Carpet Face Prayer Days

You could tell it was a Monday.

I did optimistically take some school pictures.

See how hard they work.

Isn't writing time at the park fun?

Let me tell you, these pictures are false advertising.

They don't  honesty convey the thoughts and attitudes of the day.

I need pictures that say this:

"I don't feel good."

"I'm tired."

"Do I have to do this?"

"Can I have a break?"

"Why can't I do it later?"

"Can I skip this part?"

"I'm starving."

"My hand is tired."

"Are we almost done?"

Truth is, I felt the same way. 

"Do I have to do this?"

So there I was today, laying on the bedroom floor at 5:00 pm,

 praying for just a little bit of joy to finish out the day.  

Only God could redeem the mess we had made of the previous 8 hours.

Some days are like that.

Carpet face prayer days.

~ ~ ~

Most days we have family devotions after supper.  

 Let's just stop right there, lest you think too highly of that statement.  

It's rarely as lovely as we would like it to be.

But there is this new thing I love:

 the prayer jar.

Each stick in the jar has a prayer request:

"Grandma and Grandpa"

"Orphans"

"Ethiopia"

"More opportunities to show love"

"More faith"

"Manny P."

We sit on the couch and pass the jar, 

each person taking as many sticks as they'd like to pray for.  

Then around the room we go.

I'm not going to lie.

It's a beautiful thing.

Beautiful enough to redeem the mess we had made of this day?

Yes, indeed.

Just one hour after my carpet faced prayer for joy,

Jacob prays in his own words,

"God, give our family love and joy, now, and for the rest of the day."

Amen?

AMEN.

This was the answer to my prayers.

This was my joy.

More than Flowers

Okay, Mrs. Garber Martin, you've twisted my arm.

Here's a Money Shot Monday (whatever that means).  

I rarely understand your quirky expressions, but I always love your ideas.

This is just the inspiration I needed.

Thanks, Shannan. You've been inspiring me for a long time.  

Now, if I can just figure out how to link up....

~ ~ ~

The 10 minutes of solitude carved out of my day were spent outside, quickly gathering the remnants of a summer garden gone wild, grabbing hold of the last bits of happy color.  The gusty fall winds blew hard, trying to chase me back inside to the comfort. The chilly air teased me for not wearing a jacket, for holding on to summer too long. Yet something kept me out there.

I was looking for more than flowers. 

I was looking hard for gratitude and for grace,

hoping to make something beautiful out of the noise and mess and brokenness in and around us.  

In a blustery, scraggly patch of zinnias, I found my joy bank filling up--  

filling up with beauty, just like this humble tin can.

Isn't she sweet?

I smile inside every time I walk by.

That 10 minute investment in gratitude will bring me at least a weeks worth of warm fuzzies.

Now that's a good investment.







Linking up with Flower Patch Farmgirl's Money Shot Monday! First link-up ever!!! Woo-hoo!!!

When the darkness closes in...

As August slowly ushers in the changing seasons in nature,

it also ushers in a subtle current of sadness.

It is a time to mourn.

Some years it sneaks in almost unexpectedly,
a feeling that you can't quite put your finger on.
Some years it explodes fierce and out of control.
This year, I watch for it.  I recognize it.  I let it be what it is.

This year, I'm trying hard to grieve with gratitude.

~ ~ ~

When we first moved back to town, we became reacquainted with Ray, a dear old friend of my Dad. Ray would walk past our house on his daily route and always stop to say "hi" to the kids and reminisce with us about the history of people and places he loved in this town.

One of those people he loved was my Dad.

Ray told us many stories, but one I hold close to my heart:

my Dad at the funeral for his young son.

This was not Dad's first loss. It was one of many in his lifetime.

Ray was at the funeral.  He stood there in line, wondering what to say to his friend, my Dad. What do you say to a man who has lost so much already? Before Ray could find the words, my Dad reached for Ray's hand and confidently proclaimed what he believed:

"The Lord gives and the Lord takes away.  
Blessed be the name of the Lord."

~ ~ ~

 I love that I have this story of my Dad's unwavering faith.
I love that all these years later his testimony, passed on through a witness,
 still stands fresh and bold in my heart.


I love that I can say it too.

I will still mourn. Tears will still flow. And I will still say,

"The Lord gives and the Lord takes away. 
Blessed be the name of the Lord."

This is the Day

"Listen to your life.  See it for the fathomless mystery it is.
In the boredom and pain of it, no less than in the excitement and gladness:
touch, taste, smell your way to the holy and hidden heart of it,
because in the last analysis all moments are key moments,
and life itself is grace."


~Frederick Buechner, Now and Then: a Memoir of Vocation

 Some days I'm just trying to maneuver through the crazy that life throws at me.

The calendar is full of scribbled reminders of where to be and who does what and when.

Still... I forget, I mess up, I drop the ball.

Other days I'm home, but not really here.
I'm off wandering around in my head and in my heart,
looking back and missing what was,
longing for what could have been,
mourning over what will not be.

But more than anything,
I waste my todays wondering about my tomorrows.

I've been told that I'm a patient person,

 but what I really want to be is a
 present person.
Present in the present.

Today is where it's at.
The right here.  The right now.
Tomorrow doesn't come with guarantees.

But today?

Well, it's a gift still waiting to be unwrapped.
And the Giver knows exactly what we need.

One Glorious Day

When a glorious long awaited spring day like yesterday finally comes, 

I just can't be inside. Especially if it's Sunday. 

Growing up we were not allowed to do much of anything on Sundays, but my Dad loved to go for a ride in the car.  Many times it was a combo--a ride to one of his childhood haunts where we would climb out of the car AND go for a walk.  This one place in particular stands out in my memory as VERY exciting.  Okay, family... I was pretty little and easily impressed, but was this not the most thrilling Sunday afternoon destination?

I don't remember much about this place but for the crossing of the stream.  There was this old remnant of a bridge and in order to cross the stream you had to shimmy sideways across a narrow metal beam.  You can't see it well in the picture, but there was a rusty rail to hang onto. Look at my Mom--I love it!  She never wore pants for anything.

I don't know if I ever crossed by myself.  In my memories, I'm always riding on Dad's back--terrified and excited as he confidently made his way across.  I loved it.  I loved Sundays.  I'm sure I complained that it was an excruciatingly boring day.  But looking back, it really was my favorite day because we were always all together.

Last night, after I tucked Jacob into bed, he was sad because we didn't get to spend much time together during the day. Now don't feel too bad. He choose to spend the afternoon playing with his neighborhood friends.  He just gets sentimental at bedtime.  It's an effective ploy to get me to stay a little longer and rub his back and tell him stories.  So there we sat in the dark and I told stories about walking down to the corner Dime Store with Julie and getting a whole bunch of candy with just one quarter.

Then he says out of the blue,

"Do you miss your Dad?"

"Yes, Jacob, I miss him very much."

More than words can say.

But here's the thing.  

It's only temporary.  

We'll all be together one long awaited day,

 more glorious than the most beautiful spring day you can imagine. 

We'll walk together and hold hands again, I just know it. 

And we'll never ever have to say good-bye.

That was the plan.

(random winter photography)

Six months ago, 

I was about to adopt a toddler. I was about to enter a whole new journey of parenting an adopted special needs child. I was about to have five children. I was also about to start our sixth year of homeschooling, with three kids at home while the oldest spread her homeschooled wings and flew off to highschool. I was about to begin another year in leadership at Community Bible Study with a group of women who had grown near and dear to my heart over the past year. 

That was the road before me.  

That was the plan.  

Three very good things.  

Then it all came crashing down.  In a matter of weeks, everything changed.  Heart wrenching decisions completely altered the course.  In one tumultuous swoosh of God’s design, the good and worthy and excellent plans for the future came to a screeching halt.

We would not be adopting Levi.  We would not be homeschooling.  I would not be in leadership at CBS.

BAM.

Plans were shattered.

I was shattered.

And it was exactly what I needed.

Yes, I needed a good shattering of a lot of junk.  God, of course, knew it.

I also needed a shattering of a lot of good stuff.  

Even the "good" stuff in our lives can sometimes be the "wrong" stuff.

At the time, all these decisions and changes seemed so sudden and urgent.  But the reality is, we prayed for many years about adoption.  We prayed for many years about homeschooling our children.  For many years we sought God's will and prayed for God's direction in all these things.
  

Why then are we so surprised when God does exactly that?

Yes, it hurt a little (a lot). It took time to see through the mess of emotions.  God's message was clear.
Wait. Rest. Be still.  He is the one taking the shattered pieces and making something beautiful.
~ ~ ~
When it becomes clear that God has rocked your world, your head spins a little.  
When it becomes clear that He is lovingly and tenderly putting you all back together 
into the vessel he always had in mind,
well, 
your heart spins a little.

Staring at Stairs

The vision must be followed by the venture.

It is not enough to stare up the steps, we must step up the stairs.

 ~Vance Havner

I suppose I shouldn't be quoting people I've never heard of.

Oh well.

I love the quote.

Really love it.

I've stared up the steps.

I've prayed.

God's been listening.

He's been leaving me hints.

He's clever like that.

I'm taking a step up those stairs:

Jeanne Oliver's e-Course.

Details found here.

I am beyond excited.  Like I could burst.

Like I've been waiting for

                         

                                                                                a

                                                                            v e r y

                                                                            l o n g

                                                                            t i m e.

Like something that was lost is about to be found.

I'm tempted to sprint.

But no, I will savor each and every step.

I don't want to miss a thing.

~ ~ ~

How about you?

Are there any stairs that you've been staring up at?

Bright Shiny and New

My sister recently asked me how I was doing.  What she meant was "Are you okay?" I was not immediately sure what she was referring to because frankly, this year has been so full of ups and downs.  Change lurked around every corner.  She could have been talking about any number of things.

But she was talking about Levi.
We all thought Levi would be home with us for Christmas.
It's hard to say his name. It's so much easier just to say "the adoption."  When I say his name, I see his face, and when I see his face, well, you can imagine.

So to answer her question.
I'm okay.
I'm surprisingly okay.
I hope I'm not in denial here, but I'm extraordinarily okay.
Thanks for asking.

The past year will certainly go down in the record books. I wouldn't have--couldn't have--planned it this way myself. Nobody would. And really, isn't that good news?  That when we step out in faith, God will work out his best plan for us...no matter what?  No matter how much we plan and strive, how hard we try to arrange and control, no matter the decisions we make, paths we take, messes we create, no matter how long we wait...God is in control and he'll get us where we need to be. That truth has become so real to me. I wear it like a favorite pair of jeans.

I'll take his plan over mine any day.   

And you know what?  I haven't been this full of hope in a long time. Crazy isn't it?  After all the heartache, all the stress, all the unexpected change?  I couldn't begin to explain in one single post, but there's a bright shiny new hope written upon my heart.  I'll sum it up simply with five familiar words: 

Jesus loves me this I know.

Not just because the Bible tells me so.  I know it because I've seen it, felt it, prayed it, cried it, and lived it through the mountain top highs and dark valley lows of this year. I'm learning that my messy, sinful, bruised, and battered heart really matters to him.  I haven't always believed that, so we are making big progress here.

From the outside, our life and family may look pretty much the same as it did 12 months ago. But let me tell ya', we've changed and grown in ways that cannot be measured by outside appearances.  Maybe that was the plan all along.

Yes. Jesus love me. And you. And Levi.

This I know.

I am still confident of this: I will see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living. Psalm27:13

Unfinished Story

"So, what's new ?"

I really hate that question as a conversation starter.

I mean really, you have no choice but to say,

"not much."

Well, the truth is, there is not much new.

Yet things are very different.

Not that long ago, we expected, hoped for, and eagerly awaited 

a flight across an ocean to meet the little boy we were certain was ours.
We had hoped he'd be home by Christmas.

I have clothes collected from yardsales over the summer
not even knowing exactly what size he would need--

cute little fall overalls, winter sweaters, and little boy jeans.
I am not sure what to do with that now.

Today it dawned on me that I had to take his pictures off this blog.

He is not ours. He belongs to someone else.
This is not the way I thought the story would end.
 But then again, I am not the author.

I'm not going to pretend that I understand what happened.
I certainly don't pretend to know what happens next.

But I'll tell you what I believe.

There is more to the story that we don't know.

And as much as I want to know...

as much as I want to go...

the answer I get is...
No. Not yet.

WAIT.

REST.

BE STILL AND KNOW.

After years of going, going, going on this adoption journey it's hard to be still.
It's hard to wait. It's hard to accept. It's way beyond my understanding.
 I may never get the answers to my questions.

There is a special quote of Steven Curtice Chapman that God used to get this whole story started:

“He (God) delights in doing things that we say are impossible.  Ours is to have the faith to take that first step.  If you start that journey and it isn’t completed the way you thought it would, God is still in that journey and will provide for you.  I would encourage people to step forward and see what God wants to do in their lives." 


We took that first step.  We took the zillion steps in between. 
But I never ever considered that our adoption journey would end without an adoption.

"If you start that journey and it isn't completed the way you thought it would, 
God is still in that journey and will provide for you."
I have to keep reminding myself. I really, really do.


"God is still in this."
"God is still in this."
"God is still in this."


REST in His timing. REST in His goodness. REST in His purpose.


Wait expectantly for the Author. 
The story isn't finished.

Out of the Blue

Like I've always said to my crabby littles...

"If you don't have something nice to say, don't say it."

I guess that explains the lack of posting.
I just can't seem to muster up anything nice to say.

No worries though.  We all have our blue periods.
Picasso made it famous.



Pablo Picasso, The Tragedy, 1903, oil on wood, 1.053 x .690 m (41 7/16 x 27 3/16 in.),
National Gallery of Art, Washington, Chester Dale Collection

My sister sent me Psalm 71:20-21 out of the blue
(no pun intended)
 and it put words to my weary heart.

 Though you have made me see troubles,

    many and bitter,
    you will restore my life again;
from the depths of the earth
   you will again bring me up.
You will increase my honor
   and comfort me once again.

Psalm 71:20-21

Thanks Lori.
I love it.
And I believe it.

So enough about blue.



Lets go find some color!

We spent Sunday afternoon sans kids
and could think of nothing better than to dust off the canoe
and take her for a spin.

It was perfection.

Believe me, I am a perfectly useless paddler when there are pictures to be taken.
For the sake of not boring you with a travelogue, I have selected my top twelve.
Take into consideration my old trusty rusty point and shoot camera, the lack of photo editing, and the tippy situation, and you should be pretty impressed at the raw talent.

Ba. Ha.

God's the artist here...

(1.)

(2.)

(3.)

(4.)

(5.)

(6.)

 (7.)

 (8.)

(9.)

(10.)

(11.)

 And my favorite!

 (12.)

It would really make my day if you pick your favorite.

You can vote by leaving a comment.

GASP!

A comment?

I know. It's scary.

Just try it!

It's really not that hard!

You'll figure it out!

It will be so fun!

Hello? Is there anybody out there?

You can do it! I know you can!

Yay for you!

 

Thank you to Charlie and Melanie for a beautiful Sunday afternoon!!!

Note to Self

 

Yesterday was super-sized messy with a side of exhaustion and tears on top.

Honestly, when trouble strikes, I'm stubborn like a two year old...

"I DO IT MYSELF."

And then I feel alone. Go figure.

But that didn't stop my clever God from sending help--via four special messengers.

Thank you, special messenger #1, 

for going out of your way to encourage me with your kind words at the park.

You blessed my socks off.

Thank you, special messenger #2, 

for sending an unexpected card with heartfelt words.

It came on just the right day.

 Thank you, special messenger #3, 

for calling to check in on me. Again.

You're always a sweet surprise.

 Thank you, special messenger #4, 

for offering to listen or help, even on your way out of town.

Your call was a lifeline.

None of these beautiful people knew just how much I needed to be encouraged.

But God did.

Isn't He clever?
I think maybe He loves me.
(smile)

Note to self :

Blessed are Those who Mourn

There's a subtle change in the sounds, the shadows, the air of August.
 
It sneaks in without my notice most years. Before I realize what is happening, I change too.

It's inevitable. 

I grieve.

But it's okay.  I'm okay.

Dare I say... it's even good?

Yes, it's hard,
but just when I think I can't carry on,
the phone rings, the letter arrives, the card is given,
the reader comments, the children laugh,
the friend hugs, and the husband holds.
And all these little things are big evidence of this:

God loves.

You, my friends and family, are living, breathing, tangible proof that

God loves through people. 
I believe it more and more all the time.

Being on the receiving end of all this love has
reminded me all over again how important it is to give His love away.

Even the simplest thing, done with love and compassion, might be remembered for a lifetime...

 ~ ~ ~

I wore a bright, flowered dress that day,
the one my mom always liked best.

For some reason, wearing that dress was important to me...
but the rest of that day became a painful blur.
There is not much that I remember clearly.

Not the service.
Not the sermon.
Not the music.
Not who was there.

Not what was said.

I do remember how someone silently reached over and
pulled a single flower off a casket as it was lowered into the ground.
Without a word, he handed it to me.

He gave me something beautiful to hold onto.

A wordless gesture of kindness from a person I hardly knew 

became a sweet and beautiful moment in the brokenness of that day.

That person probably has no idea the impact he had on a young girl's broken heart.

I will never forget.

~ ~ ~

Often times, it's the little things that are big.

Listen to those little inner nudges to reach out in love wherever God puts you
and with whomever He puts in your path.

You know what I'm talking about. You probably know who I'm talking about.

Somebody needs His love.

Somebody will never forget.

"Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted." ~ Matthew 5:4

paper prayers and goosebumps

Please pray for our papers.

I know that sounds strange, 

but we have very important adoption papers about to travel

around the country and around the world.  

It is so important that they get where they need to be.

So many little things could go wrong and little things cause big delays.

I'm trying my best to go with the flow.

Roll with the punches.

Ride the waves.

I trust.

I really do.

God's timing always works.

Perfect example:

Yesterday I took the "littles" to the pool

while the big kids were at a Tiger's game.

Thanks to our recent road trip,

the "littles" have resurrected an old favorite pastime,

 back-seat bickering.

"Raise your hand if you think bickering is 

mind-numbing ear pollution!!!"

Sorry, the "raise your hand" game is also very popular around here. 

Anyways, 

on the way to the pool,
I kindly suggested that if the bickering did not stop, 

we would turn around and go back home.

The bickering did not stop.

The van turned around and we went home.

One must stick to their guns in parenting.

The Bickersons were given 10 minutes of solitude 

and the promise of a second try.

I was given 10 minutes of random free time to check out one of my
favorite blogs.

The point of my somewhat random story???

During those 10 minutes of bickering-induced solitude, the phone rang.  

It was Todd -- with a question.

Could I please run to his work and sign an adoption paper 

that we somehow missed?

(He is my paperwork hero!)

"Raise your hand if you think that God is clever and awesome!!!!"

Because I was home, and not at the pool, the paper was signed as needed.

Surely there is much more of this clever coordination going on than we will ever know or see.

Small little story, 

but it gives me goosebumps whenever God sheds a little light 

on His goodness and love.

So yes, pray for our papers.

And then pray for our boy.

And then pray for his foster family.

And then pray for his birth mom and dad.

And then pray for the people and places that make this process work.

And then praise God for giving this momma goosebumps.

Many of you have asked for an adoption update.

It has had many delays along the way, but the homestudy is officially approved. We have just turned in another stack of important documents and most of these will be sent to South Korea. From this point in time, we can expect to wait four to eight months for our travel call. Pray for the four month mark! In the meantime, we will be filling out grant applications and working to raise the remaining funds. Pray for the remaining funds!  Thank you!