March 12: Tells a story.

I gave this picture to my husband a decade ago?  I wanted  him to know I would do it all over again, because it hasn’t been easy.

Our pastor asked us if we would tell our story to the congregation.  I am all about sharing what God has done in our lives, because it is good to remember.  But when it comes down to it, it is difficult to shine a light on our brokenness, and consider all the people that have been affected by it.

When I was a young woman, I had my story planned out – it was a story with no attachments, a lot of money, and complete independence.  Then I met my future husband.  Then I got pregnant.  Then my story changed, and He started revealing His story to me.  I am so thankful God wrenched my plans from me, and what I thought I was giving up, wasn’t worth having.

^“8Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ ⁹ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith— ¹⁰ that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, ¹¹ that by any means possible I may attain the resurrection from the dead.”  Philippians 3:8-11

 

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Tonight the sunset wasn’t to be denied.  We had to drive past church so I could snap a picture.  Then we drove back and heard a sermon about Zechariah and Elizabeth.  They were WAY past childbearing age when the angel told Zechariah God had heard his prayer.  Which prayer?  His prayer for children.  How long had it been since Zechariah had prayed for kids?  He had probably forgotten.  But God hadn’t.  I sat in awe tonight as I pondered a God that answers prayers we’ve forgotten we ever prayed.

Not only did God answer Zechariah’s prayer, in Zechariah’s son, John, God fulfilled his plan of preparing the way of reconciling mankind to himself.  How beautiful that God uses our limited human perspective when we pray to accomplish his grand plans.  The unfathomable idea that somehow we are involved in all THIS.

So I will continue to pray in faith, hoping God will reveal his Amazing in my small requests.

 

Waiting, foster care edition.

I read a lovely blog post about a mama waiting for her second child to be born, which made me think about my own waiting.

I am certainly not waiting to give birth – I will be 45 in December.  I am waiting for our foster baby to be placed with her great aunt, after she has been with us for eight months.

I got the call last week.  I saw a message from the baby’s caseworker on my phone, and called her back with a tiny hint of dread in my stomach.  A great aunt had filled out all the paperwork to be approved; we were only waiting on a background check.  This aunt lives in a remote city, and won’t see the baby until she is dropped off at her door.

The dread was now full-blown – I felt like someone had knocked the wind out of me.

So how did we get here?  To this place where this baby feels so much like part of our family, yet has never really been “permanent”?  There is nothing easy about the place we are in.  When I am feeding, bathing, dressing, chasing, tickling, singing or reading Where’s Kitty? to this baby, she is indiscernible from any child I have raised.

When I take her to the doctor, and have to check the box next to FOSTER MOTHER, I am taken aback.  It is the truth of our tenuous situation staring me in the face.  It is the same way when a visitation worker comes to drive her to her visit with her father.  And when her father came to her last doctor’s appointment, and I gave her to him so he could comfort her, even though my mama arms ached for her the whole time.

Part of me says, “Self, this should be somewhat of a relief.”  It has been a struggle to let go of what life was like before the baby.  My dreams for what certain ministries could look like at  church.  My freedom to  visit or help someone in the afternoons.  My sleep.  My ability to go out with my husband for a date without a state-approved babysitter.  My time.  My energy.  My carpet with no spit-up stains or toys lying about.  Mine.

But at the same time that I have struggled with letting go of MY SCHEDULE, my heart has went from being possessive of this baby, to knowing God’s best for her may not (probably isn’t) with us, to…maybe we should at least be willing to be her forever parents, even though that means our lives would definitely be taking a one-eighty from the Previous Plan.  When my husband looked at the baby two weeks ago and said he didn’t care if we were older, and he didn’t care if we didn’t have other little kids…he would keep her…I saw how much God has changed his heart from his historical, objective stance of, “Jen, we can’t adopt her if she already has a good home to go to.”

With all grief, it doesn’t hurt all the time.  I feel okay right now, choosing to trust God with her life, knowing he is good, and he loves her.  I pray he will put her in the BEST place.  For his glory.  For her faith to be strong.  That may not be with us, or other potential adoptive parents, but with biological family.

And God has sent us comfort, in the form of family sharing our grief; of friends at church asking about her, then hugging me when I couldn’t answer; and even a foster mama at Becca’s volleyball game whom I had never met:  she hugged me when I told her about the baby’s pending placement, and told me how hard it had been when all of their foster kids had been placed somewhere else.

We are definitely not the advertisement for foster care.  It has been HARD.  But.  So good.  I love my husband more when I see him love this little one.  My girls continue to cherish this little person, even if they know she is only here for weeks, instead of years.  My faith in the God who sees, who hears, and who acts with mercy and justice continues to grow, as I know in my gut, side-by-side with my grief of not being able to see this little person grow up, that he is in control, and I am comforted.  I am learning that loving Jesus in the ordinary, diaper-changing, toilet-paper unrolling moments is a worthy sacrifice, as much as going out and serving OUT THERE.  I am learning that what he calls us to do he equips us for.  If he intends for us to keep her, he will give us the courage and strength to parent a little one again.  If he intends for her to go somewhere else, he will mend our hearts.

It’s back.

The Golden Hour has returned, when the magical golden cast from the setting sun transforms the ordinary into something special.  I longed to go outside and catch it, but the snowless landscape is still a wintry barrenness.  I had no luck persuading anyone to join me outside.    Besides, Baby was fussy.  Solution?  Give the fussy baby to my non-compliant model, and enjoy the sun’s rays on my antique bowl and croquet balls.  Sometimes you just have to work with what you have available.

In other news, one of my daughters hesitantly mentioned that her class discussed gay marriage today.  Marcus asked her about the discussion, and she gave us many interesting points.  Marcus had to leave, and I continued to engage her about it.  At the end of our talk, she told me something like this:  I don’t always appreciate it when you bring God into a discussion.  I kind of tune out.  But when we were discussing this issue today, I realized I appreciate what you have said to me.  But try to get to the point, instead of taking so long in your explanations.

I was floored.  I appreciated her honesty and feedback, and am thankful she sees the value of what I have tried to impart to her before she is an adult.

This is not the first time one of my children has mentioned that I only need to tell them something once.  I don’t need to keep explaining it differently so they get it.  They may need to process awhile, or mature and experience more for my advice to take root in their lives.  Note to self (and other parents):  Keep is short and simple.  And pray your kids will have teachable hearts.

This blog is turning into photography and parenting tips.  Weird, unintentional combo.  I am sure it is just a phase.

Change of pace.

The pace of life has changed since I became a foster mama last week.  I wasn’t worried too much about how life would change; I only knew I was willing to love this little baby until she is placed in her permanent home.  It finally struck me while I was at the optometrist with Maddie an hour before the baby arrived:  With one day’s notice, we would be welcoming a new life into our home.  There would be no planning, and certainly not 9 months of anticipation.  It is rather difficult to grasp the unreal quality of such a huge event occurring so quickly.

I have been spending much more time at home, not up to the hectic pace I had acquired before Baby came.  But I usually find slowing down is a blessing, and suits me well.  Loving on, praying for, and even cleaning up poo and spit-up all seem like worthwhile endeavors at this point in time.   God is making our hearts bigger through this, and changing us in ways we don’t comprehend yet.  We thought we were doing this for her; but what she has already done for us is priceless.

 

 

On the other side.

My mind is end-of-weekend groggy, knowing I should prepare some things before the week begins, but having no motivational means to follow through.

So instead of being productive, I will share this picture of a sweet friend having coffee with me on my couch.  This friend and I are completely different.  She is artsy.  She is a dreamer.  I most certainly am not.  I am the detail.  I am the administrator.  I am the sometimes-cynical scrutinizer.  She just laughs and tells me what a good pair we make.

We joined our church plant 4 years ago, barely knowing each other.  Our church has been through much since then.  On the other side of the crisis, I can say God has been faithful, and has forged deep bonds between the folks here.  My friend and I showed up at our church’s prayer time, and also were in a small group together.  Since then, I have grown to love her and her kids.  They are like family to me.

Another avenue to deeper relationships has been through our pastoral search committee.  A task that could have been drudgery, instead became a place where people from all walks of life  built admiration and respect for one another through our pursuit of a common goal.  We just celebrated our successful search with a reunion party (including new pastor trivia!) for all the search committee members and spouses.  Who does that except through the grace of God?

Recently I told someone that even if I would have known the difficult things our church would encounter, I still would have joined.  I wouldn’t trade the way I have seen God’s hand at work and the relationships he has forged for the world.

Parched.

No rain for weeks and 100+ temperatures have left most things outside my window dry as toast.  When I am hauling my hose around to the new trees and bushes I planted this spring, the grass crunches under my feet. When I walk to the mailbox through the heat waves on the asphalt, I frown at the field north of my house.  Straw-colored stubble is all that is left.  All my wildflowers have been taken away in hay bales, and without rain there will be no tall, lovely red grass to take their place this fall.

The weather obviously affects me negatively, but more than that, it reflects my dry, parched heart.

I was reading Everyday Prayers by Scotty Smith last week, and came across this passage:

When we grow brown and crispy on the inside – when our rejoicing in you in displaced with complaining about you (and others and anything), when our delighting in you fades into detachment from you (and from others, and eventually from our own heart), when our love for you atrophies into fading memories of you… – we are powerless and shut up to your provision.  There’s no…reservoir of our own making that can even begin to make a brown heart green.

There is nothing extraordinarily trying in my life at the moment.  I just continually realize I need to turn my face to God, repent, recover my awe, and praise him.  My heart instantly seeks affirmation from others, or depends on circumstances for its satisfaction.  This leaves my heart as crispy as dry grass.  I want my heart to respond to the joy of my salvation, and reflect the glory of God.

So we cry out with the Sons of Korah, “Will you not revive us again, that your people may rejoice in you?  Show us your unfailing love, LORD, and grant us your salvation.”  (Ps. 85:6-7)

It finally rained two nights ago, and it made a world of difference.  Seeing the drops still clinging to leaves in the morning was glorious, and reminded me of God’s abundant grace on his creation, all the time.  Even when all I see is dry and parched.

Yellow.

I’m tired, but it rained last night, and the sun was glistening off of everything this morning.  Irresistible.

Later in the day, I listened to “Your Love is Strong” by Jon Foreman.  It was the perfect complement to the wildflowers in the field.

Good night.

“Your Love is Strong”

Heavenly Father
You always amaze me
Let your kingdom come
In my world and in my life
You give me the food I need
To live through the day
And forgive me as I forgive
The people that wronged me
Lead me far from temptation
Deliver me from the evil one

I look out the window
The birds are composing
Not a note is out of tune
Or out of place
I look at the meadow
And stare at the flowers
Better dressed than any girl
On her wedding day

So why do I worry?
Why do I freak out?
God knows what I need
You know what I need

Chorus (3x):
Your love is
Your love is
Your love is strong

The kingdom of the heavens
Is now advancing
Invade my heart
Invade this broken town
The kingdom of the heavens
Is buried treasure
Will you sell yourself
To buy the one you’ve found?

Two things you told me
That you are strong
And you love me
Yes, you love me

(Chorus 3x)

Our God in heaven
Hallowed be
Thy name above all names
Your kingdom come
Your will be done
On earth as it is in heaven
Give us today our daily bread
Forgive us wicked sinners
Lead us far away from our vices
And deliver us from these prisons

 

Your joy will be complete.

I was disgusted with myself today, as I found my nose out of joint when another person’s photography was deemed more desirable than mine.  Really?  I am such a 4-year old.

I have often struggled with my hobbies, but at the moment I feel I have made peace with them.  It is a good feeling just to enjoy them, instead of wondering why I take pictures, and why I blog.  Sharing God’s beauty and occasionally chronicling a family moment seems to be it.  Nothing more profound than that.  The problem occurs when I want the glory, instead of giving it to God.

Witnessing other people’s perspective of God’s beauty is usually as good as finding my own.  I can stand in wonder of God either way.  However, when I feel a twinge, I realize I desire the attention, and have made something that should give me joy into something that causes me to envy the glory.  I am idolizing the beauty and the person who captured it, instead of praising the Creator of the beauty.

Then I realize His beauty is enhanced when shared, as are many good gifts from God.  It is valuable to show the perspective God has given us.  Isn’t that one reason the Body of Christ is so wonderful?  We show each other different facets of our Creator, that we cannot see with our limited, self-absorbed vision.

I have also been thinking about sharing the gospel more often.  The most beautiful news we have should be shared,  and we should have joy from it.

If you are eager for real joy,…I am persuaded that no joy of growing wealthy, no joy of increasing knowledge, no joy of influence over your fellow creatures, no joy of any other sort, can ever be compared with the rapture of saving a soul from death.~ Charles H. Spurgeon

I know God reveals truths about himself in myriad ways, and maybe he wants me to see himself glorified, and see my joy complete, by not only sharing his beauty in photographs, but by sharing the good news of his saving work in Christ more often, too.

Perfect.

I must say the only thing I would change about a redbud is that it should flower for three seasons, instead of one.  Would I appreciate it as much if it did?  I don’t know.  I have always thought that spring was so wonderful because the winters in the Midwest are so harsh.  But our winter was quite mild, and spring is still overcoming me with its loveliness.

I am sure God has even orchestrated the seasons to show us a truth about Himself, and the wondrous work He has done in our frozen, dark hearts.  If we have put our hope in our Savior, he has brought forth a spring-like miracle in our wintry souls.  Praise be to God.  And thank you for reminding us, Lord, because we need reminded of the loving work you have done every single moment.  We are prone to forget.