Snippets of the Crazy-Slow

I think I have written a thousand, a hundred, okay....maybe a dozen....yes at least a dozen blog posts in my mind over the past six weeks.

Sometimes they were just snippets of a thought.
Other times they had some meaty length to it.
All of them were amazing...she says so humbly...or at least in "my" mind's eye.
But alas, none of them made it to paper...or even screen....so maybe they were just to feed my soul in the interim of waiting to pour out my heart here....to you.

Life has been busy and slow.
But I have said that here already.
I just wish that I could expound more on what that feels like, what that IS in my heart and soul.
Maybe I will soon...or maybe not...
For now, I think I will just share what that conglomeration of this fast slow motion looks like.

1) My Granny fell and broke her neck six weeks ago yesterday. Her neck has been healing beautifully and the brace is now off. She is, as you can imagine, having a lot of pain there as her body learns to hold that weight on its own again. She had a trache for awhile which miraculously came out on its own about 2 weeks ago and the hole, or stoma, as the medical professionals call it is completely healed up. She has been from hospital to rehab to hospital and now back to rehab again. Each change has been filled with its own ups and downs and scares and joys along the way. Granny suffers from dementia so currently our family {mom, sister, aunts and cousins} rotate being with her around the clock. As she is back in rehab, we know that we are on the home stretch...at least that is how we pray since she has been IN rehab and BACK to hospital once already. If you are the praying kind, would you please pray for her recovery, the infections her body is fighting, and for our family for strength to continue with grace in this long journey?? Thank you.

2) I got a new part time job of which I am currently in Week 3. I have translated for Haitian students and families via our local Board of Education off and on for the past 10 years or so. Last year, all the translators had to re-interview and come "on staff" officially. In the interview process, I was asked if I was interested in tutoring to which I promptly said, "Yes!" So I am not officially a tutor IN an ESOL {English as a Second Language} class room for 90 minutes a day. Two thirds of the class are Haitian kids. I am working at a middle school so the kids are lovely and moody and frustratingly beautiful. I feel like this job is a gift to me and seriously, there are some that I am ready to bring home with me. {And I really don't say stuff like that....their stories/hearts are just wrecking me...}

3) We are OFFICIALLY foster parents!! Yay! and WHOA! This process has been long and arduous and I am not even talking about the paper work. I do not think going in that I was preparing for the emotional and mental onslaught that would ravage my being.

Will the first child living in my home really NOT be my own biological baby? 

Am I really ready for this? 

Can my physical body handle what investing into these lives will mean? 

Can my heart? 

These, along with a hundred practical questions racked my brain to no end. I wanted to quit MORE times than I wanted to move forward and something, Someone bigger than me kept propelling us forward one painful step at a time. I have been forced to face my own fears and judgements and life choices, and I am sure this is NOT the end...which scares me honestly, but did I mention my heart is now wrecked beyond repair? In the good ways...the ways that you know that this is right and good and part of the crazy-grand-scheme-of-things.

4) And finally....this one is hard and exciting to say all at the same time. The Lord is healing me. Really and truly. Heart and soul, of course, but specifically in body. About four years ago, I began having unexplained pains that over the course of the following year and half increased in frequency and intensity. With a possible diagnosis of fibromyalgia but unable to take the prescribed course of medicine given to those who suffer with this unseen illness, we made some radical life changes and left South Africa and moved back to the United States. While my physical issues were not the primary reason for us making that life change, they were the catalyst that propelled us forward. For the past two and a half years since then, I have fought a daily battle of balance in my life, trying to find the right amount of work-to-rest ratio. To say it has been hard would be an understatement, and just when I was ready to accept that maybe this is just the journey of learning that God wanted me to go through to learned more about His grace, the Lord sent someone to remind me of His promises to me {more on that story later} and He is really healing me. It is a slow heal, like synapses and muscles coming together in harmony again, but I am getting stronger every day. There are still good days and bad days and I continue to work to believe that He IS still JUST as faithful on the bad days...but I needed to say it nonetheless....thank you, Jesus, for this healing.
{P.S. THIS was actually on my God-sized dream list!!}

There is more...of life and potential changes on the horizon and buzzing around in my heart of things still to come....but I feel like this is all I can share for now.

I am excited to be living His plan in this season, in spite of the HARD parts too...
He is going deep and wide in the caverns of my heart and soul,
 and I feel SUCH an assurance that I will never be the same.

31 Days of Story {Day 29} When Your Greatest Fear Becomes Story

The memory is seared into my brain.
I can see it like it was yesterday.


photo by Jonathan Thompson

I walk into the classroom reminiscent of the sixties in hues of gold and blue. I smile as I see my-slightly-more-chatty-than-normal-psychology-major friends sitting in our usual front-row-of-the-class seats. I slide into my seat excited, as our newly-favorite professor begins the study of the day.

Counseling Psychology I.
Finally, it is my senior year and already this material is making my Top Hits list.

Dr. Feller shares scenarios with us and we students engage in a lively, guided discussion, especially the loud mouths on the front row. And suddenly he begins to present the case that would impact my heart for life….

A couple in counseling…. …because they cannot have a baby.

Immediately solutions spouted from the mouths of students in class.

“They have so many options.” 
“Maybe they could adopt.” 
“They could get a surrogate.” 

I raised my hand in frustration, “But what if that is not the point. What if the desire of this woman is to carry this child in HER womb? What if she just needs to grieve THAT loss?”

Would you join me over at Must Love God for the rest of the story today....?

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31 Days of Story {Day 28} A Hard Lesson In Forgiveness

It was 1999, and he was my best "guy" friend.

We hung out mostly in a group of 8-12 friends. We were a tight crew. But he & I had a special connection. He was witty & sarcastic & boyishly charming. I was analytical & strong-willed & intellectually-challenging. Everyone knew we had a unique friendship, but it was "purely platonic."

No. Seriously. It was.

Was, that is, until that summer.
The summer after he broke up with his girlfriend from back home.
The summer we hung out in Maine with our friends.
The summer that everything changed.

We crossed the boundaries of friendship, and things would never be the same again.

At first it was thrill-me-to-my-toes exciting.
We were "us" but now.... MORE!
And it was fun!

But then, real life happened.

We went back to college, back to classes, back to our normal routine.

And she came too -- his ex.
She was now a part of "our" world.
THAT was not supposed to happen.
My world was spinning

Suddenly, he pulled away from me. He needed space from both of us to figure things out. It was hard, but he was my friend, right? So I wanted to give him room to grow and to know his own heart & head.

Then one day the bottom fell out of our relationship.
 In one day my heart broke.

He knew my schedule, so he had been avoiding me, although I hadn't realized that at the time. He didn't count on my meeting being cancelled that night. He didn't plan for me to be in the cafeteria a little later then usual for supper.

That's when I saw them.

The two of them.

Together.

I guess he "figured it out" without telling me.

I couldn't understand.
My mind did not want to register.
Why would he lie to me?
He is my friend.
He WAS my friend.

If Taylor Swift had been selling albums back then, THIS would have been the time to blast one of her angsty love break up songs....

These words pounded over and over and over in my head...

I'm not his choice.

I'm not good enough,

pretty enough,

smart enough,

I'm not ENOUGH!

And HE LIED TO ME!!


That is the moment the darkness crept into my soul, my very being. As the days passed, I would wake up each morning in such agony and pain and HATRED. I felt betrayed, abandoned, stupid, faithless, ignorant, unwise, alone. The feeling in my gut was like someone was daily twisting my intestines. I know that sounds intense and dramatic, but I felt like I was walking in a fog. I would read Scriptures almost mindlessly to just "stuff the Word" into me. I would get ready for the day and just beg the Holy Spirit to help me.

But nothing seemed to work. I would cross paths with him. Or her. Or him & her together. I tried to face things. I tried to let it go. I tried to "get over it!"

But the anger seemed to just build and build and with that the shame. 

How could I let this happen?
How could I be so stupid?

And the bitterness just increased.

Months passed, and one day, I went to a revival service. I don't remember what the message was about or anything that was said in particular except the invitation to the altar at the end. I went forward and I felt that tugging at my heart strings.

It's time to forgive. It's time to let go.

And instructions followed.

Write him a letter. Write her a letter. Ask them for forgiveness.

WHAT, LORD? YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!! There is NO WAY! I didn't do anything wrong. He blatantly lied to me, and she rudely ignores me. I am the one who has a RIGHT to be angry.

And the quietest of whispers....

Haven't you held anger, resentment, & bitterness in your heart against them?

Well, yeah, but THEY don't know that! I have been nice.

My child....Forgive.....

That night, I sat down at my computer, feeling compelled by a power larger than myself to such an extent, that I knew if I did not obey, the sky was going to open up and lightening would strike hard.
Not to punish, but to get my attention....

"Hey, girl! I'm talking to you...!!!"

So with trembling fingers, I typed out my battle-worn apologies.

{Photo Credit}

It was hard.

It was real.

It was honest.

The next morning, I went and dropped them off at the campus post boxes.

When I walked out of the CPO that day, it was the funniest thing. I am THROUGHLY convinced, the sky was bluer, the clouds were fluffier, the bird-song was sweeter, and there was a spring in my step.

Something amazing happened.
Something surprising and wholly miraculous
Accepting God's forgiveness and requesting it in return from others with NO AGENDA resulted in this beautiful thing...

Freedom!

Forgiveness set me free!!

"Therefore if the Son makes you free, 

you shall be free indeed."

John 8:36

From the archives -- 2/24/2011

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The Journey of Finding Courage

I did not know two and half years ago when God was placing that little seed of possibility in my heart sitting in my home in South Africa, the full spectrum of emotions my heart would have to overcome.

It went a little something like this:

What about foster care?
What about making a personal, life-changing difference in the life of a child?

Yeah! Let's do it!

Okay. But first things first. Step down from full time ministry for an indefinite sabbatical. Pack up and move back to the Northern Hemisphere. Process. Take a much-needed mental and emotional time out. Spend time with a counselor friend. Process. Process some more.

Make small lifestyle changes to attempt to get healthier. Rest ALOT. Process. Search houses to purchase for a year. Find out where to begin with the foster care journey. Attend an informational meeting. Process. Sign up for training classes. Put in an offer on a house. Wait for closing. Process.

Attend training classes for EIGHT LONG WEEKS. Think about adoption for the first time in my life. Take a lot of deep breaths. Wait longer for closing. Process. Graduate from training classes. Consider an ADOPTION case presented on graduation night!!! Wait EVEN longer for closing. Pack in faith. Process.

Finally close on house. Paint, paint, paint, paint, paint, paint. Move in. Process. Begin foster care home study. Fill out LOTS of paperwork. Open up home to more and more inspection. Bare soul to social worker. Process. Attend a family informational meeting about said adoption case. Feel a little overwhelmed to adopt teen mom. Back away from case.

Go to Haiti for ten days. Process A LOT. Come back to a broken water pump. Get a call for an emergency placement of grade school child. Say "no"... for now. Process. Spend summer with family.  Continue to prep home for foster care certification.  Attend another family informational meeting about grade school child. Process. Plan with current foster mom to meet child.  Meet little girl and foster mom's bio children. Have doubts about bringing child who is happy where she is into a childless home. Process MORE.

Co-plan 40th anniversary of marriage and ministry for parents. Spend time with out of town guests. Get last minute call to take same little girl short term. Have melt down. Realize I am still not quite ready. Guilt, guilt, guilt, guilt trip myself. Process. Process. Process. Hear God remind me that not all faith-steps look the same. Go with my first instincts. Prepare to begin with respite. Finalize last minute certification details. Rest in the baby steps. Trust in God's timing.

We should be certified within the next couple of weeks for foster care and be accepting cases at that point. Next week, I am planning to freshly paint and fun deco the designated room, with some help from great friends. {Pictures when finished} It has been a hard, LONG journey to get to this point but I have more peace amid the thousand butterflies still fluttering inside of my stomach, head, heart... Eternally posessed with a mind that questions and analyzes, I constantly snatch at peace when it passes my way.

And then quotes like that Maya Angelou one up there just stop me in my tracks

My journey has prepared me to be brave {or at least try} .... for them.
To say NO when I knew I was not ready even when I felt others judge me.
Even when I have judged myself.
Even when I still struggle to understand my hesitations along the way.

But I do know this.
I am stronger.
Truly.
A little more courageous too maybe.
And I see how He is expanding my heart, my mind, my voice to stand in the gap for those whose voice is small or have no outlet to speak out for themselves.

Also, today I am honored to be featured over at Must Love God for their 4x4 September Reset, sharing on the mental struggle to just hold on to Jesus for all you are worth. Please come over and show their space some love. It is an amazing home/ministry to reach women physically, spiritually, mentally, and emotionally right where they are at, with the writers sharing from their own daily journey through grace.




Also linking up with these great communities....

I Wish It Was Different :: A Story of Fragmented Grace

I slice the bread in half, scooping up a heaping serving of tuna salad. I pull out one of the new plastic plates, recently purchased for potential foster kids to use instead of the heavy ceramic ones we got on our wedding day.

I mix the macaroni and cheese, and ladle a spoonful on the 1/4 segment of the pre-separated plate.

As a last minute addition, I add a small portion of reheated leftover veggie pasta to add a tiny bit of greens to her meal.

Suddenly, my mind is catapulted back in time.

I am 5. My cousin, Wendy, is almost 6. She is my very best friend. It is summer and life is filled with sunsuits, one foot "baby" pools, and fighting over Barbie dolls. My granny dishes out chicken noodle soup or maybe it was Chef Boyardee into our waiting bowls as we sit at the table hungry from our morning of play.

Back in this moment, my granny sits on my couch, sleep holding her captive more and more each day with the necessity of medications to function in the world around her.

I sigh and smile all at the same time.

Today.
I am the grown up.
She is the child.

I am the one now worried about what she will eat and happy that I have crustless sandwich rounds because she always cut off the crust when we were kids and now will eat it no other way.

I place the potluck variety on a tray and pour out half a glass of milk and carry it to where she snoozes, touching her arm to wake her to eat this simple fare that she is really not hungry for anyway.

She smiles at me with thanks and contentment and slowly makes her way through the various presentations on the plate.

It's hard.
This change.
For all of the obvious reasons.
The ones that are a part of the harsh reality of the circle of life.

But harder still for a different reason.

I do not see my grandmother often.
She lives in my town.
In fact, all four of my biological grandparents still do.
And only when my parents are home from Haiti do I truly spend consistent time with them.

I often feel guilty about that.
Some people my age have never even met their grandparents or lost them as children or teenagers.
My husband is one of them.

I grew up away from my extended family most of the year, spending 3 months in the summer and 3 weeks at Christmas with those who share bloodlines and last names.  The reality of my world was not truly on their radar.  And as a child and teenager, I made it work.  I loved to come to my USA home, and I did not really want to think about being the missionary kid during my "vacation" away, so I entered the world before me easily, with open arms.

When I turned 18, I went to college in Oklahoma.
The first in both sides of my family to attend in more than twenty-five years.
And there I changed even more.
My ways of thinking were challenged. My life-long mindsets were shattered.
My horizons were broadened, and my world view was blown wide open.

So, when I moved back full-time, year-round to the place of my parents' birth, where I had always dreamed of living, I really did not fit in that well. Even with my family.

Oh I was loved.
Please do not get me wrong.
But to a girl who values being understood above almost every other thing, a sad reality replaced my optimistic youth.

Things would never be the same again.

I learned through missteps and over-sharing that calculating my thoughts and viewpoints was kinder and safer in the long run. And eventually a semi-ordinary routine came into existence.

Until....

Seven years later, I went to live in Africa for 3 years....and came home feeling even more like a foreigner inside of my own skin than ever before, unable to even remember who I used to be in their eyes yet certain I would never be that girl again.

These days, I teeter totter back and forth between connection and isolation, conformity and independence, embracing and pushing away.

I wish it was different.
I wish I could be the one they need me to be.
I wish I was not so altered by life and circumstances and living away.
I wish I knew how to bridge the ever-widening gap.
I wish I felt connected to them.
I wish they had let their guards down years ago to let me know them.
I wish I could set it all aside and just love them like Jesus.

So for today, I love the only way I know how.
From my own brokenness.
Reaching through the insecurities and generational resistance
And offer my hard-fought gift of grace.
Because I need it too.
Because I do not have the answers.
Because He loves better than I can.

So I smile at my Granny and tell her that she ate so well as I clean off the plate where those leftover vegetables still remain.

And when she leaves my house today, she tells me three times, "I had such a nice time with you today."

With a hug and a shake of my head, I say, "Me too,"
as I thank God
for that merciful blessing
sent back to me
fusing together
a few more fragments
inside my wanting soul.




Joining in community with.....

The Community I Did Not See Coming

She listens to my heartbreaking rants on the phone about the agony of hard choices in the foster care journey. When do I leap? How deep do I go? Is this feeling fear or the Holy Spirit slipping in that lack of peace to remind me He has a different plan. She reminds me that wisdom and faith might not always wear the same clothes, but work together hand-in-hand. She breathes confidence into my wary soul.

She is my community.

She just had a baby 6 weeks ago. It's her second one and juggling the needs of both an infant and a toddler fight against her normal calm-and-collected sensibilities, yet she grabs precious moments to connect me to her day, invite me into her feelings of chaos and home, and let me know that she misses me.

She is my community.

She blogs. She sews. She mothers 3 kids, 2 of which are twins. She is an entrepreneur. She is filled with never-ending creative ideas. She has energy to be rivaled. She tackles every project with gusto and  vigor, even losing enough weight to fit into her high school prom dress. AND SHE HAS TWINS.  On paper we are so different, but our spirits connect in a language hard to explain. "...I'd love to sit with you in church today..." she writes me late in the wee smas knowing that in the die-hard night owl nature that we share, I'd be awake too.

She is my community.

She shares my personality type. That one champions my love for foster care. Another pulls out and returns back to me words that clears my chaotic soul. They are a safe place for this aspiring artist to breathe.

This is community.

It is not perfect. There is no physical gathering together every day or every week. Most do not know each other by name.

As an extrovert, I miss the parties, the gatherings, the celebrations. But as a wounded soldier, my soul has craved time to heal from the hurts and brokenness that life has wrought. I walk a tightrope of delicate balance between the two, simply hiding from the burning desire to be wanted, to be loved, to be accepted, and most of all, to be understood.

And then, when I take a second to just breathe in His grace, to ponder the healing over the last two years, I see community.

I see it in her laugh.
It jumps off the screen through her generosity.
I feel it in the genuine words wrapping my heart with their warmth.
It bleeds red and precious, like His blood, seeping into the cracks and crannies of this bruised vessel.

I breathe in grace.
I inhale mercy.
I exhale doubts and fears and insecurities and hurts lodged deep.

All because of one.
One with skin on.
One with Savior-love.
One with arms extended, walls down
Being the hands of Jesus to this weary soldier.

In the emptiness, I have found community.
And my cup runneth over.