Don't Want to Miss the Sun Because of a Little Rain

Rain.

That's all we saw when we looked at the forecast for the week of our family camping trip.

And not just rain, but nearly a 100% chance of rain for every day of our spring break.

We had no way of knowing there would be so much precipitation when we booked the campsite weeks before the trip.  I mean, is there really such a thing as "April showers"?  To which all my soggy, starting-to-mold Georgia peeps would answer with a resounding "Yes!"

So days before, we checked and rechecked the weather app on our phones. We called the park and inquired the last possible date to cancel and the penalties if we did so.  And of course we prayed that the rain, rain would go away and come again another day.

All the while, I continued to badger ask Derek, "Do you want to cancel?  Do you think we should go?  How much fun are we really going to have if it rains the whole time?"

Rain certainly puts a damper on camping, but especially if you plan to tent-camp, which we had.  Especially if you have to tote "house and home" back and forth from your car down a hill to your campsite.  Especially if all your meal prep and dining will be occurring outside.

Each time I questioned, my husband confidently agreed we should still go. "Why not?" he said.

So off we went.

Because we expected heaps of rain, we prepared and packed accordingly. We brought rain jackets, rain boots, and a bag full of "inside the tent activities in case of rain lock-down", including games, art stuff and even math.  (Gasp! Homeschoolin' mama still means business, even on spring break.)

We knew we would be good our first day.  And we were.  We set up camp, explored, played in the creek, and grilled out without one drop of rain.

But the rain did come...while we slept snugly in our sleeping bags inside our tent.  By the time we woke up, it was clear.  Perfect for breakfast.

Later a light misting began, but certainly nothing to stop us from taking a hike on one of the park's trails.  A couple hours later, the rain stopped altogether and we had another great day outside.

The weather was an entirely different story the second night.  For hours, torrential poured down upon us. But thankfully, we were camping in an awesome pavilion site.  So while the storm raged outside, again we were snug and warm and dry inside the tent, under our shelter.

As we came out to get breakfast ready, the rain stopped.  And it stayed dry. We went fishing, the girls played on their scooters, and we went back to the creek.  Surprisingly, we enjoyed another super day of camping.

But by the end of the third day, we opted to go ahead and pack up.  The forecast was getting worse, and we concluded packing up a dry tent and all our camping supplies on a dry evening would be far superior to packing up a wet tent the next morning.

As we drove home, I thought about our trip.  I thought about the rain predictions and my uncertainty about going.  But then I thought about how the actual trip was far different from what we expected.

(At one point, our oldest expressed her disappointment that we were not cocooned inside the tent for the majority of the trip. I guess she went from just hearing it was a possibility to hoping it would actually happen.)

If we had caved to what the forecast was telling us, believing that there would only be rain the entire time and had chosen to stay in the predictable safety of our home, then we would've missed out big time. We would've missed out on camping at a "new to us" state park, laughing and playing together, and most of all, seeing God act on our behalf regarding the rain.

Last weekend when Derek and I attended Show Hope's "Empowered to Connect Conference" simulcast, we listened to adoption guru, Dr. Karyn Purvis, speak to adoptive/foster care and prospective adoptive/foster care parents, and we heard a lot of predictions.

We heard about various attachment styles and bonding.
We learned about the state of a child's brain who's experienced abandonment, abuse, neglect and/or trauma.
We heard about lacks and deficiencies and the struggles that come with parenting a child from the "hard places".

And as one could guess, the forecast wasn't so positive. So much so that at certain moments, Dr. Purvis encouraged us all to pause and to take a   d-e-e-p, cleansing breath.

Reassuringly, she then said, "But...there's hope. The brain is plastic. And with its plasticity, change can happen with nurturing."

Cognitively, we realize adoption is not easy.  On paper adoption may even appear bleak or discouraging to some. But not to us. Not so much anymore.

Because we're choosing to hope. We're choosing to believe. We're choosing to dive in and do the hard stuff that is required of us because she matters. We're choosing to rest in the safety of God's tent as He shelters us through whatever less than desirable weather may come our way.

"For in the day of trouble 

He will keep me safe in His dwelling; 

He will hide me in the shelter of His sacred tent 

and set me high upon a rock." Psalm 27:5

We'll prepare. We'll cocoon in when necessary. And we'll emerge when it's time to come out.

Sure, there was some rain while we camped.  But there was w-a-a-ay more sunshine. Sunshine we would've missed if we had let a possible forecast be the sole dictator of our plans.

Principles of (Happy) Moms Who Home Educate

I stumbled upon this list on another blog I was reading a few days ago and instantly fell in love.

Because when you've reached the halfway point in your school year and when you've been all bundled up trying to stay warm and disliking January (VERY MUCH) and you find this list which picks you up and simultaneously kicks your butt into remembering the most important things about why you do what you do, then yes, you share it.

You share it with yourself on your own blog so you will never forget the beautiful, rest-filled, peaceful, grace-filled reminders, but also, maybe, you share it for any of your fellow homeschooling mama friends (or friends considering homeschooling) who may need the encouragement as well.

Principles of (Happy) Moms Who Home Educate:

* God is in control of our family’s home education. 

* Home education is a portion of my full vocation as wife and mother. Keep it proportionate.

* Home education, when done from love and humility, is a steady path to sanctity and heaven.

* Home education is primarily a way of life, not an alternative to school.

* My husband is objectively the spiritual head of our household, the spiritual director of our home education.

* All home education decisions are prudential between husband, wife, and God. Leave the neighbors out of it.

* Homeschooling is mostly joyful and right. It is also hard work worth doing and involves purposeful suffering.

* Anxiety and worry are not an inevitable part of home education or an outward sign of hard work. They are signs to re-group.

* Burn-out is preventable.

* There is no perfect curriculum (self-designed or prepackaged.) Perfect is the enemy of the good. Be content with good enough. (Good enough does not justify sloth which is not good enough. Know when to realize that any additional effort toward improvement would result in a negligible improvement, especially in comparison to the effort required to gain it.)

* Plan primarily based on the truth about Mom, playing to my strengths, secondarily on the needs of the family as a whole, thirdly on the individual needs of each child, playing to their strengths.

* Emphasize character formation for all, especially formation that increases family harmony and independent decision-making. 

* Academic achievement is over-rated.

* Focus on today.

* Progress is not linear and best gauged over time.

* We’re never behind. We’re exactly where God wants us. We entrust the past to God’s Divine Mercy and the future to His Divine Providence. 

* Saints do not compare themselves to their neighbors because they keep their eyes fixed upon God.

* Delegate out of humility.

* Know when to take a break to refresh and renew.

* Know what I need to feel comfortable in my home. Prioritize maintaining a basic level of order.

* Discussion counts as an invaluable learning and teaching tool. 

* Mastery takes time, for student and educator.

* Laughter is good, even when it needs to be redirected.

* Academic standards are arbitrary.

* Time spent on curriculum planning is time not spent on other things.

* Money spent on curriculum is money not spent on other things.

* A sense of humor lightens our load.

* Enthusiasm is contagious.

* Enthusiasm enhances motivation and engagement.

* Engagement and practice increases retention. 

"Entrusting the past to God’s Divine Mercy and the future to His Divine Providence..."
And grateful that God has a giant one of these set aside for each of us on any given day...

Sunday's Coming, but Today is Friday

I know Sunday is coming.

But today is Friday.

Even though my lips would rather sing and rejoice, my soul must mourn and grieve.

I remember Jesus.

Eating His last meal.
Breaking the bread.
Pouring the wine.
Instructing them to remember Him.
Washing their feet.
Being betrayed.
Agonizing in prayer.
Arrested in the night.
Accused, beaten, bloodied.

Before I can celebrate His resurrection, I have to consider His death.

His brutal, necessary death.  On that infamous cross.

Every morning I wake up, I see this on my bedroom wall.

Every morning it reminds me I live because Jesus died. 
For me, for you.  To save us sinners from ourselves.

Not on a fancy, scrolly, ornate cross, but a massive, splintered tool of execution.

The encompassing darkness of death. Then...the illuminating light of eternal life.
Temporary, hushed hopelessness.  Then...the resounding promise of forever.
Significant, remarkable loss.  Then...triumphant, victorious gain.
The weight of unbearable agony.  Then...the weight of unparalleled glory.

Don't run ahead.  Go there. 
Sit in the horror-filled, blackness of Friday. 

Ponder the Lamb led to slaughter. 
Marvel at the humble obedience to His Father. 
Be engulfed.  Be overwhelmed by His relentless, persistent love.

Yes! Praise the Father that Sunday's coming. 

 

But today... 

Today is Friday.

Post Mother's Day Post

Mother's Day.  Some loved it.  Some didn't.  Some were excited about it.  Some were not.

I confess I've had mixed opinions over the years.  And recently, I may have even dubbed it my "least favorite holiday."

For me, it was the burden of expectation.  The sense of obligation.  The "have-to's" and "should-haves".  The let-downs and the disappointments. 

It became too much for me.  So I downplayed it with my husband and my own girls, until the past couple of years when I've felt the Lord helping me to achieve some much-needed balance.  Now, I can walk in freedom with the whole thing.

No guilt.  No worries.  No burdens.  Not about what I did do or didn't do.  Not about what I have done or haven't done. 

Just the freedom to enjoy the weekend with my family.

I love being a mom.  I really do.  But the last thing I want for my girls to feel is that I need them to fill my love tank.  Don't get me wrong.  I absolutely, without a doubt, appreciate their encouragement, their sweet gestures and their kind words.  But my survival and worth as a mother is not tied to it.  And their worth and value as my daughters should not be linked to it.

I want them to feel free to express their affection to me however they want to, when they want to, not only when they feel they should. 

And I know the mother-daughter relationship can be very complex.  Some days are good.  Some not-so-good.  Some seasons are easier.  Some, more challenging. 

But as I lead my girls and teach them to navigate our relationship and the world around us, here's a short list of things I say to them and pray they will know deep in the core of their being:

1.  I love you and treasure you because you are mine.  Period.

2.  My love for you will not change because of what you do or what you don't do; I will not love you any more or any less based on your behavior or choices, your successes or failures.

3.  I am FOR you.  I am NEVER against you.  I am on your team.  I will always be your biggest cheerleader and coach.

4.  You may have come from me, but you are not an extension of me.  You are a distinct individual, created by God Himself with a specific personality, specific giftedness, abilities, and plans for this life.

5.  It's okay if we don't agree from time to time; it's okay if we do agree from time to time.  I love and respect the differences and similarities in our opinions, outlooks and preferences. 

6.  I absolutely do not expect you to be just like me, nor do I want you to be.  I only want you to be who God designed and purposed you to be.

7.  As you grow and mature, take what you've received and pass it down to others. Love as you have been loved.  Give as it has been given to you.  Serve as you have been served.

8.  I am here for you.  If you need me, I'm here.  If you don't, I'm still here.

9.  I will tell you the Truth.  Whether you like it or not, or want to hear it or not, I will tell it.

10.  I will pray for you.  You can count on it.  It's singlehandedly the most important privilege I have as your mother.

So, now and for future Mother's Days, I'd rather focus on the camaraderie.  The fellowship of valiant mama-warriors who fight for their children nearly every minute of every day.  Because I've learned that motherhood ain't for sissies.  It's for the bravehearted, but also for the tenderhearted. 

It's for all of the women who display mothering hearts, whether they have children to call their own or not.  It's for those who teach and share and love and guide and care.  For those whose mother-love spills over to anyone in need of mothering.  These mama bears, forever looking out for the little cubs who cross their paths.

At the end of Sunday's service, our pastor asked for all the mothers to stand.  He read a very kind "thank you" note of sorts to all the mothers, supposedly written from a child's point of view.  It was an emotional display of gratitude to all the mothers.  And I appreciated it; I even teared up during it. 

But for the first time ever during a Mother's Day service, my heart was torn.  I wanted to soak in the moment for me, but found myself aching for a host of other women.  For those women who longed to stand, but could not.  For those waiting for the day they get to stand.  For those who've accepted the reality they may never stand. 

For those who've suffered loss.  For those who still long to mother and that time hasn't come yet.  For those still in a season of waiting.  For those who have suffered a difficult or strained relationship with their mothers.  For those abandoned by their mothers.  For those whose mothers are no longer present in their lives. 

And if you are one of these women, Mother's Day might not have been a welcomed day on your calendar either.  You may have preferred to skip right over it.  In some ways, I understand.  And I pray for you.  

Whatever our role or position as women, let's brave the battlefield together.  Let's step in for the sake of the next generation, for the mothers now and the ones to come, knowing all the while Who gathers us and leads us as we go.

"He tends His flock like a shepherd: 

He gathers the lambs in His arms and
carries them close to His heart;

He gently leads those that have young." Isaiah 40:11

 

A Wall That Must Fall

Ever feel like things are going really well in a certain situation in your life?  Actually, better than well?

But then suddenly, and without warning, out of nowhere...BAM!

You run face-first, smack into a wall.  Not just any wall.  But an enormous, unexpected, seemingly-impossible-to-scale wall.

Yeah.  Well...if you have, then we understand.  Completely.  Because we have officially hit our wall. 

Almost three weeks ago we got an email update from our adoption agency.

Our India coordinator had just returned from an international adoption conference in India and from the exact city where our orphanage is located.  Fortunately, she had the opportunity to visit our orphanage and to speak with the caregivers and social workers there. 

Good news.

Unfortunately, everything else she told us after that was the exact opposite.

The bad news is summed up in one line from her email..."...it seems extremely unlikely that there would ever be a potential for a match for your family..."

Discouraging.  Disheartening.  Disappointing.

Following a conversation on the phone, here's what we know for sure:  Our orphanage is tiny.  Extremely tiny.  Like, only 10 kids in the entire orphanage, tiny. 

And only a "few" children there matched the specifics listed in our Home Study.  And then those "few" children would undoubtedly be adopted to one of the hundreds of Indian families on the domestic waiting list, according to Hague Convention law.

The only silver lining we see so far is that we are the only international file in the orphanage at this time.  At least we have no other "competition" and at least we definitely stick out.

So...even though those are the blatant facts staring at us right now, here's why we have not lost heart.  Hang with me as I try to explain.

I started reading the book, The Circle Maker by Mark Batterson, the day before we got the email from our agency.  I am going through it with an amazing group of women from my church.  The premise of the book is the encouragement to pray circles around your biggest dreams and your greatest fears. 

Bold, persistent, specific prayers honor God and God honors bold, persistent specific prayers.

Pertaining to the infamous battle of Jericho in Joshua 6, the author asks this question in chapter 3,

 

"What is your Jericho?" 

In other words,
Like the Israelites, what promise are you praying around? 
What miracle are you marching around? 
What dream does your life revolve around, right now?

When I read this crucial question, I thought to myself, "I don't have a specific wall I'm marching around right now."

The very next day I did. 

BAM.  Hit. The. Wall. 

After our conversation with our agency coordinator, I asked my husband, "So what do we do now?"
He responded, "We pray through.  We gird up our loins and we just keep praying."

When I opened my Bible the next morning, the pages fell to the book of Daniel chapter 10.  Skimming the page, I read these highlighted words spoken to Daniel in verse 12 when God sent a messenger to him, "Do not be afraid, Daniel.  Since the first day your words were heard...." 

The messenger goes on to tell Daniel that even though he was now there, he had been delayed for 21 days by a powerful spiritual being. Daniel's prayers had been hindered by unseen obstacles.

After reading that scripture, I noticed something I had written in the side of my Bible about 10 years ago when I first heard a message about this passage, "Battles exist in the spiritual realms." 

Really.  They do.

At that point, I said out-loud, "Okay, Lord. The battle has now begun."   After a year of "easy" in this adoption journey, here we go.  Game on.

I opened my book, The Circle Maker, to read chapter 4 and nearly choked when I saw the title, "Praying Through".  Remember?  They were the exact words Derek had just said to me the night before.  I mean, seriously?

Then I read Joshua 6:2, printed right there in the middle of the chapter,

"Then the LORD said to Joshua,

'See, I have delivered Jericho into your hands."

 

But when I read it, I did not see the word, "Jericho".  I saw the word, "Pearl", the name we will give our little girl. 

 

God didn't just promise Joshua, "I will deliver."  No.  He used past tense.  "I have delivered."

 

Here were the author's next words in that same chapter:

 

"The battle was won before the battle even began.  God had already given them the city.  All they had to do was circle it."

 

The battle was won before the battle even began.

The battle was won before the battle even began.

The battle was won before the battle even began.

 

Yes.  I typed it 3 times in a larger font because it IS that profound to us!

 

As soon I read those words, the floodgates opened and I went into the ugly cry right there in my very own bed.  I sensed the Lord speaking that promise to me, tenderly, passionately, and fiercely.  Here I had just told Him, "Okay, Lord.  The battle has now begun."  Yet He promised me, "The battle was won before the battle even began."

 

So...yes, while we are disheartened about this latest news with the adoption, we have not lost hope.  God is SO real, y'all.  And He is FOR us.  ALL of us. 

 

Our coordinator gave us three options before we ended our conversation on the phone that night nearly three weeks ago.  We have chosen the last one: hang tight and keep waiting.  And while we wait, we're praying through.  Circling an intimidatingly, gigantic wall, praying it will fall. 

 

Would you consider joining us?  It took a huge army of Israelites, obeying God, believing God, and waiting for God to crash that wall so they could step into their promise.  Even Especially when it seemed impossible. 

Lord, this wall must fall.  It must if we are to move forward in this journey to adopt our little girl.  Make a way where there seems to be no way.  There is no limit to Your power and to Your might.  Set the stage for Your glory to be revealed and allow us the privilege of having a front-row seat.  We believe You have delivered Pearl into our hands.  Give us persistence and perseverance as we keep circling and keep praying for this wall to fall.  Amen.

Desperate

One year ago this week we signed our names on the papers.  We said "yes" to this amazing journey to adopt.  We applied to the India program with our agency and have yet to look back. 

Full steam ahead for 365 days.  That is until last week when we had our first setback.

A phone call.  Another phone call.  Excitement.  An email.  A picture.  Information.  More excitement.  Some questions.  Some answers.  Some concerns.  Some prayers.  Another email.  More questions.  More answers.  More concerns.  Less excitement.  More prayer.

Argggggg.......

When was the last time you were desperate?  Desperate to know what you should do?  Desperate to know, without any hesitation, His plan for you?  Desperate to see His hand and seek His face in light of your situation? 

In a nutshell, that was us last week.  Summed up and tied up in one emotion-packed word:  desperate.  Faced with a HUGE, life-altering decision and desperately needing wisdom.  ASAP.

"If you don't know what you're doing, pray to the Father. 

He loves to help.  You'll get His help, and won't be condescended to when you ask for it. 

Ask boldly, believingly, without a second thought."

James 1:5-6 (The Message) 

We know our Father's voice.  We have heard Him say, "Yes" and we have heard Him say, "No".  We know what undeniable peace feels like when we're walking the path He's set before us.  We also know what unrest, irritability and irritation feels like when we're not.

The whole situation reminded me of a winter day a couple of years ago.  On this particular day, I was traveling alone in my car to an unknown destination, trying to figure out the newly added navigation feature on my phone. 

On the way there, I got turned around.  I didn't know where I was going.  All because my cell phone kept cutting out.  The signal kept fading and I needed to hear the GPS voice to know which way to turn and to help me get to my destination.

I needed help.  If I didn't hear the voice,  I would be lost.

Then I remembered this:

"Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying,

'This is the way; walk in it.'"

Isaiah 30:21 (NIV)

The phone finally kicked back in and thankfully, I arrived exactly where I needed to be and exactly when I needed to be there.

Last week, my mind went back to that day in the car while comparing it to our current situation.  In the same way, Derek and I needed direction.  Our ears needed to hear His voice telling us "This is the way. Walk." or "This is not the way. Stop."

Our minds sorted through the facts.  Our hearts felt the pull of the emotional weight bearing down on us.  We desperately wanted it all to work out.

With each passing hour, each new piece of information, and each prayer prayed, we strained to hear.  We leaned in, listened and eventually, heard Him clearly.

What we'd been so hopeful for and so excited about, quickly turned the other way.  We struggled.  We cried.  We released it.  And that's when we felt the loss.  Just like we did when we walked through the miscarriage I had nearly seven years ago.

When it wasn't meant to be.  Not then.  Not now.

We started this journey by letting our "yes be yes".  But in this particular situation we had to simply let our "no be no."

Today, we are not disheartened, just disappointed.  Our hearts no longer heavy, but hopeful.

We will continue to wait for God and for His immaculate timing for our family.  It will happen.  We don't have the slightest idea when, but we hold to the belief that it will.  And hopefully, soon and very soon.

For now, we've gotten up, dusted ourselves off, laced up our shoes and stepped back on the path of this journey.  We are walking again.  But some things remain unchanged. 

We are still desperate. Still desperate for His leading.  Still desperate for His voice.  Still desperate for His direction.

We will keep going and keep trusting and keep asking for His help to know where to walk and when to walk toward the little one we are desperate to have in our family.


(Forgive me for the vagueness of this post.  Unfortunately, we cannot share all the details for privacy's sake.  Thank you for understanding.)

Struggling with Wonderful

The fact that it's Monday and it's rained all day doesn't help.

The fact that nearly every social media post and every news report on television screams a reminder of the horrific tragedy last Friday in Connecticut.

The fact that my husband steps into a public school everyday and works with middle schoolers, often undisciplined, unstable, unpredictable middle schoolers.

The fact that my uncle remains in the hospital after a week's stay, fighting for his life and facing surgery tomorrow from a staph infection, finally identified and located in his spine.

The fact that days before Christmas, my friend's young son, also waits in the hospital, recovering from serious surgery following his year-long battle with bone cancer.

The fact that another dear friend is nursing her husband back to health after his near-death accident, falling 24 feet, head-first off a ladder, onto a concrete driveway.  Never did my friend expect hanging a wreath above a garage would lead to her husband's jaw being wired shut, missing teeth, broken bones, and a near loss of his life.

The fact that another friend's desperate wish to have her adopted son home from India before Christmas appears to be dimming.

The fact that I know of three precious women, newly and unexpectedly widowed this Christmas, facing the days and traditions ahead without their husbands, alone.

The fact that I continue to read from organizations about more children being taken, tortured and trafficked against their will, every hour, here and across the globe.

The fact that so many of my friends and family members have succumbed to seasonal illnesses such as the flu and stomach bugs.

And finally, the fact that in one day we seem to be losing light in our house--with a third of the Christmas lights on one of our trees burned out and two prominent lamps' bulbs as well.

Staring at the tree and the lamps, I can't help but feel the same.  A little less shiny.  A little less bright.  Struggling to stay lit, fighting against the darkness.  Dimming in the midst of today.

On the radio, Christmas carols play.  One in particular catches my attention.  The tune is popular and inviting.  But today, I struggle with the lyrics, meaning what I sing.

"It's the most wonderful time of the year..."

Is it?  Wonderful?  Isn't it supposed to be? 

So, why is it so hard to believe this week, particularly in light of recent events?  Especially in such darkness?

My pastor asked this question of us yesterday, "How does God respond to darkness?" 

His answer: "Jesus". 

Why?  Because He's the Light of the world.  And light always threatens darkness.

Jesus.  Immanuel, "God with us".  He was here thousands of years ago because we needed Him then. He's here today because we need Him now.  Desperately need Him now.

In this dark world, we still have the chance to be brighter.  Brighter than the evil and uncertainty that surrounds us. 

"...declaring the praises of Him who called you out of darkness into His wonderful light." 

1 Peter 2:9

So, today I go back to the prophecy of Scripture.  I exchange my struggling thoughts and struggling questions to Someone who can counsel me.

Not just any counselor.  A Wonderful Counselor. 

"For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders.  And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace."

Isaiah 9:6

He is wonderful when the world is not.  His wonderful act of coming to us, rescuing us from the darkness of our sin, gave us the light of life.  And because of Him, we are given a wonderful life.  Forever.

Focusing on that truth, celebrating His wonderful acts and wonderful works on our behalf, reminds me what this season truly is...the most wonderful time of the year. 

Maybe...the Best Has Yet to be Written

Same routine.  Every school morning.  Here at home.

Shortly after Bible and calendar, we jump right into the discipline of handwriting practice. 

While my third grader works diligently, perfecting her letters in cursive, my kindergartner works simultaneously, mastering the strokes of her manuscript alphabet.  All the while, we play the same game, in the same way--everyday.

We affectionately call it the, "find and circle your very best letter, which you just wrote on your paper" game.  Pretty original, right?

My youngest writes her letters.  She picks her favorite(s).  Then, I pick mine.

Object of the game--see if we agree on the same letter. 

Of course we all know the real game is just Mommy's slightly sneaky way of making sure darling daughter takes her time and takes pride in doing her best work.  And for the most part, Mommy's plan works accordingly.

Until the other day.

Here's a bit of the conversation which took place between my youngest pupil and me:

Me:  "Okay.  Let's see...which one will be your BEST letter today?  Hmm...I am SO excited.  I CANNOT wait to see which one it will be!"

Her:  (writes exactly one letter after example letter) "This is it.  This is the best one."

Me:  "Uh, yes, that one is really fantastic, but look.  You still have some more spaces so...you can write some more."

Her:  "I don't want to.  I already wrote the best one."

Me:  "I really think you should keep going.  Who knows?  Maybe the best has yet to be written."

With that, my budding writer picks up her pencil and moves it across the page.  When all is said and done, she's written a beautiful letter on every dot, on every line. (whew!)

Setting her pencil down, we both agree her very best letter was the one she'd written toward the end, after more time, more practice and more repetition.

She's surprised at herself and I'm surprised at the words I just spoke to her (especially after my last blog post).

Maybe my best has yet to be written, too. 

Why do I so often think my best times, best efforts, best moments are right now, or worse, that they've already occurred?

Why is it, particularly lately, that I have flashes when I am less than excited about the future coming to pass?

Why do I concern myself with the next couple of years when our family grows through adoption or the next ten years when I am the mother to three teenage girls or the next fifteen-twenty years when my home is just one big, very quiet, very empty nest?

If the scripture tells me that "all the days ordained for me were written in His book before even one of them came to be" (Psalm 139:16)...

And if the scripture tells me that "no eye has seen, no ear as heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love Him" (1 Corinthians 2:9)...

Then maybe I should be celebrating and laughing at the days to come (Proverbs 31:25) instead of exerting time, energy, and brain cells feeling hesitant and insecure.

Maybe, just maybe...my best, my absolute best, has yet to be written. 

How about you?  Do you believe your best has yet to come? 

Beautiful Things Out of the Dust

I opened the book and began to read some basic facts about the infamous volcano to my girls.

Washington state.  1980.  Eruption.  Mount St. Helens.

If the pictures of the mountain before the catastrophic event were worth a thousand words, then the comparison photographs after the explosion were worth two thousand.

Complete and utter devastation. 

Fifty-seven lives lost.  Hundreds and hundreds of homes, bridges, and miles of highway destroyed.  Wildlife obliterated.  Left in its aftermath was an enormous hole in the side of the mountain, hardened lava and layers upon layers of dust and ash.

Pristine rivers.  Gone.  Lush plants.  Gone.  Wild animals.  Gone.  Towering forests.  Gone. 

My girls and I were stunned by the stark difference in the mountain's appearance before the explosion and its appearance afterwards. We were quieted by the power of the event and its effect on the land.

Then...we turned the page in the book.

The image we saw in the very next photograph caught our attention. Budding forth from its resilient shell was a tiny green sprout, stretching toward the sunlight, unhindered by the hardness and dust enveloping it.

Where death and destruction once reigned, life now returned.

My eight year old made a pretty profound statement.  A truth she'd gleaned from church.

Looking at the book she said, "Mommy, that's a picture of hope.  Believing something good can come out of something bad."

Who would've thought any kind of growth, any kind of life, any kind of hope could come after such an explosive event? 
Who would've guessed wild animals would return to roam the mountainside? 
Who would've thought plants could grow and thrive in the midst of those conditions? 
Who would've thought any good could come out of something so bad?

Meet my beautiful friend, Misty. 

Having lunch @ the Cheesecake Factory - Spring 2012

Misty and I met at Shorter College almost nineteen years ago during my freshman year.  She and I hit it off right away.  We spent most of our time laughing in class and soon became fast friends.  When I pledged the same sorority she was already a member of, she chose me as her little sister. 

Shorter College White Rose Formal - Winter 1994

Not only did we spend our college days living the good life, but we were there for each other when the circumstances of life were not so good.  We encouraged each other's walk in the Lord and truly became sisters in the faith.

We served as bridesmaids in each other's weddings. We supported each other as we both entered the realm of motherhood and we did our best to stay in touch despite living states away from one another.

One of Misty's visits back to Georgia - Spring 2009

Then one cold January day in 2010, I got a heart wrenching phone call from my friend.

The Day family the summer before Misty's diagnosis - July 2009

She desperately needed prayer.  She was experiencing severe yet numbing pain in her lower back and had no definitive answers for the cause.  In the months that followed, multiple tests were run on her body and her blood.  At times, she was bound to a wheelchair, completely unable to walk or move without excruciating pain. 

The comfortable, content, care-free world she'd known erupted around her when she was diagnosed with Multiple Myeloma, a form of bone marrow cancer.

In the last two and a half years, Misty has had to endure some of the most horrific tests, surgeries, and treatments out there for cancer patients.  She has fought with intense bravery.  She has fought with perseverance.  She has fought with Divine power.  And she has waited patiently while her Healer has fought for her. 

Earlier this year, she was told she was in partial remission.  Things were going well, but because the type of cancer she had was slow-growing, it was unfortunately also slow-dying.  She returned to the cancer institute at the beginning of this month for more tests and more treatments, fully expecting to resume the battle for another year or possibly more.

Then four days ago, she posted a picture which caused me to stop completely in my tracks.  The news caused me to jump up and down and bust out my very own happy dance!

Complete remission = CANCER FREE!

Following a devastating explosion in her life, a trail of destruction spread out for miles, and a hardened blanket of ash upon her, hope bursts forth from the dust!

The war she has waged for far too long is over.  Healing has won.  Hope has won.  Life has won.

The page has been turned.  And all things are being made new.

Hope - believing something good CAN (and WILL) come out of something bad

Thank You so much, Lord. 

In Your sovereignty, sometimes You heal; sometimes You do not. 
Thank You for choosing to heal my friend. 
Thank You for letting all of us "bring her to You" through prayer.

You are our Healer, our Hope and our Life. 
Thank You for making beautiful things out of the dust.

(There is a song called, "Beautiful Things" which makes me think of my beautiful friend and our beautiful Savior.  We just happened to sing it at church the Sunday after we read the book about Mount St. Helens here at home and a couple of days after my lunch date with Misty.)

Click here to hear the song. 

It's Not How You Start

My husband and I like to run.  Not crazy marathon running.  More like simple, leisurely runs.  A couple times a year we might run a six-miler together.  Other than that, we stick to the less strenuous, three-mile outings.  

For a very worthy cause, we chose to participate in another 5K this past Saturday.  This 5K was not in our hometown, nor was it a familiar race to us.  As a matter of fact, this supposedly simple 5K turned out to be the hardest course we've encountered to date. 

In the midst of all my huffing and puffing while running, a few epiphanies struck my mind and heart.  After sorting through them, I thought I'd share five lessons I learned during that brief, but tough, thirty minutes:

1.  Details are important.
As in all the other 5K's we've run, we assumed we would be running on pavement.  But just minutes from arriving at the race, I checked the website and was surprised to find that the race terrain was listed as "dirt, rocks, and wood chips."  

Fact #1: We do not own trail running shoes.  
Fact #2: We wore our newest, cleanest Asics to the race. 
Fact #3: We were less than thrilled about tramping through muddy trails, especially after three days of consecutive rain.
Fact #4: We ran it anyway. 

Mark my word, though.  Next time we'll pay more attention to the details.

2. I can do hard.
From the moment the race began, and I started sloshing through the muck and mire, I had a feeling this was going to be a hard run.  Headed into the second mile of the race, I started up the first of four very large hills.  You know, the kind Jack and Jill probably tumbled down? 

At first glance I thought, "No big deal.  I got this."  But halfway up the hill, I had to stop running and walk.  And I never stop in a race.  I may slow down, but I certainly never stop.  Slowly, but steadily, I made my way to the top and continued my run, despite how hard it was. 

The good news is that I didn't have to stop at the second mountain, er, hill.  Or the third.  On the fourth.  Nope.  I'd convinced myself that I could do it--no matter how hard it was. 

Yes, my heart was beating hard.  Yes, I was breathing hard.  But I did not quit. 

Maybe, just maybe,  I can do hard.

3. It's okay not to know the whole route before you run it.
The planner in both my husband and me wished we knew where we headed when the race began.  The most frustrating part was running up a hill and having no idea what awaited us at the top.  Or around the corner. 

It certainly would have been easier to have had a bird's eye view of the course. 

We could have anticipated the intimidating hills, prepared ourselves for them and conquered them.  We could have avoided the huge mud puddles before we were right upon them. 
We could have side-stepped the large rocks and tree roots protruding from the ground, all silently waiting to trip up an ill-prepared or less vigilant runner, causing him/her to stumble and fall.

Unfortunately, we didn't know the route beforehand.  Nope.  Instead, we had to run by faith. 

4. Don't worry.  Just follow the narrow path marked out for you.
This lesson follows on the heels of #3.  Just into the heavily wooded course, I looked down and noticed bright green, florescent arrows spray-painted on the ground. 

Someone had gone before us.  Someone who knew the way marked out the path for us.  We didn't need to worry about getting lost.  We didn't need to concern ourselves with not knowing where to go.

No worry.  No fear.  All we had to do was trust and follow the path marked out for us, straight to the finish line.

5. It's not how you start.  It's how you finish.
As soon as the announcer said, "Go!", I knew I was going to struggle with this race.  The terrain was unfamiliar, the ground was soggy, and my legs were already sore from a fierce leg workout just days earlier.  My thoughts ranged from "Do the best you can" to "I just don't want to get hurt" to "I am not going to have a good finishing time" to a host of others.  I didn't feel I started well.  I felt nervous, uncertain, and slow. 

Cautious?  Yep.  That's me. 
Calculated?  Guilty. 
Analytical?  Me again.

But typically, it's only in the beginning phase of any given event in my life.  After a slow start, my boldness increases.  Trust takes over.  Faith claims the victory.

Same thing is true in this 5K.  After a hesitant first mile, I got my second wind.  Instead of only looking down, I started to look up and around at my surroundings.  I passed a serene lake and gorgeous foliage.  I felt the warm sunshine and breathed in the cool winter air.  I started to rest, even while I was running.  I began to enjoy the adventure along the way.

As the final leg of the race came into view, I took off.  Faster and faster.  Eager to finish well.  Motivated to come close to the goal I'd set for myself.

I knew my start was less than desirable.  I knew it wasn't picture-perfect.  But I had hope my finish could be better. 

And ultimately in the end, that's the most important lesson for us all.

It's not how you start.  It's how you finish that counts. 

So, here's to life lessons.  Here's to perseverance.  Here's to strong finishes. 

‎"Go with God as He goes after your circumstances. Pursue what you know to be true of God. Continue in worship and trusting. The outcome is God's part; the process is ours."

Graham Cooke

Daddy's Home

The door had only just opened when she took off like lightning.  As fast as her little legs could carry her, she ran.  Up the steps and straight into his arms. 

"Daddy's home!" she squealed in her most precious four year old voice. 

Forget the toys.  Never mind the sister she left to play alone downstairs.  

Nothing else mattered.  All her attention was centered on the one who'd been out of the house and out of her presence all day.

Sitting alone on the living room couch, I smiled. 

Silently, I thanked God for the exchange taking place between my youngest daughter and her daddy. 
I thanked God for my husband's safe trip home from work today. 
I thanked God that my husband comes home faithfully every day. 

Because so many daddies can't.  Or don't.  Or won't. 

Then I thought about all the children I know who aren't able to jump into the arms of their fathers today.  And I prayed for them.

For the little ones bravely waiting on their daddy's time of service--defending and protecting our country--to conclude.

For the children who must wait patiently all week for a chance to be with their father during his designated weekend of visitation.

For all the babies who've been abandoned and left alone, never experiencing the loving embrace of a mother or father, never knowing the security of home.

And just this week, for a fellow high school classmate's children, who will no longer feel the strength of their father's arms around them this side of heaven.  

Peace to you, little ones.  Know this.  Your daddy's home.

"I pray that from His glorious, unlimited resources He will empower you with inner strength through His Spirit. Then Christ will make His home in your hearts as you trust in Him.

Your roots will grow down into God’s love and keep you strong."  Ephesians 3:16-17

If home is where the heart is, then as believers in Christ, our heart is His home. 

So I pray these little ones will grow to know their Heavenly Daddy, who is always home. 

In heaven.  On His throne.  In the hearts of those who have trusted Him.

Run hard.  Run fast, little ones.  Straight into the strong and loving embrace of your Daddy.

Because Daddy's home.

New & Improved

On the eve of the last day of 2011, I can't help but reflect on this past year with wonder and amazement. 

One whole year of new is gone. 

For me, 2011 was filled with...

Stuff I'd never done before. 
Journeys I'd never taken before 
Friendships I'd never made before. 
Experiences I'd never had before. 
Feelings I'd never felt before. 
Lessons I'd never learned before. 
Joys I'd never known before.

But with another whole year of new on the horizon, I gaze ahead, holding my breath, anticipating the wonder and amazement to come. 

What new things lurk around the corner?  What new experiences await?  Only time will tell. 

In light of the new year, I am posting something I journaled last January, which I know is still pertinent today.  Maybe you can relate as well...

New and Improved

Sometime last year our family acquired a Wii game system from a family friend.  Because we had heard so much about it, we were eager to try this new thing out for ourselves.  My brother and sister-in-law, who also had one, were generous enough to let us borrow their Wii fit balance board and game to use with it.  Our family loved it.  We were able to play a variety of new things now, thanks to the addition to the gaming system. 

After Christmas, we returned my brother’s Wii fit items to him.  To be honest, we were a little sad.  We had gotten accustomed to their game and balance board.  My husband suggested we purchase our own Wii fit game and board.  Luckily, we found one at a local store, just like the previous one we had been using.  But their was one difference.  The words, "Wii Fit Plus" were written across the front of the box.

When we opened the package up at home, we realized we had in fact, purchased the new and improved version.  Not only did it have all the same games we had learned to play, but it also had so many more new, unexplored ones.  We were elated!  Suddenly, we were able to forget the former system and reap the benefits of the new one.

“Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. 
See, I am doing a new thing!  Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?  I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland.”
Isaiah 43:18-19

Similarities are found all around us as well.  I recall when the iPhone craze hit.  Countless people desired to purchase the newest phone out on the market.  Not too long after that, a new and improved version of the iPhone debuted.  People abandoned their previous phone for the new one.  It is the same with computers, cars, electronics and toys.  People are always seeking out the next new thing.

With the New Year quickly approaching, I cannot help but join the enthusiasm of others as we anticipate the promise and potential of what's ahead.  I look forward to many new experiences, new friendships, new joys, new accomplishments, and new revelations. 

On the flip side, I also understand that there will indefinitely be some new stresses, new heartaches, new struggles and even new trials.  

But I rejoice that I worship a God who revels in new things, too. 

Yes, He is the same yesterday, today, and forever.  Yes, He is constant.  Yes, He stays the same. 

But, He always longs to transform the old into something new.  Actually, it is one of the things He does best.

2 Corinthians 5:17 tells us, “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!” 

God’s heart is to change each of His creations into something new and improved, something different than before, something fresh and original. 

He longs to give us a new life, a new name, a new heart and spirit, a new song in our mouths, and a new identity. 

He does this through a new covenant, a new and living way, through His death and our new birth. 

Then He gives us a new commandment to love one another as He has loved us. 

Each morning He pours out His new mercies on us. 

And one day, He will reign with all of us in a new heaven and on a new earth. 

What an incredible, new perspective on all the old ways of thinking and living. 

So, here’s to a very Happy New Year!

God, thank You that You are always doing a new thing.  Though You want us to remember and call to mind all of Your amazing past gestures in our lives, You do not want us to dwell there.  You want us to look forward and see the new thing You are doing now. 

I ask for a new work in my life today.  Help me not to be content to settle for the old revelations, old works, and even old victories in my life, because it’s what’s most familiar to me.  I look forward to all things being made new and improved by You.

He who was seated on the throne said,

“I am making everything new!” Revelation 21:5