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.

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

 

May Days

Forget December.  Never mind the other ten.  The month of May, hands down, wins the award for the busiest and most memory-making month of the year.

May has had me moving back and forth from the urgent to the important and back again that I have completely neglected this little blog for over a month.

So I thought I'd catch us all up, including myself, on what our little family of four has been up to the past five weeks.

Let's start with softball.  Around here we love ball.  The oldest plays.  The youngest is preparing to play.  Daddy coaches and Mama cheers.  We were fortunate to have had an amazing little team this season.  Our favorite team by far.  It was a joy spending most of this month in the dirt with them. 

Biggest lesson the team learned this season:  Listen to your coach.  Trust him, no matter what.  When he says, "Go", go.  When he says, "Stop", stop.  Such simple instructions for young softball players. Resonates loudly with us adults as well.  Yep. That'll preach.

Next up in May was Mother's Day.  Spent some quality time with my Mama the night before.  A little dinner.  A little shopping.  Some new accessories.  Win-win for all.

Received some super-sweet, heart-felt gifts this year, including a desperately-needed flat iron from my girls and my husband.  So long, frizzy, untamed hair. 

Abandoned the family after church and took off with my friend, Terri, for an atypical, unorthodox way of spending Mother's Day.  Lunch and shopping at the mall.  Just the two of us.  Absolutely loved it.  New tradition?  Maybe. After all, we moms spend the other 364 days of the year with our kiddos, right?

Wrapped up our fifth year teaching AWANA Cubbies at our church.  Such a huge blessing for us to be a part of such a great program and to teach some really precious children.  So proud of our own girls for working so hard memorizing scripture and hiding God's word in their hearts! 

Concerning the adoption, we worked on completing some necessary requirements for the home study portion of this process.  Physicals.  Fingerprinting.  References.  Lots of reading.  Lots of paperwork. We also went to our first adoption support dinner, connected with some new friends, and followed along as a family from our agency was the first to complete an adoption from India.  We rejoice with them as their nearly four-year journey to adopt their daughter has officially and finally come to an end.  You can read some of their story here http://bringingjustice.blogspot.com/.

We had another very, or should I say, "berry" blessed fundraiser.  Following two trips to the local strawberry patch, and after making one batch of homemade jam, my husband suggested we make and sell additional jars of jam to raise funds for the adoption.  We did.

The result:  "Pearl Jam".  Appropriately named for our little Pearl in India.  (I plan to blog about her name and how we came to rest upon it soon, so stay tuned.)  Thanks to so many friends and family, we sold 50 jars of this strawberry goodness.  I'd say "Pearl Jam" was a "jam-up" success!

What would May be without a graduation?  Even though we predominantly homeschooled this year, my youngest also attended Pre-K three mornings a week.  She had a wonderful year and is excited to be home with us full-time in the fall for kindergarten. Congratulations to our little graduate who is growing up way, way too fast!

Another big event this May...Celebrating Little Miss's 5th birthday!

This year it was all about beautiful, fluttering butterflies, so we gathered every thing that had wings and could fly. 

For starters, we ordered ten caterpillars from an online insect company.  We wanted to raise some butterflies, and then release them at the end of the party.  Prior to the party, we got to watch the ten fuzzy, crawly creatures eat their food over a period of a week, climb to the top of their container, change into a chrysalis and another week later, emerge into stunning butterflies. 

Even as many times as I've watched this process take place (when I taught first grade in a public school, and the times I've done it with my own girls here at home), it never fails to blow my mind.  The metamorphosis is indescribable. Creator God takes the greatest of care of every tiny detail in every tiny life.  Off with the old.  Hello to the new.  Two words.  Simply amazing.

Because the caterpillars arrived much earlier than we expected, we faced the tough job of keeping the butterflies alive until the party, which wasn't for another three weeks.  We fed them.  We took care of them.  And since we had moved them into a large butterfly pavilion, we could sit inside and observe them--how they ate, how they fluttered around, and how they interacted with each other (yes, they seemed to get along pretty well, if you know what I mean). 

 And just as we planned, at the end of the birthday party, we let them go. They were able to fly as they were created to do.  Out of the tent and into the world. 

It was happy moment.  But it was also sad.  After caring for these tiny creatures for almost a month, I was glad they were free, spreading their wings and fluttering everywhere. But at the same time, our house suddenly seemed a little lonlier and a little less active.

I couldn't help but think of all the parents whose children just graduated from high school this May and are headed off to explore new places, moving from the constant care they've known and the security they've relied upon.  A season filled with mixed emotions for sure.  A season marked by metamorphosis.

As this fifth month of the year comes to an end, I am choosing to hold on to the fleeting moments with the two little butterflies still reliant upon my care.  I want to watch them grow, change, and prepare themselves for the future God has waiting for them.  And when it's their time, they'll spread their wings and fly.  Just like they are destined to do.

I'll admit, I'm not looking forward to that day.  Not. At. All.  Whether I'm ready for it or not, that day will be here soon enough.  No, instead, I am perfectly content to be living in the midst of these busy, yet memory-making, May days right now.