Not the Summer I had planned...

It's been over four months since I last felt physically 'normal'. Not exactly the summer I had planned; I've been in and out of more doctor's offices than throughout the rest of my life combined. I've been 'diagnosed' five different ways, with the words being said each time in question mark form as I was referred to yet another specialist.

The current label on my unexplained joint pain and swelling is 'Inflammatory Arthritis of the Joints'; not an issue I was especially prepared to do battle with at 26 years old. And yet, with all these big unknowns and pain levels I have never before lived with on a daily basis, I fully trust that God is faithful and good. And while we have yet to find resolution or even certainty as to what I am dealing with, I know the lessons I am learning have great value and should be shared.

'Your strength is found

At the end of my road

Your grace, it reaches to the hurting

Still through the tears and the questioning why

I will stand my ground where hope can be found

I will stand my ground where hope can be found..'

Lauren Daigle: 'O Lord' 

This journey started in May with a tingling in my toes. The pins and needles sensation soon morphed into pain in my feet and then extreme swelling. I visited our local clinic and they sent me to a Podiatrist. At each visit the word 'anomaly' was used as nothing seemed to add up. We ended up in the ER, nervous about a blood clot in my leg. An ultrasound quickly put those fears to rest but we were back the next week when the pain and swelling moved up into my left collar bone and jaw. I was a 9 on the pain scale; shuffling my feet because it was too painful to pick them up as I walked, 'eating' food in smoothie form because my jaw had almost completely locked and chewing food was extremely difficult. The worst part was not being able to pick up my boys. Raising my arms higher than my chest, especially while carrying something, resulted in my left clavicle feeling as if sharp knives were being pushed into it.  

   Psalm 90:12 Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.

Lesson #1: Life is fleeting. We all know this, but we don't tend to LIVE like it until something tragic or shocking serves as a wake-up call. At the beginning of this journey, before we knew what it was NOT, Derek and I had to wrestle with several 'heavy' questions and come to terms with the fact that God is the only One who knows the number of our days. There is an incredible Peace that comes with true acceptance of the fact that I AM NOT IN CHARGE and can truly rest in knowing the One who is.

I've learned much about the medical field as I navigated the referral process and wait lists a literal mile long and finally had appointments with a Doctor of Internal Medicine, an Infectious Disease Specialist and a Rheumatologist. They've done almost every blood test in the book and, other than obviously elevated inflammation markers, there's no obvious answer for the continuing swelling and pain.
Both in the ER and at a return visit to the Podiatrist, attempts were made to draw fluid from my joints, without success. I have done time on anti-inflammatories, pain killers and antibiotics, all in attempts to treat my bizarre symptoms. I am currently off of all prescriptions, as we continue to search for the root issue. I have just completed a Whole30 diet, removing inflammatory foods (a.k.a all the comfort foods!) from my body for 30 days. Now I am very slowly re-introducing food groups one at a time, in hopes of discovering a diet related 'trigger'.
I've been blessed with doctors who truly joined our 'team' and fought for answers alongside us, connecting me to whomever was my next best option and making personal follow-up calls to see how I was progressing. I've also been confused and frustrated by other doctors who did not have time for my questions and simply wanted to hand me a stack of prescriptions on their way out the door. Prescriptions, I might add, for an immunosuppressant that would shut down my immune system, dramatically increasing my risk of things much scarier than joint pain, in my opinion. (I told them, 'Thank you, but no thank you..')
Lesson #2: Fight for yourself. Don't give up. Do your research. Put on your grown-up voice and say what you need to say. Regardless of whether the words 'chronic' and 'auto immune disease' are being thrown around, we all face countless opportunities to be brave and make the hard decisions and even the most introverted of us CAN do it.

'Suffering can be a friend who drives you where you didn't know you needed to go.' 

-Ann Voskamp

When peace like a river, attendeth my way,

When sorrows like sea billows roll

Whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say

It is well, it is well, with my soul

-Horatio Spafford 

Lesson #3: It's okay to let others fight for you, too. We live in a society that praises individualism and looks down on those who don't have it all together. But here's a little secret: none of us are actually perfect! And we all need friends that will jump into the mud beside us and say 'I've got your back.' Appreciate those people! And let them in.
It has been very difficult opening up to friends and family and admitting my need for help. But on days when you cannot pick up your kids... or walk... it becomes the only option. And the support and encouragement that's been poured out on my family and I in the past few months has brought me to tears on multiple occasions. Relationships deepen when you let people into your mess. It's painful.. especially for Type A's. But it's real and it is good and when we allow it, God works mightily through those people and carries us through the seasons we lack the strength for.

'Maybe success isn't in believing I can do anything but in knowing I can do nothing... It seems to me when I finally recognize my inability is when Christ shows up able within me.'

 Emily P Freeman

Discouragement has been one of my biggest attackers. I am actually extremely grateful to be walking this road with two toddlers in tow, because they make it impossible for me to say, 'No, I think I'll just spend the day in bed...' Letting this get the better of me is simply not an option because of the other people literally depending on me to feed them and play with them and wipe their buns. Some days are brutal; I cried a lot during the first two months. But I am thankful for their sweet presence in my days and for their tiny hands in mine as they help me get around in the mornings, Owen whispering, 'One step at a time, Mama, one step at a time..' It also brings me to tears on a regular basis to hear prayers for 'Mama to feel much better!' and be able to talk through the ways and timing of God's healing power.

'The name of the LORD is a strong fortress; the godly run to him and are safe.' Proverbs 18:10

Derek has patiently walked beside me as I navigate various stages of disbelief, frustration, straight-up excruciating pain, and a few pity parties sprinkled throughout. He is encouraging when I am down, he is intense when I want to give up, he is steadfast when I am full of questions. And he brings me flowers after I've had every possible vein poked and prodded for blood. Mid-journey my brave hearted husband said, 'I just don't want to see you lose your joy.' And I have carried his words with me, a powerful challenge to find the joy regardless of how I am feeling.
I will NOT let Satan use this to steal my joy. I will NOT let this... whatever it is.. be my excuse to not show up, give my best and be a light. May we each appreciate the ones in our life that will absolutely not allow us to give up our fight. 'In the face of pain and struggle, don't shut down; stay open. Refuse to miss the joy waiting for you today.' Rachel Macy Stafford

'And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.' Philippians 4:7

I honestly do not know how anyone walks through seasons of unknowns and pain without Jesus. He has been the Peace that literally STANDS GUARD over my heart and mind as the enemy (and my own fear!) make attacks in every way imaginable. I have prayed and been prayed for and continue to pray... for healing. And I absolutely believe that He has heard each and every one of our cries. So now I wait for His perfect timing, trusting that He will do more good and bring more glory to His name through my suffering in this season than through my health. I can't see the whole picture but He does and He journeys with me every step of the way.
Lesson #4: God's got this! 'Then Elisha prayed, "O LORD, open his eyes and let him see!" The LORD opened the young man's eyes, and when he looked up, he saw that the hillside around Elisha was filled horses and chariots of fire.' 2 Kings 6:17

It hasn't all been pain and doctor's visits and scary unknowns this summer, either; we have had countless adventures. Not the grand expeditions I had planned, but ones that were just as rich with goodness, beauty and fun. Owen played T-ball and Daniel turned into quite the comedian! We broke ground at our land and roasted marshmallows and Derek and I celebrated our 7th anniversary in Taos, New Mexico! We spent more time laying in the grass looking for cloud animals and less time rushing to and fro. We smelled all the flowers, threw more rocks in the creek and learned a deeper lesson about extending grace to one another.
Owen announces to people, 'My Mom's bones hurt..' giving me permission to walk as slowly as I need through the aisles of the grocery store. And I do see progress, some days more than others. The pain is definitely not as intense as it was; instead of the 'stabbing' pain I now feel more of a dull ache in all the joints that have been affected.
Regardless of if, when and how this 'anomaly' will run it's course, there are lessons to be learned amidst pain that I may never have been able to learn through health, so I treasure them. And I hug my people tighter. And I have deeper, truer compassion for those who are physically hurting or mentally overwhelmed. I have made connections with countless people I wouldn't have otherwise made; individuals battling arthritis or inundated by giant unknowns, patients next to me in line for more blood work and others attempting wacky, anti-inflammatory diets simply to feel as though they are fighting in their own 'small' way. I thank God for those connections!
Lesson #5: Everyone is fighting their own battle. May we extend grace whether we feel like it's 'deserved' or not. We don't know what's going on beneath the surface. And maybe we'll get it wrong on occasion, it's possible that people ARE just being dramatic or should, indeed, go get a job. But in a world full of skeptics and stereotyping, I see how mercy and a love that transcends differences can be life-changing.

When I cannot stand I'll fall on You

Jesus, You're my hope and stay

-Matt Maher

So, I didn't write this to garner sympathy. I also did not write this in hopes of receiving any more well-meant pieces of advice or ideas of which food groups I should eliminate next. I DID, however, write this post because dealing with suffering is not something I've had much experience with and I wanted to share the lessons I am in the midst of learning. I fully understand that in comparison to the heartbreak and pain that countless others are walking through, this may seem insignificant. But the battles we must fight come in many different shapes and sizes and I believe we can all learn from one another. This is how I process.. and I pray my words might encourage someone else out on their very own muddy battlefield. I would definitely appreciate your prayers as I head to the Rheumatology Department at Denver's University Hospital this week. (Also, this post will hopefully answer some questions about why I'm STILL limping around town!)

I know You're able and I know You can

Save through the fire with Your mighty hand

But even if You don't

My hope is You alone

I know the sorrow, and I know the hurt

Would all go away if You'd just say the word

But even if You don't

My hope is you alone.

You've been faithful, You've been good

All of my days

Jesus, I will cling to You

Come what may

'Cause I know You're able

I know You can

-MercyMe- 

Road Trip Tales..

Derek and I were both leaning as far forward as our seat belts would allow. Every muscle was tense and alert, despite the middle of the night hour and the hundreds of miles already tackled. En route to Texas for a family reunion, we ended up smack dab in the middle of an extreme, spring blizzard. Derek was driving, I was co-pilot, and the boys, clad in footie pajamas, were fast asleep in the backseat. The mountain pass had been difficult, but the plows were out in full force and arriving safely on the other side had boosted our confidence. It was when we were redirected through middle-of-nowhere-New Mexico, however, that conditions worsened significantly.

The whipping wind forced the snow to blow completely horizontal and vision was limited to that which was immediately in front of us. The drifts on the left side of the road were 3ft deep and slowing down only resulted in our car being sucked in; the only option was to plow straight through. My job was to look for the yellow line; centering our vehicle on it gave us confidence that we weren't too close to either ditch. When there was not massive piles of snow to punch through, there was black ice to contend with. The only other vehicles we saw were in the ditch. The snow lasted for 13 hours straight and turning around was impossible. Stopping would have ensured our vehicle becoming one with the white surroundings. Our only course of action was to keep driving forward.

And we made it! By the grace of God, and because of angels surrounding our vehicle; we made it through! Derek had to dig us out of a snow drift once, with his bare hands, and we successfully turned an 11 hour road trip into 21 hours. But the key word is: successfully! The next morning we pulled into Denny's for what may have been the most delicious stack of pancakes we've ever eaten and a little bit of stress laughing as the tension wore off. It was then we started hearing from people across the country who had been awake in the night and said they thought of us and prayed for our journey. God's faithfulness never ceases to amaze. And, yes, another story was born.
As Derek always says, while I'm rehashing an event, 'This sounds like a blog post...' And it's true. I love the journey, the adventures found in unexpected places and the way God is masterfully weaving together all the tiniest details of this life. That doesn't mean I don't balk at hardship, interruption and plans gone awry. I certainly did not enjoy our night of driving through the blizzard; in fact, I don't know if I've ever been quite so scared in my life. But it would be silly not to admit to the massive story potential wrapped up in even the most terrifying of blizzards! After all, what would I write about if our road trip to Texas had been uneventful and completely safe?!

I'm reading through Exodus now and in Chapter 13 I see how God instructs the Israelite people to act after leaving Egypt. There is a dedication of firstborns, a Festival to be celebrated yearly, bread without yeast and specific sacrifices. And the LORD says it is all for the sake of remembering. He does not want the people to forget. "..you must explain to your children, 'I am celebrating what the LORD did for me when I left Egypt.' "(Exodus 13:8) "And in the future, your children will ask you, 'What does all this mean?' Then you will tell them, 'With the power of his mighty hand, the LORD brought us out of Egypt, the place of our slavery.' "(Exodus 13:14) Stories passed down from generation to generation to ensure no one looses sight of what God has done. 'Then you will tell them'! If anyone had epic road-trip tales, it's the Israelites!

But two participants can tell very different stories about the exact same event. Are we skeptical or willing to give the benefit of the doubt. Is the cup half full or half empty? Are the hardships of life roadblocks and deterrents or training courses to strengthen and prepare us? How we describe a situation varies greatly on the filters through which we see life. And the way we tell our stories is the way our children (or whomever your audience may be) will remember it. Do I believe that God is faithful? If my answer is truly yes, that should affect how every single one of my stories is told. 
I am not suggesting we soften details or let hardships seem less than they really were. But Owen and Daniel can either remember 'that one time we drove through the night in a white-out blizzard' as a horribly miserable event that will deter us from ever venturing out in a snow storm again. OR our boys can remember a crazy, wild adventure where Dad and Mom had to be fully engaged and work together to bring us out on the other side with the help of a multitude of angels!

In the next chapter of Exodus, with Pharaoh in hot pursuit and the Red Sea blocking their path, the Israelites panicked and said to Moses, "Why did you bring us out here to die in the wilderness?" (Exodus 14:10) How quickly their opinion of the situation had changed. Or, at the very least, they were choosing to view the circumstance through a different lens. Can you imagine what their kids felt as they heard their parents talk this way? As I dig into their story, this is repeated countless times; losing sight of what God has already brought them through, they choose to look at hardships through overwhelmed and frustrated eyes and tell a story that fails to point to Jesus. (And I know they're not the only ones...) 

I don't think we need to sweeten up our stories and put a cherry on top before telling them and I definitely don't think we need to be fake. But I am convicted about the stories I tell. They can either draw people closer to the One who has set us free... or not. The simplicity of this is surprising. And the ramifications are staggering. At least that's what I see in these pages describing the journey of the Israelites. When they failed to point the next generation to the One who rescued them from bondage, everything fell apart. 

In Judges 2, Joshua, Moses' successor, 'sent the people away, each of the tribes left to take possession of the land allotted to them.' That means they had finally arrived in the long sought after Promised Land. But verse 10 says, 'After that generation died, another generation grew up who did not acknowledge the LORD or remember the mighty things he had done for Israel.' And as you read on, the depravity is astonishing; Baal worship and child sacrifice by the people whose parents walked through the Red Sea on dry ground and ate bread from heaven! Something definitely got lost in translation or, more likely, wasn't told at all. 

"Storytelling is the most powerful way to put idea into the world." -Robert McKee

As long as we are alive, we have stories to tell. And even if we refuse to tell them, our lives will do the talking. What matters to us will come through in our daily living. Our perception of circumstances will be observed by all those around us, and it will affect how they live their own lives. So, the question is: will we choose to tell our 'road trip tales' in a way that points back to Jesus? Will I embrace the inevitable roadblocks (and blizzards!) as part of my journey? Because they will happen regardless, the only aspect within my control is my translation of any given event. How will I describe this to my people? What story will I pass on? Which words will I allow to come out of my mouth, knowing that each sentence matters.. 

I pray my family will see me fighting for joy amidst circumstances that threaten to overwhelm. I hope that my 'road trip tales' will always be told through the knowledge of God's unending love and mercy, which changes everything. We will not hide these truths from our children; we will tell the next generation about the glorious deeds of the LORD, about his power and his mighty wonders... So each generation should set its hope anew on God, not forgetting his glorious miracles and obeying his commands.' (Psalm 78:4,7)

'If you don't fight for joy, it's your children who lose. You will be most remembered by what brought you most joy.' Ann Voskamp 

Real Life.

We have been sick for what feels like an eternity. I know, in the grand scheme of things, our ailments are minor and it's actually been a month and a half, not a lifetime. Since Christmas we've battled multiple rounds of a nasty virus and now a lingering stomach bug. (Of course, you know I've over analyzed it all and found a deeper meaning which you now get to hear about!) Sickness can bring out the worst in people.. literally. It can also accentuate the best because there is simply no pretense. Either way, it makes us vulnerable, real.
When you're battling a raging fever, rocking croupy babies through the night or cleaning up a child's tenth diarrhea explosion of the day, 'real' is all you can be, everything else has abandoned ship. And I have learned a lot through the past weeks, about myself and my boys and my partnership with Derek. It has been difficult in so many ways; it has also been an intense kind of beautiful. And Jesus has met us every step of the way, often times with an absolutely glorious sunset!

Each time he said, "My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness." So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me. 

2 Corinthians 12:9

Last night I watched a video on Facebook. A mama explaining the journey she and her family have walked for the past two years. Her littlest man has Stage 4 Neuroblastoma. I cried as she spoke of the treatments, struggle and heart break they have faced as a family; of the unknowns awaiting them. (You can learn more about the Dukes family here.) And today I hugged my boys a little tighter. I rocked their sweet, sick bodies and thanked Jesus that they will bounce back from this bug when so many parents all over the world are rocking babies that may never recover.
I suppose loving anyone at all is a risk. While we may not have a diagnosis, we are all eventually going to run out of days. No matter what type of relationships we enter into, we choose to open ourselves up to heartbreak, misunderstanding and inconvenience. The more intimate the relationship: husband, wife, parent; the greater the risk.

Vulnerability: to be exposed. The dictionary calls it a 'susceptibility to being attacked...' I believe it is letting part of your heart live outside your body. It is being raw, being real and being willing to be broken for the sake of truly loving. Honestly, the only way to really live is tangled up with the ability to be vulnerable. And that scares me and probably most of you, if we're being real!

'Be brave and do not pray for the hard things to go away, but pray for a bravery that's bigger than the hard things.' -Ann Voskamp

I can't stop thinking about vulnerability now; and this kind of love that is hard and exhausting and the most beautiful journey we'll ever have the opportunity to partake in. I worry about all that my boys will face and I lie awake at night praying over their journeys, praying for their hearts. Derek and I are trying to stay focused on what truly matters in this life and carve out time to be 'just us' while wading through the waters of raising boys, establishing a business and finding our place in this world. And yes, sometimes real life feels like enough to crush a person.
But while we may be tempted to long for simpler decisions or better health (or that HGTV dream home they're giving away in Georgia, anyone?!) we know, deep down, it would take away from the journey. Without hardship how will we grow strong? Without opening ourselves up to pain, how will we know true love? And yes, I'll admit it.. without the past few weeks of sickness I would not have this newly found appreciation for health!

This 'hard', the vulnerability; being the only possible source of comfort for a sick babe, rocking them through the night in the recliner, cancelling everything on your schedule week after week; this is real, beautiful, painful life. Watching my husband take on jobs he doesn't normally do, feeling myself embrace 'ninja mom' status as I catch throw up in two separate bowls, is all opening my eyes to a level of sacrifice only made possible by love. And then it clicks. Isn't this what Jesus showed during His time on Earth? He loved those who couldn't love back. He gave of himself even when especially when it was not convenient. He took my place on the cross knowing that I may or may not choose to accept what He had done. Jesus is the ultimate example of sacrificial love and vulnerability.

"If I then, the Lord and the Teacher, washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another's feet. For I gave you an example that you also should do as I did to you." John 13:14-15

My Dad called at the worst (best?) time. We hadn't left the house in days, the wind was howling and I had already changed my shirt four times that morning. His words echoed exactly what I was beginning to understand, 'This is what Jesus did for us, Bethel... and He tells us to pick up our cross now. They call this.. the cruciform life, that your whole life becomes the shape of a cross, when people see sacrificial living in you.' He encouraged me to 'Fight the good fight, run the race, there IS a finish line and a crown waiting..' And of course, he made me cry.

Hard is not synonymous with 'bad', nor does good always mean 'easy'. This idea is difficult to grasp in a culture which balks at a notion that true love is sacrifice and real life is filter-free and full of vulnerability. But Jesus makes it very clear that His followers are not called to a life of ease, 'If any of you wants to be my follower, you must turn from your selfish ways, take up your cross, and follow me.' Matthew 16:24 And so my prayer is that I might stop backing away from opportunities to be vulnerable, stop balking at the 'hardships' God has allowed in my life to make me stronger. And that I will embrace, as Ann Voskamp talks about, 'a willingness to be inconvenienced.. the ultimate proof of love.' 

Confessions of a Bag Lady

Apparently, I was a bit of a hoarder while growing up. If anyone was missing an item, the first place they checked was under my bed, in one of my many bags. I don't remember this; I must have been fairly young. But the endearment 'Bag Lady' followed me a little longer than I would have liked.
I will admit to still feeling strong opposition to the haphazard scattering of possessions, clothes, etc. And if I can't deal with a mess right in the moment I have to, at the very least, form piles to be cleaned up later. I also have a really hard time throwing away love notes, mementos and old T-shirts and I do see how this might lead you to deduce that I am, indeed, still a Bag Lady.

The thing is, now I see my eldest son gathering up his favorite items in bags and wanting to take them all with us when we drive somewhere. It's endearing. It's also frustrating, as we already have a million and one distractions hindering our departure. He's kind of a pack rat and I'm wondering if I'm partially to blame. This glimpse of my very own reflection led me to question Owen's (my) need to know where everything is, keeping special items near by and tucked in tight.
As always with these big lessons God teaches through my little men, embarking on a quest to discover the root of this 'bag lady' syndrome took me deeper than I originally anticipated. There is nothing wrong with Owen's desire to bring favorite toys along for the ride (or sleep with 17 teddy bears..?) But it has led to my wrestling with this deep need within each of us to hold tight to what we deem 'ours'. This is both a mental battle and, for some, a literal stuffing of bags to ensure our favorite possessions are within arms reach.

Every day this week I've heard the same song on the radio; Natalie Grant singing 'King of the World', and her lyrics are beginning to break through..

'When did I forget that you've always been the king of the world? 

I try to take life back right out of the hands of the king of the world

How could I make you so small

When you're the one who holds it all

When did I forget that you've always been the king of the world' 

Now, I'm not saying that I need to let go of my desire for neatness or that Owen needs to give away all his toys. But this rather comical trip down memory lane did help me understand that at the heart of my need to hold on, is a fear of unknowns. I mean, I really like a plan (especially now that I am responsible for small human beings who turn into miniature dictators after missing a meal or a nap). And walking with God almost always requires us to journey forward with a whole lot of trust and remarkably little explanation. When I want A-Z mapped out, He simply gives me the very next step. When I begin to pull everything in close and label time, possessions, relationships, money, etc. as 'mine'... He says, 'Daughter, let go!' (And now the tiny bag-lady version of me just might need a very real paper bag to breathe into!)

Letting go is hard! I want to be the one to balance it all even though I know that I know I can not. I just read a post by Ann Voskamp and she said, 'The most revolutionary thing a woman can do is not let anything but the cross explain her life.' What do we find when we rid our lives of unnecessary trappings? What is at our core. What defines us? Is it status, job title, accomplishments, new 'toys'? Or is it the unfathomable grace of Jesus Christ; Him, His righteousness and nothing else?
My mother-in-law always likes to ask me the hard questions. Last week she asked me what God was teaching me and I didn't have a quick answer. Now that I've thought about it (I'm also notorious for needing time to analyze and process..) I think I know. As I enter into a brand new year, open up the first page of my beautiful, brand new planner, God is reminding me Who is in charge. He is asking the Bag Lady to let go so He can fill me with what truly matters. This means opening myself up to a heck of a lot of unknowns. But as I surrender, He can mold me. And the best version of ME is the one He had in mind from the very beginning as He breathed life into my being.

Yet you, LORD, are our Father. We are the clay, you are the potter; 

we are all the work of your hand.  Isaiah 64:8

The Loose-Tight Hug

My boys may be a touch claustrophobic. Example:: If a shirt doesn't go over their tiny heads in less than 2.7 seconds they completely lose their cool. Also, the daily wipeouts in these parts result in more embarrassment and frustration than pain; they usually do not want to be immediately comforted. Yet, they want me there.. not really, but definitely. This is why, for the past 3+ years I've been exploring the fine line that is offering my presence and comfort without stifling.
I'm learning the art of loosely-hugging-tightly; a 'gentle' squeeze. The act of gathering up in arms a very strong willed and independent human being who absolutely can not be smothered but desperately needs to be held. It's a skill, not easily mastered, this loose-tight hug. (In it's not-so-literal sense, this technique also applies to my husband... but that's another blog post!) I am beginning to realize that I will utilize this skill for the rest of my days.

We've had an epic summer and fall. A severe case of 'cabin fever' from last winter inspired us to take advantage of each sunny day; we adventured every single chance we could! And I had no doubt that Owen would thrive in the explorations but I wasn't sure how Daniel would handle it all. We four-wheeled to the top of mountains, hiked the Sand Dunes, rafted down a river, went paddle boarding at the lake, road tripped multiple times, etc. And our tiniest adventurer also did great.. thanks to the loose-tight hug technique.
With Daniel's back resting firmly against my chest, it didn't matter how bumpy the trail was or how much the rapids splashed us.. it was all good. Danny Boy literally slept through an entire fireworks show at the end-of-the-year Rockies baseball game. This was a fireworks show like none other and the noise level actually shook my insides; but our tiniest man slept through it all, safe in my arms.

And I marvel at all this: the need to be held, but not held too tight and, within that comfort, the ability to withstand any 'adventure' your parents may drag you through. I realize this is exactly what our Heavenly Father offers us; a loose-tight hug! He will not smother us. He created us with free will, our own unique desires and interests and the ability to choose. But He also knows exactly how fragile we are and He understands our need to rest in a Strength greater than our own.
'God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though it's waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging.' Psalms 46:1-3

Sometimes I'm embarrassed by a failure and my instinct is to lash out at those around me, but my Father gathers me up oh-so-loosely and holds me till I calm down. On other occasions, nothing seems to be going according to plan (or at the speed I would like) and, not unlike my claustrophobic sons, I feel trapped and start to lose my cool. But God gives me space to catch my breath and then pulls me back in, saying 'Daughter, I've got this!' His plans are not my own but they are infinitely better. (A.k.a 'I can see that your head is almost through this sweatshirt's head-hole, just give me another second to wrestle you through..') 'For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways," declares the LORD. "As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.' Isaiah 55:8-9
It is when I surrender to that comforting Presence, resting my head against the Father's chest, that I can truly embrace the adventure. Our boys may not understand all the bumps and splashes and hours strapped to the front of their Mom and Dad. But, trusting that we were doing this for their own good and relying on our strength to bring them safely through, our tiny adventurers were able to enjoy (or even sleep through) the ride. The beautifully, simple faith of a child.

I'm not saying our ideas are never met with objection. But, in general, our boys handle things exactly how we do. When we are excited to tackle a new challenge, they also get excited! If we remain calm when faced with obstacles or difficulties, so do our sons! And I can only imagine how much stress would be alleviated from my own life if I looked to my Father as an example of how to handle whatever challenge I may be facing. Pretty sure I will never find Him wringing His hands or muttering under His breath. He's got this! And He's got me. May I rest in His loose-tight hug and enjoy the ride.
'For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you.'  Jeremiah 29:11-12

Writer's Block

I'm suffering from a severe case of writer's block. Yes, suffering, in the very present tense... so bear with me as I attempt breakthrough. I promise I've pulled up my chair at least 27 times with the realest intentions of posting to my blog, only to labor over a single paragraph and finally realize it to be another dud.
So, what seems to be the problem?!  Well...
I didn't win a writing contest. I entered one this summer; wrote like crazy for 10 days and then spent the next few months daydreaming about that one-week, all-expense-paid trip to New York for their writer's conference. And then I never heard back. I shrugged it off; told everyone I was already working on a better story for next year. But inside I was reeling, 'Maybe I don't have a gift for writing. Maybe I'm not even a writer!' And now every time I sit down to wrestle with the build up of words inside me, those voices of doubt drown out all inspiration... and I've been allowing it.
Also, I think I'm coming unplugged. As in, unglued from my smart phone, breaking my addiction to social media. (I know, those of you on Instagram find this hard to believe because I still take a ridiculous amount of pictures. Sorry, I have cute kids!) This is definitely a process and I'm far from where I want to be. But I've become slightly disgusted with the the mass amounts of time we are spending completely checked out from the real-life-people in front of us.
I recently saw two middle school girls walking down the main street in my home town. The leaves were crunchy and the fall weather felt glorious. At first glance I was nostalgic, reminded of my 13-year-old self walking these very streets with my best friends, feeling like we owned the town, discussing boys and how much longer till we could drive. Then I looked closer and realized these two girls weren't talking at all, at least not to one another, they were not even looking at each other. Their smart phones were held just inches from their faces, a screen was all they could see.

The next week my boys and I were riding the escalator at the mall, waiting for my wedding rings to be cleaned, and it happened again. I saw a young couple sauntering towards us but, upon closer inspection, realized they weren't walking in sync. (At this point you could deduce that I am simply a people watcher and, in fact, very creepy.. but let's just call it 'highly observant'.) The guy had a pained expression on his face and I noticed that the girl was half a step ahead and extremely committed to whatever it was she was doing on her smart phone.
Although this phenomenon becomes increasingly common and is even considered 'the norm', these particular occurrences hit me especially hard. Maybe I took such offense because I saw myself reflected in these situations? Perhaps it scares me to imagine my own boys being so plugged in to technology that they forget how to engage face-to-face or be present in the moment. I'm heart broken to see this become reality. I'm desperate to know what is WRONG with this picture.
How are we placing so much value in a screen that we forget to look up and enjoy a fall day or a best friend or young love!? Why is my phone the first 'face' I see in the morning and the last one I see at night? Why is it worth risking the lives of everyone in your car to finish typing that text message? THIS IS NOT OKAY, people! And so I'm taking small steps in the opposite direction.
I've been purposely leaving my phone at home. I challenge myself to go an entire day without logging on to Facebook. I bought an actual bedside clock so that I could charge my phone in the other room at night. The last face I see before closing my eyes now is my husband. And the first one in the morning is usually my 3-year-old as he crawls under the covers whispering, 'Mom, I see the sun coming up!' Sometimes I don't remember to unplug my phone till lunch time, or if it actually rings.. and this coming unglued, this opening of eyes to the real world, is incredibly freeing.

Last but not least, in my excuses for the lack of writing: The election.  There is so much I'd like to say and, at the exact same time, I want to steer in the absolute opposite direction because it seems that everyone is flinging their words out there and most of it is coming out rude and hurtful.
I am teaching my boys that words have two purposes.. to build up or tear down. 'With the tongue we praise our Lord and Father, and with it we curse human beings, who have been made in God's likeness. Out of the same mouth come praise and cursing. My brothers and sisters, this should not be. Can both fresh water and salt water flow from the same spring?' James 3:9-11 I've seen unbelievable amounts of tearing down in the past few weeks. This whole mess of rage, fear, misunderstanding and refusal to listen is serving as a great reminder of what I absolutely must live out in hopes that my boys will learn from. We respect regardless of differences. We love because He first loved us. And, win or lose, we act with dignity and grace. The vast majority of those who just voted seem to have forgotten these traits. What a gift that I have a say in the raising up of the next generation.

That said.. I'm going to start writing again. Hopefully on a more consistent basis. I'm not going to let doubt silence me. I will write and then let it go, refusing to obsess over my ramblings. I will choose to be present with the real-live people in front of me. And I'm going to use my words, both typed and spoken, to build up and point towards Truth and Hope in a time where people are scared, frustrated, and, quite frankly, behaving like lunatics.
'Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable-- if anything is excellent or praiseworthy-- think about such things.' Philippians 4:8

Stepping Into The River

The air is crisp with hints of fall as shop owners strategically place their pumpkins outside storefronts. Leaves are beginning to change; glorious yellow, orange and red surrounding us as we stroll down Main Street. Daniel is perched atop Derek's shoulders, on top of the world, perfecting his new 'trick': pointing! Owen trots out in front, adamantly opposed to hand holding; our running commentary, our ball of energy. And then he hears our conversation and turns back to inquire, 'We're stepping into a river, Mom?!' 'What river? Where?'

The week before, we had read from Joshua; a story that both terrified and filled with hope. In Joshua 3 we found the nation of Israel needing to cross the Jordan River in route to their promised land. These wanderers had circled the desert for 40 years, waiting. Now, at long last, it was time! But a rushing river, literally at flood stage, blocked their way.

This is what Joshua told the wanderers in chapter 3, 'Think of it- the Master of the entire earth is crossing the Jordan as you watch. When the soles of the feet of the priests carrying the Chest of GOD, Master of all the earth, touch the Jordan's water, the flow of water will be stopped - the water coming from upstream will pile up in a heap.' (The Message) And that's the pep talk. 'God goes before us. He's got this! Just keep walking..' And so they do! These weary wanderers put one foot in front of the other and marched straight towards the raging waters, complete with antsy toddlers fighting the hand holding and babies perched atop shoulders, curious and pointing. And my heart catches in my chest as I read.
The Message goes on to say 'And that's what happened. The people left their tents to cross the Jordan, led by the priests carrying the Chest of the Covenant. When the priests got to the Jordan and their feet touched the water at the edge (the Jordan overflows its banks throughout the harvest), the flow of water stopped. It piled up in a heap- a long way off.... And there they stood; those priests carrying the Chest of the Covenant stood firmly planted on dry ground in the middle of the Jordan while all Israel crossed on dry ground. Finally the whole nation was across the Jordan, and not one wet foot.'

As the chapter concluded I could sense something building within me. Part scream of frustration, part blossoming hope as I realize we are also being called right into that raging river. I feel every bit the Weary Wanderer longing for a place to settle. We left our beloved Hawaiian island one year ago and nothing has been simple about coming 'home'. It's been rich in countless ways and we wouldn't trade in these past 365 days. But, DANG, they certainly have not been easy.
I'm currently surrounded by boxes as we prepare to make our sixth move. SIX homes in one year. Granted, I'm not packing an entire house worth. But that's part of my inner turmoil, too... 3/4 of our boxes from Hawaii are still in storage (a.k.a my in-law's garage! Sorry guys..) and with the other 1/4 of all our worldly possessions we continue to unpack, create a makeshift home for a time, and then repack.
We are circling the desert, waiting for our Promised Land. We have never doubted God's directing us back here. But that's literally the extent of what we know; we're supposed to be here and the rest is unknown. And now my Faithful Provider, Master of the entire earth, is asking me to step into the river.

Winter is on the horizon. We've woken to temperatures of 40* INSIDE the un-insulated Mission and questioned our sanity. (Then immediately piled in the car, cranked the heater, and made our way to the bakery... somehow my sanity always seems to be hanging out over there by the coffee and fresh donuts!) And I want to run away. I don't want to make the hard decisions anymore. I want an easy answer. But there are none. How much excavation work will Derek have through the winter? Should we proceed with buying property when income is an unknown? How long do we even anticipate living in our tiny, mountain town? I.don't.know. But His answer is simple, 'I will make a way as you continue to walk forward in faith. Step into the river.'
So we will rent a sweet friend's almost-finished-basement for the winter. It is insulated, has running water and is nestled right at the base of the mountains. It's the next step and it's a good one. My work is simple; pack the boxes, breathe deep of the crisp, fall air and embrace another chance to practice contentment, even joy, regardless of circumstance. Stepping into the river...

I just apologized to my Mom for not updating her every step of the way lately. If she knew every detail, every change of plans, though.. I fear she would be suffering from a serious case of whiplash. Our journey may not make a lot of sense to those observing (or even us, at times!) But God never promised that it would. He did ask us to follow Him. And as the unknowns threaten to suffocate, Philippians 4:6-7 pushes through; a breath of fresh air, 'Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.' 

Breathe, Bethel. One foot in front of the other. He goes before me, just as He did with the Israelites. As soon as the priests stepped one foot into the river, it says the water 'piled up in a heap'. Can you even imagine?! I can't. But that's pretty much what we need Him to do for us, too. It's going to be unbelievable.. another story to tell of His faithfulness in impossible situations. And that's why He works in these ways. When the unknowns and the overwhelming finally pile up in a heap and we actually walk through on dry ground, all the glory belongs only, obviously, to the 'Master of the entire earth.'
So, I explained this to Owen, on our walk that day. That we don't know what's next but God will lead us and that's truly all we need to know. We talked about Joshua and about walking across a river bed, about trust and obedience. 'Yeah, buddy, we are stepping into a river.' I said, 'Not one that we can see... but we're doing something scary and trusting that God will bring us out on the other side with dry feet.' And he giggled; his mom sometimes goes a little too deep for a three year old.
And I looked Derek in the eye, across the heads of our precious little men and, swallowing down anxiety, I smile and nod. Yes, I'm terrified. But YES, I will step in, trusting God to go before us. He will guard my weary heart with a peace that 'transcends all understanding' and when the waters pile up in a heap and the world asks who, in their right mind, lives like that?! All we will be able to do is point to Him, continually telling the story of God's goodness.

'A peace that passes understanding is my song

And I sing my hope is in You, Lord.

I wait for You and my soul finds rest

In my selfishness, You show me grace..'

-My Hope Is In You

Aaron Shust