumped off the page and into my heart.  Of all the letters over the last 14 years from her, it was this letter and her words at this time.  It is no coincidence.

Our Compassion daughter, who we’ve supported by paying for her food, clothing, education, etc. throughout the years in hopes that she will come to have a fulfilling life, saved by grace, provided me the wisdom I needed to hear at the exact moment I needed to hear it.  All these years I’ve been trying to bless her, and, as a fully grown woman she blessed me with Truth that I know, but cannot hear above the fear.

I was her mission ground, and her words all the way from Africa penetrated my heart and helped me believe again.

It’s with a broken heart, having seen the needs of this world God so dearly loves, and a mind submitted to God’s sovereignty, that I cannot resist Him anymore.  His love is contagious. His mercy divine.  His call undisputed.  His promise to never leave me is enough.

I will go.  Where?  I don’t know.  But I do know that my answer is Yes.

So Lord, she asks with a trusting heart and trembling hands, what is the question?

Repeating insanity

My husband loves caring for his “woodland friends” as we call it – birds, squirrels, etc. We have a few bird feeders that hang outside our kitchen window that he stocks and oversees.

Recently, those little thieves (a.k.a. squirrels) found our new bird feeder.  Bruce thought he out-smarted them when he moved the feeder directly in front of the large, glass window pane.

Nope.

The squirrels simply climb the tree, anchor themselves in the Y of the branches, stare intently at the hanging feeder, then take a daring leap, hoping to land on the feeder. It’s a good number of feet away, and they are not flying squirrels.

Amazingly, they stick the landing every time.  However, they and feeder slam into the window, and I was convinced one unfortunate squirrel was going to go right through the glass, so I had my son move the feeder.  Also, I was tired of jumping every time I heard a loud bang against the window.  Problem solved, right?

Nope.

For two straight days, those crazy squirrels launched off of the Y branch into the air – and the feeder was no longer hanging!  They slammed into the window over and over, falling into the stick-filled bushes below.  I was sure I’d find a poor soul impaled in the azaleas.

Over and over these squirrels climbed, launched, flew, smacked into the glass and fell.  It was pitiful, but I had not an ounce of sympathy for them.  Couldn’t they see the feeder was gone?  What possessed them to jump when there was nothing there to catch them?

And, why did it take multiple times of this nonsense before stopping?

I was at the sink one afternoon washing dishes when a loud thud hit the window and out of the corner of my eye I saw a grey mass slide down the glass.  My word.

In fact, it took putting that bird feeder on the ground to show them it wasn’t still hanging.  Finally, they stopped.

Before I made too much fun of them, or just racked it up to stupidity, I caught myself.  I’m not much different than them.

They say that the definition of insanity is repeating the same mistakes and expecting different results (likely first quoted from from the book Narcotics Anonymous). This word technically has legal roots describing a person’s mental capacity, but in our modern tongue the definition is also used to reflect how we feel about a situation.

People are creatures of habit.

Most people don’t like change.

That’s why we keep doing the same things hoping for a different result.  We don’t want to have to find another path to the same goal.  Familiar feels safe.  It’s comfortable.  It’s predictable – even if, in reality, we keep hitting the window.

So it’s January 7th today and we’ve ventured into the first week of the new year.  How are the 2013 resolutions coming?  I have a friend who has been a long-time member of the YMCA.  She says that every January, member visits drastically increase.  However, for her and her friends who are faithful all-year long, they call these January members “tourists.” Funny! She’s right!  Inevitably the number of member visits drop off as the year progresses.

We watched the ball drop in NYC on T.V. this year.  Did you notice that as SOON as the celebration was over, the following several television commercials were for weight loss? Coincidence?  I think not.

Whatever the things are that we want to change in our lives, are we doing anything about them?  Finding a new normal regarding health, jobs, relationships, etc. can be frustrating to say the least.  It involves being open to something new and the courage to do it – not just once or twice for a week or month.

Why is establishing a new path so hard?  Arg!

We see the end goal, but there is a part of us that throws a fit when a new idea is introduced as to how to obtain it.  Boy I wish I had the answer.

I’m struggling just like everyone else trying to put on my big girl panties, grow up and realize that my current normal is a fail in some areas.  I don’t want to change.  I want to do what I want to do and still reach the goal.

How childish, but it’s exactly why we can’t seem to make it over the finish line.

So, something must change.  There are many noble reasons for change: obedience to God, commitment to family, the reality of health risks, realizing we are worth the try and so on.  And, our pesky, lifelong dreams that inspire us simply won’t leave us alone.  (sigh)

It would behoove us to take the time to identify what truly needs to change in our lives, then form a plan to achieve it.  Like running a race without a course or driving across the country without a map or GPS, without a plan we simply run or drive in circles…driving us crazy.

Once we commit to a plan, we need to settle on the specs of that plan.

Remember the television show Friends?  I will never forget the episode where George Castanza figures out that if, going forward, he makes every decision based on the OPPOSITE of what he would normally decide, then life would go his way.  Ha!  If only it were that easy!

(Photo credit click here)

Just a week inside the new year and I’ve already been confronted with temptations to hightail it the other way regarding things that need to change in my life.  It’s so tempting to quit the race before I’ve even broken a sweat.

Some of it is control.  I don’t want to give that up.  Some of it is fear.  Do I really trust God in these areas?  Some of it is sheer laziness   I, frankly, just don’t want a new normal even if it means staying this way prolonges the end goal.  Some of it is lack of enthusiasm - especially regarding the changes that will cramp my current style.  Some of it is that I don’t know what to do about what needs to change.

Psalm 37:5-7, Commit your way to the Lord; trust in him and he will do this: He will make your righteousness shine like the dawn, the justice of your cause like the noonday sun. Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for him…

So in the presence of the Lord I wait, but need to be ready to move when He says move. That takes being intentional and exercising motivation whether I’m feeling it or not.

The word “tomorrow” is quick sand to the heart.  We sink deep in years-worth of tomorrows.  It’s suffocating.  Depressing.  Demotivating.

What does the book of James say about tomorrow?

James 4:13-14, Now listen, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money.” Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow…

This passage speaks to boasting, yes, but it’s not unlike what we do when we talk a big talk about our plans that we know we procrastinate.  It’s like we somehow want credit for just saying the words of what we will do, when we haven’t done a thing toward actually doing them.

Jesus said in Matthew 6:34, Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.

The opposite of empty boasting – worrying – can hold us back just as much.  This was true for me yesterday.  Our kitchen needs some long overdue repairs.  In fact, I’ve put this off for 15 years, and 15 years ago it already needed repairs.  There are simply too many decisions to make, too much money to spend, and it all makes my head spin.  Bruce and I had a lengthy conversation with the kitchen cabinet guy.  I told him I couldn’t find a color wood that worked for me.

He looked at me surprised and said, In all of these choices, there isn’t one color you like?

I scrunched up my face and replied, No, sorry.

Come with me, he insisted.

We walked over to the samples and he instructed, See all of these?  Pick out a maybe.  

A maybe?

Yes, a maybe.

I flipped through the same samples over and over and finally looked at him and again said, Nothing appeals to me.

No.  You must pick a maybe.

(Okay, this should be fun, right?  Waiting 15 years to fix some very real issues is not only sound wisdom to protect the investment of our house, but  it should be a happy occasion to finally consider the project.)

Begrudgingly, I flipped through them again and heard my inner child pouting.  He watched in amazement at my lack of decisiveness.

At long last, I picked a…maybe.

We sat back down at his desk as he proceeded to help me with my “color psychology” as I called it.

He said, If you could have any color cabinet in the world, what would it be?

I couldn’t answer.

You have to answer.

Ug. This guy was productively annoying.

Okay, see, what I like I cannot do because it’s too color specific and it wouldn’t be good for resale value and we may very well outgrow it in 5, 10 or 15 years.

Ah ha!  A breakthrough!  Deep down inside, I actually did have a choice hiding in the vortex of my brain.

Bruce and the guy looked at me with astonishment and asked why “years down the road” mattered to me.

I replied, Because I don’t want to have to do this all over again some day.  It’s hard to spend money on this right now with the economy, albeit quite necessary at this point in our kitchen.  I’m afraid. 

The guy looked at me and replied, You can’t think that far down the road.  Who knows what life will look like then.  Based on what you’ve told me, anything will be an improvement to what it is today.  Why worry about what you don’t even know will happen?

He is right.  It’s just kitchen cabinets, but he proves Jesus’ point on the more substantial things of life.

Uncredited boasting and worry sink our feet in tomorrow’s quicksand that inhibits us from making positive changes today.

Asking God for wisdom to see our lives through His perspective, forming a plan of change with His guidance, and exercising courage to take the first step – and keep stepping – is a plan for success.  After all, He knows us better than anyone (Psalm 139) and has a plan for a hope and future for us (Jeremiah 29:11).  And, He loves us.  He is the good Father.

Whether it be something tangible like house decisions, better health or jobs, or the intangibles like relationships or a godly perspective, change can be really good…and change is inevitable.

After all, the only thing that never changes is that everything changes. (Louis L’Amour)

Embracing the idea of change is where we start being productive toward the goal and stop hurting ourselves like those squirrels – chasing after something invisible that ended up adding nothing to their life except pain.

Let the journey begin.

What he said, she said about love

Happy 2013!!

I am so excited to continue this blog into a new year – this is a first!  We have 364 more days to traverse together, God willing.  Before launching forward, I want to share a December moment that I hope will be a blessing to you.  Ironically, this moment of the recent past has become a springboard in my life for a better future.  So perhaps this Christmas post does have a rightful home here today as I pray the same encouragement for you.

This Christmas was our first time using our new advent candles (via a recent post).  I really didn’t know how this would work out, and felt like I was bucking the system making up our own.

Turns out, we have had more meaningful conversation surrounding these candles than any other year ever.  On the 4th Sunday, we lit the 4th candle, the red candle of love.

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We asked the same question around the table, Anyone have a story of love they’d like to share?  My husband, Bruce, spoke up, I’ve got one.

He continued, looking at our children, Your mom and me.  She’s the only one for me.  Over two decades ago, she accepted me just the way I was – failures, flaws and all.  She was way out of my league.  I am still amazed that she chose to love me, but I’m glad she did.

I listened, then added with a contemplative smile, That’s funny, because I remember it very differently.  I couldn’t believe you wanted me!  I was such a mess.  I was a broken person with a shattered life, who felt very unlovely and unlovable.  You were my knight in shining armor.  You swept me off my feet – especially in your Air Force uniform.

Two people.  Two very different stories about the same love affair.  How could this be?

There was one common denominator that went far beyond our starry-eyed love for each other.  It was God’s love for us – and still is.  He is the God who saw our whole lives, and purposed to intertwine them together.  We have always loved each other, but it is God’s unending love for each of us and for our marriage that is the foundation, the glue, the common ground on which we stand – even if we don’t always see eye-to-eye or momentarily dislike one another.

We read 1 Corinthians 13, known as the love chapter, and we see what we strive to be to one another.  However, when I look at our marriage through God’s eyes, I see His vision for us, as well as where He implements this passage in our relationship.

God is 1 Corinthians 13 to us because God is love (1 John 4:16 ).  Knowing He has our back gives us strength to show love to one another.

God gave up His only Son out of love for the world.  Each December, we begin the reflection of this great sacrifice at Christmas as we walk Jesus’ timeline on this earth.  We do this every year in honor, remembrance, and celebration.

Spouses can have this same love in their marriages as well.  Whether it is as Christmastime, New Year’s, or any of the other 363 days of the year, we can light God’s light of love in our relationships. We do this not in our own strength, but in His.

God is for marriage – the way He intended it to be.  God is for His children who are the husbands and wives that make up the millions of marriages in this world.  It pleases Him to see men and women living in healthy, loving, covenant community with one another.

If you’ve come to a point in your marriage where the light seems all but extinguished, hope is elusive, and warm hearts have turned cold, seek God first.  Ask Him again to be God of your marriage.

He is the tie that binds when we are frayed and frazzled.

I look back at the beginning of “us” and am in awe at how differently Bruce and I saw the beginning of our relationship.  Both broken.  Both flawed.  Both dependent on God alone to guide us by His mighty hand.

We’ve called on that same hand for twenty-two years.  To hold.  To warm.  To lead.  To sustain.  It is strong enough to carry any load.

Because we have been forgiven and set free from our sins, as believers, we have total freedom to love each other as Christ loves the church, even as we still wrestle with our carnal natures.

It will always be a mystery to me that God can take two broken people and create one whole marriage.  I’ve never been good at math, but how does 1 + 1 = 1?

Scrapping the math book (gladly, I might add) I turn to the Bible for the answer.

“Haven’t you read,” (Jesus) replied, “that at the beginning the Creator ‘made them male and female,’ and said, ‘For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh’? So they are no longer two, but one. Therefore what God has joined together, let man not separate.” ~ Matthew 19:4-6

I believe with all my heart that one of the main issues tearing marriages apart is that husbands and wives fall into the trap that in an argument, touchy topic, or whatever threatens to divide, there must be a winner and loser.  In a marriage, if there is both a winner and loser, both people lose – and so does the marriage.

We must daily remind ourselves that we are on the same team.  I know.  I’ve been both the winner and the loser and neither position was productive in our relationship.

When we take sides, we divide what God declared as one entity.  This only leads us farther down the wrong path.

As 2013 begins, may I challenge each of us to examine our relationship with God, with our spouses and all of our relationships?  Are we loving others as He loves us?

No matter how wonderful or not our marriages are today, there is a whole year just waiting to happen.  We will ride the highs and feel ran over by the lows.  Today.  Today we must decide what our plan will be.  That begins with God’s plan.

Whether you are married, engaged, or seriously dating, one New Year’s resolution worthy of doing (not just making) is to pray for these relationships, release our control of them, submit to God and His plan, and love as Christ loves us and gave Himself up for us.

Let’s make this year, 2013, the year God has full-reign in our hearts, minds and actions for His glory and our good – and all of this begins at home.

What do our relationships look like from God’s perspective?  Read with me 1 Corinthians 13 as God Himself sets the example for each of us to follow…

If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. 2 If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. 3 If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing.

4 Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5 It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6 Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7 It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

8 Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. 9 For we know in part and we prophesy in part, 10 but when perfection comes, the imperfect disappears.11 When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me. 12 Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

13 And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

God’s grace, peace and blessings to you this new year,

Kristi

A Different Silent Night

Christmas.  A time that comes once a year.  We decorate our homes, exchange gifts, dance to familiar tunes, watch It’s a Wonderful Life and enjoy tasty treats, but there is something else paralleling this season…it is reality.

Reality is often far from the picture-perfect Hallmark cards we mail to family and friends.

There is one Christmas I’d like to share. Years after my mom’s death, on Christmas Eve, I was a young bride enjoying my modest kitchen while preparing food for the family Christmas dinner always held at my grandparent’s home.  Vegetables simmered on the stove and a pie bubbled in the oven.  Without realizing it, I let my guard down.

See, I have this wall.  It’s a wall that was created when my life as a teenager was annihilated by reality.  Forced to grow up far too soon, my coping/defense mechanism was to build a fortress around my heart.  Walls so thick that nothing – absolutely nothing – could penetrate them and ever destroy me like I had already been.

But, in this particular holiday season, I wanted so badly to enjoy the experience of Christmas with all of the happiness it entails.  I let my guard down while standing at the stove, with flickering twinkle lights on the tree in the living room and stockings hung with care beside it.

This would be the Christmas I would actually let myself enjoy as I tended to my baking and cooking.

The phone rang.

It was my sister.

Granddad’s been taken to the hospital.  Meet us there.

I felt sucker-punched.  Breath flew out of my body and I couldn’t inhale.  I dropped the large, wooden spoon I was using and immediately turned off the burners and oven.

A cold, prickly sensation felt like an electrical shock all over my body.

My first response?  The wall came up.

My husband and I raced to the hospital.  Memories of just a few days before of my granddad throwing up blood from his lung cancer, and how my husband was the hands and feet in that crisis, replayed over and over and over.

The sound of my grandmother crying out in reflexive, desperate prayer in the panic, Jesus!  Lord Jesus! haunted my mind.

We reached the hospital and found him in ICU.  The prognosis – grim.

After being there for hours, taking our one-person turn in visitation with him, we were told to go home for the night and get some rest because there was nothing anyone could do.

I sat in the ICU waiting room feeling numb and helpless.  It was Christmas Eve.  My only prayer was this - Dear God, please do not let Granddad die on Christmas day.  Please.  I beg You.  After everything our family has been through, we couldn’t handle this.  Please don’t let his death overshadow Christ’s birth for the rest of our lives.

I was the peace-maker in the family.  This time would be no different.  My husband and I went home to gather a few things.  I grabbed the Christmas-printed napkins I bought earlier that week, some muffins I had baked, the music cassette recorder/player and a Christmas cassette, and my Bible.

We dashed back up to the hospital and I laid these things on the coffee table in the ICU waiting room.  It was a cold, sterile room.  The pleather furniture was stiff and squeaked, white walls void of warmth, no windows, the florescent lighting stung my eyes, and the stale air made me sick to my stomach.

The clock struck midnight and it was now Christmas – and we would celebrate it in remembrance of Christ and in honor of my granddad.

While we took turns checking on Granddad, I played the music very softly and offered muffins on the Christmas napkins to my grandmother, husband, sister and her husband.  I read Christ’s birth in Luke.

Every hour that passed, I never stopped begging and pleading with God not to take Granddad on Christmas day.

After a very long 24 hours, the clock struck midnight again.  It was December 26th. At 10am, the nurse came into the waiting room and said two words, It’s time.

All 5 of us jumped up and ran down the hall, holding my grandmother’s hands as we hurried.

The nurse tried to explain what was physically happening to Granddad, and that he wasn’t in any pain, but I couldn’t understand any of it.  There was something much more pressing on my mind.

I wasn’t sure if my granddad was saved.

He was a good man.  A great man.  Loving.  Kind.  Respectful.  Generous.  Funny.  Never missed church.  Tithed.  Blessed every meal.  Read the devotional, The Upper Room, every day of his life.

But still, I never, ever heard him profess a personal relationship with Jesus Christ.

He did all of the things a Christian would do, but never having heard him share his personal faith in any way, I didn’t know for sure where he would spend eternity.  It is impossible to earn our way to heaven.  If that were the case, none of us would ever be enough, or do enough, to be good enough to make it there.

I stood beside Granddad’s bed and looked deep into his face.

The Holy Spirit prompted me to ask him about his faith.

Oh no.  No way.  I was the baby of the family.  My family already thought I was way too involved in my faith.  It was a touchy subject and I was a bit of the black sheep in this area.

No.  I can’t.  I just can’t.  I’m not going to stir up anything while he is dying.  I can’t do it in front my family.  It will upset them to hear me questioning his faith.  No.  Just no.

Do it.  You don’t have much time, the Holy Spirit urged me.

I just can’t!!!!!  I screamed in my heart in frustration, fear and anxiety.

Do it now, He pushed back.

There we were.  My granddad, my husband and me.  The other family members mysteriously stepped out of the room – I believe God miraculously led them out so we could have this moment.

I looked at Granddad, unable to speak, and thought about how crystal blue and beautiful his eyes were.  I rested my hand gently on his arm, careful not to disturb the I.V.’s sticking out in all directions.

Taking in a huge breath, the air caught in my throat.  I swallowed it down hard.  With hands shaking and the back of my neck sweating, I didn’t know how to ask a man of such character if he had accepted Christ in his heart as Lord and Savior.

Give me the words, God, please, I begged.

I tried again.  Granddad, I have to ask you something, I began as my heart pounded in my chest.  Would you like to dedicate your life to Christ?  I know you cannot speak, so just nod your head if you would like to.

With wide eyes, I watched for the slightest movement of his weary body.

He never took his eyes off of me, and to my utter shock and surprise, he ever-so-slightly nodded his head yes.  I couldn’t believe it!

Um, I said trying to remain calm having never been in this situation before, I will say the prayer for you, and you nod your head in agreement, okay Granddad?

He gently nodded again.

I said a prayer of salvation as if I were him, and when finished, he nodded in agreement.

Just a couple of minutes later – he died.

I stood by his bed stunned in bewildering belief that he nearly missed his chance to enter an eternity of life and blessing.

He was just a moment or two away from eternal separation from God.

Had I given into the tremendous fear of our family’s dynamics, or fear of presenting the Gospel, or any of the multitude of fears I felt at that moment, it would have cost him eternity.

It was a near miss and it terrified me.

I have no recollection of opening any gifts that year, but the best gift I received is knowing exactly where he is now.  With Jesus.  Perfect.  Healed.  Whole. Enjoying his daughter’s (my mom’s) company once again – never to say goodbye.

I am forever grateful that God honored my request and kept Christmas day about Jesus’ birth, and not my granddad’s death.

Christmas Eve and Christmas night were silent indeed.  But, they weren’t silent as in all is calm, all is bright.

All was very frantic.  Panicked.  Anxiety-filled.  All was dark.  Grim.  Hopeless for a happy ending this side of heaven.

This time of year, people are torn between trying to celebrate the season as best they can as loved ones lay dying in hospitals, husbands leave their wives, children rebel against their parents, threats against world peace fracture peace of mind, children are ruthlessly murdered at school, drunk drivers rob families of their precious ones, thieves break into homes and steal Christmas presents, companies lay people off two weeks before Christmas, medical reports come back positive, houses burn down from Christmas trees, and personal debt keeps on racking up.

It’s no wonder that depression and suicide rates leap this time of year.  Still, as I drove the streets of my city late last night picking up my child from a friend’s house, lights twinkle, inflatable snowmen wave, wreaths are hung and even a manger can be seen in some yards.

Why?

Why do all of this?  Go through all of this?  Play the role of Christmas?  No one can financially afford it anyway.  More homes are broken than not, so why try to pretend otherwise?  Marriage beds are defiled while jewelry companies advertise their diamonds as the perfect gift.  Friends aren’t speaking to each other, yet Christmas cards are exchanged between them.  People are desperately lonely and hide behind busyness to try to prove otherwise.

There are silent nights alright.  But, not all is calm and not all is bright.  The silence is deafening.  Behind closed doors parents cry themselves to sleep and husbands and wives give up and families settle for less, friends adapt to chilly relations, people avoid the credit companies’ phone calls, and most are wondering why they are even left on this planet.

Why have Christmas?

In the midst of the festivities all around me, even sharing it with my husband and children, today I stood in church singing Christmas songs while tears streamed down my cheeks.

Christmas, in America at least, has become so much about what we want that we have forgotten what we’ve already been given.

For me, my tears were because yesterday we went to a Christmas exhibit at a hotel, and I wasn’t prepared for how busy the hotel would be with guests.  It was packed with families reuniting.  Cousins, grandparents, in-laws, etc.  The little children were in their Christmas best.  One mom wanted to take her daughter’s picture by some pretty garland, and just as the mom snapped the camera, the beautiful little girl, wearing a plaid dress and hair pulled up in curls, stuck her finger up her nose.

Walking around the hotel, I felt a wave of grief hit me all over again of what I’ve lost over my lifetime.  Death, sickness, death, abandonment, death.  My heart sank.

Today in church, it was so crowded I’m not sure everyone found a seat.  Again, multiple generations sat together with grandpa’s holding babies while tired parents held each others’ hands.

So, my wishlist isn’t tangible.  Never has been.  Stuff is stuff and we can’t take any of it with us.  I miss my mom, grandparents, great-grandmother,  dad and father-in-law who are all waiting for me in heaven. I miss my husband’s family who is spread out across states, and my dad’s wife’s family who is also spread out across multiple states.

I mourn the loss of my childhood that was prematurely taken from me.  I miss the idea of having fond memories of growing up – of which there are very few.  I miss the loud homes filled with close and distant relatives and all of the craziness that brings.  It makes me want to watch My Big Fat Greek Wedding again.

However, if I allow myself to stay in that dark place, I will miss Christmas this year as well.

God reminded me that I am, indeed, missing 2 important truths.

One, the day will come when I will have exactly what I have longed for my entire life – a huge family reunion.  It won’t be in this lifetime, but once it begins it will never end.  A party for eternity.  That’s worth waiting for.

Second, we’ve already been given the opportunity to make this reunion party possible.  Still, every year I almost miss the real meaning of Christmas.  I am so quick to be sad that my life doesn’t look like a Norman Rockwell painting, or Hallmark movie, that I get hung up on what I don’t have.

What I do have is a Savior that made an eternity with my Abba Father possible.  Without Christ’s birth, He wouldn’t have been able to die in my place for my sins.  I would be cursed forever to separation from Him.  But, because Christ robed Himself in flesh and became 100% man while still being 100% God, He lived a life that led to the cross.  Every day He traversed this earth was a day closer to bearing the worst punishment of all history – and He willingly did this for you and for me because God loves the world that much.

The first silent night of Christmas 2,000 years ago wasn’t filled with world peace and perfection.  Rather, it was tainted with Roman oppression.  A crazy Herod ruled and reigned.  There was political turmoil.  Community turmoil.  Family turmoil. Personal crisis.  Christ came to us anyway.

As I stood in church today singing, my tears of sadness were replaced with a peace that I don’t understand.  My husband had his arm around me, but Jesus’ hands were holding my heart.

Without shame or guilt, He gently nudged me back to the Father’s side so I could rest in the shadow of His wings (Psalm 91).  As I let Him peel away layers of hurt from my broken heart, He gave me new eyes to see the heart of Christmas.  God’s heart.  I was caught in a moment where everything was okay.  All of it.

Why?

Because Jesus reminded me He is in all of it with me.  There is nothing that separates us from the love of Christ (Romans 8:38-39).  And, He is enough.  Every blessing in life is icing on the cake.  What we are not given, He is still sufficient for us.

This Christmas, I am choosing to look not at what is missing from my life, but what has been given – a lifetime walking with God and a future with Him that will outlast time.

And, I will appreciate those blessings – like celebrating His birth with friends who are family to us.

May I challenge you as I challenge myself?  Will you place your wishlist in the hands of the Father and enjoy this Christmas simply for what it is?  Whether our lists are made up of jobs, good health, a baby, better finances, mended relationships, a mate, a home, a meal or presents for our children, can you join with me in knowing that the gift of Christ is enough?  More than enough?  That if nothing else in our worlds change by Christmas, or into next year, we will still thank Jesus for being the best gift of all?

It’s audacious alright.  Some may even call it ridiculous.

God gave up His only Son because He loves us that much.  We can come to Him with empty hands, even if they are stained with pain, and receive His love overflowing once again.

The best part is His love isn’t only given once a year like the presents under the tree.  It’s available 24/7/365.

I wish I could’ve ended this post with a big, happy finish and tied a virtual red bow around it.  But, life doesn’t always work like that.  However, just like my granddad who is now enjoying paradise, our happy ending is something believers can look forward to because Jesus defeated death and opened the only Way to eternal life.  Until that day comes, we can be grateful and thankful for the blessings, big and small, that God gives to make the journey’s load a little lighter and rest in the promise that we are never in it alone.

Peace to you today,

Kristi

A Private Party Invitation

During this busy season, it’s easy to find ourselves caught up in so many good things for others that our own families are, sadly enough, often the ones pushed to the bottom of the to-do list.

This year, with 5 of us going in 5 different directions, I sat down one day and looked at our calendar.  It seemed like there wasn’t any time to be with my crew (all in one place at one time) and enjoy the holiday season.

So, I set off to change that.  Surely there must be some time in here somewhere! I said to myself.

Yes!  Found some!  Thinking about how to package this time, I did something I’ve never done before.  I made a party invitation via evite.com only for my family.

In it, I wrote when, where, what to bring (a smile), and what to wear (pajamas).  It was going to be on a Saturday morning, so in the details I described everything our party would include: pancake and bacon breakfast, lighting our advent candles, assembling the LEGO advent calendar figures, watching a Christmas movie, choosing our Samaritan’s Purse gifts to finish out the bake sale, a sing-a-long with the piano and a board game.

Surprisingly, we all really got into it!  Declaring it a “formal” occasion made this event a big deal to all of us.  Everyone rsvp’d to the invite and at 11am our party began.

This really worked well, because all of us had details to finish (work, homework, etc.) and we were stressed out about how to juggle everything.  With a designated timed frame, we woke up whenever we wanted and knew that time was ours to do with how we needed to until 11am.  Then, until 3pm, nothing would interfere with our Family Christmas Party.  No work, phone, emails, iPads, texts or errands.  Just spending time together.

I had no idea how great this would be.  It’s like we all felt permission to simply keep the world waiting while we finally enjoyed the Spirit of the season as a family.

Christmas music played, we laughed, we chilled out together – all in our pajamas (our daughter and dog wore their matching set!) until almost 4pm.  A little slice of heaven for this mom who misses her kids – even though we live under the same roof.

I’m not sure this family time would’ve happened had not we made an intentional effort.  The things of this world chip away at our minds, time and energy until, as my 16 yr old said recently of his schoolwork, I feel like a work machine cranking endlessly.

It’s good to stop.  Rest.  Play.  Reflect.  Enjoy each other.  Enjoy Christmas.

Evites are free and they are fun!  If you haven’t truly stopped to enjoy your family this Christmas season, check out their website @ http://www.evite.com, or make your own (which I would have loved to have done, but knew it wasn’t going to happen – but more power to ya!) – leave a voicemail for family members with phones, write it in window markers or lipstick on the bathroom mirror, slip notes in a folded dinner napkins, put a post-it on their pillows…anything will work!

We made real memories that day that will stay with us forever.  We actually ran out of time to complete all of the festivities, but that’s a great reason to have the sing-a-long and board game for our next family party.  Anything to keep the family time rolling.

Have fun with your family this Christmas! Time and undivided attention is the best gift you could give your family – and yourself.

The Worst, Best Date

I am excited to continue the bake sale stories, but feel in my heart there is another direction God wants to go in today.  At this time of year, when everything is spinning out of control for so many – finances of holiday shopping, workloads to prepare for time off, housework for impending guests, final exams for kids, tempers and attitudes on edge, and the ever-high expectations, either internal or external, to make this the best holiday season yet – is there any hope of catching our breath?

Hardly!  With tragic events pounding people everywhere like waves of a relentless tsunami, both personal and national, it seems that there is nothing calm and bright about Christmas.

But wait!  There is something we can do that will make a huge and lasting difference in our families.

Spouses need a date night.  Everyone talks about husbands and wives needing a break from the precious little ones and their needs.  Yes, that is true.  But as the parent of two teens and a tween, just because they don’t need help with nearly as much as they used to doesn’t mean there is a ton of flexible time for my husband and me.

In fact, those late nights of bottle-feeding and rocking in the early years are replaced with the hum of our computer and ticking keyboards working hard past midnight as research papers, studying for tests and daily homework consumes sleeping hours.

Trying to get little ones to try new foods has turned into trying to make sure everyone has had some protein and good carbs before jumping on the hamster wheel at work and school for the day as they race out the door with a briefcase and 50# backpacks.

The “one more story” or “drink of water” delays at bedtime of past years has transitioned to me falling asleep on their beds waiting for them to finish caring for their braces, packing up their school things, and remembering everything the next day’s demands.

The energy exuded in conversations of the past about how clouds form and why trees drop their leaves has risen to epic proportions as we deal with the hard issues of the real world that has barged, often uninvited, into their childhoods.

I wish I could tell young parents that things get easier as kids get older, but it doesn’t (though the benefits of parenting teens are amazing!). The issues just change.  Serious problems occur in the family when the parents and children can’t/won’t change with them.

In order for that to happen, a major player in the scenario is that a marriage needs time. Time alone.  Time to decompress. Time to talk, fight, laugh and just chill.

I am as predictable as the sunrise in our marriage.  When time is neglected in our marriage, I become instinctively impossible to live with.  I’m grumpy, angry, edgy and moody towards my man.  Sounds like a party, huh?

Every time I find that my husband can’t do anything right, I’ve learned to stop and ask myself why I am being so critical.  Ninety-nine percent of the time it’s because of a lack of time being poured back into our marriage.

Marriages that function solely on autopilot eventually crash.

Holidays can be the worst for this scenario.  Recognizing this, once again, as my intolerance seems to be an unfortunate Christmas tradition, I asked Bruce for some time. The kids agreed.  Ha!  Even they see the signs.  Like a stomach churning with hunger or a headache from dehydration, symptoms exist for time-deficit in a marriage.  A marriage is a living thing that needs to be cared for just as our bodies do. We feed and clothe our bodies.  Likewise, we need to nourish and clothe our marriages to keep them strong and healthy, and to protect them from outside elements.  So off we went.

Bruce asked me, Wanna see a movie?

Nah.

Wanna go to dinner?

Nah.  I’m not hungry.

Wanna go Christmas shopping for the kids?

Nah.  I’m not in the mood.

Boy, I’m a tough sell.  What I really wanted was some private time for conversation with my husband to connect, discuss, and communicate uninterrupted – before midnight when neither of us are at our best or via text or email as is often the case.

I told him just that, so we drove off with well-wishes from the kids for our date night. Our daughter was especially excited about our “date” as she loves a good love story.

We wound up parked outside a familiar book store.  He suggested we go in, get some Starbucks, and relax in the big, frumpy chairs in the calm atmosphere of book-lovers.

It was raining and cold outside – the perfect night for a bookstore date.

I replied that I didn’t want to go inside.  I just wanted to sit.

There is no privacy in there.  I just want to talk to you without anyone else around, I explained.

So be it.  He turned the car off and there we sat.  In the dark.  In the rain.  In the chilly night air filling the car with people coming and going from the parking spaces all around us.

We talked for an hour.  A precious, uninterrupted 60 minutes (before having to pick up one of our children).  We were finally able to work through some things that had laid ignored out of a lack of time or energy, make plans, talk about feelings (yes, I just said that), and reconnect.

We never left the car.  After picking up our teen, we returned home and were greeted by our daughter.

So, what’d ya do?  What fun did you have?  You so deserve it.  Tell me!  Tell me!

Well, I replied, we drove to the bookstore, parked and sat in the car and talked.

She scrunched up her face, tilted her head to the side and said with a completely confused and anti-climatic tone, That’s it?  That’s what you did?

To her, it was a downer of a date.  Boring.  Uneventful.  Weird.

To me, it was awesome!  I got the full attention of my man for an hour in the midst of a blessedly crazy season of life.

If you haven’t taken time with your spouse lately, I encourage you to do it.  I’ll never forget the advice someone once gave us a long time ago when, as newlyweds, we were completely broke and were consumed with working our way through college together. He said, You should go on dates  now with your spouse because it’s a lot cheaper  - and more fun – than therapy later if you don’t.

Some may believe the trap that they can’t afford to take the time or spend the money, but based on statistics of marital problems and divorce, I beg to differ that marriages can’t afford not to do it.  This date night of reconnecting doesn’t cost anything, but the time spent investing in reconnecting is priceless and gives us something to treasure – and the entire family reaps the reward.