Memories

A few times during these past weeks, my husband and I have been flipping through all the pictures on his iPad. Pictures that go back to months ago. Pictures taken in a house that we no longer live in. And the tiny apartment before that. Pictures with a 3-year-old who was much too grown up for her age. A two-year-old with such sad eyes who never smiled. The baby who is now a toddler. That bubble bath with splashes and giggles. Their first beds. The new toy. The first Christmas together as a family. The first Christmas together as a couple. That crazy Christmas vacation. The first rooms we decorated together as a couple. The first time we met the little girls who now hold such a huge place in our hearts and lives.

Pictures that make us remember things we had forgotten.

Each time we look through pictures that seem to be further back than my mind can remember, I end up very emotional because I know that there are things that I have forgotten that cannot be remembered simply by looking at a picture.

The truth of the matter is that some memories simply cannot be captured in a snapshot. The way my heart melts when one of my little ones smile up into my eyes. The joy of a husband who comes to find and kiss me when he gets home each evening. The sound of my oldest randomly saying, “Mommy, thank you for cooking this delicious supper!” The ecstasy of potty training successes. Stealing a precious moment with the hubby while the girls are watching a little TV show. The sweet smell of freshly lotioned girls during cuddle time. Hearing the first sentence. The feel of little arms around my neck. Seeing the way adoring eyes light up when Daddy walks into the room. Watching a wonderful husband be transformed into an amazing daddy. The ache of my heart when I see their pain. The joy of sharing in their victories over struggle.

The reality of this truth spurs me to a unique kind of action. The action of slowing down and savouring each moment with these precious gifts. My husband. Each of my precious children. This crazy time of life. All of these things are precious gifts from God that cannot be taken for granted or simply rushed through. Each moment has been given for me to cherish. And in that truth, I remember that this life is temporary. Even as I focus on how blessed I am or how much I cherish each moment, it simply is not enough. I long to know my Saviour. Truly know Him. I long to be perfectly transformed into His image. The way He designed me to be. And... I long for a perfect memory. One that can truly appreciate and remember how much He has done for and given to me.

Worn

“I'm tired I'm worn

My heart is heavy

From the work it takes to keep on breathing

I've made mistakes

I've let my hope fail

My soul feels crushed by the weight of this world

I know I need to lift my eyes up

But I'm to weak

Life just won't let up

And I know that You can give me rest

So I cry out with all that I have left

Let me see redemption win

Let me know the struggle ends

That You can mend a heart that's frail and torn

I want to know a song can rise from ashes of a broken life

And all that's dead inside can be reborn

Cause I'm worn”

 

It seems these days that this is the song my heart is singing. The world is broken. Hearts are hurting. Innocent children suffer. Memories bring shame and pain. Sleep is not a place of rest. Fear seeks a foothold. Hiding seems best.

 

And yet, although all of this is one reality in my life, it is not the only reality. The true cry of this song is one that is filled with the hope of the surety of God’s promises. God’s promises that redemption will win. God’s promises that songs can rise from ashes. God’s promises that dead can be reborn. God’s promises that the struggle will end.

“...that I may know Him and the power of His resurrection, and the fellowship of His sufferings, becoming like Him in His death…”   

~Philippians 3:10

A wise and godly woman once read this verse to me. She told me that we cannot really know Christ until we have not only known Him through the power of His resurrection, but in the fellowship of His suffering. She said that just like precious jewels glimmer most beautifully against a black backdrop, so the power of Christ’s resurrection is reflected in full splendor against the backdrop of His suffering.

And so, while my heart yearns for the end of the struggle, for the redemption, and for the final resurrection, it is also resting in the precious fellowship with my Savior that can only be found in suffering. There is a certain and wonderful joy in saying the words “I’m worn,” as it is at the end of myself that I see the grace of my God in full view.

“...that I may know Him…”

 

Mudpies

Several weeks ago, my husband and I were given the opportunity to take our 3 beautiful foster daughters to Indiana Beach Amusement Resort for the day. Our oldest daughter who was 3-years-old at the time loved to know what different things were coming up in her schedule and I was very excited to tell her about the fun day we were going to have. So, I started explaining: "We are going to drive for a little while..." "There will be special rides to ride and special places to go..." Let's be honest, it's actually a little harder to explain an amusement park to a 3-year-old than I had anticipated! However, my voice and facial expressions definitely conveyed to her how excited I was to take her there. After a few minutes of my stumbling explanations, she began talking very excitedly: "We will get to ride the train!" "Will we see the dinosaur?" "I love riding the horses!" I suddenly realized that my rather bumbling explanation of Indiana Beach had led her to believe that we were taking a second trip to the Indiana Children's Museum. (We had just been there a few weeks previous.) I hurried to explain, "No, we aren't going there, but we are going to a different really fun place!" What happened next came as a complete shock to me. My adorable, excited little girl absolutely melted down. She threw a fit! I'm talking about a fall down on the floor, kicking, screaming, sobbing, knock-down-drag-out temper tantrum! I stood there watching her with my mouth hanging open in shock and disbelief. Why didn't she understand? Didn't she know that there is more than one really fun place to spend the day? Didn't she know that I, as her mother, would not be so excited to take her to a place that was not fun?

We dealt with the temper tantrum, packed up the car, and had an absolutely fantastic day at the amusement park. On the way home, I turned around to see that all three of my precious girls had fallen asleep. It was one of those sticky, sweaty, absolutely worn out, sleeping with their heads at awkward angles in their car seats types of sleep. I smiled and started flipping through the pictures on my phone of all the wonderful fun we had experienced that day. I started thanking God for all the blessings in my life, and then it hit me. I am exactly like my daughter. Here I sit thanking God for my wonderful husband, daughters, health, home, church family, etc, yet when I really look at each of those things I begin to realize something. If I had been in control of my own life, I would have missed out on all these precious blessings. If God had given in to my "temper tantrums," arguing, and stalling tactics, I would have missed out on His wonderful, perfect plan for my life.

See, I planned to get married young (preferably 19) to a typical "North Idaho" man. (You know, guns, knives, hunting, hiking, truck-driving, etc.) I would stay close to home and my amazing family while raising the 9 (or 19) children that I would give birth to, one (or maybe two) at a time. I would live out in the country with some acreage and wonderful view of the majestic mountains, trees, and lakes that make up northern Idaho. I had a perfect picture of what a "good, fun life" looked like and I did my best to get it. Thankfully, I am not actually in control of my life and my great and mighty God had much better plans for me! I am married to a city-boy, NASCAR-loving, Indiana abiding, entrepreneur-minded, gentle, wonderful, wonderful man. I have 3 beautiful foster daughters who arrived in my home last December...all at once. My current good health is due to the fact that I have had a hysterectomy and will never give birth to a biological child. I live in a gorgeous, old farmhouse...right off of 18th St in downtown Lafayette. My view consists of other homes, people, streets, cars, and...cornfields. My current blessed state has almost no resemblance to the plans I had made and I am so very, very thankful. There was nothing wrong with my plans/desires. The Indiana Children's Museum is a fantastic place to re-visit and we plan to do so often! But oh, the things I would've missed out on! How short-sighted and small were my plans and dreams! Didn't I know that there was more than one good way to live a life? Didn't I know that God, as my Father, would not lead me to a place that was not good?

"If we consider the unblushing promises of reward and the staggering nature of the rewards promised in the Gospels, it would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about...when infinite joy is offered to us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mudpies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased."          

~ C.S. Lewis

Perfect

I'm just going to come out and say it: I long for perfection. I would be thrilled if everything I said, did, or touched would come out perfectly. This lovely idol of my heart has been carefully crafted and developed over years and years. The most pressing thing that my heart longs for is safety and somewhere in my mind dwells the lie that I am the best person to ensure my safety. After all, I know exactly what kind of safety I am longing for, right? Another lie that has lodged itself in my warped and tiny, short-sided heart: perfection is one way to obtain my own safety. If only I was perfect... No one would ever think anything bad about me, or at least if they did, everyone would know they were wrong. No one could ever take advantage of or exploit my weaknesses because I wouldn't have any! No one would ever gossip about me because there wouldn't be any "fun" dirt to talk about. I would never be thought of as ridiculous, petty, silly, dumb, proud, or bossy because I would speak and respond to everyone in my life perfectly. Just think of how "safe" I would be if I was perfect! And so, in my sinful flesh I strive day after day to make sure that everything in my life is presented as perfect. I carefully control, plan, and dictate my life in order to obtain the "safest" results.

God has been working for many years now to convince me of His perfection and that I am safest when hidden in His hands. Lately, however, it seems that He perfectly planned a series of completely uncontrollable events in my life. Moving, living out of boxes, the giant pile of crumbs (basically whole meals) under the 2 highchairs in our dining room, health issues, parenting, piles and piles of never ending laundry, yardwork that begs me to come free it from it's overgrown prison, relationship struggles, water pouring from my new kitchen ceiling (4 times!), my foster daughters' hurting and insecure hearts, discovering wet laundry that has molded, ... oh, and potty training! Now each and every one of these things listed could fill a whole blog post in and of itself, but that's not the point. The point is that God mercifully continues to bring me back to a place where I am faced with my own imperfection.

I'll share one story to illustrate my point... Potty training is a huge reality check for a perfectionistic control freak. Yesterday morning was going really well. One of my best friends was planning to come by and chat for awhile and I was super excited to see her. I had everything all planned out. I knew what I wanted to accomplish before she came, what point the kiddos needed to be in their schedules, which room of the house I was going to make presentable, everything. With about 30 minutes until her arrival, "A" had just gone potty in her potty chair which gave me hope for a good visit. I put her panties back on and went upstairs to release "N" from a time-out. After a little, inspiring chat with her, I returned downstairs only to have my mouth fall open in shock. "A" had removed her panties, peed, and then pooped on the floor. To top that off, she and her younger sister had then played in it (apparently poop is fun to touch???). The poop was spread all over the floor, the bookshelf, the legos, the dolls, the couch, and....themselves! They were covered in poop and they both had the nerve to grin at me from their poop-covered faces! Gross. Needless to say, I was saying prayers of thankfulness each moment the doorbell didn't ring while I was cleaning that mess up!

This power struggle with God for perfection continues to be a struggle in my heart and life, but I am beginning to be so very joyful in and thankful for my imperfections. Why?

• Seeing my imperfections so clearly makes me long for true perfection and there is only one place that is found: in the finished work of my Savior on the cross! I am not perfect, but He is perfect and so I long for Him.

• Recognizing my imperfections and those in this fallen world cause me to long for the day when God's perfect plan will be complete. God designed the world in perfection! The desire for perfection is from Him and in sync with His perfect plan! There will come a day when all will be made right, when Christ will conquer once and for all, and when God's perfect order will be restored. How I long for that day!

• The consistency of my failings cause me to be thankful for my wonderful husband. God created marriage as a picture of our relationship with Him and, though not perfect, my husband is a wonderful representation of that perfect love to me. He knows I'm not perfect. In fact, he would probably laugh if anyone tried to convince him that I was! He has seen me fall apart even while desperately trying to maintain control. He has bourne the brunt of my sin, and he has watched me try the same things over and over again even though "my way" continues to result in brokenness. And he loves me! I am safe with him.

• Resting in the safety of my husband's love draws me, once again, to my Savior. I am so thankful for this earthly love and safety that is a mere shadow of the perfect love and safety found in my relationship with Christ. I can rest in my failures, short-comings, and imperfections even as I strife for the perfection of Christ because I am covered in Christ's blood. He holds me in His perfection and I am perfectly safe.

Healing

I am finally starting a blog. This has been a long time coming and, while the perfectionistic side of me doesn’t like starting in the “middle” of the story, I am excited to share. I am on an amazing adventure with God and others should know of His goodness to me.

For many years now, I have been struggling fairly significantly in my health. From the time that I was 15, there have been emergency room visits, unending Doctor appointments, pills, pokes, experiments, ultrasounds, and surgeries coupled with the pain, nausea, weight struggle, exhaustion, horrible menstrual cycles, migraines, and general sickness that can come with endometriosis. As far as we can tell, God has brought all that to an end! I am so thankful for His healing hand…even if it didn’t come in the way that I had prayed for.

Through the years of sickness, I have prayed for healing. However, these prayers reached a new height of urgency last May. One year ago, after a particularly awful weekend, I heard some very candid words from my doctor. She told me that I needed to change my thinking about endometriosis. She said things like, “Endometriosis does not go away,” and “This is only something that you manage, it is not something that you cure,” and (most devastating of all) “You need to prepare for the fact that a hysterectomy might be in your near future.” I was shocked, hurt, and angry. As the next few days passed, and I digested the information that I had been given, one of those emotions rose to the surface: Anger. I was angry at God and I wasn’t afraid to tell Him about it. My prayers took on a whole new tone as I questioned, ranted, and cried out to God. I am so thankful for those angry days. God says to “draw near to God, and He will draw near to you.” (James 4:8) I thank my God for drawing near to me, even when I was coming to Him in anger. He began to comfort and soften my questioning heart.

As the months went by, the anger began to dissipate into pain. Pain and, oddly enough, hope. As my dear husband and I began to talk through the new reality that we were facing, we began to discover that God had placed something else on our hearts. Something that hadn’t been made clear until the “normal” option had been (all but) taken away. We wanted to care for the children who were already in the world, but who were hurting. We had already dabbled in the pond of foster parenting (another story for another time) and found that God was replacing our natural desire for biological children with the desire to show His love to precious children whose lives have been marked by pain.

We doubled our efforts and finished our foster parent training within just a few months. On December 7, we received our first official foster placement: 3 precious little girls. They were little (3 ½, 18 mos, and 4 mos), beautiful, and heart-breakingly in need of God’s love. Our lives were turned completely upside down and we absolutely loved it. My arms were full and the hurt in my heart was quieted.

However, my health situation continued to decline and could not be ignored. We saw some specialists, got second (third, fourth, and fifth) opinions, and were running out of options. We set a date for surgery and the pain in my heart was aroused again. It was around this time that a special was sung at our church. It happened to be a Sunday that I was playing the piano, so, in God’s perfect plan, I heard the song four times that morning.

“…no gain or loss we know could keep us from Your love…” “…no sickness…” “…could keep us from your love…” “…how high, how wide…” “…no matter where I am, healing is in Your hands…” “…how deep, how strong…” “…healing is in Your hands…”

I finished playing and left the room sobbing. I began to beg God for healing. There was no anger, just a deep, raw pain. Maybe this was going to turn out like Abraham and God was going to heal me now that He knew I was willing. I knew that God’s healing is often emotional, but I prayed…begged God for physical healing. Again, God was near, so very near to me. I knew that it was the right decision to continue to plan for the surgery – both Justin and I were convinced of this – and each step, every day, God brought comfort, but not the healing that I longed for.

On April 29, two weeks before Mother’s Day, I had surgery. The surgery went very well, and I actually began to feel better almost the same day. I was shocked. I healed quickly from the surgery and sometimes even forgot how recent my surgery had been because I felt so incredibly healthy. My energy and appetite returned. I got a shocking amount of things done each day. The deep and constant pain was gone.

Today, on Mother’s Day, my husband was asked to share about our special family in the morning service. I cried as he shared about our precious girls, as our adorable family photo flashed on the screen, and as he praised me in my motherhood. After he finished speaking, the worship team began playing a song. I couldn’t believe they had chosen this specific song to come right after my family’s story.

“…how high, how wide…” “no matter where I am, healing is in Your hands…” “…”how deep, how strong…” “…now by Your grace I stand, healing is in Your hands…”

As I stood there and listened to those words, I knew that God’s healing was perfect. I have never known a joy that was as painful as this. Each day, I am overwhelmed with thankfulness for all of the blessings that have been placed in my life. As I look into each of my little daughter’s eyes, see their smiles, and hear their laughter, I am overwhelmed with how blessed I am to be able to show them God’s love each day. Healing is in God’s hands.

“No mountain, no valley, no gain or loss we know

could keep us from Your love

No sickness, no secret, no chain is strong enough

to keep us from Your love

to keep us from Your love

How high, how wide

No matter where I am, healing is in Your hands

How deep, How strong,

And now by Your grace I stand, healing is in Your hands

Our present, our future, our past is in Your hands

We're covered by Your blood

We're covered by Your blood

How high, How wide

no matter where I am, healing is in Your hands

How deep, How strong

And now by Your grace I stand, healing is in Your hands

In all things, we know that.

We are more than conquerors.

You keep us by your love.

You keep us by your love.

How high, How wide

no matter where I am, healing is in Your hands

How deep, How strong

And now by Your grace I stand, healing is in Your hands”