Maybe Hope

Today has been a melancholy day.

I sort of woke up that way.
I may have gone to sleep with those feelings last night, but tiredness reigned and the morning dawned with a sadness in my soul, even as I swept the cobwebs from my sleepy brain.

For the momma who may lose custody of all five of her children due to extended incarceration.
For those young hearts and minds who WILL find a forever home, but at a deeply emotional cost.
For the boy whose past has been a whirlwind and finds himself in trouble...AGAIN...today at school.
For my own body, aching intensely for the third morning in a row.
For the vulnerability that my heart feels when my physical weaknesses are exposed to new ears and I wonder, "Do they really understand?"
For the feelings of trepidation that making new friends and wondering if I can really be myself brings.
For the future of my granny, her care, and how that affects my mom, my whole family.
For a hundred things that my mind and my heart and my soul cannot grasp and contain.

I know that tears are just brimming below the surface and they are felt more deeply than words can truly capture. Although I have shared reasons and potential whys, the deep that cries out to deep senses that I have only scratched the surface of this gloomy reverie.

So here I sit, in my favorite cafe, writing out my heart....squeezed in the minutes between going here and there to purge the recesses of my soul believing for resolution, absolution, or maybe just peace in the convolution.

Maybe the brokenness in my own soul is making me more aware and alive and in tune to the cries of the downtrodden.

Maybe the weakness in me today is necessary to move forward in this haphazardly beautiful journey like Much-Afraid in her pilgrimage of "becoming."

Maybe my heart's tenderness is causing me to smell deep as I walk out my door and pause to remember, "Spring is coming...it's almost here...don't give up....wait a little longer."

Maybe...just maybe....
Hope is here.
Hope is alive.
Hope will come again.

20 Questions for 2012

20 Questions for End of the Year Reflections

1. What was the single best thing that happened this past year?

We bought a house and then I fell in love with it,  for this nomadic missionary kid that is quite a feat!

2. What was the single most challenging thing that happened?

For the first time in three years, I actually had to think about this question because no obvious answer came to me right away. Such a beautiful miracle!  I suppose the most challenging thing has been the journey of becoming certified to be foster parents. The paperwork and inspections and interviews are the EASY part. The part that I did not expect was the emotional and mental roller coaster that I would feel preparing to step into this. I am still scared silly!!

3. What was an unexpected joy this past year?

I had almost 6 months of the year where I had more "good" days than "bad" days with my health. I do not talk a lot about the chronic pain issues that I have here on the blog, but they do overshadow a lot of how I live my life, unfortunately, not by choice, so the fact that this has been the "best" year health wise in 3 years is just amazing!

4. What was an unexpected obstacle?

1) The EXTRA 3 months that it took to close on our short sale.

2) As mentioned above, the overwhelming emotions in processing what it would mean to be foster parents, to have the first children we would be "raising" for a time not be our "own."

5. Pick three words to describe 2012.

His Relentless Pursuit 

6. Pick three words your spouse would use to describe your 2012

(don’t ask them; guess based on how you think your spouse sees you).

Healthier. Happier. More-like-yourself-again.

7. Pick three words your spouse would use to describe their 2012 (again, without asking).

Chilled. Transforming. Revealing.

8. What were the best books you read this year?

Grace for the Good Girl is on my list again this year as I continued reading into 2012. I did quite a few fictional reviews this year, but my favorite of them all was Breath of Angel by Karen Henley.

9. With whom were your most valuable relationships?

Arno, my life-long friends {college & local}, my parents, my sister,

Blogging friends who are IRL friends, Libby and all my (in) This Season ladies

10. What was your biggest personal change from January to December of this past year?

Finding the desire and passion and drive to dream again

11. In what way(s) did you grow emotionally?

I learned that I wait TOO long before I ask for help because it is so hard for me to ask so I am SLOWLY learning NOT to do this, even with those closest to me

12. In what way(s) did you grow spiritually?

The more I learn about how and who God wired me to be, the closer I feel to Him and His heart. The more I live the life HE created me for, the more I feel alive in my purpose on this earth.

That is the lesson that has come alive for me this year.

13. In what way(s) did you grow physically?

As mentioned above, I have seen significant improvement in my chronic pain issues this year. While I am not back to my "old" self yet, I am SO VERY thankful for the healing the Lord has/continues to do in my body!

14. In what way(s) did you grow in your relationships with others?

As I am more fully embracing who I am, I am embracing that uniqueness in others around me. The past few years, GRACE has been like an anthem to me. I feel that the Lord is constantly teaching me not only to have grace for myself and my own story but for others and their journeys too.

15. What was the most enjoyable part of your work (both professionally and at home)?

The flexibility and the variety of working various types of jobs

16. What was the most challenging part of your work (both professionally and at home)?

Finding the balance with how to manage my time the best, especially with the health limitations

17. What was your single biggest time waster in your life this past year?

Probably TV/Internet

18. What was the best way you used your time this past year?

Taking photography classes with my sister. Connecting with ladies at (in) This Season. Taking time to write more and more strategically. Connecting with others who have like-minded hearts and passions.

19. What was biggest thing you learned this past year?

What I have learned the most goes along with my OneWord for 2012 :: Relentless. The Father has shown me that He is relentlessly pursuing my heart. He is relentless in seeing the dreams He has placed inside of me come true. He is relentless to heal me and to renew what the devil tried to steal. He is relentless so I do not always have to be. He IS on my behalf.

20. Create a phrase or statement that describes 2012 for you.

Weeping may come for a night, but joy comes in the morning.

Check out my 2010 Reflection Q & A.
Check out my 2011 Reflection Q & A.

Tears at Christmas and the Greatest Gift of All

It's our annual-shopping-day-with-Dad-for-Mom's-present outing, and we have stopped at Panera for a quick refuel.

My still-recovering-from-a-bad-sinus-infection body slumps into the chair while my dad and sister go and get the food.


**photo credit

Even at two in the afternoon on Christmas Eve, the place is bustling with activity.
Two large groups of ten or more fill the restaurant with the cacophony of holiday fun and camraderie. Close behind me, accents from other lands fill my ears, with the chatter of the local twang mixed in for good measure, and I smile.

A father chases his young son out the door as mommy follows close behind.  A gray-haired lady finds a table by the fire, removes her layers, and settles in cozingly. Moments later, a man her age appears with food and drinks. They munch comfortably, reading papers and soaking in the afternoon lull.

I feel alive with the Christmas spirit around me.

And then, out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of another woman. Attractive, well-groomed, tailored, also white-haired, and yet her face plummets quickly into her hands. I turn away swiftly, unwilling to intrude in her private moment, but my heart betrays me and I chance a peek again moments later as her friend arrives. Their words are muffled, but I can hear the desperation in the beautiful woman's voice.

I am saddened by her sorrow at Christmas.

A few weeks ago, I reveiwed Mandisa's new Christmas album, and this one song finds its way into my heart in this moment... Sometimes Christmas Makes Me Cry.


{Click here if you are in a reader/e-mail or cannot view video}

While I have walked through some personal losses and continue to live the life of unseen dreams making the past few Christmases...well...hard.... I have found my face full of a torrent of tears more than once, and yet somehow, some way, I have found my way ONE DAY AT A TIME...back to the heart of the Father, back to the Hope of Christmas... Jesus.

And to be REALLY real...it is still hard.
And not without personal loss...

So today from a heart who knows brokenness, my heart aches ...
for the mother who mourns for her child,
for the soldier far from home,
for the loved one dead and gone,
for the relationships broken and beyond repair,
for the lonely and the desperate and the forgotten,
this Christmas.

For you.
For the ones you love.
For the one who lives next door to you.
For the one you pass in the grocery store.

I believe and pray that the tears of sorrow for the woes of this earthly life will be transformed by the Hope that is to come, by the Peace that passes every understanding of our human minds, by the Love that not only lights our way in this world, but shines in and through our hearts. May you know that the Father understands every tear, feels every pain, knows your every struggle because He Himself found a way to surrender His one and only Son in the form of a babe, knowing He would die a painful death because through that .... YOU would be His!

May your tears find their way back to the beauty of that Love, that precious promise, the greatest gift of all.

When You Just Cannot Make Sense of it All

Maybe you just lost someone.
Someone you loved with all of your heart.
Someone who meant the world.
Someone whose presence the world is now oh-so-empty without.

Maybe the dream that you have longed for
The one you imagined as a little girl
The one that would make life just perfect
Has all but broken your blooded hands
As the doors have slammed over and over again.

Maybe you just feel desperate
The walls are closing in
The bills are piling up
Your health and mind are not what they should be, what they used to be
You wonder if healing and breakthrough will ever come

The kids have destroyed the house, the car, the yard, the neighborhood.
The man you loved, and to whom you gave half your life, walked out the door
The woman who pledged I'll-keep-your-secrets-and-you-keep-mine friendship just broke your heart
The believers, the brothers and sisters of His body, turned their back on you in your hour of need.

When life is just so hard
And you wonder how to make sense of it all.

Cry.
Cry hard and deep and long and good.

Run.
Run fast and strong.
Beat your chest.
Raise your fist to the sky.
Shout up at the heavens
and scream, "Why?"
Fall into a puddle.
and cry some more.

Sit with your grief
Your questions
Your anger
Your heartbreak
Feel them deep
Deep into your soul
In the place where deep cries out to fathomless deep

Embrace your sorrow
Your should-have-beens
Your wish-it-could-haves
Your want-it-back-that-way

And cry.
Cry some more.

Let yourself mourn.
Give space to be broken
Let go of perfect
Release the noisy pressure of "Its-time-to-let-go!!" pounding in your head
Breathe deep again.

Grieve hard and strong and long, if needed.
Throw out the timelines.
Forget the try-hards.
Abandon should-bes.

Let yourself be human
Real.
Raw.
Afraid.
Honest.
Broken.

Scream into the pillow
Or punch it.
Let the rage run its course.

Walk out into the crisp cold night.
Let the tears come
Draw ragged breaths over and over again
Let your soul mourn.

Cry again.
A lot.
Until you think there are no tears left to cry
And then ...
Cry some more.

And day-by-day
As you let the anger and hurt and disappointment and frustration out,

Breathe in grace and truth and love and mercy

Let it wash over you

Let the contours of your soul find rest

A 

little

more

each 

day.

Exhale hurt.

Inhale grace.

Exhale heartache.

Inhale joy.

Exhale injustice.

Inhale mercy.

Exhale brokenness.

Inhale healing.

And one day...

you will begin to see

that the grace....

....outweighs the sorrow.

May it be well with your soul

As you plumb the gaping depths of your brokenness.

May the warrior be the child

As you crawl into the arms of the Father.

May your scars remind you that you are real

As you see the miraculous signs of healing.

May you be patient with your heart in the process.

May you find refuge in the shelter of His wings.

May you know how desperately you are loved.

May you feel Him wipe every tear from your eye.

Also linking with Jennifer, Mary Beth, Ann, and Duane 
and the encouraging communities they have created here on the web.
So thankful for places like these to share our words...

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.....

When Faith Looks Like Wet Feet

"Faith isn't faith 

until it's all you are holding on to."

My mom used to describe it as "holding onto Jesus for all you are worth."

I have never really thought of myself as a "great woman of faith."

I am analytical, skeptical, thoughtful, curious.
I am a plan-your-chess-moves-20-steps-ahead-girl. {If I even played chess that is...}
I seek understanding, purpose, meaning behind every life event, people interaction, and random nuance.

"Lindsey, you cannot know the end before the beginning..." 

Another pearl of wisdom from my mother....she knew at a young age, when I would analyze her attempts at comforting, that parenting a child like me would require creativity, skill, and A LOT of wisdom from Jesus.

I just wanted to know. . . . . EVERYTHING!
I still do.

From grade school to college, that voracious appetite for knowledge served me well with teachers and classmates alike. Dubbed "The Sponge" by my college professors at graduation, I plunged into real world living with the same thirst for insight.

But how do you live out blind faith and trust in God with such a desire to dissect and master every morsel, every scrap, every particle of data?

In the wake of a now-looming decision last week, I found myself overwhelmed, frustrated, and disillusioned with my own feelings, fears, understandings, and timelines of our current journey -- foster care.

The longing to pursue this ministry gave birth in my heart more than two years ago. Yet my own current hesitance as well as pressure to receive cases.....children before certification is finalized, house details are arranged, back up care is permitted and a thousand other details leave me feeling lost in an avalanche of unexpected emotions, clawing their way through my already-fragile soul.

Brokenhearted at the path's unfolding,
Longing to find peace in the chaos,
Desperate to understand as well as be understood,
I sought refuge at my church's monthly week-long prayer meetings.
On the very first night.

Pouring out my soul to the Father,
I confessed my guilt and condemnation over not having the faith I have seen in the Word.
Faith like Paul to stand before kings.
Faith like Peter to walk on water.
Faith like David to face the giant.

And then....
Just like a whisper, breathing life into my bones like a sunset ocean breeze...

He said,
"Faith isn't always in the big moments. In the grand gestures. Faith does not always have to look like jumping in the deep end. Sometimes faith is just being obedient like Moses to stand before a nation of people, step into the water from the shoreline, and believe that somehow, some way, there will be a pathway through that Red Sea."

To step in, even ankle deep, in front of other people knowing you might fail, or look stupid, or be drowned by the enormity of the obstacles in your path, well, let me say...it takes the breathe right out of my heart.

Yet, somehow.....
Where I am weak.
He is strong.

Because as I step in faith,
He holds the water back,
keeping me dry.

The threats might still surround me.
I mean, imagine how Moses and the Israelite people must have felt with gigantic swells of moisture roaring as wall-like monsters to the left and to the right of them. They had to trust that God would fulfill His promise to take them to the other side.

The first step might not have seemed like that big of a deal. After all he was just sticking his toes into the water. But just like "the first cut is the deepest," the inaugural step of faith into every new endeavor takes faith that only God in His infinite wisdom can impart into your bones.

So where do I go?
Back to Him.
Back to my knees.
Safe in the shelter of His wings.
Even as my feet start to get a little wet.

I Am.....

I Am 

I am whimsy and prose 

I wonder why people don't SEE into each other more 

I hear animals talk
 I see fairies in my forest 

I want babies to call my own 

I am whimsy and prose 

I pretend I am a prima ballerina 

I feel the smell of the Caribbean sun 

I touch the mountains of Hispaniola 

I worry about what the future holds 

I cry for heart breaks and sorrows deeply felt 

I am whimsy and prose 

I understand people are my most valuable possession 

I say Dream Big and Be the Best Version of YOU 

I dream about living an artful life 

I try to give of my whole heart in all that I do 

I hope to show Jesus every day 

I am whimsy and prose

A fun little template filling in the blanks of who I am.....

Want to try it too? It only takes minutes....and the website generates the poem for you that you can post anywhere. I would love to hear your I Am words..... Please come share it with me if you decide to do it...you can even post it in the comments below!

What She Did Not Know {A Letter to My Mom}

"....After many years of having my soil tilled and turned, the ground is supple to receive the God of Hope. And because of His great mercy in my life, to save me from my fearfully expectant heart, my daughter receives new land on which to plant. My freedom won is her inheritance to build upon. The fullness of God I pray almost daily for in my own life, isn’t just my platform for the next age. It’s hers too. And her daughter’s...."
~ Sara, Every Bitter Thing Is Sweet

When she said yes to ministry, to my dad, to missions, and to motherhood, she did not know the road she would travel.

When she embarked on her adventure as a newlywed missionary to the island of Hispaniola, she never imagined the trials she would need to overcome.

When she carried her firstborn child in her womb, accepting the mantle of motherhood at the ripe age of 22, she had no idea the heartache that awaited her, not years but months later.

When she woke up in a hospital with tubes in her chest helping her to breath, learning that the plane crash that she and her love had just survived through, had ended in fatality for their precious daughter, she could not imagine the fears she would need to crush to walk out the journey the Father had lay before her.

When two years later, a second pregnancy brought only anguish and loss, she did not know how this would shape her into the woman God was calling her to be.

When she finally held the babe that local newspapers heralded as "The Promised One" in her arms, she could never know how important her hard-won lessons would one day be in the life of this wee child.

The child who would not sleep through the night for almost 3... okay... maybe 4 years.

The child who would stay under her skirt tails just to be near her until she was nearly 14 years old.

The child who would ask incessant questions, provoke endless frivolity, and observe the slightest nuances in behavior and tone.

The child who would obsess over school work, get lost in a world of books, pour her heart out into journals, dance upon the rooftop, and dream of a world unbeknownst to her little heart where anything was possible.

The child who would with her blessing leave home at sixteen to pursue knowledge, fall in love...more than once..., and remember with fondness the island home that she so often had cried to leave.

The child who would work hard to change the world, to love BIG, and to give selflessly, just like she saw her mother do.

The child who would marry an African, move across the globe, and miss her mother's hugs and words EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. but keep it to herself because she had learned bravery from her mother.

The child who would face her own journey of loss and struggle of infertility and waiting and pain and sorrow to one day hold a babe in her own arms.

She could not have known how the wisdom learned from a lifetime of battle scars would be the platform of hope for her daughter to find her own way in the valley of the shadows, to "hold onto Jesus for all you are worth" because "my momma said so." and because she watched her live it out.

She could not have known.

But she lived anyway with purpose, hope, integrity, character, grace, and love, modeling Jesus-as-a-woman, with every breath she breathed.

And THAT is her legacy, that she still gives day in and day out....hope to the world, strength to the broken, courage to her daughters to face every obstacle, to conquer every fear, to know that Jesus is bigger than we are, tougher in our hurts, deeper in our despair, greater than every foe...more than we could ever imagine or know.

Mom, 

On Mother's Day {and every day}, I want to REMIND you what a treasure you are to me. I often tell you, "You are a mother's mother!" And I mean it! You are the picture next to the definition in the dictionary {seriously!} and I hope and pray that one day, I will give the same grace to my babies that you gave to me. That as you paved the way for me to stand in the midst of hard times, my own struggles will be a foundation for my children to KNOW who Jesus is, even deeper than I could ever know. You are SIMPLY THE BEST, Mom, and I love you! 

Thank you for being MY mom!

"I learned more about Christianity from my mother than from all the theologians in England.” 

~John Wesley

So considering Mom and Dad have served in Haiti for the past 40 years {this year!}, I felt like this 1000 Moms Project with Ann Voskamp was just the perfect thing to be a part of. Simply by writing this post {which I planned to do anyway}, I am participating in a project to help Moms in Haiti.  Click on the link below to read more about it. 

THAT just seemed like a pretty full circle way to say THANK YOU to my mom, don't cha think?!

Five Minute Friday {And Then Some}: Together

Some seasons are lonely, hard, filled with anxiety and pain.
Sometimes people do not know how to be there for you.
Sometimes it is because you just do not let them in.
A lot of times.

We have been in flux, a holding pattern for a few years now.
Infertility. Chronic Pain. Changing countries, jobs, careers, life direction.
Waiting for the Lord to reveal the whys and hows of this next season.

And even waiting to buy a house.
Searching for a year.
Finally making the best choice {in our price range}
Putting in an offer
And then
more waiting
and waiting
and waiting.

One month
Two months
Three, then four
And sometimes you wonder will it EVER, EVER, EVER change
This waiting.
This holding.

Five months and finally, key in hand, we walk through our front door.




And suddenly, friends flock to help, parents fly across the water, people give up their evenings to paint and to clean and to make meals to help us transition this house into our home.

You see, I realize now, they have been waiting too.
Hoping.
Praying.
Sorrowing in the shadows.
Wishing they could move the hands of time for us
And make our dreams come true.

And knowing that words often hurt more help in the rawest of places, they silently waited supporting...
And now, as we hold one promise in our hands, we find many arms gathering around us
rejoicing FOR us
Loving ON us
Seeing WITH us.
Finding the courage to know that God is not slack concerning His promises.

That together, in the shadows or in arms, we stand stronger.

We have been busy all week preparing to move

{this weekend}

into our new home!

Yay!

More words and pictures to come next week as we settle in.

I CAN'T WAIT to share it with you lovelies!

Thank you for all of your faithful prayers

and beautiful words of support and encouragement.

You SO Rock!

The Paradox of Emptiness

Have you ever wondered if your own personal desert season will EVER end?

When will I find my life long love?

When will I hold my own babies in my arms?

When will I have enough money to buy that house?

When will I get that dream job

or afford to stay at home

or buy the right car

or take the perfect vacation?

When will eating chocolate actually help me LOSE calories?

Okay, so maybe the last one will never REALLY happen...

...but sometimes life feels like moving from one waiting room to the next, checking in, watching others go in and out of those sacred back room doors, wondering when it will be MY turn, feeling forgotten or maybe even abandoned.

Won't you please join me over at Must Love God today

to hear the rest of my own journey through seasons of emptiness....?