when it's all good

Every once in awhile, everything just feels right.  Or even better than what you imagined right could be.

Sometimes, in those moments, fear creeps in to steal away that settled feeling of contentment.  It plants a lie, "this won't last."  Or worse, "you don't deserve this."  It hisses it right into the middle of your happy moment and with a heavy-kind-of-false-authority that almost comes off as legit.  Have you felt this?  That feeling of dread sinking into the joyful occasions?

As you know we just moved.  I haven't told you too much about our new house, mostly because it feels like bragging.  It is seriously that nice.  And beyond what we imagined we would find in our price range.  I was almost giddy, although tired, the day the movers brought all our big stuff over.  I decided to take a bath in our big bathtub - by far the biggest we have ever had in a home.  I poured in some sweet pea body wash in hopes it would suds up enough for a bubble bath.

As I slipped into the water, for a split second I nearly heard a lie.  It's too good.  Something bad is going to happen.  The weight of it threatened to settle in.  But then I heard a True voice, the One that knows all the details.  And He whispered, "this is for you, enjoy it."

And the truth is, I don't deserve it, and it might not last -- but I won't let that keep me from savoring these good moments in this place for this time.  Sometimes, stubborn hope grows in the good places.

silver stars will shine

The lyrics to this song have been floating through my brain all month long.  Truthfully, longer than that.  They have lodged themselves deeply into my thoughts.  And I don't mind one bit.  There is an especially lovely part that I keep on repeat.

Even through the night

Silver stars will shine

Hope of glory's light

That will wake us once again

Those silver stars?  That is stubborn hope, right there.  If you have 3 minutes and 24 seconds today, I know you won't waste them listening to this song.  Maybe you'll get lucky and the lyrics will get lodged into your brain too. 




You can read Ellie's words about this song by clicking here. 

light in the dark

When the darkness is heavy and the Light is a faint glimmer

you squint to find hope in your midst.

You are so tired, your eyes worn out from tears

even so, you continue to blink hard against the darkness

searching, searching for the Light you've always believed to be with you

the darkness weighs in heavier still.

Breathing is hard and your hands feel weak

still you know the Light is there

the flicker is faint, but it is there.

Just a spark in the night is enough for today.

It reminds you that it is always enough to beat away the darkness.

when the ground is dry + dusty

No matter what the circumstances say, we press on.

There are times when we just have no idea what to think.  Nothing seems clear and nobody seems to have any idea what to say to you about it.

We just recently walked through this when Brad transitioned out of the Army.  Your timeline is sketchy at best, planning seems out of the question.  Every one wants to know what you are doing next.  Then they stare at you with a mixture of sympathy and disdain when you tell them you haven't a clue.

Everything is changing, yet you have no idea what the new will look like.  You just know it will be so very different.  For starters, your husband will need a whole new wardrobe.  And this is the easy part.

Of course, these transitions happen in the civilian world too. I just relate more readily right now with that big jump from camo to business casual. The truth is, though, we all face these moments.

With our feet standing in the present we have no clue what the future is going to look like.  Nothing is certain.  Our circumstances are murky and our conversations about them tend to feel even more questionable than the circumstances themselves.  Utterly void of any evidence that things are going to evolve into something better, we do what we must.

We grasp for hope.  And, friends, this is a brave move.  There is nothing more enjoyable than hearing someone say, "I have no idea how this thing is gonna shake out, but I know God has got this."  To hear someone say it, to know they believe it, it is electrifying.  My own faith grows when I stand in the presence of a hope-grasper.

This is the fertile soil for stubborn hope.  When the ground is barren and there is no sign of rain clouds on the horizon and not a sprinkler system for miles.  We kick the dirt and watch the air around turn brown.  But we believe that if we stand here long enough.  If we wait, we will see the soil break forth with new life.  Not because of what is evident in our physical world, but because of what we believe to be true about our God.  He will make it happen.  He always does.  He always will.

If your toes are covered in dust and your throat is parched from breathing the stale and dusty air.  Reach bravely for hope, friend, because God is doing a work even now, under your feet.  He will bring it to pass.  I know it.  My faith grows from watching you stand firm.

"Therefore, my dear brothers and sisters, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain."  1 Corinthians 15:58 {NIV}

when we feel far off

Sometimes we just need to be reminded.  We need a nudge that says, "I see you." 

This might be for you.  Or it might just be for me.

Absolutely nothing on this earth can separate you from the Love of God.  There is not a single solitary thing that can remove you from His presence.  It don't matter what's been done. {For some reason the poor grammar feels right there.} 

If you have had a string of days that just feel like they are sagging with defeat; I promise you, He is with you.  And He isn't judging you.

If you have stopped looking to Him for guidance, and instead have been searching all around you; He stands ready to guide you again.  Just ask, He will lead you well. 

If you believe you've gone too far, sinned too much, crossed the uncrossable line -- let me clear something up.  You can't go too far.  You can't sin too much.  There is no line you can cross that can't be crossed back over.

God in heaven sent His Son for you.  Not for your good choices or for how awesomely you follow rules.  He loves you.  The good, the bad, and the ugly.  He sees it all.  He loves it all.  He always has.  He always will.

It don't matter what you done.  {The poor grammar works here too, I think.} Jesus is bigger than all of that.  Always.

And get this, in restoring you, He redeems the mess for His good purposes.  Always.  Without fail.

It just seems too good to be true sometimes.  Fairy-tale-like love.  Unmatchable on this earth.  Which is why we need to be reminded sometimes.  It is uncommon.  It is beyond our comprehension.  It fills us up and holds us close.  It is a million contradictions of what we understand with our human minds because it is heavenly.  Otherworldly.

And its for you.  For me.  For all of us.  For always.

Whatever you face.  Believe in this love.

No matter how many tears stain your pillow tonight, He sees each one.  He so tenderly sees your hurt. Believe in His love for you.  No matter what.

Unfurl your clenched fist and open your hand to His. 

Now read these words and let them settle in around the rough spots.  Read them all and hold them tight. 

What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things? Who shall bring any charge against God's elect? It is God who justifies. Who is to condemn? Christ Jesus is the one who died—more than that, who was raised—who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword?  As it is written,

“For your sake we are being killed all the day long;
    we are regarded as sheep to be slaughtered.”

No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.  For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers,nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. - Romans 8:31-39

This is our hope.

crumbly marriages + stubborn hope

It is no secret that marriages crumble in our culture.  They come together and fall apart almost effortlessly.  Or at least that is what it looks like from the outside.  There are costs, though, to these fallen apart relationships.  And they add up for far longer than we like to admit.  My own parents divorced when I was young.  There are still costs associated with that loss.  I have seen God do a good work in both my parents' lives and we have happily reaped great rewards because of it. But it has not been an easy road.

So I arrive at this place with a lot of baggage, and a heaviness that accompanies my heart.  A shaky marriage is a scary place.  Recently, I was invited in to pray with a friend in the middle of her worst fears.  She found herself standing in crumbles and confused as to how it happened. 

There were no easy words to comfort her.

My first desire was to heap dirt on him. Lash out ugly words about his lack of wisdom and the absurdity of this path.  I know them both, but obviously know her better.  I was hurt for her, and wanted to spew forth all the uneasiness I felt in my gut.  But God said, "no."  Rather, He might have said, "don't you dare."

It is easier to place blame and point fingers and badmouth.  We naturally want to divide the roles into good guy and bad guy.  At least we can sort of feel better about ourselves for a minute in the middle of the mess.

But God impressed upon me strongly to stand in the middle and pray boldly for both of them. And that was a hard thing for me to do.  Rather than choose a side, I picked their family - healthy + whole.  I am begging God for restoration.   

At times, it feels awkward.  But hope is not about feelings.  And restored marriages need a hope that holds on for the ups and downs and in-betweens.  This hope holds tight through his feelings of inadequacy and her struggles with trusting again. It is a fragile ground to walk through, fraught with broken shards of memories and bitter pieces of thoughtless moments. 

We are still walking there.  I am doing it from afar and through prayer.  Prayer for both husband and wife to the God that is able to heal all wounds.  This will be a long path.  A hard path, one that might be easier to walk away from than continue on. 

There are still no easy words.

I hold tightly to my hope that our God can restore what has been lost.  I hold on tightly to this hope that He can rekindle a love that is able to forgive and grow stronger on this new ground. I hold on ever so tightly to this hope until my friend is ready to claim it as her hope too. 

Sometimes when our hope is stubborn, it isn't for us alone.  We get to step out bravely into the brokenness to reach out for the hope our loved one is desperate for.   We get to hold onto it while holding on to our loved ones until they are ready to grasp it themselves.  This is risky and beautiful and altogether holy.

"and He was seated on the throne and said, "behold, I am making all things new."  Also he said, "write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true."  Revelation 21:5 {esv}

"I will restore to you the years the the swarming locust has eaten, the hopper, the destroyer, and the cutter, my great army, which I sent among you.  You shall eat in plenty and be satisfied, and praise the name of the Lord your God, who has dealt wondrously with you.  And my people shall never again be put to shame."  Joel 2:25-26 {esv}

a hope proverb

"Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but desire fulfilled is a tree of life."  Proverbs 13:12 {NASB}

Heartsick but holding on, believing that the reward will be worth it, no matter how long the wait.  This is stubborn hope.

when grandpa's hope was stubborn

Thinking about Grandma yesterday, also got me thinking about Grandpa.  He is with her now, but he had to wait two years for his turn to come around.

I remember sitting with him at the funeral home, he just kept repeating, "God has been good to us.  We've had a good life."  He just kept repeating those two statements over and over and over.  I don't know what he must have been feeling knowing she was gone and he was left behind.  I witnessed him stubbornly holding on to hope, repeating what he knew to be True in the face of his saddest days.

Grandpa has always been a softie, he would get "weepy."  He never hid his emotions or tried to put on a tough-guy-facade.  But hearing him repeating those statements about God's goodness while he sat looking over at grandma's lifeless body as a slide show of their memories played in the background was the bravest thing I had ever seen.

when hope is a seed someone plants

I was given a gift the last time I saw my Grandma Lewis on this earth.  It wasn't one you hold in your hand, so much as one you carry in your heart.  When she gave it to me, I didn't quite realize how valuable it would become to me.  

I remember it was an unseasonably cold day in Michigan in the early summer.  We drove Up North to see grandma and grandpa.  I am pretty sure that Rene and Jack and Colson were with us.  My grandparents were staying in an itty-bitty motel room, the kind you find along the main stretches in the small towns Up North.  Grandma looked quite awful.  I remember it took me a bit to get over it.  She had to have the oxygen tank on and it was kind of loud.  The room was small, the boys were antsy, and it was chilly out.  The circumstances were not ideal for a meaningful visit.  Brad took the boys outside to run around a bit.  

Grandma told me she liked my shirt.  I still have it.  And I smile every time I wear it and think about the fact that she liked it. I remember telling her how easy it was to pack because it never wrinkled.  She smiled, she was no stranger to packing for trips.  I am sure she and grandpa offered me some coffee and some candy and any other sweets they had piled up around their tiny room.  They were straying in the little motel room while the flooring was replaced in their house.  My aunt was there too, but I think she ran out for a bit while I chatted with grandpa and grandma and Rene.  

There was more quiet than conversation.  It has always been OK to just be with each other.  For reasons I can't quite explain, I am a terrible phone person and I was horrible about calling grandma and worse about writing.  So I did always want to go be with her when we were in Michigan, this visit was no exception.  I think she must have known.  I think she knew it was the last time we would sit in a room together, and she wanted to make sure I heard this Truth from her.  She told me I was doing a good job with the boys.  I think at first I just nodded.  But then she sounded a little stern and elaborated a little more about how well they listened and how much it mattered.  I can't remember all the words she said, but I can remember how I felt when I heard them.  Seen and loved and secure.

Looking back, I don't think she intended this to be a compliment so much as she meant it to be something for me to hold on to; to grab a hold of on the hard days when I wasn't so sure about it.  It was a gift that I have pulled out and mulled over in the years since.  She gave me a light to hold on during the dark days, and I think she gave it to me because she had her share of dark days too.  Rather than chat me up about how to parent and tell me what she wished she would have done differently, she just encouraged me with a few words about my boys.  

When we hugged, she whispered her love into my ear and I whispered mine back.  I was bawling when I buckled my seat belt and told Brad I would never see her again.  Of course, I meant I would never see her again on earth.  And I was right.  

I hold on to that gift she gave me though.  Those words that encouraged my heart on a day when she was so weary and weak.  She gave those words to me because she knew I had more life to live.  Its like she planted a little seed that day, like she knew at just the right time it would take root and sprout.  Combined with God's word and the Spirit in me, her words give me hope on hard days.  Stubborn hope that keeps bursting forth when my parenting seems questionable at best.  And although she had no idea I would have twins one day, God knew it and I believe He gave her those words to share with me for such a time as this.  :)

when you feel small

We are in the middle of unpacking and transforming this house into a home.  I am celebrating small things like eating dinner at the table and loading the dishwasher.  Straightening up the pantry seems fun and arranging the household cleaners for easy access makes me feel accomplished.  This is not the norm, though.  The daily moments of momming generally do not fall in to the category of "exciting."  Doing laundry, making dinner, reading books, picking up blocks, wiping noses, scrubbing toilets -- these are the highlights of most days.  And then I repeat again the next day.  While exciting right now, I know the routine will once again lose its sparkle.  I'll face again the nagging question of if it is enough.

Tell me you've been there.  Have you sometimes felt like your kingdom work is just so small in this season?  Not that you don't appreciate the magnitude of shaping little souls and pointing them to Jesus.  Of course, you do or you wouldn't be spending your days wrapped up in it.  I do, too, I wouldn't trade this gig for another.  But some days it just feels small.  Hidden away.  Behind the scenes.  Monotonous.

Here's the thing though, we have a God in heaven that appreciates the small as well as the great.  Rather than tell you that you are doing the most important job on earth {we've all heard it before}, I'm telling you that the small tucked-away-hidden moments are seen.  Knowing that He sees me even in my most minuscule tasks gives me hope.  There are Scriptures that talk about ants!  Holy words recorded for all time about ants.  (see: Proverbs 6:6-8)  We are also told that God even knows the number of hairs on our heads. (see: Luke 12:7)  And I am guessing the number of hairs on my head changes moment by moment {and dramatically so every time I shower.}

If our great and glorious God has found lessons for us in ants and counts our hairs, is there any reason to doubt that He sees each moment? And not only that, but He has appointed it.  The boring tasks I do today are exactly what He has planned for me today.   Whether it is playing with play-doh or making chili or folding towels, He sees it.  He directed it.  He created me for it.  Even when it feels small, it is part of His plan.

"For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand so that we would walk in them." Ephesians 2:10

Believing that the small matters and acknowledging that it is part of His plan for me, gives me hope.  The stubborn kind of hope that folds laundry with joy and unloads the dishwasher with gratitude.  

when progress is slow

As you know, we are moving.  Tomorrow the movers will come and carry all of our heavy stuff.  Movers are hourly though, so we tried to pack as much as we could ourselves.  Our new house is just minutes from this house, so we were able to take small loads and unpack as we went.  This helped a lot.

But then, tonight, it just felt like too much. Like we were not making any progress.  {Untrue.}  Like we would never get it done. {Also untrue.}

I got cranky.  I snapped at Brad and huffed a bit to myself.  I rolled my eyes about writing about stubborn hope.  And then it hit me.  Of course, this packing up a house is a job, but such a small blip in the scheme of things.  Even in my crankiest and huffiest moments, I know its temporary.  But I decided to park on it a minute.  I kept wrapping up our dainty glasses with loads of paper and wondered about why sometimes things suddenly feel like too much, like I am getting nowhere and progress is so slow.

Sometimes it can happen at the commissary when every other item on my list seems to be gone and I spiral into thinking I will never be able to make dinner.  Or when naptime turns into a battle of the wills and I feel like I will never have a quiet moment.  It has happened when I am racing to get to the school on time for lunch with Walker and I feel like I am always late, will always be running behind.

These little lies tuck in and we feel it.  We feel like we are making no progress.  And its not about packing or groceries or naptime or punctuality.  We remember our old selves and we catch a glimpse of that past in our present.  And we temporarily flail about.  Accusing ourselves with the You'll-Never-Measure-Ups and the You'll-Always-Fall-Shorts, we lash out and turn ugly.  We hand out cranky words and huffy sighs.  As the words roll out, we add it to the mental list of our inadequacies.

But eventually, the Truth finds us.  The Truth reminds us that those lies are a trick and the real truth is that our old selves are dead.  Our new life is not about how well we perform, but how well we are loved.  It isn't about getting it all done, but believing that One has done it all.  It isn't about our progress so much as it is about the process.

When the cranky words spill out and you're left to wrap the fragile pieces up, what matters is your next choice.  Do you believe that there is no longer any condemnation for those that are in Christ or do you condemn yourself for your short temper?  Do you reach for the hope that says you are enough--even when you've messed up?  Grasp stubbornly for that Hope, hold it tightly when the lies start murmuring about your faults.

As I finished wrapping our breakables, I sensed a renewal of Hope.  Brad came in and I apologized for the cranky words.

when the things we imagined don't come true

I wrote about our upcoming move yesterday.  I titled the post "when things don't turn out the way you planned."  But really it was all about our move.  And not a lot about "when things don't turn out the way you planned."  So I want to spend a little more time there -- in that space where you imagined things would go one way, but then they didn't.

Have you been there?  Are you remembering some of those moments right now?  The moment when you realize the things you imagined weren't coming true. I have those moments too.  Some loom large and some seem tiny.  But I don't think its fair to classify the moments, to somehow disqualify some as too small.  Hurt is hurt.  No matter what you imagined, or what the moment looked like when you knew it wasn't coming true, Jesus sees it.

I don't remember who shared with me this idea of not discounting others' experiences, but it set me free in so many ways.  Not only did it make me a more compassionate friend, it also allowed me to see my own hurts and disappointments as legitimate.  Rather than try to dismiss them with a "this is nothing compared to..." I have freedom to explore those hurts.  I want to always remember to give that freedom to others too.

I spend a little time with them. I don't wallow, I don't gather a group and throw a pity party.  But I explore the sorrow a little.  I cry if I need to.  I turn it over in my mind and wonder if I somehow let my imagination run wild- was it somehow my fault that this thing did not turn out the way I wanted?  I ask a lot of questions, of myself and Jesus, and when Brad is near I talk it through with him sometimes too.  Holding the hurt, remembering what I felt in the moment, it allows me to reach out for His hand to hold.

When we lost our little itty bitty baby two summers ago, I felt a hurt more deeper than I expected.  And it hung around longer than I guessed it would.  I explored it and talked about it and asked God so much about it. I never found a place of understanding.  I couldn't say that I see why things happened the way they did.  I don't blame myself or our circumstances or our choices.  It was simply a loss that drove me deeply to my Savior's arms.  Running to them, begging for Him to hold me close, and wishing He would just come back and get us already.  I flipped through Scriptures desperately looking for answers, and kept finding Love.  He kept drawing my heart to this verse in Hebrews.  It has become so dear to me.

"This hope we have as an anchor to the soul, a hope both sure and steadfast and one which enters within the veil."  Hebrews 6:19 NASB

So often, in those places of hurt if we are willing to be OK in the discomfort of sorrow, we find Hope.  I don't know how it happens.  I just know it does.  If I seek Him when I feel alone, I find Him.  If I look for Him in heaviness, He lifts my burden.  If I call to Him through my tears, He saves those tears in His bottle.  He not only finds me in this place, but He offers His hand to hold through it.  And He reminds me of the promises that are true.  Even when the things I imagined don't come true.  He is True.  He is Faithful.  Always.

when things don't turn out the way you planned

I don't even know where to begin this post.  I guess, I'll just start at the beginning.  When Brad was hired, our housing was included in the compensation package.  The house we live in is actually owned by the city but leased by the non-profit that Brad works for.  Our first walk-through was in May.  It was dark and more than a little depressing.  There was broken furniture and random bits-and-pieces of kids' toys in each room. Inexplicably there were no toilet paper holders or towel bars in any of the 4 bathrooms. There were brief discussions of tearing out the kitchen and adding an addition to really allow for a better flow in the space.  After a few contractors walked through and began pricing things, an addition seemed too costly and the current kitchen would be just fine with some paint.  I spent hours hovering over paint colors online and picking up stacks of paint chips at Sherwin Williams.  Our home was dubbed "The Cottage" by the board of directors so I decided to go with cottage-y paint colors. I came over at different times of day to try and decide how the colors would look in each room.

{Did I mention this was the first time we have ever picked paint colors?  Ever.}

The carpets were torn out, the old furniture was tossed, and the broken toys were swept away.  I felt certain the new paint colors brightened the place up.

The boys and I spent 2 weeks in July while Brad came back to keep things on track for our move-in.  He found flooring that matched the current laminate.  He replaced every door knob in the house and added switch plates where there were none. He removed mirrors in the bathrooms to make room for new counters. He picked out cabinet pulls for the kitchen and the bathrooms and lighting for a couple rooms too.  He power washed the spider webs from the stone facade. He hustled right along with the hired-workers to make sure this place would be ready for us.

We packed up our belongings and settled them in here at the end of July.  The boys started school just two weeks later.  This place was becoming home.  The Cottage still had a lot of work to be done. It seemed like every day Brad had an appointment with one contractor or another. An unusable sliding door was removed and the wall was framed in.  The plumbing in the kitchen needed some adjustments and there was some trouble in the back bathroom too.  The dryer vent was actually a little too small and would likely need to be replaced.  There were a couple of electrical boxes that needed work. We put off replacing the duct work in the attic until cooler weather came.  The exterior was painted in August.   Gutters were installed shortly thereafter.

Brad decided to call in a 2nd opinion about that back bathroom plumbing issue.  The 1st plumber thought we'd have to tear up the floor in Lincoln + Franklin's bedroom to get to some roots in the line. We didn't like the idea of having to break up the concrete slab, so Brad decided to hire a plumber with a camera to send down the line.  It seemed like the guy was here forever, Brad kept calling me and asking me to flush toilets while they watched on the little camera screen outside.

The findings were not good.  The foundation was cracked and had fallen in multiple places along the line.  He suggested the main sewer line be replaced.  He said it would be hard to give an estimate because most of the cost would be labor.  The slab would need to be broken up in every single bedroom in the house.  The plumber's best time frame for the job was "weeks."  When the plumber left, he suggested we not use the back two bathrooms -- which happen to be the master bathroom and the bathroom the three littlest dudes use daily.

So we had a couple choices, move our family somewhere temporarily and have the organization spend a lot more money on The Cottage.  All the while hoping that somehow no "new problems" would be discovered.  Or amend Brad's contract to allow for a housing stipend and we would find a new house.

Y'all, I cried when he told me.  I can't even explain all the reasons why.  I felt like we had put so much effort in to making this place our home, I just couldn't bear to leave it.  Not only that, but my husband had just worked the hardest summer of his life getting us moved and settled and the thought of having to see him do all that again was just too much.

If I got to vote, I would've voted to try and stay here for as long as possible, maybe make it until next summer even.  {I know nothing about sewer lines.}  Then have the work done while we stayed in a beach house.  {A girl can dream!}

Within a day or so, I was pretty settled.  I told Brad that I would be OK with whatever decision the board came up with.  I prayed that God would give them all wisdom.  I knew for sure He would take care of our family.

 A resolution was passed that Brad would be given a housing stipend and we would find a new home.

We began searching.  We knew we didn't want the boys to have to switch schools again.  This narrowed our search down to Walker's schools' zone.  Our choices were limited.  Especially in the 4 bedroom range.  We walked through one mid-century-modern home that hasn't been updated since the mid-70's.  Part of me was in love with it -- I think the part that now knew what a difference fresh paint can make.  Part of Lincoln started wheezing - I think the asthmatic part of him.  The place smelled of pet urine and cigarette smoke.  The rent exceeded what the board had approved for the housing stipend too.  It was just two blocks from Walker's school though.  The only other four bedroom for rent in Walker's schools' zone never returned our phone calls or emails.  I think I emailed them at least 4 times. The rent there also exceeded the housing allotment.

I started emailing realtors about houses they had listed to see if the owners might be interested in renting.  I am sure realtors love getting messages like that.  Surprisingly, none were interested in renting to us.  {And they didn't even know we have an 80 lb dog!}

Y'all.  The odds were good that God was going to have to come through in a big way because there was absolutely nothing we could do.  Knowing that the sewer could back-up at anytime, Brad really wanted to move sooner rather than later.  The scene was set for God to dazzle us. My hope was more stubborn than ever.  I'd recheck Zillow and Realtor.com everyday and smugly shrug my shoulders when nothing new showed up in our search circle.  God would come through.  One way or another - and likely not the way I expected.

We wrote out a list of our needs as well as a few "bonus" items.  We forgot to put things like "dishwasher" but did include "garage." We asked some folks to pray with us specifically. We kept our list in our family Bible and prayed over it with our morning proverb.  One day, I decided to drive through a nearby neighborhood to see if there were any new signs.  I remembered that there was a "for sale by owner" house and it looked empty.  I decided to call and see if they might be interested in renting.

I was surprised they called me back.  I clearly said in my message that I was wondering if they would consider renting it to us. Of course, they said "yes."  They even said "yes" again after I admitted we have a large dog.  And four boys.

The rent is $205 less than the housing stipend.  And Walker can stay at his school.  And there is a garage.  And a fireplace.  And a bonus room off of the master bedroom for our office + my sewing stuff. And every bit of it reminds me that God knows the details.

I absolutely do not want to move again this week. But everything in me trusts the God that goes before us. I know it would be foolish to dig my heels in and refuse.  There are still some unknowns and I left a big portion of the story untold.

My take-away in all of this, is that God goes before us.  He is with us.  I cried about moving.  I've looked longingly at our paint colors more times than I can count, since finding out we'd be leaving them behind.  Even so, God did not condemn.  He lovingly redirected me to trust Him.  He reminded me that every word in the Bible is true.  The rental listings with few options assured me that God was going to make this happen, not us.  And He did.

So we are packing up our belongings and preparing to make another house our home.  Trusting along the way that our good God goes before us and with us.

an anthem of hope

I just heard this song for the first time this week.  Love the lyrics and the image of the heart-open-hopeful that keep on charging ahead.  

 "To The Dreamers"

We're beat up but won’t be broken
Lonesome but always searching
Homesick but nobody’s heading home soon
Keep on, keeping on, keeping on

Long days and too many short nights
And wrong ways that almost felt right
Lovesick but nobody’s holding you
Keep on, keeping on, keeping on
So sing along, sing along, sing along… Yeah

[Chorus:]
To the dreamers
Wide-eyed believers
Hanging onto hope by a thread
To the soulful
Heart open hopeful
Keep on charging ahead
‘Cause, when you feel it, once you see it, and you breathe it
It’s unforgettable
When you know it, once you know it, and you hold it
It’s unforgettable

God knows you question your courage
And some days I can’t walk for stumbling
If we could only see what we’re becoming

Keep on, keeping on, keeping on
So sing along, sing along, sing along… Yeah

[Chorus]

When you feel it, once you see it
It’s unforgettable
When you know it, once you know it, and you hold it
It’s unforgettable

I was wondering and I was wandering
So down and out, I was lost not found
History said, oh someone said, that you could never exist
But then a whisper, the start of a kiss
Came to me in all of a sudden like a dream, a fantasy
That day didn’t feel quite real
You took a half dead soul and You made me believe
I believe, I believe, I believe, I believe, I believe

To the dreamers
Wide-eyed believers
Hanging onto hope by a thread
To the soulful
Heart open hopeful
Keep on charging ahead

when hope feels silly

Sometimes hope feels silly.  And shame whispers "are you serious?"  Have you ever felt ashamed to hope?  Like you were embarrassed to confess your hopes out loud?  I have.

Waiting for "the call" during the adoption process was such a great opportunity to cultivate stubborn hope.  Although, if you had mentioned it at the time, I may have punched you.  In the face.  There were a couple instances when we requested that our file be sent to a caseworker about a child on a photo-listing.  I would begin to imagine that little love in our home and pray with her/him in mind.  And we would never hear a word back from the other caseworkers.  At one point, our caseworker put me in touch with foster parents of a sibling set - a boy and a girl.  The boy had some medical issues so the foster parent talked me through it all.  I was able to ask all kinds of questions and was so eager to learn more about these two kiddos.  A couple weeks went by and I asked our caseworker if she knew how things were progressing.  Her reply was frank, "oh their case was moved to another county."  And that was the end of it.

I felt mad.  And cheated.  I thought these two would join our family by Christmas.  I told God about it.  I explained how hard it was to have my hopes up only to have it all taken away without so much as an update.  I thought that maybe I had let my hopes get too high, that perhaps I should protect myself from more hurt down the road.  I felt a bit like building a little wall around my heart, just to be safe.

But the Spirit whispered, "Keep hoping.  Keep believing that I am doing a new thing.  Keep trusting that I will build your family in the just-right-way at the just-right-time.  Never be ashamed to hope.  Do not trust what you see in front of you.  Trust me."

And the Word confirmed it another way, "We have also obtained access through Him by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. And not only that, but we also rejoice in our afflictions, because we know that affliction produces endurance, endurance produces proven character, and proven character produces hope. This hope will not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured out in our hearts through the Holy Spirit who was given to us." Romans 5:2-5 HCSB

When circumstances seem to lead to a dead end, when waiting feels like it has morphed into The NeverEnding Story, when another rejection comes your way -- God says hold on.  We stand in grace, no matter what.  We have a hope that will not disappoint us because of the love of God in us.  We never have to be ashamed to hope.  Whether it makes sense or not.  Keep hoping, stubbornly.

 

parenting with stubborn hope

Tuesday afternoon, I got a voice mail message from Walker's principal informing us that the school had been on lock-down for about 30 minutes.  About an hour later, I read an article about a home invasion that left police in pursuit of 4 armed suspects.  A shot had been fired.  Two blocks from the school.  Of course, I was reading all of this after the fact.  2 suspects had been arrested, one swam across the Chattahoochee River (naturally), and the other was at-large.  But not near the school, I guess.  I kinda forgot about it until Walker got off the bus.

I asked him to sit by me on the patio steps out front.  I started with, "how was your day?"  But interrupted him when he began to say, "good" and blurted out "was there a lock-down?"

So he told me about it.  They were at lunch when it happened.  They had to climb under the tables.  At this point I felt myself get that familiar here-come-the-waterworks sensation.  At the same moment, I asked if he was scared.  I recognized the look in his eyes and heard the crack in his voice.  He was about to cry himself.  Thankfully, that small voice in my brain whispered, "be strong and let him tell his story, don't you dare cry."  And I didn't.  And he told his story.  As he told it, I noticed his long lashes, and his little freckles.  I remembered that he is still so little even though he is getting bigger.

For the briefest of moments, I thought about the parents that never got to hear about a safe lock-down.  Instead they met with police officers or investigators or whoever it is that shares the worst news a parent can imagine.  I remembered those kiddos from Newtown that would be Walker's age if there hadn't been a gunmen in their halls.

As we discussed the details of being on red, then yellow, then red again;  I asked Walker if he recited Psalm 23.  He shook his head and told me he wasn't "that scared."  We memorized Psalm 23 after Newtown.

As the night gets quiet, I find myself lingering on the paradox.  The fear in my heart when I hear that he had to crawl under his lunch table.  The relief that I get to hear him tell me that story.  And this, all in a school where there wasn't actually an event.  Just something in the neighborhood.  And I am reminded how desperate we are to protect our children.  How easily I can imagine hiding them away safe from all harm. Knowing deep down, I could never do that.

So much of parenting relies on this stubborn hope.  We believe that God can make good from our efforts, even on our worst days.  We trust that He will give us wisdom to parent well, when we don't have any answers. We hold on tightly to the confidence that He loves our children even more than we do, believing He goes with them.  We believe He holds them close even under cafeteria tables, especially under cafeteria tables.  We parent with hope, every single day.

where stubborn hope takes root

To understand stubborn hope best, we must start with a firm grasp of what hope is.  And sometimes its easiest to start with what it is not.

Hope is not wishful thinking.  It isn't a Christmas list or genie in a bottle.

Hope is not optimism.  It isn't finding the silver lining in the storm clouds or always declaring the glass half-full.

Hope is deeper than that and simpler somehow too.  Hope is a gift we receive when we become believers in Jesus Christ.  It comes through His word and through the Spirit within us.  It is mysterious around the edges yet almost tangible in the middle.

I am no theologian, and I have only taken one theology class 19 years ago.   I don't ever want to mislead someone in Scripture or give the impression that I fully understand all the mysteries within.  I do not.  I feel most comfortable when I declare my ignorance and rest under the umbrella of "His ways are not my ways."  However, I must share a bit about where my beliefs about hope come from. 

This passage in Romans 8 paints a picture of the hope I am talking about.

"We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time.  Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption to sonship, the redemption of our bodies.  For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all.  Who hopes for what they already have? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.  In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness.  We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans.  And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit because the Spirit intercedes for God's people in accordance with the will of God.  And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose."  v23-28 [NIV]

This hope is not in what is seen, but in what we have been promised.  The Spirit finds us in our hopeless state and intercedes on our behalf.  We don't just hope for good to happen, we believe with faith that every word of the Bible is true.  So when our days are messy and our hearts are heavy and our hands feel empty, the Spirit himself will intercede for us and remind us of the Truth that we believe.  The Truth that is true whether we can see it today or not.  This is where stubborn hope takes root. 

31 days of stubborn hope

 Y'all, I've mentioned it before, but every time it feels awkward.  I think I am supposed to write.  I write in my head all the livelong day.  When it comes to getting the words out of my head, I find a bazillion other things to do first.  So, I decided to join in the 31 days of writing in October this year.  This is a fantastically huge goal as I have written approximately 4 times in the last month and none of those writings were public.  But, I have prayed about it and decided on a topic that is so very dear to my heart.

When a friend tells me about something hard she is facing, I almost always pray for her to have a stubborn hope.  Its a little phrase that has come to mind in more prayers + circumstances than I can remember.  I am sure the phrase is not my own creation because stubborn hope in itself is not a thing we make.  But surely we can cling to it and grasp it when all else begins to slip away.  I am not talking about wishful thinking or an optimistic outlook.  I am talking about a steady, strong, bend-but-won't-break hope in the One that is maker of all.

So, stubborn hope is my theme.  Some days I might write just a line or two about hope.  Other days, I might write a narrative about a difficult circumstance I have walked through.  Odds are good that there will be song or two posted. 

If your soul is weary, if the circumstances you are sitting in today do not look the way you imagined they would yesterday, if your hands feel weak from holding tightly; then I pray my words here will stir your soul toward Hope.  I know my own weariness has felt heavy as of late so I anticipate my words for you, will also be for me.

I will be adding a link list of all #write31days posts under the tab "stubborn hope" at the top of the blog. 

confession

Y'all!  I have felt behind all summer long.  You know that feeling of just not getting all-the-things-done?

Of course, we have had some major changes in our lives this summer, but even so, I sometimes forget to give myself grace -- and I forget to ask God to help me order my day.  That combination leaves me irritable, discontent, and rather edgy.  And once I land in that place, I heap a little guilt on top for being such a crabby-pants to everyone about everything.  I also tend to speak in sweeping generalizations. 

This week, though, I lifted my eyes up + out instead of in.  I stopped looking at the growing list of things-that-need-to-be-finished and asked God to speak truth to my heart.  (Via this song.  Daily.)

I feel the cloud lifting, the light shining, and the hope growing.  I had the lovely pleasure of sharing the story of Brad's job hunt with a friend at PWOC yesterday and I was reminded all over again about His unmistakable sovereignty.  Its enough to make a weary soul giddy.  How generous that He would give us a story like that to call our own. 

As always, one of the things that brought me out of the fog was walking into the Emergency Foster Care Supply closet.  It was a mess.  A sure sign that it had been a busy summer.  Every child that receives something from that closet has arrived there through heartbreak of some kind or another.  Through no fault of their own.  Every. Single. Child.  I often feel like I am standing on some sort of Holy Ground in the middle of that closet.

I had a helper meet me there and we were able to sort though all the new donations and get the racks re-sorted.  There were some piles of clothes left on a shelf in June, because I had run out of appropriate-sized hangers; so we were able to fill in some of the gaps with those items.

Here is a simple list of the current needs.  The goal is to have 3  NEW outfits in every size.

* a note about shoes:  We have 0 pairs of shoes of the sizes listed.  It would be OK to have multiples in every size available.  {Although we do have 7 pair of girls' 10T; and 5 pair of boys' 11T}

Also, we are critically low on diapers - size 3 and up.  Underwear of all sizes is also in low supply.  And bags.  We are down to 6 cinch-sacs from the last bag drive in March. 

Thanks for your continued support friends!  There will be some exciting opportunities coming up soon to help stock a boutique for foster kids through The Cora Reid Greene Home {Brad's job}.  I can hardly wait to tell you all the details. 

father's day

A long time ago, there was a dad with two daughters.  His marriage fell apart and he was granted custody.

We could probably settle in here for awhile and examine all the ins and outs of this, but its the afterwards part that is inspiring.

The dad raised his daughters.  Sure he had help along the way.  But at night it was just him and his girls all tucked away in their rooms.

The dad did his best.  Although, I'm certain there were many nights when he laid awake and wondered if he had.  Wondered if it was enough.  If he was enough.

Isn't that the thing with parenting?  We don't really know in the middle of the hardest parts.  We wonder if we're messing it all up.

But as an adult, with children of my own, I know the answers for this dad. 

Dad, you did your best.  You always worked hard to provide for us.  We didn't have Girbaud jeans, but we did have new jeans.  I don't remember you ever saying you didn't have money for something I needed for school.  And you never asked for the change.  {or did you?}  You encouraged us to get jobs when we were old enough and taught us the value of working hard, too.

Dad, you did your best.   You must have been pretty tired from working all day and then dealing with your chatty girls.  You still found time for fun.  It must have been a ton of work to get ready for our annual camping trip, but you never skipped it.  You could talk like PeeWee Herman {before he was creepy!} and lip sync like Milli Vinilli.  You did crack some corny jokes, but corniness aside your jokes always made me laugh.  

Dad, you did your best.  Your marriage fell apart at a time when the Church was still really awkward with handling broken families.  I cannot imagine what it felt like for you, but you continued to get us to church.  When we threw tantrums about it, you didn't just throw your hands up and say forget it.  I think you made a brave, hard choice to stick with it.  I'm so glad you did.  While church attendance does not equal salvation, it is often a starting point.  I'm grateful you fought hard to give us a foundation of Truth.

Dad, you did your best.  I don't remember you ever once saying, "I cannot wait until you go to your mom's house."  I imagine 'her days' must have been some kind of break for you, but you never let us know it.  You let us go, but never made us feel guilty about it.  I know things weren't perfect with you + mom + shared custody and all that jazz, but the older I get, the more respect I have for you and how you handled that.  My children have relationships with both of their grandparents because of some of the choices you two made way back then.  I am so grateful.

Dad, you did your best.  You let us grow up.  You didn't try to hold us back.  It must've been hard to know when to give us more responsibility.  And harder yet, to give us second chances.  I wonder what was more difficult for you, when we were young and you had to do our hair for us; or when we were older and you had to let us leave the house with our hair all crazy. 

Dad, you were enough.  You still are. You aren't one to write mushy letters, or call and check-in every day or so.  But you have this one look -- the one that says everything.  Your mouth is pressed tightly into a smile, your eyes are a little squinty, but not so much that I can't see the tears glistening.  I know you love me and I know you are proud of me.  I hope you always know the feeling is mutual.

Dad you were enough, because you were never alone.  God carried you through and gave you wisdom when you needed it.  Your family is beautiful because you were faithful.  

Happy Father's Day, Pops!  I'm proud of you and I love you!