Grains of Sand, Waves of Power

I have been blessed to be a contributor to a Christian blog, Titus 2 In Action. This is such a priviledge for me and I pray that God speaks through me to touch hearts.




"Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than we ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within us, to Him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen." Ephesians 3:20-21

This has been our mantra this year. Truly, I pray this scripture every single day. Sometimes once a day during my quiet time and sometimes, it is a constant prayer that reminds me, I am not in control. This week, I was reminded in even more tangible ways that I am most definitely not in control.

It is no secret to those who know me that I LOVE the beach. I adore the quiet moments with my children, the joy of doing things in slow motion as opposed to the frenetic pace we keep with jobs and activities. Nowhere on earth do I feel such a sense of calm and oneness with God as I do when I am toe to toe with sand and surf. Regardless of the weather, the beach is my sanctuary.

To read more of this post, you can visit here

Time to bid summer farewell...

"Time is not a commodity, something you pass around like cake. Time is the substance of life. When anyone asks you to give your time, they are really asking for a chunk of your life." Antoinette Bosco



Sigh...

Here it is again. I feel like it was only yesterday the summer loomed hot and long ahead of us. I looked at the calendar, wondering what we would do with all the glorious free time. I dreamed of late mornings sleeping in, cuddling with the ladybugs, trips to the farmers' market, plenty of corn on the cob and friends to go with. Most of those things we actually accomplished, though not as often as I would have liked!

And now, I look behind us, thankful for all the days spent with friends, the fun activities that made this summer special and wondering what ever happened to that free time???

Dare I say that I am slightly (ever so slightly) even looking forward to the schedule of school?

As we sat watching Toy Story 3 this weekend, I actually cried. Ugly cry, people. My mind wandered to a time when my own daughters will outgrow the comfort and giddiness of toys and play things and replace them with lip gloss, pedicures and concerts. I let my head drift to a time when boys will knock on our door and Sunday evenings will incorporate Youth Group and mission planning. I looked down the row and sitting several seats away from me was my eight year old daughter, rapt with attention sporting a sweet American Girl shirt, that will in time, become too childish for our flaming redhead. Alarmed, I realized I had seen the first Toy Story with my nephew, ANDY, who is now 21 and a junior in college. And the core of the movie, hit just a little too close to home!

But it made me really grateful. Grateful for time. Emily went to a birthday party this evening and as we were leaving she thanked me for bringing her to the party. She thanked me! And all I could think was that I thank her for being my child. Many times during the course of this summer, we would be driving to the next scheduled event and I would glance back to see the girls bee bopping about in the back seat and I felt such gratitude for those moments we could share. So, even though I feel my pants size has increased due to the amount of time spent stagnant in the drivers seat of our vehicle, I would not trade the new friends, old friends, fireworks, baseball games, singing lessons, dance camp, mini camp, playgrounds, VBS, missionary training, playdates, science camp, fellowship, and so on!

We still have two short weeks to breathe in the summer air, one of which we plan to spend at the beach.

I pray you have had a good summer and that God has given you and your family peace about returning to the classroom.

See this face?

This is a happy face! And there are so many of these little faces desperately desiring the smile that comes from the security of family and roots.

This child was brought to us through the gift of adoption. Though we do not live constantly reinforcing the fact that Hannah came from China; she knows her story.

We tell it like it is.
She knows this.
Her sister also knows this.

As parents, we have already had difficult conversations that highlight the reality that Hannah came to us through a miracle...a miracle that changed our lives and convicts our hearts to always and forever try to unite other forever families and children.

My dear friend Michelle, is an adoptive mama that has made a difference. She has worked tirelessly on a calendar that will benefit children and families alike. Please visit Michelle, offer your support and pray about all of the children needing and wanting families of their very own.

I am off to order my calendars!! :)

On being married...

Now you will feel no rain, For each of you will be shelter to the other.
Now you will feel no cold, For each of you will be warmth to the other.
Now there is no more loneliness, For each of you will be companion to the other.
Now you are two bodies, But there is one life before you.
Go now to your dwelling place, To enter into the days of your togetherness.
And may your days be good and long upon the earth.
~ Apache Wedding Prayer Blessing




When we were married nine years ago, I asked one of the officiating pastors and a long time friend to incorporate this blessing into our ceremony. He did so gladly.

I thought it was beautiful.

I still do.

And, I assumed that it was an ancient Indian prayer historically connected to the Apache culture.

I was wrong. It is actually linked to a movie associated with the Apache's called Broken Arrow. We live and we learn :)

Marriage is like my experience with the prayer. We go into it thinking one thing and learn that there is so much more to it. Our culture glorifies and celebrates marriage for the celebration itself. However, it often occurs to me on those dark nights when the children are sick, or when critters come a callin', I have Rob to lean on. And he has me. It is the way that God designed.

When our finances look bleak and the house is in disrepair, I look to him. And he looks to me. When we sit at a dance recital or ready for our youngest to head back to preschool, he shares his joy with me and I with him.

And all along, in every circumstance, we do our best to trust it not unto ourselves. Thus we have grown, and we have faith in a God far bigger than any of the dreams we began this marriage with.

Marriage does not mean blissful days filled with total agreement. It just doesn't. There are days where that exists, but not all the time. We were not wired that way. We are called to be unconditional and fortunately, we are designed to be able to accomplish this task. However, we only achieve this only through another committed relationship, that of our intimate relationship with the Lord.

Marriage is an ever-changing, ongoing event. Sometimes, there is silence. And volumes are spoken. Sometimes, there is endless noise. And nothing is accomplished. Sometimes, we bicker, fight, gripe, moan, whine, complain, heavily sigh, challenge, regret, and even forget. We forget the love we began with, we forget the respect necessary for a good marriage, we forget to be unconditional in loving our spouses. And if we are blessed, our spouses forgive us and we forgive them. It is as it was designed. We think it is about us...ultimately, it is about Him.

And sometimes, like today, we do not take for granted the gift that has been given in the union of two people for His purpose, raising some pretty spectacular children. I take this moment to be grateful...for a husband who provides, for a husband who loves me, for a husband who loves our children far more than he could ever love himself, for a husband who loves the Lord and desires to know him better, for all of these things, I am grateful.

Happy Anniversary, Rob. How quickly these nine years have gone...how much I look forward to all the years that will follow...

Have you ever danced in the rain?

I have.

More so since becoming a mother, but the following is when it all started...

Years ago, I was blessed with the responsibility of directing the youth ministries of my home church. It was a job that I fought tooth and nail against, hoping to remain in the safe cocoon of support ministries and not the actual, ahem, "leader"! But alas, God won, and there I was staring down the barrel of activities galore with oodles of youth ages 12 and up. I remember our very first meeting when there were probably fifteen children in attendance and I swear that evening I actually heard the crickets chirp as I giddily tried to enthuse those 15 warm bodies that sat staring and waiting for my grand plan. Blink...blink...blink...chirp!

Being young helped. My zest for life helped. My faith and perserverance helped. But, I think what really drew kids in was my total and complete committment to whatever interested them. I was there. I made my way to football games, swim meets, dance recitals, marathons, spelling bees, you name it, I was there. Over the fence, in the bleachers, in the audience, I was there. I prayed for these kids encouraged them, and before long fifteen kids would turn into 150. I wanted them to know that God loved them so much, that He would send a servant to be there for them, no matter what. I wanted them to know that it was all about Him and had absolutely NOTHING to do with us. I wanted their first response when a team member was injured to kneel and pray...I wanted their sportsmanship to be apparent regardless of the situation, I wanted their parents to know, they were not in this alone, that together, we would raise these children up as God had intended.

I was not a parent. I was young and sadly enough, newly single as a troubled marriage unwound. This ministry became glue that would hold me together as I weathered personal storms that could have broken my spirit. God knew. He knew what I would need just as much as He knew what the children would need, and so we had FUN! Lots of it, camps, zip lines, ski trips, low ropes, high ropes, devotionals, fellowship, progressive dinners, rafting, retreats and every now and again the joyful, undignified dance in the rain...the list is long and beautifully filled with memories that prayerfully remain not only with me but with each child I was blessed to know.

I was an advocate for youth, insisting on youth services (led and designed by the youth groups) and all of those children attended church on Sunday morning, marching in usually a tad bit late, but nonetheless sitting in the sanctuary, listening to sermons we would discuss later, and taking notes on scripture that I prayed would become indispensible to everyday of their lives. It was during one such Sunday, that I was scheduled to give the message and I asked them all "to dance". The Leanne Womack phenomenon was in full swing and "I Hope You Dance" was on every station from here to California. Certain words to the song resonated deep within my heart to reveal truth that God wants us to live boldly in Him, to experience life in it's fullness, and to never take for granted the gift He gave. In many ways, my role with those youth has helped prepare me for motherhood.

So, it stands to reason as stormy skies swept in this week, I did not hesitate as my own girls approached me and asked excitedly..."Can we dance in the rain?"

Of course...only if Mommy can come with you :)

"May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit." Romans 15:13

SURPRISE!

"No one has ever seen this, and no one has ever heard about it. No one has ever imagined what God has prepared for those who love him." 1 Corinthians 2:9


A surprised Emily on her eighth birthday this past spring


Yes, I am still here. It is interesting how the newest trend can impact the biggest part of one's life. I used to carefully, with great anticipation, create posts worthy of the sweet readers that visit our blog. I'd choose scripture and photos, I'd proofread and proofread again. Our blog began as a means by which to share our life, as we added a new family member through the gift of adoption. It is no secret, I adored blogging. But, I would ask myself many times...at what price am I blogging?

The past year, I began to work more, sometimes full time. Blogging...well, there was no time for that. If I was going to have quiet time with the Lord or facebook or singularly host the laundry list of other daily activities that demanded my attention, how on earth would I blog? Well, that is a really good question, because this year, for the first time in three years, I was presented with a new issue, where is all the time going? My children would say, "You are on the computer too much." My husband would concur and even my parents have made mention of my less than healthy computer mania that diverts my thoughts and splinters precious time.

As much as ceasing to blog may solve one problem, it would create another...the truth is, I LOVE to write. I especially love to write when the thoughts will be provoking, insightful and perhaps even make someone think or act when they otherwise may not have. I think God has equipped me to gently minister to the hearts of others through writing. Written word is powerful. In some ways, though shocking in our technological mecca, we have lost the art of effective communication. We email a friend, rather than speaking voice to voice, we type out sketchy text messages to thank a girlfriend for the wonderful gift she left on our doorstep, long gone are the gliding handstrokes of a penned letter to an aunt, a sister, a friend. Well, not completely. But I am guilty of sometimes travelling the heavily trodden road, instead of trusting my instinct that insists an eloquently written note would be far better than my lesser efforts.

I will continue to post entries here, though I must admit, I feel convicted to share more than just a personal family history here. I feel like this is a good place to deposit some of the wisdom imparted on me through the Truth I love more dearly than writing, blogging or even taking and posting pictures. Sure, my family will still appear here, but it is important I note, now that Emily is older, sometimes she will specifically say, "This is private Mommy, please do not share this." I honor that. I honor her heart and the privacy that is our children's, even if it means I need to re-write something I love. I love her more.

I chose the title, "Surprise" very specifically. Recently, my parents' pastor was relocated to a new church. We do not attend their church as members, we are merely visitors because we have a home church. Yet, everytime we attended the four years he was there, not one time did he ever miss an opportunity to invite us back and make us feel welcomed. On Easter Sunday, his sermon was entitled, "Surprise!" With great animation, he discussed the "surprise factor" of Easter. The joy....the sheer miracle of a surprise as grand as Christ rising from the dead. If I could convey via blog post the energy and joy, I most certainly would, but I can not. There is something I can do, in Pastor Sunil's honor...I can make you feel welcome here. I can invite you back. I can let you know, you are not a visitor, you are a friend, whether you have been here once or fifty times, I value you and your comments.

So, though it may be a surprise that I am back and ready to post again, it is not a surprise that God has big plans. As much as we relish in the surprise of His resurrection, we must also relish each surprise of everyday...the small ones and the large ones...the ones we know about and those yet to be revealed.

Did you have a surprise today? I would love to know about it.

Where the Sidewalk Ends...

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends. Shel Silverstein

I love soft spring nights. Emily and I have begun to walk at night again. I love the company. We talk about everything; school, friends, time, when she was a baby, prayer. She joyfully holds my hand and confesses things I did not know. She will break free every now and again and run ahead. Red hair flying in the breeze, bruised knees leading her. She smiles her big, warm smile and says kind things to neighbors who are out tending their yards.

Tonight, she ran ahead and then stopped quickly. She waited and when I got to her she asked sweetly if we could go to the very end of the street, "where the sidewalk ends". And though she was asking literally, figuratively, I am so glad when we go where there is no path and create a new one. I love to adventure with her. The years are numbered for the childlike wonder that now blesses our days. God's design was so perfect to permit such a time as this, to jump from the hard, unchanging cement of the sidewalk to explore the soft yielding grass and flowers that await where the sidewalk ends. I feel like God does this with my heart; requesting that I soften and expose that He might create a new path, and adventure with me.

Emily will be turning eight next week...how thankful I am for a time such as this.