When It's Hard to Give Thanks

This year, I've committed to work through the discipline of thankfulness. I am going through Ann Voskamp's Joy Dare, challenging me to find three unique gifts in each day.

This has been more encouraging and insightful than I would have ever imagined. I did not quite realize how thoughtlessly I barreled through days, not pausing to reflect on the people around me, the God in the midst of us, the beauty all around. This practice, of meditating each day on Joy and Thankfulness, is proving to be somewhat transforming for me. Something as simple as "three things green" will turn my thoughts toward the goodness of God in the mundane of life. And finding goodness in the mundane is transforming.

There are three ladies that have joined me in this, along with a smattering of others that jump in on occasion, and their input, their perspectives on Joy and Thankfulness, have been equally encouraging.

Today's challenge? Today's is truly a challenge.

Three gifts hard to give thanks for.

And give thanks for everything to God the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ. Eph. 5:20

This is much harder said than done -- Giving thanks for things I am not thankful for. To be honest, I'm not sure even what that looks like. In my wonderings, this is about all I've come to:  to learn to give thanks for the God Who is present in all things.

Having said that, here are three gifts that are hard to be thankful for:

1. The pain we have experienced in the community of the Church. We have experienced both the best and worst of relationships in this broken-but-becoming-whole community. And it took a long time, but I am thankful, even in the pain, because it has forged the stuff of life in me. Some chose to leave. Some just gave up, weary. Some felt they must leave. And I get that. If I weren't a pastor's wife, honestly, I probably would have as well. But I couldn't leave...and now I am grateful. It has taught me that life and relationship are most often found in slogging through the hard and painful parts together.

2. My children sometimes choosing paths that I do not know or understand or even agree with. It is hard to watch the ones you love the most make choices you fear (read "know") will bring them pain. But I have found a faithful God in this place. Faithful to my children, right where they are. Faithful to walk through each stage of this journey with us - redeeming our failures and never wasting an experience - even the wrong or painful ones. And sometimes? Sometimes, in God's twisted sense of humor, I get to learn that what I was sure was a horrible mistake is exactly what they should have done.

3. The "unfair" pain... Dylan's battle with depression, the pain of Thomas's past - the day-to-day struggles these unfair circumstances cause.  We all have versions of this kind of pain. We don't deserve it. It's not fair. It's not right. It would be easy to blame God for allowing such things. He is, after all, sovereign, and yet these things did happen. It would be easy to become cynical, bitter, angry.

Here's what I learned in this place: The God I used to know - the one that owed me good things because I'd lived obedient and faithful - that God had to go. But the God I found in the pain? He is faithful. He is present. He is a constant presence in these struggles.

He knew depression. He knew abuse. He knew rejection and loneliness. He knew injustice. He knew hunger. He knew pain. And He knows our pain. He lives through each of those painful, sometimes horrific experiences, with us. With my children. 

He is God With Us.

So I'll be thankful. This year. This moment.  Sometimes it is easy, sometimes it is a sheer act of obedience and faith.

Moment by moment.

2015 - Joy

Joy.

My word for 2015.

Last year, it was Extravagant. It was the first year I had tried this and I found it to be very beneficial. Laser focus. What do I want to focus my energy on? Learning to give love extravagantly... not dole it out as it is "earned" or "deserved", or when it's easy. Not just when it makes sense, but when it doesn't. When no one expects it -- especially then. As Christ does. No matter what. Go big or go home.

This year, it's Joy.

I've talked a lot about my battles with doubt and cynicism. I'm kind of tired of that about myself. Not that my doubts are going to dissolve -- because I'm just cynical enough to believe they won't. But I'm ready to do battle - to make sure that cynicism and doubt don't eat away at my soul, don't cause me to become some bitter, old, hermit, cat lady.  I don't want to be her.

So, this year, my laser focus will be on Joy.

In the midst of my doubts.

In the midst of my cynicism.

In the midst of the hard parts of life.

Joy.

I came across a tool that I'm hoping will help me keep this focus. I've shared it on Facebook, but I'll link it here in case you missed it. (http://www.aholyexperience.com/joy-dares/). The download gives you three prompts each day of the year to help you open your eyes, look around and find Joy in the mundane, in the normal, in the routine of every day life.  Some of them are a little intimidating to me - "How do I find Joy, gratefulness in THAT?" - but, hey, if it were easy, it wouldn't be a challenge, now would it?

My goal is to post on Facebook each day, or at least most days, with the simple Joys I've found that day.  Some of you have already joined me in this, and in just two days, your words have already been so encouraging to me.  I'd love for a whole bunch of you to jump on this Joy bandwagon with me -- fight the demons of cynicism and bitterness. They don't deserve to win.

2015 - Joy.

Join me?

2014 - Upon Further Reflection...Whew!

It almost scares me to stop and consider what this past year has brought. Things that I had never considered.

A sampling:

1. My baby girl is moving away from our home town - a home owner, together with her husband... all grown up. I'm thrilled for them, but sad that she won't be so close, won't be at the same church, won't be just a mile and a half away.

2. I've had to learn to let go this year. I've had to learn to let my kids grow up. To be adults. To accept that they will, on occasion, make decisions I would not make, believe things I do not believe, make choices I would not consider. That. Is. Hard.

3. My baby boy got married! Did not see that one coming! We LOVE his bride and couldn't be happier, but MARRIED, guys! My BABY!

4. Which leads me to another biggie... he's not my baby anymore. A new son entered the picture. I'm 51. And there's a new kid in the house. A teenager. Also a beautiful blessing. But a teenage. boy. Y'all!

5. Other stuff. That I'll not drag out for this tiny part of the world to hear. .. but you have a messy, beautiful life yourself, so I'm sure you can fill in the blanks.

This is too many things.

I'm sure if I took one of those stress evaluations, I'd be off the charts.

But, you know what?

It's good.

It's really, really good.

I started 2014 with wanting to love extravagantly.  You can read it if you want.

I've failed more times than I want to consider, but I've not failed more times than I thought I was capable of as well.

Extravagant.

This last year, with all its twists and turns, has begun to teach me to DO, to BE extravagant. To accept extravagant love - to give extravagant love.

As I review 2014 with a little shock and awe at how much can change in such a brief period of time, I'm still excited. I'm anxious, eager even, to see what 2015 will bring.

Life is good - even when it is hard.

God is good - even when I don't agree or understand.

So....

2015?

Bring it on!

Everything Beautiful - In Its Time



God has made everything beautiful for its own time. ~ Ecc. 3:11

I've spent the last couple of weeks trying to figure out if we were going to be able to decorate the Christmas tree this year as a family.  We've never missed a year. It's very much a tradition that our family loves.  They fuss and argue over who hangs what and where - I usually want to kill them all at least twice, but there's so much joy in the process. It's not looking like it is going to happen this year. Everyone together when we wake up on Christmas morning? Likely won't happen either.  I realize with children at 24, 22, 19 and 17 - with two of them married, two of them living in other towns, another soon-to-move, all but one with real, grown up jobs, I should actually just be grateful that it's taken this long to miss a year.  And I am.  But I'm also a little sad.

This is not a real problem.  My news feed has been packed full of real problems this week - this is not a real problem.  Yet, I've still been a little melancholy.


Through a series of events that I won't bore you with, yesterday took Thomas and I through the neck of the woods where my parents grew up.   

Thomas was driving. Caught up in my own melancholy thoughts, I wasn't paying much attention to where we were, when I began to have long-ago-memory flashes.  I recognized a bridge, then a house, that I hadn't seen in years and years...then realized where I was and decided to share with Thomas the place I spent many, many hours at when I was a kid - the house and farm where my mom grew up.

We turned around and headed back for me to try and remember the turns to get us there...it's been a REALLY long time, y'all.

So many memories.

Before we even arrived, we topped a hill that brought back, "Drive over the Fun Hill fast, Daddy!" When we were kids, heading to see Dad and Granny (what I called my mom's parents), there was a specific hill that, if taken fast enough, would grab our tummies every. single. time.  We loved that and my Daddy complied every. single. time.  Isn't it funny the memories that stick?  I don't know if he realizes what a happy memory that simple act placed in my now mostly-fuzzy brain, but it's a good one.

As Thomas and I walked the property and through the now-abandoned house, every single space brought back equally happy memories.

• The tree we climbed to sit on top of one of the out-buildings.
• The cellar Granny marched us all to at the first sign of a dark cloud.
• The cellar top where I spent hours and hours making mud pies.
• The shop where Dad made the rolling pin and biscuit cutter that I still use. 
• The tree we worked under cutting and shucking corn.
• The garden where all of the extended family came together to harvest.

Every. Single. Room. 

• The living room where Dad would put me in his lap to watch the Gospel Singing Jubilee and just be present with me while we waited for the next meal.
• The phone in the corner that we had to pick up oh-so-quietly because one of three or four other families may already be using it. (That's a "party line" - ask your grandparents if you don't know what that is.)
• The dining room/kitchen where Granny spent so many hours cooking for so many people, sitting at the window, snapping beans and watching us play on the swing set; the table where they played dominoes nearly every day.  I don't remember a single complaint ever passing her lips. There probably were some, but she was the hardest working, most gracious woman.
• The mud room where Dad pried off his dirty work boots, after a very long day, and still took time to love, tickle and hold. 
• The bedroom we slept in - where Dad would come in early in the morning with a cup of cold water to "pour it in their ears if they don't get up" -- even though the smell of bacon had already awakened us, it was fun to wait for him to come in.
• The bathroom.  A funny place for a memory, but I remember my Granny saving the littlest pieces of soap and putting them together to make a larger bar - no waste with her.

For a bit, all of this increased the melancholy.  The house looks so sad - abandoned and overgrown. Some of the out buildings are just gone. The family is grown and scattered, some long since with Jesus.

But then I remembered.

So. Many. Memories.

And then I felt better.

We've built memories with our kids.  All those years of decorating, making ornaments, fighting over whose turn it is to put on the tree-topper.  All of us sitting together to watch It's A Wonderful Life and eating orange rolls on Christmas morning. Those will never leave. It's hard to make this happen because my children have busy, happy, productive lives.

And we're making new memories.  We have two new family members this year.  Dylan brought beautiful Grace to us.  We have to share him with her family now, but the trade of getting her is worth it.  We have another daughter. We have Thomas now and this is joy to me.  We have another son.

This is not a problem.  This, in fact, is a blessing.

If things aren't changing, they're probably dying.  And there is much life here. Difficulties, sometimes heartache, but also joy. So much joy. So while some of our traditions may have to become erratic, and morph into something different than how we've always done it, we'll be making new traditions - new memories.  My children will begin creating their own traditions with their new families. New memories.

This is life.  That's a good thing.

Also? Happy Thanksgiving, ya'll - because it's Thanksgiving before it's Christmas.  So, enjoy both -- in that order.  I pray blessings for every minute of both - whether you're enjoying old traditions or making new ones.  



Musings On Orphan Sunday

Pure and genuine religion in the sight of God the Father means caring for orphans and widows in their distress and refusing to let the world corrupt you. ~ James 1:27

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We're not special. Not super-spiritual. Not phenomenal parents.

We are normal, average, middle-class parents.

We made mistakes with our natural-born children.

We make mistakes now.

Some days, this is really, really hard.

It's hard for us as parents -- we doubt, pray, cry, debate. At times -- we feel like we've been abandoned by the system that promised to support us in this; we wonder if we're really making a difference; we wonder if our love is enough.

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It's hard for Thomas. He's never done this before either.

He has to daily choose to trust us - when he has no history or reason to do so.

He has to daily choose to obey us - when he has no reason to trust the outcome.

He has to choose to stay, when he knows he's capable of running.

He has to choose to forgive us when we make mistakes - because we do.

He's had to learn what "family" looks like, feels like, acts like.

He's had to make new friends, start a new school, new activities, new family, new everything.

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"Orphans are easier to ignore before you know their names. They are easier to ignore before you see their faces. It is easier to pretend they're not real before you hold them in your arms. But once you do, everything changes..." David Platt

I'll not sugar coat this. Our love may not be enough. Statistics are not in his favor. But we choose to love completely anyway... And Thomas is much more than a statistic. He has a name. A face. He's my son. He's a young man, made in the image and likeness of our God. He deserves a chance to break cycles and live a life surrounded by people that love him. He deserves to belong. He deserves a family.

This is hard.

But it's one of the best hardest thing we've ever done.

We - all of us - have learned more of God's love in the last eight months than ever before. We have learned that life is about much more than being comfortable. We've seen our selfishness and begun to allow God to root it out of us.

We have cried and screamed, laughed and loved, learned and grown. Together.

We have learned to forgive and start over - as many times as it takes.

We are not special. We are not super-spiritual. We are not phenomenal parents.

We said yes.

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Today is Orphan Sunday.  Please consider how you can be a part of the answer. Every child - every child - deserves a family.

You can say yes in a lot of different ways.

You can foster, as we have.
You can adopt.
You can mentor - there are so. many. kids without positive, faithful, role models.
You can support families that choose to foster and adopt - because they need it.
You can support vulnerable families that are in danger of losing their children without additional support.

We can all say yes - "Do for one what you wish you could do for everyone."

When It Goes Quiet

If you're a blog reader, as I am, you've probably noticed the gaping hole in blogs that address raising teens and navigating the years of transition from at-home children to young adult, on-their-own children.  There's a plethora of information for singles, for moms of toddlers and early adolescents.  There's much to say about retirement, travel, cooking, crafting, home repairs, potty training, to spank or not to spank, recycling, repurposing, health and wellness, dieting, theology,...but the world wide web becomes eerily quiet on the subject of wisely raising teens - at least from reasonable, responsible people.

I am occasionally horrified at what some will share about the intimate, personal details of their teen and young adult children's lives - clearly without the permission of said child.  But for the most part, things are very quiet.  And even more quiet?  Raising a teen that was brought into your home as a teen - you didn't raise them through infancy, toddlerhood and adolescence...they became yours late.  I've googled it up (as my father-in-law would say) - there's just not much there.

I've been relatively quiet on my blog the last few months.  And there's a reason.

The last couple of years have been difficult. God brought us into some things that we had never considered would be a part of our family or life circumstances. Then, six months ago, our world was rocked again.  A 16-year-old young man moved into our empty nest and began to teach us things we didn't know we didn't know.  It has been a roller coaster ride. It has been beautiful. It has been hard. It has brought great joy. It has brought pain. We, all of us, have learned and grown. We, all of us, have been stunned at the changes we are capable of accomplishing when we are ready to rise to the challenge. In the midst of this, I'm still trying to figure out how to be a mother to adult children: grown, married, independent-thinking, opinions-different-than-mine, problems-I-can't-solve, children.  I have laughed, cried, been exhilarated, been terrified.

But mostly, I've been amazed.  Amazed at the capacity to bond as family with a child you did not have the privilege of raising. Amazed at the beauty of second, third, fourth chances. Amazed at how much a heart can hurt, both from and for other human beings. Amazed at the power of God to heal, transform and make all things new.

I've learned that everything doesn't have to be okay all. the. time. We can live, thrive even, in the midst of the mess. I've learned I can wait for things to change.  I can want them to change, know they should change, but still wait. And enjoy the process (most of the time, anyway). I don't have to fix everything. Not today, not tomorrow, maybe not ever.  Because, as I'm ever-so-slowly learning, the truth is, I don't actually have much control. That's God's deal. I can rest.

A while back, laying in our bed, in total darkness, Brian asked me, "Do you ever feel like we're in over our heads?" --- My answer? "Absolutely. Every minute of every day."  BUT...

God is so good. He is full of grace - and His grace is SO sufficient.

Before this roller coaster ride I thought I believed that. In the midst of this roller coaster ride? I b.e.l.i.e.v.e. it. It has proven true over and over and over again. This Truth is my anchor. I need forgiveness. I need do-overs. I need to know I'm still loved and accepted in the midst of the mess. We, I, need that grace - it is like oxygen to my soul.

Many, many, of the things we've experienced in this new family dynamic are deeply personal. We will never share them publically. While I've written volumes privately, I will never blog about them. I think this is the reason this subject is difficult to find from other bloggers. It's individual in the sense that what works for one family may not be right for another - heck, what works for one kid in a family, may not be right for another kid, in the same family.

We, our family, have a deep respect for one another - for where we're at and where we're going. Telling everyone those personal details feels like it cheapens the beauty of this process for our family. It doesn't show the respect my children deserve as they navigate the very difficult journey of becoming independent adults. There may come a time when we decide, together, that it's time to share our experiences in a more public platform. I've read a few that have done it well and with great respect for all involved - they have helped and encouraged me and I am grateful for their transparency. But until that time comes,

This season may continue to be quieter.  But know this - this is a beautiful, hard, exhilarating, ridiculous, laughter-filled, tear-stained journey I'm on.

I would not trade it for the world.

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And by the way, Happy six months, Thomas! I couldn't be happier that you are on this ridiculously crazy ride with us!

It's My Birthday - I'll Cry If I Want To

My birthday always makes me a little melancholy.  Actually, I'm nearly always a little melancholy, but it's usually worse on my birthday.

I spend a lot of this day every year reflecting on what was, what is, what I'd like it to be. 

So here are some birthday musings, ramblings, aimless thoughts:

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Last night sent me into a bit of a tail spin and gave me an early start on the whole melancholy thing.  News of Robin Williams' death was everywhere. His death would be sad no matter what the circumstances - he has had such a huge impact on this generation and he will be sorely missed.  But the fact that a man who brought so much joy to so many died feeling sad, overwhelmed and alone just nearly crushes me.  When you love someone that struggles with clinical depression, news like this is even more difficult. I really can't put what I'm feeling into words that will be adequate, and often the words we speak on this subject are just thoughtless and painful to those that suffer, but I will say this --

Love your people.

Take nothing for granted.

You are not alone.

There is help - both for you that suffer and you that love and suffer with them.

Take a few minutes every. single. day. to breathe deep and force yourself to think on what is good.

Never, never, never pass up a chance to tell someone what they mean to you.

LOVE your people.  Have I said that already?  Love. Your. People.

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This year has been both incredibly difficult and incredibly blessed.  Most of you have followed some of this journey with us. Some of you have walked hand in hand with us through every twist and turn. Much of what we've experienced I have not, and likely will not (at least not for a very long time), share publically. I can say though, that even in the midst of some of the most difficult things we've ever faced, God has been big.  God has been good.  For that I am grateful.

We tend to believe that whatever season of life we're in is the hardest season of life.  This season has been no exception. I do look forward though - believing that, as I can now look back and see God at work in past seasons, I will be able to see God at work here - doing what He does best - behind the scenes, changing hearts and lives.  His work is so often under the surface, where I can't see it.  I have to learn to trust, to let go, to wait.

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I have, and am still, wrestling with doubt, with questions that never seem to be answered.  This year, I've begun to learn to settle in and be more comfortable with the doubts, with the wrestling.  God is there and He is not intimidated by my questions.  I'll keep asking. I'll keep searching for the answers. I'll keep trusting Him when He chooses not to answer.

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This year, God is showing me that He is enough.  I am enough, because He is enough. I've spent my entire life trying to be good enough, perfect enough, adequate enough, to ensure that I and those I love do not fail. I've believed that if I could do the right things, say the right things, live the right way, God owed me what is good.  This is false religion. This taught me to try to manipulate and orchestrate life to go as I felt it should. This is too much. I cannot possibly keep all those plates spinning. I hurt others in the process. God is so much bigger than that. He is so much bigger than what I can possibly control. SOOOO... I'm learning to live in the middle of the mess. Hands off, arms raised, white flag flying. 

He is enough.

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So, so, so, much of this year has been fabulous.  I have the greatest family anyone, ever, could ask for.  I love my kids and am so proud of the adults they are and are becoming.  I love this new kid God has placed in our family this year. I love that my married kids have chosen partners that I LOVE and that fit so beautifully into our family.  I love my husband - I cannot, simply can. not., imagine my life without him.  I have friends - good, deep, friendships - that have pulled me from the brink of insanity more times than I can count (or perhaps they're just jumping over the edge with me - and I'm okay with that).

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Though this year has been difficult, it's also been blessed.

If you run into me somewhere today, and I'm a little bit teary...it's okay.  Really.  They're mostly happy tears.

And it's my birthday -- I'll cry if I want to.