He Knows

I like to listen to Christian radio in the car.  I don't have to worry about my kids hearing anything...strange, but my favorite part is when I hear songs that speak to my situation at the moment.  I think it's pretty obvious if you read through my blog that I hear God speak to me a lot through songs, and the fun part about the radio is that I don't know what's coming next.

After writing the last blog post, I was reminded of a song I'd heard a few weeks ago on the radio, and I looked up the lyrics.  It's by David Crowder, and the end of the chorus says, "Earth has no sorrow
That heaven can’t heal."  When I first heard it, I thought it was a beautiful song, but the truth is, I'm not in heaven, and there is a lot of sorrow relating to adoption here on this earth, right now.  And instead of finding it comforting, I felt a little sad (and maybe even bitter) that I still had to deal with all this sorrow right now.

Fast forward a week, and I'm driving home, listening to the radio...and this song comes on.  And just to make sure I got the message, after I listened to it, I switched to another station and it was playing again. It's a good reminder that God, the compassionate and gracious One, completely understands the sorrow I feel...about adoption, about missing out on Titus as a baby, about not having him here with me.  God understands more than I ever will.   

The Art of Celebration

There was a time when I got in the habit of reviewing at the end of each day.  I would analyze what I accomplished, how the kids behaved, how I behaved, my energy level...the metrics are endless. By those metrics, some days were worth celebrating, and some days, not so much:

--My head pounding from equal measures of reining it in and blowing my top (all before 9 in the morning!).

--Every time I had turned around that morning, Luke and Liz had been at each the other's throat (probably because I tried to get too much done instead of spending time with them). 

--David came home to every single toy strewn across the floor. 

In truth, these are the little things…the results of a three-ring circus living at my house (soon to be four!) 

There are other days that are even harder to celebrate:  the day you get the phone call, the diagnosis, the news.  Earthquakes and fires and hurricanes.  Violence in the streets again.  Hearing Liz cry out my name during the night, and wishing I had been there to comfort her earlier; wondering why we live in a world where adoption is necessary.   

These evaluations colored my days—good days, bad days—and it was a struggle until I listened to my favorite CD again.  One of my favorite songs on it is Boldly I Approach, and this is what I figured out from listening to it:

I'm doing it all wrong.  (Surprise, surprise)  There is an art to celebration, and the art lies in choosing what to celebrate.  When I seek to celebrate myself and my accomplishments, or my kids and their accomplishments, guess what?  There will always be days with nothing to celebrate.  And if my celebrations depend on things ‘going well,’ what will I do when they don’t? 

But there is someone whose accomplishments are worth celebrating.  Someone who never fails to do what He set out to do.  The One who made the day good in the first place.

When we choose to celebrate all that God has done, we can celebrate every day from now through eternity. 

Now, these are the things I try to celebrate:

God has won the victory already.

His mercies are new every morning.

He loves me no matter what happens.

He has made me free from condemnation.

He has made an end to all my sin (even though some days it doesn't feel like it, it's still TRUE)

I stand blameless before Him through Jesus Christ.

These are the celebrations that carry us through our failures, the celebrations that comfort us during times of distress.  These are the celebrations we will continue in heaven, when we reach the shore.

This is the art of celebration
Knowing we're free from condemnation
Oh praise the One, praise the One
Who made an end to all my sin
[x2]

Tell the Stories, Part 1

...continue to work out your salvation with fear and trembling,  for it is God who works in you to will and to act in order to fulfill his good purpose.

Phil. 2:12b-13

This is a long story, hence the "Part 1."  It's basically the story of the first few months that Liz came home (which is a big gap in this blog!), but it's also an ongoing story.  I mean, it's really the story of my life, in that verse right there, which tends to come to the fore from time to time.

But every story has to start to be told, so here's the start of it...

When we got home with Liz, I remember telling people at church how everything was going amazingly well, considering all that could go wrong.  And it really was--Liz had already bonded well with us, the kids were doing great with her, and her development was so much farther along that we expected.  I know so many people prayed for us and for Liz, and all those prayers were answered.

I think by the end of the first month home, the glow had worn off and I was beginning to feel pretty overwhelmed.  Looking back, I can definitely see some of the mistakes I made in terms of how I spent my time (or didn't spend my time).  I think a lot of people would agree with me that the transition from two to three kids is hard, and I jumped in with the whole international adoption thing too.

Here's the thing...it wasn't that bad.  In the grand scheme of things, I would step back and think, "things could be so much worse."  And in that perspective, I felt like I was really failing, because if I was so overwhelmed and struggling with such an 'easy' adoption, what would it be like if we'd had a really hard one?

I wondered if maybe God gave me a simple adoption because he knew I wouldn't be able to handle anything more complicated.  I wanted to feel like I could walk on water, but instead I felt like I was drowning and there was no strength to pull me up.

And I wanted it all fixed.  I wanted the second half of that verse up there.  I wanted God to do His thing, give me the joy, make it all better.  After all, that was the deal.  We do this crazy thing, and God gives us the strength to deal with everything that goes down.

Of course, I kind of ignored the first part of the verse...

Peaches and Christian Character

Everything revolves around peaches right now.  Sorry.  My dreams, once again, involved canning peaches last night.  Given how many I've canned today, I'm sure I'll get a repeat tonight.  I wish so much that all of you distance readers could eat some.  Or take a bag.  If you are a local reader and like peaches, perhaps you should email me, text me, or call me.

I've started an online course through Ligonier Ministries.  Some of you will go, "huh?" and others will go, "oh, good old R.C."  R.C. Sproul has been a voice in my life since early childhood, thanks to my parents, and when I mentioned to my mom that I was looking for a more rigorous Bible study to do in the mornings, she suggested this:

https://connect.ligonier.org/school/catalog/

The challenge level is between Sunday School and seminary (in her words), and it's been working out quite well.  I chose to begin with a course on developing Christian character, since that's been on my mind.  In the first lecture, R.C. talks about the three principal obstacles to Christian growth:  the world, the devil, and man.  I admit that at this point in my life, I view myself as the greatest obstacle to growth.

Case in point:  I don't think you all are properly imagining the immense number of peaches on our tree.  The overwhelming nature of trying to preserve them all.  The slight panic that edges over me every time I go out to pick peaches because it seems like we haven't picked at all (I'm sure at least 300 have come off the tree, and probably closer to 400).

But then someone comes and starts picking more than a bag (like I would...),and my sinful nature rears its head, and my pride and greed start whispering in my head.  "Those are my peaches!" "What if all the best ones are gone?" "What if there aren't enough for my other friends ME!"

THERE. ARE. ENOUGH.

Not to mention, it is (or should be) a delight to offer my best and most lovely to other people.  For them to take.  And this bounty is a gift from God in the first place...we have done mighty little to deserve this gorgeous harvest besides prune the blossoms and turn on the water occasionally.

So if I have offered peaches to you, and you are reading this, please come and take them, so I can practice spiritual growth.

BECAUSE THERE ARE TOO MANY.

A Tree of Life

Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.

Proverbs 13:12

 

We read through Proverbs 13 at church last Sunday, and this was one of the verses I read when it came around to me.  After reading through it, our leader asked if anything stood out to us.  

Ha ha.  It's nice to see someone put it bluntly like this.  Of course there are benefits to waiting patiently, but there's also a measure of 'heart-sickness' that goes with waiting for something that you passionately desire.

My life is pretty full right now, between teaching, church activities, knitting, and, oh yeah, two little kids and a house to keep.  :)  My sister is here, and my brother has moved down here too.  The holiday season is coming too, November looks like a fun movie month, and however it happens, this part of the year often feel like a train barreling down the tracks.  

I stay busy and try not to think about it, but the moments still creep up on me.  And I get that thought--maybe TODAY we will see some files.  Maybe TODAY we will see her face.  And it really strikes my heart--she's there and not here.

I will keep this image in my mind instead:  A tree, planted in China, soon to be transplanted here, growing into a tree of life.

The True Wait

This summer my women's Bible study did a book on patience.  After all, who doesn't need more patience, especially when it comes to small children?  I was certainly hoping to learn techniques on how to be more patient with my two children, but I came away with a different lesson.  When you look at the verses about patience in the New Testament, they don't usually reference your offspring.  We studied several passages where Paul and James remind the early church to wait patiently for Christ's return.  The early church still had people there who had heard Jesus speak, walked with Him, watched Him die, and saw Him return to heaven.  It must have been hard to listen to their stories and wish for the same experiences.  And as far as they knew, Jesus would be returning soon, hence the apostles' reminders to wait patiently.  

So what does it mean to wait patiently?  Paul and James were reminding the early church that they couldn't just always look to the clouds and ignore their everyday life.  Unfortunately, the waiting part isn't really optional.  I couldn't make David's deployment go faster when he was in Iraq, I couldn't speed up my pregnancies, and I can't make the adoption happen sooner.  It's the patiently part where we have a choice.  Do we get anxious, or do we trust in God?  Do we obsess about the future, or do we focus on what's happening now?  As part of the Bible study, we talked several times about how to live each day as part of the wait, rather than focusing on the waiting itself.  All I have to do is look at Luke to be reminded of how quickly the time will pass.  :)

But this study has also reminded me that all these little things we wait for (like the adoption) are just part of the journey.  Our true wait is for that moment when the glory is revealed in us, when our bondage to decay is released, and we are finally home.  I am excited for the future and all that God has planned.  I try to live each day as God gives them to me, focusing on accomplishing the things he has for me right now.  But woven in among all that is this:  Amen.  Come, Lord Jesus.

In the Boat or On the Water

We did another Lectio Divina for my weekly Bible study, this time on Matthew 14:22-23.  It's the passage where Jesus walks out to the boat over the water.  As we considered the passage, one reading asks us to meditate on where we would place ourselves in the passage.  I considered two options--hanging out in the boat after Jesus calms the storm, or walking out over the water to Jesus.  I liked the boat option better--the water was calm, the disciples were back together with Jesus, and they worshiped him and acknowledged him as God.  Calm, steady, straightforward, and at peace.  I wish our adoption would be like that.   
I'm not a huge fan of water, and after watching The Perfect Storm in high school, I was even more sure that sailing the ocean was not on my bucket list.  Our adoption certainly has the potential to feel like Peter's boat in the storm, buffeted by the waves because the winds are against it.  Well, it already does in some ways.  Even so, Peter was willing to a) ask Jesus to call him out, and b) actually get out of the boat and start walking to him.  Crazy man.  Unfortunately, Peter began to sink because he took his eyes off Jesus and focused on the winds around him.  I guess we're in the storm already, and the question is whether we will focus on Jesus or get distracted by the wind and waves that will most certainly come.  I'm sure we'll need to take courage, as Jesus reminds the disciples, especially once our daughter arrives home.  Staying in the boat would easier, but in the end, I guess walking on water would be pretty awesome.

Hebrews 12:1-2

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, 
let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, 
and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.   
Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, 
who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, 
and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.  (NIV)

Through the Valley

This morning in our weekly Bible study, we studied Psalm 23.  It's one of those Psalms I'll be able to recite from my grave, but I really enjoyed revisiting it.  I was struck by several things as we meditated on it.

1.  "He makes me lie down in green pastures."  This morning I imagined a very busy sheep, wanting to move on and move on, gently being hooked with a shepherd's crook and guided to a nice, quiet spot in the meadow.  It does seem like this month is already super busy, but it's really just our weekends.  However busy our days and weeks get, I still need to make time for meditation and rest.

2.  "The valley of the shadow of death" and the "evil" that we shouldn't fear.  As a child, I think I imagined something along the lines of Pilgrim's Progress--a dark valley with monsters hemming me in.  Now, it seems like the evil to fear is my own sin nature:  for example, a few things this week have really tested the limits of my patience.  If I don't have enough patience now, when I only have two relatively easy children to deal with, how am I going to do it with a third, needy child?  It is something I worry about, but I don't need to. 

The end of our meditation (we were using the Lectio Divina steps) was to consider our 'call to action' from the passage.  While I may not have infinite patience (I don't), God does, and He is always with me.  I'm going to view this time before our daughter arrives as a time to practice finding that rod and staff (and the comfort they bring).  Maybe Katie and I need to memorize a specific passage of Scripture together--one that will remind both of us that fussing and whining (or losing one's temper) only causes problems.  I'll be analyzing the not-so-great days to see if there is a pattern.  I am a scientist, after all.  :)  And I'll be reminding myself that His strength is made perfect in weakness.

To Stave Off the Fear

Yesterday in my Bible study, we talked about moving past our fears into trust.  When you cover more or less the same topic in several different settings in a short amount of time, it's time to say "Ok, God, I hear it loud and clear now!"  Not that we can ever hear this message too much:  We have NOTHING to fear (or worry about) if we belong to God.  I was so encouraged by all the stories about how God's plan and timing became evident in these women's lives, and while there are always times when we don't understand why something happens, we can always trust that God is in control.  At the end, I read this passage to the group:

Ps. 27:1-6

¹ The Lord is my light and my salvation—whom shall I fear?
The Lord is the stronghold of my life—of whom shall I be afraid?

² When the wicked advance against me to devour me,
it is my enemies and my foes who will stumble and fall.
³ Though an army besiege me, my heart will not fear;
though war break out against me, even then I will be confident.

⁴ One thing I ask from the Lord, this only do I seek:
that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life,
to gaze on the beauty of the Lord and to seek him in his temple.
⁵ For in the day of trouble he will keep me safe in his dwelling;
he will hide me in the shelter of his sacred tent and set me high upon a rock.

⁶ Then my head will be exalted above the enemies who surround me;
at his sacred tent I will sacrifice with shouts of joy;
    I will sing and make music to the Lord.  (NIV)

Of course it doesn't say we'll never experience enemies, foes, armies, or war.  It does say we can be confident in God.  During our Sunday School class on worry, we discussed finding Scripture passages to inspire us, passages that remind us of who God is and why we don't need to worry.  I think this one fits pretty well. 

Confessions of a Recovering Worrier

Our church is studying the Sermon on the Mount, and last week we covered the passage about how we should not worry about tomorrow (Matt. 6:25-34).  We talked about a lot of things, but I especially appreciated the discussion about how to stave off the worry we inevitably feel.  We so often think about the future and what could go wrong that we forget to look back and see how God has provided for us (over and over again).  Of course God knew this would help--he tells us to remember the works he has done for us and to tell these stories to our children. 
I'm pretty sure I couldn't have done something like this (adopting) when David and I first got married.  I was the kind of person in college who had PLANS.  I had plans for my day, for my week, for the school year...I also had my five year plan and ten year plan figured out.  God slowly started chipping away at that attitude by introducing me to David.  You want to know what career is really hard for planning?  The military.  David was in ROTC, and he didn't know where he would even be stationed when he graduated, much less how long he'd be there.  Not very conducive to my 5 year plan, which involved going to graduate school for five years after college.  Also not conducive to my 10 year plan, which involved settling somewhere and teaching chemistry part-time for a small university.  I guess I was vocal enough about my plans that David wasn't sure I even wanted to date him, given his military commitment.  I quickly disabused him of that notion...but dating and eventually marrying him did put a kink in my plans.
I felt especially lost when we found out he was stationed in Arizona.  We had carefully chosen our top three choices to put us close to major universities so I could try for my PhD...and we got our 4th choice, out in the middle of the Sonoran Desert, miles from where I'd planned to be.  But wouldn't you know, God stationed us at one of the few bases where we could stay put for 4 years (the length of David's commitment), and he put us only 70 miles from one of the top 10 universities in my specific field.  Even though we were far from family, he provided us with dear friends who became like family to us.  The timing even worked out for David to get his masters while I was finishing my doctorate.  Of course, that led to him getting a job in New Mexico instead of heading back to the Midwest, but that's another story. 
At this point, I still wonder about the future--who doesn't?  But when I start wondering about all the unknowns, I try and remind myself of how all our 'unknowns' managed to work out for our good, and our happiness.