Lean In

Two weeks ago, I woke up in the middle of the night thinking about Arturo.  I was in a panic.  Something wasn't right.  As I lay in the darkness I searched for my Father to give me peace, to bring me understanding as to why I felt the way I did.  In silence, I heard a voice telling me to let him go.  That he would be leaving this Earth soon.  I resisted, I rebelled and told Him no.  I gave all the reasons why he needed to stay.  "My love," He said, "you need to let him come to Me."  I began praying to my little Arturo's spirit.  I don't even know if that's how it works but it's what I did.

"Sweet boy, stop fighting.  Stop struggling.  Stop suffering.  Baby boy it's ok.  Don't be afraid.  Jesus is waiting for you.  He has a place prepared for you."

I stayed up crying for hours.  Not the kind of crying that brings more pain but the kind of crying that brings peace and washes over your fears.  I fell asleep at some point faintly begging my Jesus to let him stay if it was possible.

Two days later I was on my way to the hospital and I felt a pit in my stomach.  I felt nauseous.  I had no idea what I was going to walk into - whether this baby boy I loved would still be with us.  To my surprise he was still there and the doctors said he was doing better.  He didn't have any tubes or wires hooked up to him.  He wasn't uncomfortable or crying.  He was just calm and peaceful.  I fed him a little of his bottle and I walked him over to the hospital window.  It was sunny and there was a warm breeze blowing.  He laid on my chest watching the sway of the trees with the rays of the sun cast on his face.  He fell asleep.

I now know just how good my Father is.  He gave me that day.  He let me see this baby boy pain-free, wire-free, tube-free, peaceful - because that's how he is now.

I have experienced loss before but not like this.  His death would be sad no matter what but the events surrounding his death are not only unjust, but tragic.  I have never felt so helpless in my life.  My mind replays the events every moment I have alone.  How lonely he must have felt.  How confused he must have felt.  How helpless he must have felt.  It's something I don't know I will ever get over - and I hope I never do.

Something important I have learned over the last two years can be summed up in two simple words: lean in.  When it hurts, lean in.  When you are suffering, lean in.  When you don't understand, lean in.  When the pain is unbearable, lean in.  So many times in my life when something has happened that I can't explain and that doesn't make any sense, I just ran from it.  I ran from the sadness and the confusion and the difficulty only to be knocked over by it years later.  I pushed anger and unforgiveness to the back corners of my heart instead of bringing it to the surface and letting myself feel it and be freed of it.

Our Father wrote us love letters in His Scripture preparing us for the trials we will face.  "In this world you will have trouble..." It's inevitable.  We can't avoid pain - it will always find us.  And if we don't prepare ourselves for it and lean into it and let ourselves feel it, one of two things will happen; we will either be knocked over by it when we least expect it or we will harden our hearts to it in order to protect ourselves.  Both scenarios have serious consequences.

For many of us, God has been working tirelessly to give us "hearts of flesh" - a heart like His.  A heart that breaks for this world's injustices.  A heart that longs to be part of His perfect plan for redemption.  That means feeling things the way His heart feels them.  A heart that experiences great joy is also one that knows deep pain.

I've been tempted this week, since losing Arturo, to keep myself busy.  To not talk about him.  To lose myself in distractions.  But God keeps whispering to me, "Lean in..."  Because he is not just God.  He is also a Father who knows deep pain.  A Father who watched His son suffer on a cross for people who didn't even know He was doing it for them.

So instead of busy and instead of avoidance and instead of distractions - I stop in the middle of my bedroom, a worship song blaring, my hands in the air and tears falling.  I talk about him with people who ask how I'm doing.  I scroll through his pictures on my phone.  I imagine him in the arms of Jesus, with a perfectly whole body.

Even when it hurts, I lean in.

(This is the song that will forever remind me of my little Arturo)

Mother's Day: I want it to be all about them

I stood washing dishes today and daydreamed about tomorrow - Mother's Day.  I fully intended on partaking in a day just for myself; avoiding the kitchen like the plague, leaving dirty dishes for Mike to wash, locking myself in my room and binge-watching Netflix.  I smiled briefly thinking about this glorious day all about me.

I was suddenly surprised when I felt a strange feeling.  It wasn't guilt or disgust but something rather gentle and loving.  I stopped washing the plate I was holding and stared at the wall in front of me - a little unsure of why my daydreams of alone time and sleeping in were suddenly interrupted by thoughts of waking early to make breakfast for my family and maybe spending the afternoon at a playground.

There is only One who can lovingly redirect a self-indulging plan into one that desires to have a day for me, be nothing about me...I knew this was the work of my Father.  So I listened intently as he spoke directly to my heart.

Many videos are going viral on Facebook right now in preparation for tomorrow.  Mom's all over the United States are claiming their day.  I've clicked on a few of these videos and laughed thinking of how right they are.  Yes, it would be totally awesome to sleep in, like, really sleep in without children banging on my door.  Yes, I would like to spend the day at the spa and remember for a few hours that I am more than just a wife and a mother.  Yes, I would love to lay around all day and watch reruns of Gilmore Girls while eating Reece's Peanut Butter cups, only emerging from my cave to indulge in the food that was prepared for me.  But as I stood there with a plate in my hand and the water running, I remembered just how much I treasure being a mom, and the little ones who made me one.

It is true that in many families, 364 days out of the year are all about the children, while one day a year its supposedly all about us.  But if we really take a look at that, we realize one very important thing; if our children think that our lives are all about them, that is not their fault, it's ours.  If there is anything that the life of Jesus teaches us it's that he never tired of serving others.  Even when he was exhausted and emotionally drained, he found something deep inside of him that allowed him to continue serving.  He didn't do it because it was what he was supposed to do or obligated to do - he did it because he knew serving others, served a bigger purpose.  Exhausted,  emotionally drained but still serving a bigger purpose?  Sound familiar?

My husband and I try very hard to teach our kids that this life is not about us.  It's not about our comfort or our agenda or our wants.  It is completely contrary to what this world tries to teach our kids - do what feels right to you, pursue your desires, get yours.  Sometimes we have glimmering moments where our kids "get it" and we feel like Super Parents but a majority of the time we fail miserably.  Which is why, as I was planning my day all about me I felt so very convicted; if on Mother's Day, a day supposedly celebrating a "job" deemed one of the most selfless any woman can have, I choose to make it all about me instead of all about the three absolutely beautiful creatures that gave me this job, what message am I sending them?  "Thanks for bringing me so much joy, making my life-long dream of becoming a mother come true - now, I don't want to see you for the entire day."  Yeah, sounds like a great plan.

I have learned more, grown more, and changed more since becoming a mother than any other stage in my life.  It has taught me unconditional love.  It has taught me how to dig deep in tough situations.  It has taught me how to find joy in the little things and not sweat the rest.  But above all, it has driven me closer to my Savior.  There is no occupation in this entire world that can bring the highest of highs or the lowest of lows, than parenthood.  And there is no one in this entire world that can bring us to our knees in prayer like our children.

I'm not saying that I hope a spa day or a binge-watching-Netflix-day aren't in my future, but this year, on Mother's Day I want my kids to know that on a day that is supposedly all about me, I want it to be all about them.

Landon Joseph, Nohemi Ruth and Levi Frank - I treasure you.  Thank you for being a huge part of making me the woman I am today.

You Aren't Worth It

If you follow me on Instagram you know yesterday was a tough day.  And like most tough days, I seek out meaning in the hard things.  God has taught me a lot in the last two years about asking him questions that are hard.  Questions they didn't teach you to ask when you were growing up going to Sunday school.  Questions that most Christians avoid because they are afraid of the answers...or worse yet, no answer.

On my drive home from the hospital yesterday, I kept replaying the scene in my head over and over.  The sound of the hustle and bustle of doctors and nurses and moms going in and out of rooms.  Machines beeping.  The smell of bleach, as the cleaning lady had just finished mopping the floor.  A faint smell of coffee that one of the moms was drinking.  In my head, I was avoiding looking in his crib.  To feel the weight of that pain all over again.  To remember the heaviness in my stomach as I listened to the neurosurgeon talk us through his complications.  There were times during the conversation I tuned him out - I couldn't help but let my mind wander to the worst.  And as I held my little Baby A I asked myself the hard question: "Why am I even here?"

It may surprise you that the question rolled around in my head; believe me, it surprised me too.  But as I looked at this precious baby sleeping in my arms I knew it was a question I have struggled with since I met him two months ago.

You see, I have no obligation to be there with him.  From a ministry standpoint, it doesn't even totally make sense.  Children's Services has already told us we can't take him home.  We aren't registered as a "disabled baby orphanage."  I am also not a nurse.  I have no training in caring for a child born with hydrocephaly.  Plus, it's an hour of driving to only be able to be with him for two hours.  Believe me, I've used these arguments with myself when I struggled to not want to go to the hospital.

But there is always this pull.  A thought in the back of my mind.  If I don't go see him, who will?  If I don't go hold him, who will?  If I don't change his diaper and change his sheets and feed him, who will?  If I don't pray over him, who will?  If I don't show him with my actions and my words that he is worth it, who will?

It changes everything...those two words.  Worth it.  Is it worth it?  Is he worth it?  Is he worth the sacrifice of time?  Is he worth the emotional turmoil I feel when I hold him and when I have to leave him?  Is he worth sleepless nights trying to figure out how to get him home?  Because ultimately, all of these things we face everyday, all of the opposition, all of the tough situations, all of the painful circumstances that involve people we love and people we don't even know, all come down to one thing:  Are they worth it?

I first learned about worthiness from my parents when they found out my Mom was pregnant with my sister, Abbey.  After a simple prenatal test, it was discovered that Abbey would be born with Down Syndrome.  That day the doctor asked my mom when she wanted to schedule the termination of pregnancy.  My mom politely told her that because of her belief in God and her belief that Abbey is not a mistake she would be continuing with her pregnancy.  For the first five years of Abbey's life, my mom practically had to hold her every night, propped up against the wall, so that Abbey could breathe to sleep.  She had many bouts with respiratory illness and we almost lost her an several occasions.  Countless hours in physical therapy, occupational therapy and doctors appointments.  We received ridicule from many people, our friends would call her a retard and kids made fun of her at school.  But for those that took the time, even though sometimes it was hard and often uncomfortable for them to get to know our Abbey, they showed her, and us, that they understood she was worth it.  That even though she was different than them, had to do things differently, saw things differently - it made her even more worth it, not less.

So as I asked myself the hard question sitting in a public hospital holding a sick baby that wasn't even mine, Jesus responded to my question with his own..."Is he worth it?"  Because ultimately, this question that Jesus is asking all of us is about much more than a sick baby in a hospital.  This is just as much about a drug addict, a Muslim, a struggling single mom, a refugee from Syria, a homosexual, a Trump supporter or a Sanders supporter, an autistic boy, a family on welfare, an illegal immigrant, an abortion doctor, a soldier or a missionary in a foreign country.  The thing that connects all of these types of people is that they are worth it.  They are worthy of your friendship.  They are worthy of you knowing their story.  They are worthy of a seat at your dinner table.  They are worthy of the sacrifice of your time to be with them.  They are worthy of a fair chance to be educated.  They are worthy of love, care and affection.  They are worthy to be told they are worthy, that they are worth it.

Somehow, as Believers, we have mixed up Jesus' message.  None of this is about us.  It's not about our schedule or our routine or our career or our ten-year plan.  It's about showing this hurting world that they are worthy to be loved and that they are treasured by a Savior who died for them before they were even born.

It took a sick little baby to show me exactly what Jesus has been trying to show me my entire life.  I am complicated and obsessive compulsive and selfish and irrational and sinful; but I am worth it.  And so is Baby A.  And so are you.

Let's stop telling people whom we may not understand, "You aren't worth it."  And lets start doing the uncomfortable and the seemingly impossible to show them that they are.

Does God Really Give You the Desires of Your Heart?

When I was in high school, and for a year after, I had a boyfriend.  He was a serious boyfriend, in that we talked about our future together which included marriage and kids.  I was convinced he was the one for me.  I was not a Christian at the time but I believed God existed and I did pray on a regular basis.  "God help me to score 15 points in the game," "God let me get an 'A' on my test (even though I didn't study)," "God let me get the solo I tried out for."  And during this particular relationship, I prayed A LOT.  Our relationship was pretty tumultuous and unhealthy for the most part and I was constantly asking God to "fix this" or "help him to love me" or "stop him from cheating on me again."  When I look back on it now, it makes me a little sick to my stomach to know the things I put up with all because I loved him but we all know that, generally speaking, teenagers + love = drama.

I prayed almost every night for God to let us be together forever.  Somehow, in the middle of all the turmoil, I could still imagine this beautiful life, in a beautiful house, with beautiful jobs and beautiful kids.  Love is soooooooooooo blind.  After about our fourth break-up and reunion, I started to realize that this was probably not going to last forever.  When our final break-up happened, I was beyond furious with God.  I told Him I hated Him and would never, ever, talk to Him again.  I decided that God hated me and that I was obviously just going to have to live this life on my own.  Which doesn't generally turn out well.

I hit rock bottom.  I rebelled quite a bit.  I would do things that I knew were destructive just because they were destructive.  God could care less about my desires, so why should I care about His?

Fast forward about fifteen years and I can't believe that was my desire.  I can't know for sure what would have happened if God had given me the desires of my heart back then but I can almost bet it would have ended in infidelity, divorce, depression, children stuck in the middle of a custody battle and deep pain.  Not only that, but I would have robbed myself of the chance to meet my husband.  A man who loves me unconditionally, edifies and encourages me and never makes me feel insecure or unworthy.

If you are like me, you have seen many instances and circumstances in your life that you were sure was the best thing for you, only to have God either not answer your prayers or seemingly slam the door in your face.  And if you're like me, at the time you feel angry, frustrated and confused only to walk a little ways down the road and find a rainbow at the end of the storm.  The clouds lifted, the sun came out and that unanswered prayer became a blessing - not a disaster.

I'm always cautious when people post things on Facebook or preachers preach on the subject of God answering prayer.  Our society has become one that makes God look like a "genie in a bottle," here to give us our every desire.  Step right up.  Tell me your request.  Your wish is my command.  And when things don't go our way, suddenly the Genie you were praying to is nothing more than a heartless, vengeful God.

Too many people turn to these popular passages in the Bible when asking God for a favorable answer to prayer:

"...ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you." -John 15:7

"...so that whatever you ask of the Father in My name He may give you." -John 15:16

You know why these passages make me cringe?  Because they are incomplete.  They are just an afterthought to the main point of the passage.  Unfortunately, they are the only parts that people memorize and ultimately throw in God's face when He doesn't comply.

"If you abide in Me, and My words abide in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you." - John 15:7 

"You did not choose Me but I chose you, and appointed you that you would go and bear fruit, and that your fruit would remain, so that whatever you ask of the Father in My name He may give you." - John 15:16

The key word that struck me this morning was the word abide.  To abide in the terms mentioned by Jesus is to rest or dwell.  To be firm and unmovable.  To wait for.  To endure or sustain.  Believers that abide in Jesus are not shaken or thwarted when a prayer is not answered in the way they expected.  But also, Believers that abide in Jesus have a transformation of their prayers as well.  Their prayers move from a selfish and inward approach to a selfless and outward approach.  When someone really abides in Jesus, and are not just seeking Him for personal gain, their relationship with Him is solidified.  What He wants becomes what we want.  His desires become our desires.  Prayer becomes a way to communicate instead of a way to manipulate.

Does God answer outlandish prayers, make miracles happen and bless the socks off His people?  ABSOLUTELY!  But He does it within the confines of His will and what he knows is best for us, not as a reward withheld for only really good Christians.

God's purpose for prayer was never to ensure that His followers were successful, secure, safe, healthy or comfortable in this life - as hard as that is to hear.  God's divine purpose for prayer is to give us successful (and intimate) relationship with Him, a secure truth to stand on, a safe place to go when life is difficult, a healthy spiritual life that withstands trials of any kind and comfort in knowing that this is not all there is - that eternity awaits.

About seven years ago, I was in a very dark place full of anxiety and fear.  Every day I was worried that someone I loved would die.  I didn't want to leave the house.  I didn't want to be separated from my husband and kids.  I decided I needed to seek help and I started seeing a counselor.  Nine long months into counseling and I was beginning to see the light at the end of a dark tunnel.  And then we got a phone call.  My father-in-law passed away very suddenly.  A man that I loved like my own father.  A man who was everything to our family.  A man who was loved by so many.  It could have been crippling.  I could have fallen apart.  Someone reading this may think, "How cruel is God to let that happen when He knew that was her biggest fear?"  And trust me, for a time, that was how I felt, too.  But after some time of grieving, a rainbow appeared and the sun came out and I realized...God didn't do that to me, he prepared me - through counseling - for what He knew was coming.  I prayed for months, even years, that no one I loved would die.  God knew He couldn't answer that prayer the way I wanted Him to, so instead He allowed me to stand firmly on His truths, to heal from things in my past that were affecting my ability to trust Him and to continually seek wise counsel from someone when I couldn't figure things out on my own.  It was the gentle hands of a loving Father that carried me through one of the darkest times of my life, not the harsh hands of a vengeful God who didn't want to answer my prayers.

When we received salvation, we didn't sign a document that provided a checklist of problems that go away and a resolution to every task or difficulty.  We did, however, have a Savior who paid a serious price so that we could have continual communion with a God who knows all, sees all and desires that His people partner with Him in the restoration of this beautifully complicated world.  Even if its just our own beautifully complicated world that needs the restoration.

Grief in Comparison

I was having a conversation with a friend of mine the other day.  She has been going through a few rough things in the last couple of months and it all seemingly has just finally taken its toll on her.  After the last event, the final straw, she mentioned that she had sat in bed trying to coax herself by saying, "be tough," and "suck it up," and "stop feeling this way."  After she gave me the list of things that have been tipping her over the edge, she says something along the lines of, "I know that people are starving and horrible things are happening all over the world, but today, I just can't take all of this."  I, too, have gone through many of the same things she is going through and felt genuine sympathy for her feelings.  But what if I hadn't?  What if I couldn't sympathize because I had no idea what she was going through?

Almost three years ago, I lost a baby to miscarriage.  Up until that point, I had many friends who had experienced miscarriage.  In fact,  some had experienced many miscarriages.  I foolishly thought to myself on a number of occasions, "the baby was hardly developed, at least the baby didn't die during birth or something when they could actually see it and hold it."  Don't judge me please, it makes cringe to think that I actually had that mindset.

But until I lost my baby, I just couldn't understand completely the agony one goes through and the hope and expectation that is lost.  Which, I guess, was the beginning of a transformation of thought that I have come to adopt as a personal belief.

We often throw expressions around like, "I'm sorry you lost your job but there are starving children in Africa right now!"  Or maybe, "Your Uncle died...well at least it wasn't your Mom or something."  (Yes, I actually had someone say that)  Or how about something a little more difficult to swallow; "I'm so sorry your husband died...but at least he's going to heaven!"  Maybe that last one makes you question my sanity, but hear me out.

The Bible is not riddled with passages telling us NOT to compare our own experiences with others' but it does give us someone to compare to.

³³ When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come along with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled.  ³⁴ “Where have you laid him?” he asked.   “Come and see, Lord,” they replied.

³⁵ Jesus wept.

In John 11, a friend of Jesus, Lazarus, had just died.  Jesus knew he was going to die.  He also knew that he was going to bring him back to life.  Yet, he cried.  Why?  Why would the Savior, who already knew the outcome, cry over a dead man who was about to be raised back to life? 

I think it was because Jesus allowed himself to grieve with others.  He allowed Himself to be "deeply moved in spirit and troubled" by what others were going through.  Notice that Jesus didn't say, "At least he wasn't your own son," or "thank goodness he's not suffering from illness anymore."  And you know what Jesus also didn't say?  "At least he's going to heaven."  No.  He wept.  He cried for Lazarus because he felt deeply for him but he wept because he ALSO felt deeply for those who were grieving for Lazarus, too.

Jesus knew that if Lazarus was going to die, he was going to Heaven.  Just like most of us know that there are other people who have it worse in the world than we do.  We have to start realizing that it doesn't do anyone any good to remind them that their situation could be worse.  Even if theoretically it could be, it's not how I think Jesus handles people who are grieving.  And I don't think that's how we should either.

Yes, there is sometimes a need for some perspective, but grief is funny in that it isn't logical.  Perspective will eventually come back, but not in the middle of grief.  And guess what?  It's really ok.  It's ok that we grieve.  It's ok that we cry.  It's ok that we question.  It's ok that we lose sight of reality for a little while.  Because one of the things that God does care about is that we have a softened heart, a heart of flesh.

"I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh." -Ezekiel 36:26

When we tell ourselves, or others, "Be tough!" "Suck it up!" "Stop Feeling this way!" or "It could be worse!" we change our hearts of flesh, and others' hearts, little by little back to stone.  Those same hearts that God has worked so hard to make more flesh-like and soft.  Our world is full of hard-hearted people who have "sucked it up" - do we really want to be that way too?

I, for one, want to feel deeply for others.  I don't ever want to encourage someone to get over "something" when I have no idea how God plans to use that "something" to work in them.  I want to meet them in their pain and disappointment and struggle because that's exactly what Jesus did for me.  I may not understand it, or have been through it myself, but I know what it's like to lose someone I love or worry about paying a bill or wonder what the blood test will reveal.  If you've experienced any kind of grief in your life, you already have the capability to grieve deeply with someone who really just needs you to be there for them.  We don't need grief in comparison; with its wise words of perspective and promise of a better tomorrow (even though we know that to be true).  We need to find a place where grief is acceptable, struggle is a reality and disappointment is a place for us to connect and be in communion with one another and Christ.

Anxious, Fearful and Overwhelmed

Awhile back someone said that our family is "the perfect family."  Although they said this flippantly, not in a condemning way or anything, it really, really bothered me.  We have beautiful children whom we love dearly, we love each other dearly, and we have a feeling of purpose and fulfillment because we are living out God's calling on our lives.  All that to say, it makes us content and happy, but it doesn't make us perfect.  We struggle with the same things every other family, who is not living on the mission field, struggles with.  Sometimes Mike and I yell at the kids.  Sometimes we say unkind things to each other.  Sometimes, well a lot of times, our kids are disobedient.  We've struggled with limiting screen time, the proper way to discipline, ways to make our marriage a priority and finances.  If you struggle with it, we struggle with it, too.

About seven years ago, I struggled deeply with depression and anxiety.  It got so bad that I, literally, had a panic attack whenever anyone from our family had to leave the house.  And considering Landon went to school everyday and Mike went to work everyday and Emi went to the babysitter's everyday - you get my drift.  I was absolutely certain that one of us was going to die.  I hardly left our house.  I could barely complete menial tasks.  I was afraid of everything.  And I hid it from everybody.  I still had a job I had to get done, kids to raise, a marriage to uphold - but inside, every day was a struggle to keep from lying in bed all day, drowning in fear.

Somehow, I had it in my mind for awhile that once you became a Christian, you had this "hedge of protection" around you.  A free "get out of pain" card, a guarantee everything would always be alright.

The Christmas before, I was at my sister's house and was looking at all of the pictures on her fridge.  A Christmas card caught my eye that literally became the first domino in a chain reaction that caused me to question everything I had ever thought about how protected I actually was.  This card was from a missionary family my sister's church supported that had two happy parents and two happy kids on it.  In a picture off to the side, resting on a cloud, was a picture of another happy child.  I thought to myself, "That's strange," and asked Amy why the other boy was on a cloud.  "He died on the mission field.  He contracted some bacterial infection and was gone in 24 hours."  I kid you not, the entire room got very small, I started to breathe very shallowly and I excused myself the bathroom.  My family was on the mission field.  I have children on the mission field.  Missionaries aren't covered under "the hedge of protection?" I thought.  Anxiety was born.

When I really got a hold of what was going on, I sought wise counsel.  I began seeing a mentor once a week for about eight months.  It helped me to gain perspective, walk through my anxiety and also learn about the real heart of God.  I was eventually able to leave my house, and let my loved ones leave the house, without thinking about the worst case scenario.  They would leave.  They would come back.  Bye, bye anxiety.

Or so I thought.

A week ago, Mike nonchalantly tells me that he and Landon were going to Santo Domingo with the soccer teams to play some games there.  They would be taking a bus and would be gone most of the day.  Suddenly, visions of all the movies I have ever seen where foreigners take a rickety bus, over a winding road that has ravines on either side of it, went all crazy in my head.  I had a panic attack on the spot and for the three days leading up to the trip.  To top it off, the night before the trip, Landon starts having a panic attack about leaving, as well.  He was begging with everything in him to stay home and not go.  I was sure this was a "sign from God" that something bad was going to happen.  When Landon went to his room, I begged Mike not to go.

The morning of the trip, I was a mess but was keeping strong so Landon didn't freak out.  Mike said he cried in the car the whole way to school.  I decided to get my devos out.  I knew I couldn't go back to sleep so I might as well try and keep my mind busy on something else.

I've gotten to the point in my spiritual walk to know when things like this come up - it is a spiritual attack.  A way for The Enemy to paralyze me, to steal away my joy.  A lot of people would like to believe that it's just part of being human, it's normal, it's expected.  If you are one of these people, let me just stop you right there:  There is a REAL Enemy.  He knows you.  He knows your weakness.  He knows everything about you.  And he uses this information for your destruction.  Panic attacks aren't normal.  It's not part of being human.  It's not expected.

So before I read anything in my Bible or devotional, I decided to just write in my journal about how I was feeling.  And what I wrote completely took me by surprise:

"Right now I'm thinking, 'Is this God trying to warn us?' or 'Is Satan trying to rob Landon of a great experience?'  I know the determining factor in all of this is fear.  I feel afraid, anxious, nervous, overwhelmed...but here's the thing: none of these emotions are things God "puts on" His beloved.  Those are weapons of The Enemy.  Satan is constantly trying to steal the joy from God's people.  Paralyzing people with fear is his most powerful weapon.  So today I will CHOOSE joy, not fear."

My struggle with anxiety has always been deciphering between if God was trying to speak to me or if Satan was trying to deceive me.  And for the first time I saw the Word of God come to life and comfort me in a real way.  We all know that the Bible tells us "Do Not Be Afraid" and "Don't be anxious." So if that's what God's Word says than that's how we know when HE is speaking rather than the Enemy deceiving.

It changed everything for me.

Whenever I had an anxious feeling that day, I would recite to myself as a reminder,

"So do not fear, for I am with you;
    do not be dismayed, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you and help you;    I will uphold you with my righteous right hand." -Isaiah 41:10

Or,

"Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God." -Philippians 4:6

Almost everyone knows those verses.  Heck, I skip over them whenever people put them in their blogs because I know them by heart.  But this time was different -- I didn't just know them by heart, I knew them in my heart.  Those words helped me decipher that Satan was speaking to me, not God.  The loudest voice was fear-ridden, anxiety-stricken and overwhelming.  

It was the still, quiet voice echoed in Scripture that helped me focus on my God, not my perceived problem.

One Syrian Refugee's Hour of Need

Copyright - Magnus Wennman / Aftonbladet / REX Shutterstock

I was running this morning.  It's generally a brainless activity.  I think about the events of the day just starting.  I think through to make sure I sent the kids off to school with everything they needed.  I send up a few prayers.  But this morning was completely different.

Syria was on my mind.  And not just ON my mind, it took OVER my mind.  There is no question that this topic is a hot one.  It's a difficult one, a complicated one.  What's even harder is the difference of opinion between Christians.  We expect the "lines to be drawn" between Believers and Non-Believers but this is a whole new ballgame.  I don't take sides.  At least not public ones.  I NEVER say my way or the highway.  I am just not wired like that.  But God has been stirring me to have a voice.  Not to tell anyone that they are wrong and I am right, but to maybe help us seek out wisdom on how to respond.

Since the beginning of time The Enemy - not ISIS or Terrorists - The Enemy of God and mankind, has launched a campaign with a very large army to do one thing...kill, devour, destroy.  Do you want to know what his number one weapon is?  Fear.  There is no other weapon in his armory that has as much power.  There is no other tactic that is as effective.  Fear is a game-changer, whether you are a Believer or Not.  The only difference between a Believer and a Non-Believer who is fighting the war against fear is that we, The Church, are called repeatedly to NOT fear.  The Bible mentions the phrase "Fear Not" or "Do not be afraid" more than 300 times.  The only phrase that is used more than that, is "Love" which is used more than 2,000 times.

This road is narrow.  It's crooked, it's scary, it's unmarked.  Does it sound like another road we all know well?

“Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it." -Matthew 7:13-14

Maybe you are hoping I will take a stance.  I will say they should come or they shouldn't.  Sorry to disappoint you.  Church, you may not know this but you are not really fighting over what is right or wrong.  The reason there is so much unrest is because none of us really know what the right answer is.  There is conflict in our hearts between protecting what we hold sacred and showing compassion toward hurting people.  So let me tell you the conclusion I have come to--

Stop debating and prepare to respond.

We can all think we have a say in this, but in reality we do not.  Ultimately, our government is going to do what they think is best.  And as we submit, yes submit, to their authority we need to prepare to respond the way Jesus would if he were confronted with this same issue.

My words and my actions are not governed by Obama.  Or by Ben Carson.  Or by the Constitution of the United States of America.  The only thing that governs my daily decisions BASED on sovereign wisdom is God's Word.  And do you want to know what The Bible says?  It says love God, love your neighbor, love your spouse, love your children, love the unlovable, love the homeless, love the orphan, love the widow, love the sick, love the naked, love the addicted, love the prisoner, love the hurting, love the refugee, LOVE OTHERS -- more than 2,000 times.

If it happens - if the government begins the process of shipping Syrian refugees to our borders, the debate stops.  We can stop ranting on social media.  We can stop unfriending those "liberal Christians."  We can stop filling up our Newsfeeds with articles trumping our co-workers beliefs.  The debate is over.  They are here.  What you do next is what matters.  How you respond is what the world is waiting to witness.

I'm not pretending that this is an easy response to a complicated situation.  But I know one thing that I keep coming back to when how I feel in the moment conflicts with what i know to be true - when I was in the pit, running from all the hurt, running from the war waging inside of me, Jesus loved me.  A radical love.  A life-altering love.  And I will NEVER, EVER withhold that same love He lavished on me, from another person.  Whether they arrived through the womb of a home-grown American or on a rubber boat.

I realize this is messy.  We want there to be a lot of grey area.  There's lots of questions about funding, and taxes and economical effect.  And there's a real, legitimate concern that some of the refugees are coming with plans to hurt our country.  But, honestly, I refuse to turn my cheek from the 99% of INNOCENT people OUT OF FEAR of the 1% of them that have plans that may or may not come to fruition.  And if this 1% really strikes fear in your heart, then you better not go to work tomorrow.   A disgruntled, AMERICAN, ex-employee might come to shoot up your workplace.  And you better not send your kids to school either because a mentally unstable student might come and massacre their classmates.  And actually, you should probably find a new home, too, because when you come down to get your morning cup of coffee an intruder might take you out without hesitation, over your TV and your iPhone.  Do you see what Fear does?  It gives POWER to The Enemy.  It strengthens his cause.  It robs us of life and our purpose during our short stay on Earth.  That is what ISIS wants.  That is what Satan wants.

I would suffice it to say, that across history, the people that go from a loving, nurturing, thriving human being to a destructive, hateful and vengeful one, have one difference between the rest of us -- ONE PERSON who was there for us during our desperate hour of need.  A grandma, a friend, a parent, a coach, a dance instructor, an army sergeant -- one person showed us love, attention and worth and it changed our whole world.

This is one Syrian refugees' hour of need.  The world is watching WHO you will represent and HOW you will respond.

Surrender

Photo Credit: Hillsong Church Facebook Page

I sat, arms crossed, body language closed.  I wasn't waiting in expectation.  I wasn't tuned in.  I was going through the motions.  Outwardly, playing it cool - inwardly completely destroyed by weariness.

It's amazing how you can sit in a room, surrounded by 10,000 other people, and feel like you are the only one.  The only one that struggles.  The only one that questions.  The only one that doubts.  I am living a life that more than half this world would only dream of living - yet, I sit, wondering if God still sees me.

That morning, I went through the motions of worship, maybe one measly hand up, maybe my eyes closed once or twice - searching for connection.  Wondering if He would meet me in my brokenness.  When the last note played I knew I was the one standing between He and I, between the unified Spirit I was longing for.  He whispered, "Surrender," I screamed, "No."  "My child, my daughter - Surrender."  I, with my sarcastic tone and my defiant spirit unfurled, "I will surrender only if he, the speaker, Brian Houston, lays his hands on me and anoints me himself."  You see, it wasn't a challenge.  It wasn't even a test.  It was a statement made in complete and utter brokenness and unbelief.  I threw my words out with no anticipation that it may even happen.  Because, really, that would mean that God - the Creator of the Universe - actually heard me.  I was beyond believing that.

Within minutes, as he stood on stage and began to speak of God's goodness...he stopped.  His head bowed, his eyes closed, his voice spoke.  "Are there people here tonight, people in ministry, who are weary..."  My head dropped, my eyes closed, my tears fell.  "Are you tired, worn down, jaded..."  The flood gates opened.  My shoulders shook, my eyes formed rivers, my body felt weak.  "If you are weary, and worn down and jaded would you make your way up to the stage..."  I felt gentle hands from friends push me forward, no idea how I would even be able to take steps.

I stood in front of 10,000 people, with many other weary, worn out and jaded travelers beside me, completely broken.  The depths of my brokenness poured out in physical form.  I could hardly stand.  I certainly couldn't stop sobbing.  I fought hard to control it all, not really wanting anyone to see the real, broken me standing there.  But my spirit made way to surrender.  And in that moment, I felt the biggest, most gentle, loving hands placed on my head.  It startled me at first, wondering if it was God himself in human form touching me but instead, it was he.  Brian.  Brian Houston.  The one person I mocked God in delivering an anointing I was sure wouldn't come.  But God - the Creator of the Universe - even in all of my defiant rambling and unbelieving words - pierced the Heavenly atmosphere to lay hands on a broken girl needing to know that her Father sees her still.  That even in my weariness, my worn out-ness, my jadedness - He sees me still.  "You were not meant to carry this burden, child...it is mine to bear." "But you called me to this place, how could you have picked me?  I am so, so broken."  "That is why I have called you, my daughter.  I work best through broken things."

In a world filled with billions of people, you can still feel alone.  Unseen.  That is the Enemy's plan, you see.  Isolate.  Separate.  Deceive.  Destroy.  How many of us walk this road anticipating trials but never anticipate loneliness or weariness?  We begin believing his lies, wondering if we are, in fact, walking this alone - forgetting the footsteps walking right beside us.

"In this world you will have trouble..." it says, "...but take heart."  TAKE HEART!  Keep going.  Don't look back.  Don't sit down.  Don't take a break.  TAKE HEART.  Rest in Me.  Wait on Me.  Find peace in Me.

Surrender.
Not my plan, Father, Yours.
Believe in the unbelievable.
See the invisable.
Walk the narrow.
Love the unloveable.

Surrender.  Something happened when I surrendered.  I danced.  My hands have never lifted higher.  My eyes have never cried harder.  My smile has never been bigger.  I wasn't going through the motions.  I saw my God.  He saw me.  I praised Him.  I thanked Him.  I worshipped Him.  I surrendered.

"The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me,
    because the Lord has anointed me
    to proclaim good news to the poor.
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
    to proclaim freedom for the captives
    and release from darkness for the prisoners,
²to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor
    and the day of vengeance of our God,
to comfort all who mourn,
³     and provide for those who grieve in Zion—
to bestow on them a crown of beauty
    instead of ashes,
the oil of joy
    instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise
    instead of a spirit of despair.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
    a planting of the Lord
    for the display of his splendor."   -Isaiah 61:1-3

In this world, surrender leads to bondage and imprisonment.
In His world, Surrender leads to freedom.

Are you really Pro-Life?

On Saturday, two young men - ages 18 and 19 - were executed in an area nearby.  Our community was a hive of activity following the shooting.  People came from all around to go look at the bodies.  Police vehicles came and went.  Mike was questioned a couple of times on his account. There weren't people screaming or crying.  Just two kids, laying in a field, being made into a mockery.

Later in the week we found an article in an online newspaper that stated people from the surrounding communities were celebrating the deaths of the boys.  These two "delinquents" were wanted in several murders that occurred during robberies to obtain weapons and motorcycles.  Many had been living in fear of these boys.  They seemingly had no conscience and only thought selfishly about themselves.

When the murders initially occurred, I had a seriously heavy heart for them.  We didn't know the background of the boys and I couldn't help but think of their mothers - what heartache.  When Mike was reading me the article I felt a sense of relief.  A relief that later struck me in a strange way.  Why was I feeling relief that two teenagers were executed?

I struggled for a time that day - not completely sure why I couldn't get them off of my mind.  I didn't feel fear or danger.  I didn't know them so I didn't feel a deep sense of loss.  Yet, I struggled.

It wasn't until this morning in my devotions that I felt God ask me a question and I knew it was pertaining to my struggle: "Are you really Pro-Life?" 

Let me start by saying, I am NOT going into politics here.  In fact, I do what I can to stay away from some really taboo subjects, but this question struck me so surprisingly that I knew God was really drawing my attention to it.

It is probably not a surprise to many people that I am Pro-Life.  I mean, I am dedicating the rest of my life to fighting for kids who are cast out, lost and abandoned.  I will be waiting expectantly to swoop in and care deeply for babies whose mother's have abandoned them.  In some respects, this work is a no-brainer for me.  I love children.  I think every child is a gift from God (despite the circumstances surrounding their conception or birth).  It doesn't take a lot of effort on my part to feel compassion for these children from the moment I meet them.

But what struck me this week, and about the question God proposed, was how I began to feel about the boys after I had learned of their delinquent activity.  I have felt a similar way when I heard of some child-molesting criminal being killed on death row.  I have caught myself saying in my head, "You got what you deserved."  And just now, reading that, it really, really disgusts me.

These two boys, although I will never condone their behavior, did not deserve death at the hands of someone playing High Judge.  Me saying that their life was only worth the horrible mess they got themselves into is a complete disgrace to the Living Gospel that I base my faith and life on.

"Then Jesus told them this parable: 'Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Doesn’t he leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it?  And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders  and goes home. Then he calls his friends and neighbors together and says, ‘Rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep.’  I tell you that in the same way there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who do not need to repent." -Luke 15:3-7 

We claim as Christians that Christ's love is for everyone but we rarely live that way.  Something happens to many of us once we begin our lives as a Christ follower; we forget the former road that led us to the Cross.  I was a sinner (and still am).  I was selfish and rebellious.  I was a very, very lost sheep.  But Christ found me.  He pursued me.  He won me over with His radical love for me.

This isn't a simple road.  We aren't going to wake up one morning and say, "I feel so much compassion for the man who killed my father."  We aren't going to be driving down the road and decide, "I've changed my mind.  I don't believe pedophiles deserve the death penalty."  Believe me, if there is any circumstance where I wrestle with God on who deserves death, it's with people that harm children.  We may have to plead with God to change our hearts to reflect His.  We will have to fight every fiber of our flesh because forgiveness and acceptance and unconditional love do not come easily to us.  But we have to understand that the Gospel is for all, not just those we think deserve it.  Because in reality, not a single one of us deserves the ransom Christ paid for us.

Jonathan Rafael Henríquez Bola and Junior de Jesús Rodríguez Pérez were lost sheep.  Our prisons are full of lost sheep.  Our workplaces are full of lost sheep.  Our families are full of lost sheep.  Sheep, that are of utmost importance to our Heavenly Father.  As Christ-followers, people are watching to see how we respond to all of these situations in our lives.  But you know what circumstances they are watching most?  The hard ones.  The struggles.  The difficult decisions.  The unpopular stances.  If we think Unbelievers are basing their opinion of Jesus on how we behave at birthday parties or at the gym or on work outings, we are sorely misguided.  They won't find Jesus while we are on our high-horses, or our condemning rants or our self-righteous proclamations.  They will find Him when we act like Him.  When we treat His precious children with compassion and love.

So I ask, "Are we really Pro-Life?"  Do we really believe every human life matters?  Because if we check our hearts and our hearts have conditions and rules about who deserves forgiveness and freedom - then we are showing this broken world a cheap version of the Gospel.

Not the Gospel that was paid for by our Savior's blood.

When The Rooster Crows

This past weekend, I went to a Women's Conference here in the Dominican.  The theme of the conference was "Corazones de Guerreras" or "Heart of a Warrior."  I mostly went because many friends were going that I have missed over the past year and because, honestly, I needed a break from my kids.  Yes, I love them.  Yes, they have been driving me crazy lately.  Refreshment was what I needed, Freedom was what I found.

My good friend, Vicki, spoke one morning.  She has been a dear friend of mine for nine years and has always been a constant source of encouragement.  Vicki was speaking about going to battle as a warrior woman for Christ.  She gave some very simple ways that we can put on our armor, fight for Him and defeat our enemy.  The thing that got me was when she asked the question, "Who is our enemy?"  Being in the church since I was little, of course I knew the answer was Satan.  But she proposed something that I wasn't prepared for.

My entire life, I have cared way too much about what others have thought about me.  I have always had a great desire to please everyone and disappoint no one.  This desire has been one of my main causes of stress, anxiety and poor-decision making in the past.  It is something that has held me in "chains" for a long time.

Several years ago, God began to do a good work in me and He really convicted me of how sinful I was in putting other people's desires before His.  Slowly but surely, others' opinions of me and the things I felt God was calling me to do, faded to the background and I started caring only about what my Creator thought.  It was very liberating.  And it was easier to obey and make the hard decisions God was asking me to make.

I thought all of that was behind me until we decided to start Hope House.  Then, there were a lot more people who disapproved of me and the decisions our family was making.  There were people who were kind and supportive to our faces and then spoke harsh words behind our back.  There were people who expressed their excitement for this next chapter and then gossiped about our inabilities to others.  ALL of my insecurities came rushing back.  Were we making the right decision?  Were we prepared to take this on?  Were we capable of doing this?  Has that ever happened to you?  Have you ever been knocked over and blind-sided by something that you thought was gone and healed?

As I sat there in Vicki's talk, I started to cry.  Not because I was doubting the road God called us on or our abilities to accomplish this task but because God revealed exactly what "chain" had been weighing me down.

Bitterness.

God was faithful in healing my sinful desire of putting other people's opinion above His own but in the process I allowed myself to become bitter toward those people.  I hadn't forgiven them.  I hadn't loved them unconditionally.  I was essentially doing the same type of hurtful stuff by being kind to their faces and being bitter toward them when I was alone.

Vicki said something that changed everything.  When she asked the question, "Who is our enemy?"  The correct answer is Satan but she proposed that we, in reality, make each other our enemies.  And that is Satan's most powerful weapon for us (especially women) in this war...distract us from our real enemy by fighting with each other.

When I was mulling all of this over, Jesus brought a passage to my attention.

"Immediately the rooster crowed the second time. Then Peter remembered the word Jesus had spoken to him: 'Before the rooster crows twice you will disown me three times.' And he broke down and wept." -Mark 14:72

Peter was one of Jesus' best friends.  Peter would have laid down his life for Jesus.  He loved Jesus with every fiber of his being.  So much so, that he left every thing and everyone he had ever known to follow Him.  But in Jesus' hour of need, Peter didn't stand by Him.  He didn't fight for Him.  He didn't even try and stop what was happening to Him.  He denied even knowing Him.  Not once, not twice, but three times.

But here is the real kicker: just because Peter denied Jesus and abandoned Him didn't mean he loved Jesus any less.  In a tough situation, Peter's flesh won.  He was in self-preservation mode.  He wasn't thinking about the end game or the real battle.  He made a selfish decision in the heat of the moment.  You bet, if he had it to do all over again he would have done it differently.

And what's really important is how Jesus responded.  Jesus didn't disown Peter.  He didn't give him the silent treatment.  He didn't bash Peter to the other disciples.  He simply loved him.  And kept on loving Him.  And it was because he loved Him that He hung on a cross.

I am certainly not Jesus.  But I do have friends, family and supporters that I love (and who love me), that have hurt me very deeply in the past.  And instead of following Jesus' example and recognizing that the Enemy often uses those closest to us to try and distract us from the real battle - I chose bitterness.

Friends, we are not each others' enemy.

"For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms." -Ephesians 6:12

If you have been hurt by someone you love, always remember that they are human and fighting their own battles of jealousy, envy, discouragement, grief and disappointment.  Keep your eyes fixed on Jesus.  Listen closer to His voice than to the distracting ones around you.  So that when the rooster crows and your loved ones deny you and run - rather than strapping on armor to fight the battle with you - your focus can be on the real Enemy and the victory will be yours.

Does God Want Us To Be Lonely?

In the past year I have struggled with this question: Does God want us to be lonely?  There have been times where life has felt like a series of things, and people, being taken away.  Not necessarily in an abrupt or difficult way, just little by little no longer being there.  Over the course of this year Mike and I did some kind of out-of-our-comfort-zone sort of things.  They were things that we felt were necessary and that we definitely felt God was asking us to do but inevitably the decisions we made left us feeling lonely at times.

For our first eight years on this island, we were surrounded by people that loved us, encouraged us, spurred us on and who fought the same fight we were fighting.  It was a comfort and a safe place considering the obvious difficult circumstances that sometimes surround you when you are a foreigner in a foreign land.

Leading up to making the decision to live outside your comfort zone is often unsettling and scary.  But once you make the decision to leave it, sometimes living outside of your comfort zone is kind of exciting.  Everything is new.  Everything is different.  There are new things to be learned and new options to be explored.  It's invigorating.  You feel the passion in your bones rising to the surface.  You are ready to conquer the world.  But just like the butterflies of a new love wear off, so does some of the initial invigorating feelings of stepping into this "unknown zone."  Soon the one thing you weren't expecting sinks in...loneliness.

You realize the crowd isn't going the same place you are.  You realize God is calling some of them out of a different comfort zone than yours.  You suddenly see that as you are walking down that road God is asking you to walk down, you are the only one around for miles.

Maybe you just down-sized your home and now you are in a neighborhood where you don't know anyone.  Maybe you just took a new job that serves others but the paycheck is significantly smaller.  Maybe you just started to homeschool your kids because you wanted to be able to have more of a daily influence on their lives but its a bigger sacrifice than you anticipated.

So what do you do when you look to your left and your right and there isn't anyone standing beside you?

It's these times where you have two choices: give in to your loneliness and decide you misinterpreted what God was asking you to do, or submit to God's plan and seek Him to fill your aching void.

Over the last year, I had plenty of times where I felt like we had made a mistake (just being honest here!).  Do you know when the only times were that I had those thoughts?  It was when I was feeling lonely.  Usually in the middle of the night when I couldn't sleep.  Almost always when my house was quiet and my thoughts were loud.  And nearly every time we were coming up on making another big decision toward stepping further out of our comfort zone.  The Enemy is sneaky.  And its no mistake that he is called the Prince of Darkness.  He is also called "the angel of the bottomless pit (Rev. 9:11)," "devourer (Mal. 3:11)," and the "father of lies (John 8:44)."  He knows one of the most effective ways to discourage a Believer who is taking risks for the Kingdom is to make them feel like they are doing it alone.

Thankfully, God has a plan for those who seek Him in their times of loneliness.  As I began to recognize my own feelings of loneliness the Holy Spirit began to show me that I really am never alone.  The lonelier I felt, the more I called upon The Lord.  The more I sought after Him, the smaller my empty void felt.

"Shout for joy, you heavens; rejoice, you earth; burst into song, you mountains! For the Lord comforts his people and will have compassion on his afflicted ones."-Isaiah 49:13

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." -Matthew 11:28 

 "He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the Shadow of the Almighty." - Psalm 91:1 

"But if from there you seek the Lord your God, you will find Him if you look for Him with all your heart and with all your soul." -Deuteronomy 4:29

I never realized how much more I had been depending on human relationships to comfort me than I had my Heavenly Father.  So often those relationships (friends, spouses, parents, siblings), although well-intentioned, can sometimes be a distraction from seeking Him first.  It is so much easier finding comfort in someone you can see and hug.  But God promises to make Himself known to you if you seek Him "with all your heart and with all your soul."

So does God want us to be lonely?  Never.  But sometimes loneliness is what it takes for us to hear His voice above all the others.

Weakness of Mine

A couple of months back a friend wrote me an email.  She is a good friend, an honest friend, and she constantly points me toward Jesus.  It was shortly after we lost Gilverson, an abandoned baby I had been caring for for three months.  Mike and I had finally decided that we would try and adopt him and when we went to talk with Children's Services about it, they informed us they had sent him to an orphanage in Santo Dominigo.  I was completely crushed.  I had been guarding my heart with him for the months I cared for him in the hospital, knowing full well he wasn't mine, but still wanting to love him the best I could.  I finally gave in to hope when Mike told me that he would be interested in adopting him if they would let us.  God had aligned all the signs.  Would we actually be bringing this baby I loved so much, home with us?

Some depression sank in and I felt a very deep sadness.  It actually kind of shocked me, the profound way I had grown to love a baby that didn't share a single gene of mine.  Either way, many people had been following the journey with me and I posted the sad news on Instagram.



It was shortly after that post that I received the email from my friend.  She had been approached by someone else who had seen my devastated post on Instagram, to which the person proceeded to ask, "If she was so devastated over this ONE baby that she had cared for, does she have what it takes to run an orphanage where there are hundreds more just like him?"

When I first read the words, I'll admit, I was mad.  Not at my friend who was just the messenger of the posed question, and not really even at the person who asked the question.  I was mad that I had let myself be so vulnerable to people "out there" following us on this journey.  Up until I met Gilverson, I was positive, encouraging and maybe even a little peppy on all of my posts.  I didn't want people to see the difficult parts of this road - Satan constantly tries to lead me to believe people don't support weak missionaries.  But that is who I am and have always been.  Maybe not weak in the way the dictionary describes it or the way bullies use it, but I am in fact, weak.

Since I was a small child absolutely everything bothered me.  I cried over everything from Disney movies to dead butterflies.  I could walk in on an emotional commercial and only see the very end of it and sob as if they were speaking of a dear loved one.  When friends hurt me in school, I could hardly pull myself together enough to go.  When boyfriends broke my heart, I was completely inconsolable.  It's just who I was, and am.  I always, always, always saw my tender heart as a curse.  I've had to work really hard to convince myself that being this way was the way God made me, and that my crying, weak, inconsolable soul had a purpose.

Then here I was, a grown woman, who had had her heart ripped out and somebody saw my weakness once again.  It wasn't even like they had to dig very deep to see it, either.  I put it out there, for literally the whole world to see.  What was I thinking...

A couple of mornings ago, I could feel my weakness taking hold of me again.  A plethora of circumstances over the past two weeks had finally taken a toll.  I was practically begging God to make me tougher.  To make my heart more durable.  To change it from flesh, back to stone.  And to no surprise at all, He answered me:

"But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.'  Therefore, I will boast all the more gladly about my weakness, so that Christ's power may rest on me.  That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weakness, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties.  For when I am weak, then I am strong."  -2 Corinthians 12:9-10

God's power is made perfect in my weakness.  My tender, constantly breaking heart is made perfect through God's power.  Ultimately, it doesn't change the fact that there are just some days -- some things I see, some cases I know of, some children who are suffering -- and my weak heart can't take it.  That as I sob holding a child who's mother chose to leave him in a hospital bed, God is working to transform my tears into love's redemptive power.

So if someone were to ask me, to my face, if I am "cut out" for this kind of work, my response would be simple:  No, I am not.  I am not ready to, every day, see children who have been abandoned by people they thought loved them.  I am not prepared to hold a baby who has never felt the loving arms of another human being before.  I can't fathom the hurt and pain and suffering that the kids who walk through our doors are going to know.  But that doesn't mean I don't kneel down in the trenches with them, hold them, cry with them and spend sleepless nights praying over them.  For where I am weak, He is strong.  And soon, many children will be depending on that very weakness of mine.

Pruning

“I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. 2 He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes[a] so that it will be even more fruitful." -John 15:1-2 

A couple of weeks ago I needed some time to myself.  Our baby was being overly clingy, the older two were driving me up a wall and I felt like I was on the fast-track to Crazy Town.  Mike took care of things around the house and I went outside; work gloves on, clippers in my hand and the determination to accomplish something...anything.

I stared at our nine lime bushes and realized they were looking pretty pathetic.  Limbs were hanging on the ground, weedy vines had taken home in their branches.  I knew what needed to be done.

I started on the first bush and it went fairly smooth.  Nothing crazy to do, just some general maintenance and the loss of just a few, small limes.  I was feeling good.  Accomplished.  I stepped back, admired my work and moved on to the next bush.

Each lime bush following the first became a little more difficult.  They were larger bushes and had more overgrowth but they also had quite a few limes growing on the low-lying branches.  I don't like to waste anything, especially not precious limes that make the most amazing limeade known to mankind.  Very quickly I realized I was going to have to make some significant cuts to this bush.  Ones that were likely to remove some incredible limes not quite ready for harvest.  They still had potential and I had to think long and hard about what I was going to do.

I almost grimaced the first time I had to prune a branch that had a bundle of those beautiful, green fruits.  I thought to myself, "How silly I am being, they are only limes."  After finishing the first round of pruning on our biggest lime bush I stood back and looked at the slaughter.  All around me were perfectly good limes laying on the ground, never to be used to make limeade or anything else for that matter.  It seems a little dramatic but I must have just been in one of those moods.  I was really distraught over the loss of these limes.

As I stood for awhile, staring at the other six bushes I had left to prune, I wondered if I had it in me.  "They are fine," I said, "they are producing limes, I should just leave them alone."  No sooner than I completed the conversation in my head, I got a little nudging from the Holy Spirit.  I knew a lesson was on its way.

When most people think of pruning they think of it as cutting off what is dead so something new can grow.  It's a beautiful metaphor for life, isn't it?  Sacrifice for the greater good.  Prune the hurt, the pain, the past, the sin and the anger out of your life so that peace, hope, love and patience can grow in their place.  But what if pruning has more to do with something you deem good in your life?  Has God ever asked you to give up something that produces fruit?  Has He ever asked you to prune something out of your life that you love, that isn't destructive or sinful?

John 15:2 says, "...every branch that does bear fruit He prunes so that it will be even more fruitful."  Did you catch that?  He's not cutting off a branch that is already dead, He is pruning a branch that is bearing fruit.  Kind of a game-changer.

I've always been ok with cutting off dead branches in my life.  It hurts and it's hard but I know that it is worth the discomfort in the end.  But pruning a good branch?  That just seems counter-productive, doesn't it?  But any gardener or farmer will tell you different.  And our Gardener will tell you that too.

So what does a fruit-bearing branch that needs to be cut, look like?  Maybe you are super involved in a lot of outreach at your church.  But you are so involved and can never say no, that you aren't focusing the right time and energy into what God has designed you specifically for.  You are bearing fruit but not the kind of fruit God knows you are capable of.

Maybe you are a stellar athlete.  On top of your game, better than the rest.  But your sport or sports keeps you from plugging into your church and your church body.  All of your games or competitions are during services or youth group or volunteer hours.  Or you are too exhausted from all of your competitions that you can't pull yourself out of the house during your few, free hours.  But God gave you that talent, why would He ask you to prune it out?  You can use your gifts as an athlete to impact others, right?  But maybe you can use your gifts in a way that will bear more fruit.

Maybe you are in ministry now but you have crazy gifts and talents in the business world.  Maybe God is asking you to leave ministry (gasp!) and join the business world so that you can impact others for Christ and use your financial resources to spur on others in ministry.

Or in my case, photography.  When we started this whole process to open up an orphanage, I was perfectly content being a photographer/missionary...or so I thought.  Over these few months as I dug deep and really contemplated why God asked us to give up working with a ministry we loved to start something new I realized that I was just using the wrong gift for His glory.  Sure, my talents as a photographer were bearing fruit; it was drawing attention to the needs here in the Dominican Republic.  But God designed me to be more than just a photographer. 

He gave me a sensitive heart and an intense burden for orphaned children.  He made me a hugger and a nurturer; specifically to bring comfort to those that are hurting.  He made me a dreamer and a planner and an innovator.  He designed me to be stubborn and hard-headed and relentless when I am fighting for something I truly believe in.

It is not easy pruning the branches in your life because, in reality, it may mean giving up something you are really good at or that bring you accolades.  But you know what happened three weeks after I wearily pruned my beloved lime bushes?  The limes that are on the trees now are bigger and produce almost twice as much juice as the ones before.  And if a clumsy gardener like myself can prune my way to a better bounty, imagine what our all-knowing Gardener can do in you, if you let Him.

Transition

"Sometimes you have to believe God beyond what you can presently see." -Pete Wilson

I watch the plantain trees sway, the breeze a slow dance, the rain a welcome friend.  The sound of my two oldest in the distance, their squeals of delight as they forage through the darkened dirt for treasures and tiny critters.  Raindrops surely on their backs like tiny vessels of relief from the humidity.  My littlest tucked in his crib, breathing to the beat of the rain on the roof…unaware and unscathed by the changes in the weather.

Rain makes me feel nostalgic.  It makes me want to hurl a warm blanket about me, curl up with a warm cup of tea.  The happiest memories I have of childhood all revolve around rain; my mom and sisters and I watching movies while drinking hot chocolate.  A flood at our local park, a water fight in a field.  Games with slow-moving soccer balls and skids of mud on uniforms.  Rain also makes me reflect.  Makes me think.  Makes me stop and go deep.  Thus, my fingers clicking away.

Our lives have been in transition; a new baby, a new move, a new ministry.  I’ve hardly had the chance to pull my stuff out of boxes let alone be pensive on the inner workings of my heart.  But today, with the rain, I can’t help but succumb.

Change is inevitable and Transition is part of life.  I’m almost thirty-three, I know these things.  But I have never met Transition the way we have welcomed her these past few months.  She has been kind to me -- in some regards -- has even invigorated me, inspired me to do something beyond my own abilities.  But she is also cruel.  She brings doubt and dark nights and lonely thoughts in a place so unfamiliar.  She pushes me past my zones of comfort and resists me when I ask for some of it back.  She makes me second-guess my decisions, my mothering, my capabilities.  She mocks me and reminds me that this thing, this new Calling, is too big for me.  Too big for us.

The one thing Transition doesn’t know is that in my almost thirty-three years I have fallen in love with a God who is bigger than her unwelcome presence in my life.  He is bigger than my doubts and my fears and my failures.  He is bigger than my inadequacies which Transition is enthusiastic to draw attention to.  Because on the other side of Transition, there will be children who have not known a hug, or a hold or a cuddle, who will only know those things.  When Transition is done and gone, there will be full bellies, and clean clothes and comfy beds.  When Transition is a distant memory, there will be smiling faces, and holding hands, and belonging.  BELONGING.  There will be children who have never felt like they belonged anywhere that will belong to someone.  And the crazy thing I keep telling Transition that quiets her resounding voice -- God has chosen us for them to belong to and I am too excited thinking about that than to listen to her nagging.

There is one thing I have learned about dear old Transition that brings me comfort during her short stay and it’s just that; her stay is short.  She is a traveling visitor, a momentary passenger.  She comes on you fast and she leaves just the same.  And when she’s gone, Life resumes.  Not in the same way it did before her visit but in a way that makes her stay so very worth it.  And I can't wait for Transition to hit the road so Life can settle in and I get to waste the day away rocking children who need to be rocked.