Our Family's Best of 2014

Since I posted our family's best and most memorable events here last year, I thought I'd do another year-end recap from 2014...

Presenting the top 11 (because we couldn't agree on just 10) highlight reel from 2014 from our family:

11. Community, growth and service

Derek and I opened our home again this year to two different small groups, one in the spring and a different one this past fall.  We loved having all the couples over each Sunday night to discuss, pray and laugh together.  With the other small groups from our church, we journeyed through two different books, Joseph by Charles Swindoll and Families Where Grace is in Place by Jeff Van Vonderen.  Both were excellent and challenging reads.  So grateful for the camaraderie we experienced both semesters.

Tacky sweater Christmas party!

 

In August, Derek and I began serving in Kids Crossing at our church each Sunday morning.  We are the hosts for large group, which means we have scripts and scripture we have to memorize and teach each week.  Though we're certainly not actors, the teachers in us sure have enjoyed working together and engaging with the kids in this way! 

A few months ago, during the second service, Grace started helping in the kindergarten class, using her gifts of patience, teaching and love for children.  Also, both girls have been a part of the Kids Worship Team this year.  Each month they learn new songs and then lead worship in Kids Crossing on their designated Sunday.  It has blessed our hearts watching them sing and dance for Jesus from backstage!

10. Technology conference at the University of Texas in Austin

While Derek attended classes and seminars during the mornings and afternoons, I spent three hot, July days resting, reading, working out and staying poolside.  Yes, I was a lucky girl, indeed!  In the evenings, we explored the eclectic city of Austin in our cute little rental car, enjoyed dinner out and even went shopping for boots.  Because when in Rome...or Texas...

9. Ended 3rd year of homeschooling; began 4th term here at Fort Academy

Our curriculum left us in Ancient Greece back in May and in August, we began our history lessons with Ancient Rome. 

Field trip to Rome, Georgia, to see Romulus and Remus,
founders of Ancient Rome as legend tells it.

The girls are currently in 2nd and 5th grades this year and doing exceptionally well.  Just like any other classroom, with any other teacher, and with any other students, we have great days and on occasion, we have a few not-so-great days.  That's just life.  (Especially life spent teaching your own flesh and blood, day in and day out. ;))  We've all learned so much, but I've most certainly learned the most.  Very thankful for the second education I'm getting this go-around and very thankful for all the time I get to spend with my girls!

8.  Field trip to Kentucky and Ohio

As an extension of having gone through the Old Testament last school year, we took a road trip to the Creation Museum in northern Kentucky over spring break in April.  We also traveled to the Cincinnati Zoo and then into Indiana, just so the girls could color one more state on their map. :) On the way home, we made a quick stop in Louisville at Churchill Downs and let the girls see where the Kentucky Derby is run each spring. 

 

7.  Gymnastics & softball

In January of this year, both girls began going to gymnastics one hour, once a week at a local gymnastics center.  During the summer, they became part of a team, the Gym Stars, and are now at the gym two hours a day, two days a week.  They have had two mini/mock meets so far and also had the chance to march in the local Christmas parade with their gym.  They will begin meets in March and are very excited to have a small taste of competition.  We are shocked at how many skills both of them have gained this year, but mostly at how strong they both have become.  And I have to say they probably spend more time on their hands than their feet nowadays!

Gloria played another season of 6U softball this past spring and Derek coached her team again.  I sure hope we never stop loving being on the ballfield!

 

6.  Beach trip to Destin, Florida

It had been five years, but in September all four of us were able to go to the beach together and we couldn't have asked for a better trip.  Well...except for the last morning there.  But since I wrote about that here in my last post, I'll move ahead to the next one...

 

5. Camping in our new tent

Never say never.  Because I said I'd never sleep in a tent.  I said I'd never go camping in a tent.  But when you're family wants to try it, you give in or get left out.  So...we bought a tent (and a whole bunch of other camping supplies) and went camping in October, tent style.  And after three days snuggled up in sleeping bags, on cots, out in the great outdoors, it wasn't bad.  As a matter of fact, I could even say, it was fun, because well...it was fun.  So much so, that we just might pack up house and home and try it again in 2015. :)

 

4. Trip to New York

Anthony, my friend's husband, called in late September to let me know of his big birthday plans for his wife, Terri. She would be turning 40 in November and had always wanted to see the Broadway show, "Wicked". Terri's husband wanted to surprise her with a trip to NYC to see the show. Derek and Anthony started having conversations about the trip, how it would be even more fun if we were able to join them in the celebration, especially since the three of us had all just turned 40 within the last few months. The two of them began planning, scheduling, and making reservations for all of four of us to go.  We were successfully able to keep the entire trip a complete secret for nearly six weeks! Terri was beyond surprised when they arrived in NYC and we were already at the hotel waiting for them.  The four of us had an amazing time; it will definitely go down as one of the all-time, best vacations we've ever had!



The suckers may say, "40 sucks", but our trip to NYC sure didn't!

3.  Derek's technology conference in Orlando...and Disney World!

During the last week in January, Derek had his first technology conference of the year in Orlando.  We decided to take the whole family down earlier than his conference and enjoy a few days at Disney World.  Derek and I managed to keep our plans a total surprise for the girls.  They only thought we were going to hang out at a hotel for three days, doing school, swimming, etc. while Dad went to his sessions.  They had no idea where we were headed and all the plans we'd made. 

All of our secret planning paid off in a huge way when, shortly after 10:00pm, we approached the infamous "Welcome to Disney World" sign before entering the Disney resorts.  The girls were shocked, totally and completely surprised.  There were tears, and smiles, shrieks, and laughter.  All the emotions we'd hope we'd see, we saw late that night in the car.  When the week was over, we wound up having the most magical time (of course we did...it's Disney!), including meeting Elsa and Anna, which clinched the entire trip for them.  Here's to hoping Derek goes back to another conference in Orlando very soon!

2.  Our "over the hill" birthdays

Big year for us celebrating our big 4-0's!

 

1.  My brother is cancer-free!

In mid-January of this past year, my younger brother called with devastating news.  He had cancer, Hodgkin's Lymphoma.  For six months, every other week, he received his prescribed dose of chemotherapy.  He got sick.  He lost some weight.  He lost some hair.  But never, not that I ever saw, did he lose his fighting spirit.  Now, I'm sure he had some very difficult moments, like when he caught a stomach virus while his immune system was compromised which put him in the hospital because he was deathly ill.  And I'm sure there were others behind closed doors, but even then, he always seemed to maintain hope, bravery and positivity in the midst of it all. 

In June, when his last chemo session was all said and done, and his scans came back "normal", we celebrated.  We celebrated because not only did God walk through those stressful, hard months with my brother, his wife and our family and friends, but He chose, in His sovereign kindness, to heal my brother.  And for that reason alone, we celebrated.  And we still celebrate.  Without a doubt, the best thing that happened in our family during 2014 is that my brother is healthy and well.

He's the man!

For all our family has been extremely fortunate to do this year, we are grateful.  We are grateful for the opportunities to travel and the experiences we've had together.  As we look ahead, I thought this quote which one of my favorite comedians posted on Facebook sums up how I feel about the upcoming year:

"Hey 2015 - I see you waiting there. 

I reach out confidently to shake your hand because

I know Who goes before me and

Who is for me

and Whose I am."

~ Anita Renfroe

Happy 2015 to you all!

Why I Will Never, Ever, Ever Forget My 40th Birthday

There are many reasons actually. 

Hundreds of birthday greetings on Facebook and through texts.

Thoughtful cards in the mail.

Finding signs placed in my yard by a caring friend and also finding a big package on my doorstep sent to me by another generous friend.

A homemade, beyond delicious, key lime cake, baked and carried over to my house by my mom and dad.

And most certainly, spending a wonderful week leading up to my 40th in Destin, Florida with the people I love the most in this world.

 

 

A week doing all the beachy things families sometimes do.  We swam in the water.  We played in the sand.  We ate seafood.  We put on headlamps, grabbed our flashlights and found 100 sand crabs in the dark.  We went to the Gulfarium, a marine park, and watched a dolphin and sea lion show.  We went to the movies and saw Dolphin Tale 2.  We got pedicures.  (Well...the girls and I did.)  We lounged.  We relaxed.  We soaked in all the goodness of God's handiwork.  And had an absolute blast the whole time.

Booties...um...I mean...beauties on the beach. :)

They loved sharing a room together.

After finishing this mermaid, Derek asked,
"Can we count this as art class for the day?"
 

Derek and Grace went kayaking out in the ocean.
I stayed on shore and prayed no sharks would eat them.

What better place to catch the opening night of
"Dolphin Tale 2" than at the beach?

 

Going out to celebrate ME! 

 

Night before birthday dinner.

But by far, the most favorite thing we did at the beach was getting up early and going for morning beach walks.  Taking a stroll, collecting seashells, looking for dolphins.  Cold sand under our feet, sun barely lifting upon the horizon, no need for sunscreen, no crowd.  Nothing compared to it.

The night before waking up to the reality of turning 40 years old, I told Derek I wanted to go for an early morning run on the beach.  Though I've taken too many walks on the beach to count, I've never actually gone running by the water's edge.

For the record, I actually like running, which is why I didn't think this would be a big ordeal at all.  But what happened last Saturday morning is the main reason, among all the previously listed reasons, I'll never forget my 40th birthday.  Because four days later, I still bear the visual reminders on my feet.

When I run here at home, I have on shoes.  Running shoes.  Nice running shoes with lots of cushion and padding. 

But for some reason, feeling feisty, footloose and fancy-free on my birthday, I opted not to wear those cushy running shoes. I chose to run barefoot instead.

When I kicked off my flops and stepped onto the sand, I felt energized and ready.  I told myself since it was my 40th birthday, I would run for 40 minutes, 20 minutes to the right, turn around, and then run 20 minutes back to the condo.  Easy peasy.

From the moment I picked up the pace, I felt glorious.  My heart felt strong, my lungs felt strong, my legs felt strong.  I felt good.  I felt alive.  Praying as I ran, I gave thanks to God for a multitude of things: His creation, my 40 years of life on this planet, my precious family, my health, for the things I've experienced, for things to come, etc.

But as I approached the 20-minute mark on my watch, I noticed my feet didn't quite feel right.  I looked down, didn't see anything unusual, no blood or visible wounds, so I kept going.  When I hit 20 minutes and turned around to go back, my feet really didn't feel right.  But because I was still a fair distance from the condo, I kept running.

Soon my run turned to a jog, then to a walk, as I realized what was happening.  I was getting blisters. Not blisters from the sun, but from the sand. The last day of vacation, my 40th birthday, I was getting blisters on the bottom of my feet.  Great.

I had to force myself to keep going because the pain had really intensified by now.  I didn't have my phone, so I couldn't call Derek to ask him to come give me a piggy back all the way back to the condo, which would probably have given him blisters, or even for him to get the car, drive down the strip and pick me up.

So I started talking to the Lord again.  But this time, the prayers had changed.  They were more like, "You know that Footprints in the Sand poem, Lord?  You know the one where You carried the person when she was in anguish or suffering?  Well...Lord, any possible way you could physically carry me all the way back to the condo, like right now?  Because I don't think I can take one. more. step."

I was so far away that I couldn't even make out which condo was ours from the shoreline.  My pace got slower and slower as the pain increased.  I tried walking in the water to soothe my sensitive soles.  I tried walking up on the softer sand, but that just slowed me down even more.  The only thing I could do was keep going.  One painful, laborious step at a time. 

Which I did, even when I thought to myself, "This really feels like I'm walking on shards of broken glass.  Yes, that's exactly it.  I'm walking on glass.  Wait.  What is sand actually made of?  Broken bits of rock and shells?  Oh my goodness!  It's like I AM walking on shards of broken glass!"

Finally, one hour and five minutes from the time I started my run, I arrived back at our condo.  I've never been so happy to see a building before in my life.  So happy I nearly dropped down and kissed the ground in front of me, but then I stopped.  Well...because this was the very same ground which had given me blisters, so...just no.

Gingerly, I made my way up the stairs, rinsed my feet, put on my flip-flops and walked up to the condo, "Ow-ing" every step of the way.

All I wanted to do was go inside, put my feet up and go back to bed.  But as soon as I got to the door, I remembered it was my birthday (the balloons and the 40th birthday sign my sweet husband had taped outside the door was a big reminder).  I also remembered that we had to pack up to go home.  Ugh.

Of course, they all wanted to know why I looked like I was in pain, so I explained my run...jog...walk...nearly crawling, adventure to them.  To which my husband looked at me and asked, "So...why didn't you wear your running shoes?"

I forgave him quickly, seeing as how he and the girls had so sweetly decorated the condo for me. Hobbling away, I went to get dressed.

Just after my run.

 

After breakfast at the Donut Hole and a 6+ hour drive, in which I nursed my tender toes, we made it back home.  Waiting on my front porch was a package I ordered before we left for vacation.  For my birthday I had ordered myself my very first pair of TOMS shoes.  (Yes, tardy to the party, I know.) 

 

Blisters or no blisters, I just had to try them on to see if they fit.  And the crazy thing is that they felt great.  Amazingly, the soles of my feet didn't hurt quite like they had the rest of the day.

 

It was then that I sifted through the other paperwork in the box and found the picture of impoverished children also wearing TOMS shoes on their feet.  You see, TOMS' mission statement is "One for One".  With every pair of shoes you purchase, they give a new pair of shoes to a child who needs shoes.  According to their website, TOMS has given more than 10 million pairs of shoes to children in need.  That's pretty amazing.

 

Standing in my kitchen with new shoes on my feet, tears welled up in my eyes.  Because the gift I'd just opened meant something very different to me than it would have had I not just experienced what I'd experienced earlier that morning.  In a very, very small way, I could understand.  I had felt pain.  And I now, I had felt comfort.  And I found myself praying the same relief for the child who receives a pair of shoes because of this pair of shoes.

 

I am beyond grateful to have had such a wonderful birthday.  I felt loved in a multitude of ways.  And now that I'm considered "over the hill", I may begin to forget a few things here and there, but I can assure you, I will never (like ever, ever) be able to forget my (very unforgettable) fabulous 40th birthday.

(And I will also never forget to wear shoes the next time I run on the beach...)

Unless...

I love all things "Back to School".  Always have.

As a child of the 80's, the highlight for me during this time was going to pick out my cool, velcro-flapped Trapper Keeper for the new school year.  And I couldn't wait to get my hands on the sales flyer from the local drug store so I could circle e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g I needed and then beg my parents to take me there before it was all gone. 

I think I actually had this very one...

Just ask my dad.  He and I have had a running joke about school supplies for years now.  As a matter of fact, here was our conversation via text a few days ago...

Dad:  School supplies are out! LOL.
Me:   Ha! Oh, yes, I know!  Already bought everything we need for this next year! Big surprise, right?
Dad:  No surprise. Love you.

I was the elementary school kid who cried when school was over in June and rejoiced when it started back again in the fall.  That was me.  #schoolgeek

When I taught first grade in the public school system, euphoria hit an all time high the week of preplanning.

There was something about returning to a super clean classroom, freshly painted walls, or the year I found a new dry erase board hanging where my old chalkboard used to be.  (I know teachers now have the fancy, techy smart boards and such; I did not.)

Decorating my bulletin boards, cutting out all the laminated items I'd created, writing students' names on nearly e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g in my room, all made me very happy. 

Then the day or weekend before the first day, I would close my door and take a quiet walk around my classroom.  I remember touching the desks and petitioning the Lord on behalf of each child's name written in black Sharpie. 

Rookie year.  At least I looked like I knew what I was doing...

I didn't know who my students would be; I didn't know their personalities or their needs, but I knew I needed to pray for them.  And as the school year progressed, the Lord heard some of their names lifted up with cries of desperation many more times than others...

And all the teachers said, "Amen". 

More than anything, I knew I needed the Lord.  I needed Him to guide me as I attempted to teach the ones in my care for the next 180 days.

Since our fourth year here at Fort Academy begins next week, I've been in preplanning mode, preparing my physical surroundings for a new year.  I've been organizing the heck out of our school room: purging, replacing, filing and creating.

I've been poring over the new curriculum, reading books for my own "professional development" and mapping out the lesson plans for this year.  I attended a homeschool conference a week ago and already met with some of the moms from my homeschool group.

I mean, I'm totally rockin' and rollin' here and we haven't officially begun.

But in the midst of my compulsive planning, preparing and organizing, the Lord dropped this truth bomb into my hands a few days ago.  Literally.

"Unless the LORD builds the house,

its builders labor in vain."  Psalm 127:1

Unless...
Unless He is in the plans...
Unless He is present...
Unless He is the point of it all...
Unless...

Which sounds remotely similar to the same message God spoke through the Old Testament prophet Zechariah back in 500ish BC. 

According to King Cyrus' decree, the Israelites had been set free from captivity in Babylon and were finally returning to their homeland of Jerusalem.  God had instructed His exiled people to rebuild His temple, which had been destroyed by the Babylonians.  The Israelites began with good intentions.  They worked.  But somewhere along the way, too many obstacles, lots of persecution, and lack of motivation, stalled the work for 15+ years. 

Prompted by the Lord, Zechariah spoke to Zerubbabel, the one responsible for overseeing the task of rebuilding the temple, with these words...

 

"Not by might nor by power, but by my Spirit,

says the LORD Almighty."

Zechariah 4:6

He went on to explain that when the capstone, the final piece of the building came out, there would be shouts of "God bless it!  God bless it!"

Not only I am believing those words for our own personal homeschool situation, but I'm also thinking of my church.  And BCA, the Christian school, directly behind and affiliated with our church.  I'm thinking of all the construction happening in both places.  Both are reaping the fruits of growth in this season.  And because of God's favor, both our church and the school have been undergoing some seriously major renovations this summer. 

Why all the construction?  Why the parking lot mess? Why the cost?  Why the expansion projects?

To know Him and make Him known.

But it can't happen without Him.

Thankfully, I trust the heart of the leadership at my church.
I know the heart of the administration at BCA.
I've experienced the heart of so many educators both in the public school system and those who choose to educate from home. 

They just get it.  They know that ultimately all the "building" they're doing has little to do with them.  They make the intentional choice not to trust in their own strength, abilities, or talents.  They have come to learn that if God's Spirit is not in all of the "building", they labor in vain.

It is only through God's Spirit that anything of lasting value is accomplished.

We've been singing this song, "Holy Spirit (You Are Welcome Here)", as part of our worship the last few Sundays at church.  Here are some of the lyrics:

"Holy Spirit, you are welcome here.

Come flood this place and fill the atmosphere.

Your glory, God, is what our hearts long for,

To be overcome by Your presence, Lord."

 

"Let us become more aware of Your presence.

Let us experience the glory of Your goodness."

(You can hear it here at this link:) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ujqSyRzBLIM

The chorus has now become a specific prayer for my family, for my time with my girls as we spend another year learning together here at home. 

Might it be yours, too, for whatever season of "building" you may be walking through now?

For unless the Lord builds it...

I Know Who I Want My Daughter(s) to Marry

Since we'd attended the evening service at our church the night before, we were excited about a non-rushed, non-hurried, slower-pace Easter Sunday morning at home with each other.

The girls got to take their time with their Easter baskets.  They made resurrection rolls.

And then our plan was to make these cute little things to take to the grandparents' house for lunch.

But as I pulled everything out I needed, I suddenly realized I'd forgotten to purchase one crucial item when making cupcakes.  The cupcake liners.

Derek was standing in the kitchen when I realized my mistake, when I whispered "Uh oh", and when the thought of someone (um...him) going out to purchase some crossed my mind.

I made eye contact with him and gave him the "look". 

The silent, but weighted, look which said, "So...any chance you'd maybe, possibly throw on some clothes, get in your truck, drive to Wal-Mart on Easter morning to pick up white (has to be white, because well...sheep are white) cupcake liners even though I've already made about ten trips to the store this week but still forgot to get cupcake liners and since it would take me about ten times as long as you to get dressed and since I really need to stay here to prepare the cupcake mix and since you are such a wonderful husband...and dad...please..."

He saw the look.  He interpreted the look.  And responded,

"You know I really love you..."

Then he was off.  Half an hour later, he returned with exactly what our soon-to-be flock of sheep needed.

But it was while he was gone that I thought about the interaction we'd had that morning.  And how it could have gone very differently.

He could have completely rejected my non-verbal suggestion. 
He could have gotten frustrated with me for being forgetful, for not having my ducks...er...sheep in a row. 
He could have said, "No way. I've been going all week and I don't want to go anywhere this morning."
He could have said, "You go. This is your deal. You forgot. You go get what you need."
He could have gotten angry with me for even suggesting he be the one to go to the store.

But he didn't. 

Which is exactly why my eyes leaked a few tears that morning.
And also why, when he left, I thought, "I know exactly who I want my girls to marry."

A man very much like their dad. 

The same man who didn't respond in anger when I hit the side of the car while I was pulling it into our garage...twice.
Or when I backed that same car into a friend's car on New Year's Eve over seven years ago, days before leaving for a vacation to Disney World.
Or when I overspend on groceries.
Or when I accidentally spilled bleach on his most favorite Gap khaki shorts.

A man who is not easily angered.
A patient man who calms a quarrel versus a hot-tempered one who stirs up dissension.
A man who does not give full vent to his anger like a fool.
A man led by the Spirit, not hot-headed and reckless with his words or actions.
A man who is slow to anger, abounding in love.

Not a doormat or a pushover.  But a man who knows when and where to express anger, and in the right way.

Those who know Derek may say he was born with this personality.  Lack of Italian or Irish blood makes for a calmer demeanor. Maybe.

But in the sixteen years we've been married, of course, I've seen my husband frustrated. 
I've seen him angry. At idiocracy. At ignorance. And most certainly at injustices.

But I've also seen him restrain his anger.  I've seen him purposely walk away, choosing not to react by blowing a gasket, but instead, responding with grace. 

I've learned so much being the recipient of that grace, by watching him, living with him.
And that's what I want for my girls.  It's what I pray for my girls.

I want Grace and Gloria to hand over their hearts to trustworthy men.  Men who love their God and love them intensely.  Not men who'll trample them in easily-angered, easily-offended, or easily frustrated moments of foolish rage in this age of rage, when it seems many are angry about something, or everything.

I want them to be connected forever to a man like their father.  A man who is connected forever to his Heavenly Father. 

Connected to a God who does not treat us as our sins deserve.  A God who responds to our shortcomings, our mistakes, our human frailties with the same words Derek spoke to me on Easter morning,

"You know I love you..."  

A God who is slow to anger, abounding in love.

 

Happy 16th Anniversary to us!

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.

What I Learned After Waiting in Line to Meet Elsa and Anna

Three hours.

That's how long the Disney cast member told us we'd have to wait.

We'd gotten up early, rode the Disney bus over to Epcot, arrived just as the park had opened, hightailed it to the back of the park to Norway in the World Showcase, and then stopped in our tracks when we saw the line.

Hundreds already waiting.  Little girls everywhere.  Everyone wanting what we'd come for as well.  A chance to meet the princess sisters, Elsa and Anna, from FROZEN.

(Now if you don't know who Elsa and Anna are, then you don't have young children, haven't been around any children, especially little girls, or you've been hiding under a rock for the past four months.  So stop reading and Google them right now.)

Here's the funny thing.  When I heard the Disney employee say, "Three hours", I didn't even blink.  Frankly, I didn't care.  For us, this was the piece de resistance of our trip. 

It's all my girls had talked about.  They'd worn their FROZEN t-shirts.  They had their autograph books and their cameras.  No way we were walking away.  The wait was inevitable.  With no other option that worked for us, I got in line, sat down...and began the wait.  Just like every other crazy Disney parent before me.

But my girls... 

I could hardly expect them to wait three long hours while they (literally) had a whole world of fun and activity on every side of them.

So Derek and I made a plan.  He took them to ride a couple of rides.  He came back.  One hour had passed. 

I walked them down to China to meet Mulan.  We ate our snacks.  We met a family from Texas and spent time getting to know them and their two daughters.  Two hours passed.

We each took turns walking the girls around all the other countries while the other held our place in line.  Finally, three hours had passed and the wait was over.  It was our turn.

As their happy chattering died down, our girls turned to hug us and thank us.  Then my oldest asked me, "Do you think all that waiting was worth it, Mommy?"

"Yes.  Absolutely."

It was then that I realized how far I'd come in the waiting game.

I learned that waiting is really not that big of a deal; the time goes by faster than you think.  I also learned it is possible for me to wait with contentment.  And I learned there are plenty of things I can do while I wait.

Waiting in line for two Disney princesses showed me how much patient endurance the Lord has developed in me over the last few years.

All the credit goes to this long journey we've been traveling with Him toward adoption.

It's been over two years now since we officially began the process.  And it's been one year since I wrote the post about the giant, all-encompassing wall we'd hit. 

But two years ago, when we submitted our application to our agency to adopt from India, they told us the wait could be up to, or even more than, three years before we bring our daughter home.

Three years of waiting.

Our first year was a flurry of activity: filling out paperwork, completing our homestudy, dossier, fundraising, and lastly, being matched with an orphanage.

Our second year was filled with nothing.  That's right.  Nothing.  Nothing but waiting. 

In this past year+ of waiting, we had to make a choice.  Grumble, bellyache, sit around and do absolutely nothing or...live.

"Waiting does not mean doing nothing. 

It means that you're patient while your faith is doing something."

                                                                                                                                              

In his book, Joseph, Charles Swindoll, using Joseph's imprisonment as an example, says this about waiting,                                                                                                                                                                           

Those two full years for Joseph were neither exciting nor eventful.  They represented a long, dull, monotonous, unspectacular, slow-moving grind.  Month after month after month of...well, nothing.

That's what it's like when you're in a period of waiting.  Nothing's happening!  Wait.  Wait.  Wait.  Wait. 

On the other hand, it only seems like nothing is happening.  In reality, a whole lot is happening.  Events are occurring apart from our involvement.  Furthermore, we are being strengthened.  We are being established.  We are being perfected.  We are being refined.

As we continue to abide in this "land of nothingness" which I wrote about last year, we are still trusting Him while we wait.  And we still believe His promise for us and for our daughter. 

Here are some practical things we have done recently and are doing now:
1. Updating the homestudy since it had expired (paperwork, fingerprinting, home visit by caseworker, physicals, TB tests, etc.)
2. Appealing to CARA for an orphanage transfer since no referrals have been issued from our current orphanage pertaining to our homestudy
3.  Praying!

In the "winter of our discontent, we are believing there'll be a spring." 

We have hope...hope that as we continue to wait, spring is coming indeed!

 

 

 

Welcome to the Fight Club

"So what you're telling me is that my brother has cancer?"

I needed clarification.  It's the question Michael had to answer for me five weeks ago when he called to tell me the news he'd only just received.

There was a small lump near his right clavicle bone, at the base of his neck.
He went to the doctor.
The doctor sent him for a CT scan.
The scan revealed a second mass near his heart.
Conclusive diagnosis: textbook Hodgkin's Lymphoma.

My younger brother, my only sibling, is 36 years old.  He's in the best physical condition of his life.  He's had no symptoms, nothing, to indicate he has cancer.  Except that suspicious lump.  Thank God for that lump.  Thank God he went to the doctor about that lump.

The news felt like a really, really painful kick in the stomach for me.  I can't even begin to fathom what it felt like for him or for his wife, Dana. 

But just like in any other situation my brother deals with, and according to his God-given personality, he picked himself up, rebounded from the news, and prepared himself to fight.

He's already had all the preliminary procedures: echocardiogram, bone marrow extraction, PET scan, and surgery for the chemo port.

Tomorrow is his first day of chemo.  He'll sit in a room for four hours while the poison chemo makes its way through his body.  He'll go through eight rounds before it's all said and done. 

A mutual friend, Caroline, a friend who's walked her own excruiating, yet victorious, journey through leukemia, sent my brother these words...

 

"Welcome to the club. 
The club that nobody wants to join."

Truth.

Recently, many have asked me, "So, how's your brother?"

From the few conversations we've shared recently and even today, Michael is good.  He's still Michael.  Still loved by EVERYONE.  Still cracking jokes, making us laugh, like he always has.  Still light-hearted and still so incredibly charming. 

Understandably, he's also antsy and restless, especially since he was supposed to start chemo last week but couldn't because of all the ice and snow.  He's anxious to get the process going.  Ready to (officially) begin the fight. 

Proof of his postitive fighting spirit?  A text from Michael to my husband last month...

"With God's help, I'm going to beat this."

We believe he will.

So, yes, Michael is now a part of a club he never wanted to be a member of, but I believe there is another club to make mention of here.  A "fight club" of sorts.

It's one in which we, Michael's family and friends, join together for him, for Dana and for his three kids.
It's one in which we fight with him and for him.

And it's done through prayer.

Every time we lift them up.  Every time we bend our knees.  Or bow our heads.  Or petition the Father.  Or whisper Michael's name to the One who created him and knows him full well, we fight.

We fight for strength.
We fight for wellness.
We fight for joy.
We fight for endurance.
We fight for peace of mind.
We fight for mental clarity.
We fight for healing.
We fight for a miracle.

In this way, we help carry the burdens of my brother and sister-in-law, his soon-to-be caregiver, to the ultimate Burden-Bearer, our Strength and our Warrior.

As we pray unceasingly, we trust.  We trust God's very own words, His promise to fight.

I know Michael and Dana have been overwhelmed by the enormous outpouring of support since his diagnosis.  I know they are grateful. 

I'm not sure they (or any of us) could've imagined or predicted the high level of love and concern so many of you have shown them and the rest of our family this past month.

So, thank you. 

Many of you have walked similar roads yourselves or with someone you love very much. You've been a part of other fight clubs or had fight clubs supporting you. You know the drill. You know what to expect.

Thank you for your words.
Thank you for your prayers.
Thank you for showing you care.
In these ways, you've proved your membership, your place in this fight club. 
Thank you.