Through the roof ... Luke 5

"The only thing we have control over is time."

That was the first tip R gave me for dealing with little miss when she goes into a rage.  At first I didn't understand. And then I had the chance to witness him dealing with it.

When she's upset she lashes out. Verbally and physically. We try to give her a safe space to be alone. I pray. A lot.  We don't mind the shouting, the invectives, the name-calling, the utter loathing. We know that's just the trauma talking. She loves us, and that scares her. She also hates us for loving her. She hates us for being there for her. She hates us because we've seen her hurting and wounded.  

Sometimes praying and letting her name-call and shout works. Sometimes leaving her alone to throw a ball against the wall, or squeeze the stuffing out of a beloved toy works.  Sometimes when she can text someone she's not in conflict with it helps. Once in a blue-moon, wrapping herself up in a blanket and falling asleep works.

More often, though, she doesn't actually want to be left alone. Her trauma torments her, and she doesn't know how to shut the door on it. Those times, those awful times, she will escalate her outrage to the point of harming herself or others. Those are the times that we have to hold her down, against her will, to keep her from running into traffic. Those are the times when anything - a landscape brick, a radio, even an ipod - anything she can get her hands on becomes a weapon. Those are the times when she most fears herself - and the times when she can be most fearful toward others.

Time. All we can control in those situations is time. And prayer. Sometimes I even sing, low and soft, Jesus loves me. I don't know if I'm singing it for her- or for me. Just a reminder that there is more than this moment, more to life than rage and fear. Time is all I can offer her. So time I give. 

Being there. Holding her until the rage subsides, and then holding her differently, safely, sweetly, while she comes down. Listening for the real issues, the true pain underlying all the insults. The REAL issue is rarely the one that sets her off. The trigger event is usually just the last straw on our poor overloaded camel. And then, as she comes down, she has to deal with the shame and embarrassment. She remembers what she did - and usually most of what she said. So she hates herself more for being so cruel. She sees our scrapes and bruises and bitemarks, and is reminded that she lost control, again. She feels powerless to change. Powerless over the trauma-demon that torments her.

The poor girl, my heart breaks for her. She's been in weekly therapy her whole life (3x weekly for the last several months). She's on  5 different daily meds for mood management.  As with all meds, they work for a while and then fail. Right now she's in a fail period. So it's time for a change. Which isn't fun either… finding something else that works and balancing the dosage can take weeks, even a month or more. Weeks of riding a physical and emotional roller-coaster. And not the fun kind.

It takes time. Time is really all we have to offer. Time, prayer, hope, the belief that it WILL get better.

One of my favorite Bible stories has always been Luke 5:17-26 - the man from the roof. In this story, Jesus is preaching to a packed house, and some fellows bring their crippled friend to Jesus to be healed. They can't get to the Lord through the crowd, so they go up on the roof and lower their friend in that way. Creative! Determined! Jesus did heal the man, and forgave his sins as well. Over the years, this story has struck a chord with me for different reasons. Today, what I ask you to notice is that the man's friends took him to the Lord. And that the Lord healed both his body and his soul.

Thank  you for giving her time and space to heal. Thank you for coming along side of us in this journey. Thank you for caring and loving and helping.

If you are a believer, please help me bring her up to the rooftop. Pray for my sweet girl. Pray for her sister - who suffers differently from the secondary trauma of being on the sidelines.  Pray for her parents (all of us), that we can keep her safe, that we can keep reaching out to her in the darkness. But mostly pray for healing. Because this kind of healing takes a miracle. Pray that Jesus will heal her heart AND give her that true forgiveness and peace of spirit that only He can provide. 

And always, always, remember she is our sweet beloved girl. She is not her trauma. She is our baby!

Daddy's here... (Mark 5)

In one of my favorite scenes in the New Testament, Jesus meets a man named Jairus.

Jairus is a leader at the local synagogue. A teacher of the Jewish faith. He spends his days with the leaders who are skeptical (at best) about the wandering teacher disrupting the way things have been done for centuries. He is a well respected man, of high rank in his society.

But that's not how we're introduced to him. We're introduced to Jairus the dad. Jairus the desperate. Jarius the hopeful.

Jairus is at his wit's end. His baby is sick. No one knows how to help her. As a leader of the synagogue, he's not a poor man.  Doubtless he's had doctors examine his daughter. Surely, he had his co-workers (fellow priests) pray for her. He and her mommy have probably spent many a worried night watching her struggle in agony. Nothing is helping.

He loves his daughter. He can't stand to see her suffer.

So he decides to try something truly desperate. He summons all his courage. Though it will seem insane to his peers - his social circle - his whole society, he goes to see that heretic proclaiming himself to be the son of God. The supposed healer. He bows his head, and asks  this disrupter of the norm to come to his home and examine his daughter. To see if there isn't anything that can be done for her.

Not out of faith. Out of desperation.
Yet, it seems he waited too long. While he is persuading the healer to come to his home, his daughter dies. His servants come to tell him the heart-breaking news.

His knees probably go weak. His heart surley falters.
The disrupter sees this and reaches out to Jairus, who is no longer able to reach out. Jesus challenges Jairus to hold on to hope just a little bit longer. To trust his instincts. To continue down the path of faith, even when it seems the situation is impossible.

Jairus does. He takes Jesus to his home, introduces Him to his grieving wife. Together they go to see his lovely daughter. Still. Pale. Quiet.

Jairus, mostly shattered. Desperate. Grasping for straws. Grieving. Takes a stranger to his home, to see his treasured daughter.

And Jesus take her hand. Speaks to her. Tells her to rise. And she does! Suddenly Jairus' world is changed. Talitha, his daughter, is walking. She is smiling. She is hungry. She is well!

Her daddy had been willing to take a chance for her. He loved her more than his pride, his social standing, the respect of his community. He was willing to sacrifice whatever it took for his daughter to have a hope and a future.

That is parent love. It may well be as close as we, humans, can get to divine unconditional love. It's not easy. But it's totally worth it.

Happy Father's Day to all the dads who take the risk and go the extra mile for their kids. Literally and figuratively. Thank you for modeling God's love for us. Whether you mean to or not.

Sharing the Load -- (Exodus 17:12; Matthew 11:28; Ecc 4:9-10)

A couple of weeks ago, I posted about trauma and the impact it has on our family. The impact it continues to have. I have shared on social media some details of our continuing story. It's a tricky balance between telling OUR story as it impacts me, and honoring the girls' privacy and right to control THEIR story. I'm by nature pretty open. The girls, however, are not yet at the place where they are ready to let everyone into their messy world. I do respect that. 

This is a challenging season for my family. And while I cannot always explain exactly why or what is going on, I can say that we are so thankful for the support of our family, friends, and community. Every day.

I am also thankful for my faith. And maybe this is the time to share a bit more of my own story.

I grew up around the Catholic church. My folks always believed in the ideals of religion. They believed in God, Jesus, and the 10-Commandments. They believed in truth, love, neighborliness. They taught me to honor those things, and laid a good foundation.

Awww...I was so cute! Love those shoes!

We didn't go to church every week (more like once a month...ish). I did go to mid-week classes, and I had my first communion. I did VBS, and knew about felt-story boards. I read children's bible stories. I learned to ask the interesting questions (get my mom to tell you about Father Murphey!).

When I was 11-ish I spent the summer out of state with my aunt and uncle and cousins. It was my first big trip away from home. I think it was also my first encounter with live-out-loud Christians. The kind of believers that frame everyday decisions around actual discussions about God's will and plan for us here on earth. Family prayer time people. Grace at every meal people. Church is fun people. Memorizing scripture people.

It was there that I first heard about having a "personal relationship with Christ."

In many ways, that phrase has become a trite throw-away - another church code that is off-putting to outsiders. But to me, it has been my life-line. Ever since that summer when I came to know the Lord, I've been on a journey of relationships.

There are entire books about the "names of God" or the different facets of God. Our God is multifaceted and awesome. For me, the facet of God that I always return to is the ever faithful friend.

So now, as my family navigates some very challenging times it is that faithful friend I turn to most.

Then Jesus said, “Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.

- Matthew 11:28

And some of the rest He has given me is in the fellowship of wonderful people. Family and friends. People sharing their own struggles and triumphs. People reaching out with (virtual) hugs and prayers and compassion and understanding.  People I've known for decades and people I've only known for months. We were made to live in community - and this is exactly why.

Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their toil. For if they fall, one will lift up his fellow.  But woe to him who is alone when he falls and has not another to lift him up! 

-Ecclesiastes 4:9-10

I struggle. I struggle with my own boogey-men of anxiety and depression (both clinical, and yes, I'm being treated). I struggle with trust. I struggle with confidence.

But I don't struggle with faith. I know that I can count on my Lord and the people he sends me. I know that however dark it gets, He is there for me - and so are those amazing individuals who stand with me, with our family.

Sometimes it's so overwhelming. Sometimes we get worn out.
It's good to have friends to share a cup of tea, a few laughs, and a moment outside the whirlwind!

This is (most of) my ladies grow group from church.
We came together for tea and coloring last week, between storms.

When it comes to practical help, so many of you have asked (wonderfully) what you can do.
If there is something, I promise I will reach out. But for the most part we are dealing with the figurative demons of the healthcare system and the more literal demons of emotional scarring. The only weapons I know with which to fight demons are prayer and persistence. So please, pray with me - pray for us. Don't stop. This is just one part of what will be a very long, weary journey. And reach out. If we can, we will always answer. If we can't, then pray even more.

But Moses' hands grew weary, so they took a stone and put it under him, and he sat on it, while Aaron and Hur held up his hands, one on one side, and the other on the other side. So his hands were steady until the going down of the sun. 

-Exodus 17:12

I love you, my friends, my readers. You are truly gifts from God (yes - even those of you who don't believe!). Thank you.

Trauma (Psalm 61:4; Matt 18:21-22; PS139:13-16)

So, friends - you probably noticed that I stopped blogging quite a while back. I'm just not sure this medium is still relevant in the era of facebook headlines and livestreams and video. But for me, it's relevant. Writing is a process, and when I'm writing, it helps me process. So know, then, that I write for myself more than for y'all. But I still appreciate you, dear friends - for your kind words and prayers.

Today's topic is trauma. Or forgiveness. I'm not sure which - because they are so closely related

Doesn't her mouth just say it all? The worries of the world on this one.
And this was a sunny day at the park. 

Matthew 18: 21-22

21 Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, “Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? Up to seven times?”

22 Jesus answered, “I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times."

Much has been said and written about this verse. It's not hard to get the general idea - we have to forgive more than we ever thought possible. Forgiveness is the cornerstone of lasting relationships.

But what about when the person you have to forgive is not your brother or sister, but someone you've never met? Someone who you are unlikely to ever meet? Someone with whom you don't want a relationship? What if their sin continues to impact your life?

This is my struggle - and the struggle of so many parents who have adopted through the foster system.

No child is placed in the foster system without trauma. That's not how it works. You don't take happy, well-adjusted kids from caring, well-structured homes and put them in the system. Our children, our girls, came from a background of physical and emotional abuse. From food scarcity. From a place without consistency or care. Although I don't know for sure, it's likely the abuse started before they were born. Poor pre-natal care and/or drug & alcohol abuse while they were in the womb may have affected their neurological development. They were born with more obstacles to overcome than most of us will ever face.

And yet... the Bible tells me that God knew.

Psalm 139:13-16

For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that well.15 My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.16 Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.

Curled up in our bed, hiding from a world that's too much.

So maybe it's God I need to forgive? Maybe I need to be mad at the God who saw the days of suffering ahead and allowed them to be "knit together" anyway? The simple fact is, I don't understand. I don't understand why our babies have to go through this. I don't understand what "greater purpose" could be served by the gallons of tears. But I learned a long time ago to trust Him and His plans.

And, I know we live in a fallen world. I believe, I trust, I know, that God did not intend for my babies to suffer. That is a direct result of the prince of this world (the devil) influencing the life of their birth-mother. And who knows what darkness she may have faced. The trauma probably didn't start with her. Still, I have faith that He will bring something good out of this suffering. Something amazing out of the lives of these wounded little birds.

And the ripples. Oh, the ripples.
Every bout of trauma touches so many more people. So many more who wonder why our girls have so much to endure. So many who won't ever understand the whole story.

And... it gets harder and harder to explain to the non-believers around me how I can still believe in an all-powerful God when there is much hurt and pain. I get it. I get their confusion. Right now, I can't answer those questions. I can't. I just trust. I trust and I cry and I move slowly forward through the muck and the pain and the suffering.

So, I keep slogging onward. And praying. Praying and praying and praying. For the girls (to be well, to feel God's love). For their daddy, their momma, and their step-dad (to be strong, to trust God). For their siblings - each other, and the other siblings out there. For their friends, teammates, and teachers. For our broken world and it's ignorant leaders - like the one who said just this week that people with intense medical needs must not have led good lives (my girls are 11 and 13 - what "lives" have they led?!). For other families who are suffering... because my own empathy grows stronger each day we endure.

And I look forward to the eternal rejoicing. The heaven we were promised. Where, after this earthly race is run (and we are completely exhausted with the running), we will get to sit at the feet of the Lord and be amazed at the beauty of the bigger picture. I long for that day.

Psalm 61:4

I long to dwell in your tent forever, and take refuge in the shelter of your wings.

Look at that grin!

Huzzah!

Dangit Mom! (Prov.22:6)

Hi again! It's me. 
I'm back. Or I'm planning to come back. Back to writing, that is. I've missed it. And my fella - who is now my husband - has been encouraging me to give it another go. I'll try not to be plagued by questions of purpose and audience and all those other things that tend to derail and defeat me. For now, I'm just going to focus on craft. Crafting good sentences, to tell interesting stories. The name of this blog is, in case you missed it, "One Ordinary Life. So if you're interested in seeing someone else's ordinary, read on. If not, I'm not offended. I trust that you're out living your own life. 


But where to begin?
It's been 15 very busy months since last I wrote. In that time, I've gotten married. Learned a ton about being a stepmom. Learned a thing or two about home ownership (and yard work). Become the friendly voice on the phone for a local coffee roaster. Been diagnosed with allergies, asthma, and vocal-chord-disfunction. Learned to really kayak. Decided I want to own a kayak. Pulled ticks off dogs who wandered into the woods. Read some great books. Watched some awful movies. Met some amazing people. It's been a busy year.

I think I'll have to start small, and let the stories of the last year tell themselves as the weeks unfold and I find a rhythm again. Hopefully.

So today... today I'll start by saying...

Dangit Mom!

A long long time ago, when I was a sweet, innocent child, my darling mother did that thing ... that dreaded, awful thing ... she cast the curse of motherhood upon me.
"May you someday have kids who are just like you." Or some sort of moonlight, margarita fueled mumbo jumbo liket hat. I always knew she was a bit witch-y! I just didn't realize how powerful she truly was.

But...last weekend I sent one of my darling girls to do a simple task. 
"Put these tissues in the downstairs bathroom - in the basket." (You know, the basket where the extra TP lives).

Do you see what she did? Instead of stacking them neatly on top of (or under) the other tissue box, she shoved them in and wedged the whole basket up against the drawer above.

In doing so, clearly she fractured the universe in some way. Because, you see, now Bamma (my mom) was right. Sheesh. 

Bamma has this great story about when I was a kid. We lived in a house with Terrazo floors. I don't know if I spelled that right. It's a southern thing. Basically, picture a granite counter top, as flooring. Anyway, the story she tells is about a time when she asked me to sweep the livingroom. 

I was maybe 8 or 9 at the time. 

Feeling lazy, and trying to think of a clever way out of doing this chore, I realized I'd never swept such a large area before. So I announced, "I don't know how."

That should have been the end of it, right?

Nope. My mom invented a truly brilliant parenting trope right then and there. Before memes. Before pinterest. She made it up right there, on the spot, as she put the broom in my hand.

"Well, you can't learn any younger."

Sigh.


And now I feel compelled to say the same to my little darlings.
But I will resist. I will resist. I will resist.

Who am I kidding. 
Get down here, darling. You clearly have something to learn. 
And you can't learn any younger.


"Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it." -Proverbs 22:6

The best laid plans... (1Cor2:7)

My last post was May 11. It's still June, today. So this counts as once a month, and getting back on track, right?

Oh, who am I kidding. 
My biggest learning this year, so far, is that I shouldn't say things definitive like "I'm going to blog once a month," or "I'm going to Spain." or "I'll be returning to my present position for one more year.

Yup.
That's right.
More change.

I'm not backpacking across Spain right now. In fact, I haven't worn my back-pack since the last day of school. I'm sitting in my diningroom, counting my blessings, and being thankful for the life God has been preparing me for.

I'm also not returning to my old school for one more year, after all. The end of the year was rough. So rough, in fact, that it outweighed my enthusiasm for a fresh start with all those wonderful people I enjoyed working with. So, last week, I resigned my position. I have no idea what next year will look like (will I teach somewhere else? will I sub? will I do something entirely different?), and I'm quite nervous about it. I'm not prone to rash, impulsive decisions (STOP LAUGHING), so you must believe that this was carefully considered. I'm not ready to talk about it, yet.

So... since I'm not ready to talk about work, let's talk about Spain and adventures.
Why didn't I go?

My feet hurt.
I didn't train enough. Maybe. Or maybe there never was enough that I could have done. I officially have plantar facitis in one foot and arthritis in the ankle joint of the other. It was always a long shot.
An 18 mile hike in May - scheduled to be the first of many "full distance, full pack" training hikes on real TERRAIN (not just paved trails) - was a learning experience. I covered less than half the target distance. I could have pushed on (stubbornness IS one of my defining traits), but I'm glad I didn't. That night I hurt twice as bad as I expected. And the next morning. Into the next afternoon.
By the end of the day, I had to accept that if I couldn't "recover" in less than 24 hours AT HOME with ice and ibuprofen and helping hands all around, then I shouldn't be trying to do this day after day after day in another country.
So I pulled out of the trip. Sadly. I hate to disappoint - myself and the good friend who gave me the chance.

As I've had to tell everyone about the change in my summer plans, the two most popular replies were: "It wasn't meant to be," and "Well, there must be a reason you're staying here."

I believe that. Deeply. I know everything happens for a reason, and sometimes we're lucky enough to see what it might be. I've already had several affirmations that cancelling was the right choice. I got to celebrate my fella's birthday with him and see him spark when talking about his helicopter flight lesson (yay Groupon!). Today, the girls and I are having our first "just us" day. My Grandpa passed last week, and I was able to talk to my Mimia several times without navigating the complexities of international phone calls. I was able to meet my fella's Nanny last weekend for the first time, and build connections with the rest of his family. We've done home-stuff, and planned adventures with the kids. We'll even be able to visit my parents this summer (just a day trip, and just the two of us).

Oh, and  I've been following the travel-blog of the trip leader (read it here) from my cozy, air-conditioned home. The adventure is amazing. The scenery is georgeous. The journey is grueling.

I made the right choice.

But a related, and very intriguing thought, was ... "well, if God knew I wasn't going to go, why did He let me get all fired up about it in the first place?"

Now, dodging the deeper theological questions of predestination, let me just say that I do believe that He, indeed, provided the opportunity.

Why?
Because it gave me motivation. It gave me a hobby. It gave me a lens to learn about Raleigh.
Because I thought I was going to Spain, I found a great foot doctor. He's been a great help.
Because I thought I was going to Spain, I had something to focus on outside of work. Teaching can consume you if you're not careful. Consume, like a dragon, and then spit you out.
Because I thought I was going to Spain, I spent most sunny afternoons exploring the local parks. There are a lot of them, and they are lovely.

One of the first things my fella ever knew about me was that I loved to travel. Oh, and that I dream big.
His girls met me at a park. Our first several "family dates" were walks around parks. The girls first knew me as someone who loved to be outside, and who would rather walk than sit.

Turns out, I'm not much of a hiker. But I have always loved walking, and being outdoors. And exploring.
There's kayaking at some of those georgeous parks around here. That's something I wanted to try for ages, but never made the time. Did it this summer. Loved it. Planning to do much more.

The dream of Spain was an important part of my transition into my new life. Which is interesting to ponder, theologically. Can you relate?

We speak about the mystery of God’s wisdom. It is a wisdom that has been hidden, which God had planned for our glory before the world began. -1Corinthians 2:7

One Unforgettable Day (PS21:6)

So... my goal of once a month? HA! If  I edit/update/call that once per quarter, then I won't look like a total liar. Probably. We'll see how long it is before my next post. It's been a busy few months, since I last wrote at the end of January, and I don't see that slowing down.

Quick update...
In January, I wrote about three big adventures that were shaping my new year.
The first, pursuing a career outside of the classroom, has slipped to a back-burner. I am still looking and praying for an opportunity to use my skills in a different way. However, the last thing I want to do is make an impulsive move.So I've renewed my contract to teach for one more year. My tenth year. As the ninth year winds down, and the planning for next year revs up, I am getting caught up in the excitement of having another chance to work with some great people. 

The second, the Pilgrimage on the Camino de Santiago, is rapidly approaching. RAPIDLY. I leave in 34 days. I'm super excited, and more than a little nervous. I don't know if I'll be blogging/facebooking on the trip (I'm not taking my laptop), but I will take TONS of pictures. And journal. So I'll be super happy to share with you when I return.

The third, the fella.
Well... gee...
My 24-year-old-baby brother recently asked me "how's all that going for you?" I had to laugh. It's going great. In fact, that's why I'm here tonight.

To tell you about my day.
Today.
Sunday, May 11, 2014.
My first mother's day.

Yup. You read that right.
Remember when I introduced my special-someone? I mentioned that he had two young daughters. 
They have not just accepted me into their lives. They have embraced me. Enthusiastically.
They are such sweethearts. And such a blessing to me. 

I am so blessed. I just had to share. 

After church and some errands, this is what I came home (home... teehee!) to today:

L's learning. Daddy's helping. M's supervising.
I'm loving that I get to be a part of all this!

A couple of lovely cards. Coffee, a cute pup. And a whole lot of love.

Also, a project. Because this family loves projects.
No soon-to-be-dead vase flowers this time. Instead, a flower box to make the place look more homey.

The finished project. What a gift!

Mother's day dinner - Super-Tacos. Family dinner is so much fun!

And then, talking to my own mom (and dad and brother and SIL), and having them wish me a happy Mother's day, too? That acceptance of my love, my new family... wow! Just wow!

A year ago, four hours north of here, I spent mother's day with a family I barely knew, blessed by their charity, and thankful not to be alone. I am still quite thankful for them, and the gracious hospitality they offered. God's hands are everywhere, and I'm honored to have encountered so many in Stafford.

But today. Oh, today. Today, a couple lovely little girls showed me quite clearly that I am their family.
And thankful doesn't begin to describe the way I feel.

You know me, my friends. You know this is the thing I have hoped and prayed for most of my adult life. To have a family of my own. A good man who loves me. Children to care for. A place where I belong. A slice of Heaven here on Earth. 

Rejoice with me, my friends. God is good. His blessings far exceed anything I could have imagined. 
And I'm excited to see what comes next.

Surely you have granted [me] unending blessings, and made [me] glad with the joy of your presence! -PS21:6

Happy New Year! (Jer 29:11 & 2Cor 12:9)

Hi, friends! 

I know it's been a while - a month, in fact. So... as long as I get this out today, I'm still within the outside limits of my goal of posting at least once a month. Funny. Here goes.

Nothing witty today. Nor deep. Just a (longish) diva-style update. But it's a good one. Especially if you didn't get a Christmas card from me. (Sorry about that! I do still love you!). You'll definitely want to check out at least the last three chunks.

by Jennie Fairall @designs by Jennie

Every January, between New Year's and my birthday, I make time to sit down and look back at the year gone by. It's a little tradition of mine, this "year in review," and it is a really nice way to count my blessings. Because, inevitably, when looking back, I see how richly blessed I've been.

I'm sure I've said this before, but it's good being a God-Girl. A princess of the Most High King. A beloved daughter of the Creator and author of life.

2013 started with a time of trial. My broken leg (December 28) was the focus of the first 4 months. Yes. FOUR MONTHS. During that time, though, I got to spend some quality time with my parents, my sister, and my aunt. I saw the generosity of mankind in action as my coworkers helped me keep my job by driving me to and from work. I got surprises and visits from far-off friends, and began to understand that I had value - beyond the things I do *for* people. I also learned that I'm braver than I knew, more stubborn than I thought, and less self-sufficient than I believed. 

I finally began to truly understand 2Cor 12:9.

"My grace is sufficient for you, my power is made perfect in weakness."

In April, I finally got my driving privileges - and therefore my independence - back. My joy truly overflowed. I've never been one to take driving for granted, yet it was positively exhilarating to be back behind the wheel. There's an important lesson there, about taking a time-out, even from our most beloved people/things, and how it can restore and renew and refresh our perspective. I know that's much easier said than done - especially when it comes to family - but I think it may be a worth noodling over some more (that's why I'm sharing with you). 

Having realized that I could not, in fact, do it all on my own, I realized I needed to make some big changes. Again. In May I started looking for jobs in Raleigh, nearer to my sister and her family. By the end of June, I had an offer, my classroom in VA was cleaned out, all of my stuff was in storage in NC, and I was once again in transition.

Summer was a time of renewal and restoration. Thanks to a very generous friend, I was able to visit "home" in the Puget Sound for 3 weeks. I got to see my dear friends, wander around my favorite places, and affirm my choice to move East. Stepping back into my old life, even just for a short while, reminded me of why I needed to change direction. I also realized that I can (and do) look forward to many more visits and vacations back to the home of my heart.

Back-to-school in the fall was, of course, a time of excitement and happy chaos. I have a good job with a great teaching team, and a fun group of kids. I do love my class. That is a blessing, too.

Somewhere between the first day of school and the end of the first nine-weeks, I finally recognized something that I've suspected for a couple years now. I'm not going to be a classroom teacher forever.  Yes, that's right, I've got my eye on the exit. At this point - January 2014, mid-way through my 9th year of teaching - I'm not sure what's on the other side of that door. Or how long it will take me to go through it. I might round out a full 10 years. Or a dozen. I'm not sure what I'm going to do (but I'm praying a whole lot about it). Yet, I'm sure about this. In the interest of keeping this post short(ish), I won't go into this much more now, but if you've talked with me much in the last three years or so, I'm sure you're not surprised. I know I have a God-given talent for working with children. I further know that the years I've spent in the classroom will not be wasted. Yet I'm also certain that God has something ... else... in store for me.

Surprise! 

The fall also had two other grand surprises, which, like the idea of changing careers, are going to have a huge impact on 2014 - and possibly beyond.

In late September or early October, I was invited to participate as a chaperone on a college-trip to Spain next summer. Specifically, I will - God willing - be walking the Camino Santiago de Compostela with a group of about 15 students. This is a hike of just under 500 miles. We will travel an average of 12 miles a day for a little over 40 days, starting in mid-June of 2014. I'm beyond excited. 

Obviously, with my recent injury to my leg, there are some questions that must be addressed. I have a great doctor here, who I've been seeing at least once a month since September. He's very realistic, and very optimistic. He wants me to be able to do this, but he is also looking out for my long-term well-being. Which is exactly what I needed in a doctor. So, I've been training, and hoping, and praying, and preparing for what is sure to be an amazing adventure.

Meanwhile, I've begun another amazing adventure. 

Toward the end of October, I met a fella. He's amazing. We are amazing together. My strengths compliment his weaknesses, and his mine. In fact, it's as if God meant us for each other. Hmmm....

I don't know what to write, exactly, without sounding like a stupid sap. Which I'm not (though my sister & parents would tell you I sure am acting like one these days). I guess the bare facts would be a good place to start...

He's employed - a computer programmer, here in Raleigh.

He has a home - about half-way between my sister's place and my work.

He has two daughters - ages 7 & 9. They are terrific. 

He makes me laugh. A lot.
He's taught me so much about grace and character and forgiveness and hope - already.

He enjoys adventures. Cooking. The beach. Movies. Words. Building things. Spending time with me.

Which is very convenient.

Because I predict I'll be spending a lot of time with him this year. 

So... my blog goal... once a month. Yea. I think I can manage that. I'd like to try for more, but I think I might be busy. Because the blessings of 2013 have set me up for a very adventurous 2014.

For I know the plans that I have for you, plans to prosper and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future. -Jeremiah 29:11
HA! You knew I would eventually have to use this one, right? You knew. It's okay to say I told you so. :-)

Merry Christmas! (Jn 3:16-17)

Didja ever have so much to say that you just couldn't settle down to say anything at all?

Hi, friends, and Merry Christmas!

It's been a busy year, and this blog has seen most of it. 

I wanted to write something deep and inspirational for Christmas. I drafted at least 3 posts, and discarded them all. I really wanted to let you peek at some of the wonderful things God's been showing me this winter (maybe some ideas for 2014). I also wanted to get Christmas cards out, to say a personal "hi!" to all of you.
Ummm...yea. If you didn't get a card yet... well... ummm....

But, you see, that's kinda the thing with Christmas, isn't it?
There's always more things on our lists than we are able to manage, to finish, to perfect.
And yet, Christmas still comes. With surprises and miracles and joy and laughter - and yes, sometimes tears.

And that was the first lesson of Christmas.
Surprise.


Mary was surprised, when she learned she'd be having God's baby.
Joesph was surprised when he was told NOT to put aside his pregnant fiancee, despite centuries of church law that said he should.
Mary's parents were (doubtless) surprised when Joe chose to stand by her.
The young couple was, surely, surprised that God arranged for their baby to be born in a smelly barn, far away from the family and friends they were counting on.
The night-shift shepherds, watching sleeping sheep do nothing were certainly surprised to see the heavenly host appear and tell them "good tidings of great joy."
King Herod was surprised when a diplomatic envoy showed up looking for a baby king.
The innkeeper was probably very surprised about the amount of foot-traffic his barn saw in those weeks. 

Surprise. 
Christmas is here.
The world will never be the same. 
Surprise.

God likes to surprise us. He loves to see our eyes sparkle. Hearing us laugh makes Him smile. He likes to sneak up on us, put his hands over our eyes, and whisper "guess who?!" He delights in our delight over the good things he provides.

God's like a daddy who has to give a gift on Christmas Eve, because it's torture waiting for morning. Who couldn't sleep himself, anticipating the big day, enjoying time just hanging out with His kids. He could hardly wait to wake us up, to see our eyes big with delight, to hear us laugh. He stood there, waiting, in the doorway, until the time was right. And then he jumped on the bed! 

That's exactly how Christmas morning feels for the giver.

When you watch someone open a gift you've given them - a great gift; one that really reflects how well you know them, and how much you care about their happiness - that sense of pure joy you feel? That's how God feels when he watches us enjoy His gifts. When you peek in from the kitchen to see your kids playing - together - with a game you gave them, and having a great time? That joy? That's how God feels when we make the most of His gifts.

And when your kids come running up to you, out of nowhere, and hug you, just because they're overwhelmed with love for you?

That's all God wants from us. A little time, a little thanks, a little return on the love He's given. 
The rest of the things on the list? 
Meh.
Christmas comes with or without cookies and cards and carols. Sometimes it even comes without gifts to unwrap. I know, I've been there. But even in the lean times, there's something special, something surprising about waking up on Christmas morning, warm and safe, and beloved.

Yes, those other things are nice. Important, even.
Just as going to church and doing "good things" is important for God-Followers.
But if we don't get through all the fuss and flurry, Christmas still happens. 
And Jesus said the ONLY thing Christians HAD to do was love. Love God and love each other, unselfishly, and with abundant grace. Just as He loves us.

The real meaning of Christmas is love. Love shown in surprising ways. Love that defies logic. Love that gives us hope. Love that promises us eternity with the creator of the universe, watching the stars sing and dance.


Surprise!

Merry Christmas, my friends. I love you.  
As you celebrate today, and move into the new year, be looking for the surprises God puts in your path. And when you see one... be sure to say thank you! 

For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son, that whosever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. For God sent his son into the world, not to condemn the world but that the world through him might be saved. -John 3:16-17

Thanksgiving is a Choice (1Thes 5:16-18)

I have to warn you... this isn't going to be quite what you might have thought. It also might be a little long (surprise, surprise!).

Original Art by Paperbag Ninja. an old friend.
Isn't he talented?

This year, I'm choosing to be thankful. Choosing to be thankful, because it's a choice I have the power to make. And it's a good choice. "A thankful heart is a happy heart," right? (Can you source that one without google? I'll be impressed). 

Don't get me wrong. I have a lot to be thankful for, and I know it. 

Norman Rockwell. Another favorite illustrator.
Sadly, I did not know him personally.

I have a roof over my head.
I have a bed to sleep on. Blankets. Pillows.
I have food to eat.
I have a job that matters.
I have friends who encourage me.
I have family who love me.
I have faith that the God who set the world spinning has his eye on me.

So I'm not fussing. 
I have, however, been thinking a lot about how, um, nuanced the truth can be.





Because, you see... 
that roof  is my sister's. I'm thankful to have a place to stay. And excited to be part of some big things happening here. But I also miss having my own place.

the bed, well, it's not my own. It's warm. It's comfy. It's available. It works. 

the food... well, I sorta miss cooking (though the not choosing "What's for dinner?" That's quite lovely!). My sis would totally let me cook. If I got home at a decent hour. But she's a great cook, and I'm horrible at schedules. Oh, and the whole kids/family thing (cooked for a family lately? You know what I'm talking about). Yea.

the job?, teaching? I love the kids. Love them. I just wish the job was more like what I thought it would be. You know, projects, encouraging, laughing, inspiring. I never realized how much data management and testing there was to teaching. Probably because - way back when I first decided to do it - there wasn't! Oh, and it would be nice if it actually left me with something (like independence?) after I paid the bills.

and my friends.... Wow. My friends. I miss them ALL so much. I'm making new friends at my new job. Great people, with fun stories. But it's not as if you can just "click" right away with new people. So it takes time. And I recognize my own choices put me in that situation. So I'm practicing my patience. But I'd be lying if I denied that I'm also lonely. It's hard to get encouragement from folks you can't see or talk to. 

Of course, I do have my family. My sister, brother-in-law, and their great kids, who are sharing their space with me. My crazy parents, who make a point of seeing me for Christmas. My brother, his girl, and his baby (soon to be babies), who I can't wait to catch up with. And the farther... more distant family... Mimia, Grandpa John, aunts & uncles, cousins, babies... people who keep me in their hearts and prayers all the time. Of course, once upon a time, a long, long time ago a certain little girl thought that for sure she'd have her own family by now.  

Illustrated by Charles Schultz? Or the TV guys? 

If that's not in God's plan?  
Well, how can I fuss? I've got so much to be thankful for. 

I am blessed.
And I choose to remember that.
Today.
And tomorrow.
And every single day that passes.

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. I love it. Eating. Hanging out with friends and family. Recognizing that another year has come and gone, and sooooooo much life has happened.Setting aside a whole day to actually say "thank you," to the Giver of Life.  Please don't feel sorry for me. That's not why I wrote this. I wrote this because I felt like it was important to be honest. Being thankful doesn't mean that you  naively gloss over the hard stuff, or that everything in life is rainbows and unicorns. Being thankful means that you faced reality, put a smile on, and chose to slowly, carefully, deliberately count your blessings day-by-day.

I know God's got a plan. I might not always like it - just like stubborn little girls don't always like daddy's suggestions. But He's always been there for me. So I trust. The bills do get paid. The roof does not leak. I'm safe. I am loved. 

I am blessed. 

The maker of the cosmos wants to have Thanksgiving dinner with me, face to face, someday. He's promised never to forget about me, even while He seeks out other guests. In fact, He's saving me a special place at the table. 

I am blessed. 
And for that I truly am thankful. 

Rejoice always. Pray continuously. Give thanks in all circumstance. For this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus. - 1 Thes. 5:16-18

DaVinci. Not an illustration. But fitting, right?