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We’re moving to Florida

July 2, 2011 by

In February we met with a realtor to discuss putting our house on the market.  We were ready to upsize.  We wanted more space for ourselves, for our children and we wanted to be able to host out of town family when they came to visit.  That was our plan.

God had a different plan.

On April 6, our house officially went on the market and we began looking at new homes here in town.  A few weeks later, Lee got wind of a job opportunity in Tampa, Florida.  We’ve always wanted to live in Florida so whenever a job opened up down there we checked it out.  The thing is, we love St. Louis.  We’re so deeply blessed here that for us to pull the trigger on moving was difficult.  No job ever felt good enough for us to actually make that move.

Until this one.

Lee got really excited about this job potential.  More excited than I’ve seen him in a long time.  But I wasn’t sure.  There were other things playing out in my mind and heart and I was kind of at the point where I was ready to abandon the dream of living in Florida and stake our claim in St. Louis forever.  So I waited skeptically while Lee interviewed.

We decided to put our house hunt on hold until we found out more about the viability of the job.  About five weeks ago, we got the call from our realtor that we had an offer on our house.  At this point we’d heard little from the people in Tampa so we began looking again at homes locally.  But two days after the house went under contract, Lee was asked to fly to Tampa for an interview.

This is the part of the story where I began developing an ulcer.

I waited as my husband flew to Tampa for two days to interview.  And while I waited, I prayed.  I prayed that the Lord would give us wisdom to make the right decision.  Like I said, we’re terribly blessed here.  And a large part of that blessing stems from our amazing church family.  The thought of leaving our church home and the friends we have there makes my stomach tie into knots.  But I don’t ever want fear of change to hold my family back, so I determined to loosen my grip on the familiar and embrace what God might have for us.

I can’t go into all the details of how God showed us His plan, but I can say that He answered my prayer above and beyond what I imagined.  I asked Him to make it obvious if we should go and He really did.  From things like our house selling at exactly the same time the company needed to make the new hire, to our roof needing to be replaced and insurance covering it, to our furnace needing to be replaced and home warranty covering, and on and on the list goes…

OBVIOUS.

God placed random strangers into our lives to speak such wisdom and peace into us that both of us began to shake our heads in awe.  From someone sitting by Lee on the airplane down to Tampa to a bartender, God used others to give us peace in this decision.  It’s truly been amazing.

We did not mention this to many people because we just weren’t sure what would happen.  It’s tricky when a lot of life plays itself out online.  These matters become much more delicate.  We didn’t want Lee’s current company to get wind of this, obviously.  Nor did we want anything said to our kids inadvertently.  But it’s been hard.  We have tried to answer questions honestly without giving too much information away.  It’s felt deceptive, but I sincerely hope that everyone understands that that was never our intention.  This has been a difficult process for us.

On Tuesday of this past week, Lee’s paperwork cleared and he was officially given the job that would move us from St. Louis to Tampa.  We closed on our house the next day.  Once again, God confirmed in our hearts His plan.

But this is hard.

This is really, really hard.  Painful.  Lee will leave in two weeks to begin working in Florida.  The kids and I will leave a few days after him.  And my heart is ripping in half.

My family moved to St. Louis when I was 12.  Though I lived in Texas for six years, St. Louis was always home base.  For 21 years, this has either been home, or home base.  Minus the wicked winters…and crazy tornadic springs, I love everything about this town.  Especially the people.  Lee and I moved here a year before Sloan was born.  This is the place we became a family.  We have friends who have poured into us for the last nine years, watching us grow, watching our children grow and giving us some of the sweetest years of our lives.

I’m sad to leave.

But I’m also excited.  Like I said, living in Florida has been a dream of ours since we got married.  We have family down there and we love everything about the beach.  Our kids have been begging us to move to Florida for years.  They’re thrilled.  And we are too.  But it’s tempered by the dread we feel to leave.

So that’s where we stand.  We are spending our last couple of weeks in St. Louis doing all the things we love to do, spending as much time with friends as we can, and shedding a lot of tears.  We are also rejoicing in the Lord’s provision and look forward expectantly as we await what He would have for us next.

I said it before…new adventures await us.


Filed Under: faith, Family, Life, Random, summer fun Tagged With: , , ,

The sliver of light

June 28, 2011 by

When I arrived home from Cali the other night, it was wickedly late.  I stumbled to bed and switched off the lamp that my husband had so thoughtfully left on for me.  Though I was tired to my core, sleep was a bit elusive.  The impending move out of our house has proven to push my mind over the edge.  But there’s more than that.  My mind was full of details that began to oppress my already fragile emotions.

As I lay in the darkness, I willed myself to fall asleep.  I watched the clock slowly tick the hours away.  1:30. 2:30…I finally started to drift off when I felt the room go from darkness to light instantaneously.  I opened my eyes in a bit of a panic to see Lee’s iPad, which was sitting on his bedside table, illuminated.  I figured he must get some kind of notification for emails and closed my eyes again.  Five minutes later the room lit up again.  And I got annoyed.  Who emails at 3:00 in the morning?

Then I marveled at how bright the room was from that one tiny light of the screen.  Turns out he gets weather notifications and his iPad was warning us of the impending storm that rolled through ten minutes later.  But the visual of the light piercing the darkness stuck with me.

As already mentioned, I had a wonderful time in California, but it was hard too.  I was processing a lot of emotions.  And on top of that, the subject matter of the novel I’m writing is oftentimes hopeless and desperately sad.  As I researched the events surrounding World War II, I found myself terribly sad.  The darkness of that time is so deep and as I read story after story of heartache, my stomach turned into a tighter and tighter knot.  I wondered how I would portray the characters in my novel with any sort of redemption, any sort of hope.

And then I saw it.  That one sliver of light that pierced the darkness.

Hope.

As I read the personal accounts of survival during those heinous years of war, I saw a thin trail of Hope.  One woman described seeing a tiny sprig of green growing from the frozen ground as she marched to the concentration camp.  Why did that small plant stick out in her mind?  It was Hope.  It was the knowledge that after winter, spring arrives.  After death, life springs forth.  A sliver of light in the pitch black can illuminate a whole room.

I read an account from a young mother whose infant was killed at birth by her Nazi captivators.  And she rejoiced, because a swift death was better than a slow one behind the barbed wires.  Did her heart ache?  I imagine it tore into a thousand tiny pieces and was never fully reassembled.  But she saw the sliver of light and sometimes that’s all we need to guide us through the darkness.

I read story after story like this.  Some of them were so horrific, I didn’t see how there could possibly be any hope – any redemption.  But many of the stories had a sliver.  Enough to give me the emotional strength to keep reading.  It was the same when I went to Ukraine nine years ago.  I interviewed veteran after veteran and saw so much Hope.  They were happy, jovial and so full of light that I wondered how they possibly survived such horror with their spirits in tact.  That’s the redemption of so many of their stories.  And that spirit is what I hope to capture in my characters.

A blade of green amidst the rubble.

Darkness is repelled by light – even the smallest sliver of it.  Sometimes the darkness is still oppressive and the pain remains ever constant, but that tiny bit of Hope is what keeps us going.  For me, that tiny sliver of Hope is the thing that keeps me moving forward with this book project.  It’s the tiny bit of light in an otherwise very dark story.  I am reminding myself to focus on Hope as I continue to research and write.  If I don’t, I fear the heartache will become too much.

Filed Under: faith, Novel, writing Tagged With: , , , ,

California

June 25, 2011 by

Welcome to my new blog design!  I decided a couple of months ago that it was time to give this space a little more POP!  And Franchesca of Small Bird Designs was the perfect girl for the job.  Hasn’t she done a wonderful job?!  Hang on, hang on!  I need to introduce you to my favorite feature!!!

Watch the header for a minute.  Keep watching.  Keeeeep watching…

Did you see it?!

Fran sent me numerous templates with different color backgrounds and I just couldn’t make a decision on which color I liked best.  So I asked her if she could do all of them in a rolling header and POOF!  She did it.  She’s like my Fairy Godmother, she is.  She’s gotten all kinds of telepathic hugs and high fives from me for her magical design.

I’m still working out a couple of little details, but mostly I’m just desperately happy with these new changes.  And did you notice the picture of my van up top?  See how the sun just gleamed off of it?  It’s like the angels were smiling down on her hotness…

So I’m still in California.  It’s been just an absolutely amazing few days.  I can’t really describe how much my soul needed this break.  I have been loved and poured into and fed and graced and blessed.  I have written a lot – about 60 pages!  I have edited.  I have read and cried and laughed and slept.  It has just been so wonderful here in Clear Lake, California (which, incidentally is one of the most beautiful places in America…you should visit!).

Today we visited a local winery for a lavender festival.  Stunning is the only word I can use to describe it.  I didn’t bring my camera on this trip (what was I thinking?!) so all I have are a few cell phone photos.  But you’ll get the idea.  I am immensely grateful for these five days I’ve gotten away.  I will go home refreshed and ready to tackle next steps.

The Lavender field

Magic and Beauty

My friend Wendy has fed us like Princesses

Filed Under: faith, Life, Novel, Random, summer fun, Travel, writing Tagged With: , , , , ,

The one where Calgon takes me away

June 22, 2011 by

I actually just had to consult with Professor Google on what exactly Calgon is.  It’s body fragrance…who knew?!  I always assumed it was some sort of lotion for muscle pain similar to IcyHot or Bengay.

I was way off.

Yesterday was a rough day.  I’ll mercifully spare you the details, but it was a knot in your stomach crazy kind of day.  I really want my house to be the house that all my children’s friends come to.  I like knowing who is here and what they’re saying and doing.  But on knot in your stomach crazy kind of days…it’s just harder.  The noise is louder.  The work feels like work. The kids weren’t bad ( not all of them, anyway – there’s always one trouble maker), but I was tired and didn’t feel well and overwhelmed and the day felt long.

But today?

Today I am on a plane to sunny Northern California where I have the privilege of sitting in the presence of my dear friend Wendy for five whole days.  Wendy and I met  when we were both newlyweds living in the Dallas, Texas area.  I will never forget our first phone conversation.  Lee had come home from a Bible study the night before and told me about this wonderful guy he met whose wife sounded very similar to me.

“She likes to drink tea!” Lee exclaimed.  My sweet new husband who was still baffled by my girly love of tea parties.

The next morning the phone rang.  “I hear you like to take tea,” she said, her voice all warm and buttery and laced with smile.  And that was the beginning of one of the dearest friendships of my life.

Wendy and I have only lived in the same town for just under two years but our hearts were knit tight together through God’s grace..and through our love for writing, tea and wifedom (that should totally be a word).  We spent countless hours those Dallas years talking about our passion for writing and teaching and speaking and learning and loving and growing.  And we drank a lot of tea.

I get to soak up my dear friend for almost an entire week and my soul soars at the thought.  I also get to spend some time alone, releasing the characters in my head.  They’re up there, churning and begging to get out.  Sometimes I’m afraid of it, though.  I’m scared of the story and of letting the characters down.  Because the story in my head is beautiful and what if I mess it up?  What if the trip from my head to my fingertips tarnishes the story and the people?

What if I fail?

These are my honest fears.  I love writing, but I’m sometimes unsure of whether or not I have the gift to pull off the massive story I long to tell.  Realistically, I know I’m not the best writer out there.  I think it’s my lack of inner angst that holds me back…

Whatever the case, I know I’m not the best, but I also know that I have a story to share and I know I have the ability to tell it.  I just really want to tell it well.  This desire is why it’s taken me ten years to complete this book.  I really don’t want to screw this up!

So I will write with full abandon this week.  I will let go and try really hard not to go back and judge my work along the way.  That’s a terrible, terrible habit.  One should never edit her own work before she’s even finished it.   Stephen King said so himself and given the fact that his book is the most inspirational book on writing I’ve ever read, I’m going to submit myself to Mr. King’s urgings and plow forward without looking back.  My soul will rest in friendship (have I mentioned that one of my very dearest friends from here in town is joining us on this writer’s weekend away?  How blessed am I!) and in solitude and in the joy that comes from allowing God to use my gifts and talents to His glory, because that is my deepest desire.

And when I return I will bid adieu to my home and embark on a new adventure.  It is exciting, this tiny little life I lead.

I’ll be back this week.  I have a something fun and special to share with you on Friday.  Stay tuned.

Filed Under: faith, Life, Novel, Random, summer fun, Travel, writing Tagged With: , , , ,

A Wisp of a Girl

June 16, 2011 by

I see her clearly – a wisp of a girl.  Thirteen.  Awkward.  All knees and elbows, teetering between innocence and angst.  She is loved well, but a certain enemy awaits.  She doesn’t know it and isn’t prepared for it.  And she falls.

“You’re fat,” someone says to her.  The wisp of a girl, without an ounce of fat on her body, laughs.  Then she wonders.

I see her clearly – a wisp of a girl.  She’s looking at a magazine and for the first time notices shape.  Long, tall, thin.  Is that perfection?  She studies the mirror and her eyes cloud.  She knows the Truth.  She’s heard it a lot.

Fearfully.

Wonderfully.

Image.

God.

Made.

Like the whisper of wind through tall grasses, these words float across her heart.  But this time, another wind, less gentle, rough like that of a tornado tears through her.

Ugly.

Fat.

Not perfect.

And she believes it, the wisp of a girl.

I see her very clearly – a wisp of a girl.  She is older now, having grown through the awkwardness that defines junior high.  She is beautiful, but she doesn’t think so.  Though she has been loved well, there are misguided comments from those who just don’t know better.  The hormonal teenage boy whose image of perfection is more skewed that her own.  “You’re not super skinny,” he says, and he’s right.  The wisp of a girl has developed a muscular physique – strong, lean…she’s not the waif that defined beauty in her generation.

The wisp of a girl also replays the voice of her coach over and over, like a broken record.  “You sound like a cow when you run.”  It was a comment made in passing – lighthearted and teasing.  But despite all that she knows to be true:

Fearfully.

Wonderfully.

Image.

God.

Made.

She believes the other voices – the louder voices.  Not perfect. Not skinny.  Cow.

I see her, the wisp of a girl.  She is allowing herself to be defined by the louder voices now.  The sound of the wind in the grasses is almost totally snuffed out.  In it she hears words like disordered and dangerous. The wisp of a girl is getting lost.  Does she hide this shame or wear it as a badge for attention?  She doesn’t know.  If she advertises, someone might take the shame away from her.  So she tries to keep it hidden.  But she’s never been good at keeping secrets and before long the wisp of a girl is in a counselor’s office. Tears.  Shame.  Frustration.

The wisp of a girl.

I see her now, the wisp of a girl.  She’s away from home, away from accountability, away.  College.  In the quiet of night, the tornado rips through her mind and her heart and she can’t seem to shake the destruction it causes.  She’s gotten better at hiding it, this wisp of a girl.  But the devil isn’t gone completely.  He’s still there, waiting.  Comparing.  And the wisp of a girl, still small, wants only to be smaller still.

This wisp of a girl is so loved, so poured into, that a new beast begins to take over.  Guilt. Now more than ever, she knows the Truth.

Fearfully.

Wonderfully.

Image.

God.

Made.

She knows this, and she believes it.  But…

I see her now, the wisp of a girl who’s grown into a woman.  She’s in a white dress and standing at the end of the aisle is a man who loves her completely.  He loves her perfectly.  He thinks she is beautiful – fearfully, wonderfully beautiful.  Perfect.  And she knows it, but she doubts.  She doesn’t know why, but she still doubts.  The tornado is strong still.  And the inner torment brings even greater shame.

Until…

The wisp of a girl cries out to Jesus.  It’s not the first time she’s done so, but it’s the first time she’s felt total and complete surrender and, for the first time, the tender whispers drown out the tornado of lies.  In one brief moment, the girl is healed.

Miraculous.

Sometimes I still see her, that wisp of a girl.  I stand before the mirror and look closely and the tornado winds swirl.  I’m not who she was, but she is who I am today.  The doubts like to surface every once in awhile, reminding me of the wisp of a girl who was so innocent, so naive, so fooled.  But the healing experienced that day years ago is the constant that keeps me going.  The whispers are louder and greater and Truth reigns leaving me to rest in healing.

I watch her now, my wisp of a girl.  Innocent, beautiful, lovely and perfect.  In the stillness of the night, I whisper prayers over her, for her.  In the silent black, I whisper my prayers like the wind across tall grasses, a hedge of protection that I hope keeps the voices of dissent away from her heart.  Protection.  Love.  Truth.

Fearfully.

Wonderfully.

God.

Image.

Made.

These are the things I want my wisp of a girl to know and embrace.

Filed Under: faith, Motherhood Tagged With: ,

Living Life: Practicality vs. Wisdom

June 14, 2011 by

There’s a certain thing that happens when you become a parent.  It happens in different degrees and forms for everyone, but we all experience this phenomena:

We become practical.

It’s just natural for a certain amount of practicality to set in once that bundle of joy lands on your doorstep.  Suddenly life takes on a whole new meaning.  That money you used to spend on late night Sonic runs now gets applied to diapers or formula or a set of plastic keys for your little one to rattle.  And you forget what it was like to dash out for a snack at 11:00 at night anyway because, you know, practically speaking it’s not wise to leave the baby home unattended.

Practicality.

Where life was once an adventure, now you have to think about jobs and income and houses and schools.  You have to consider how your decisions will affect not only yourself or your spouse, but also your child or children.

Practicality.

Some people are very good at remaining spontaneous, even with children in tow.  Have you heard about the family that is driving around the world, living nomadically, raising their children on the road?  They’ve been on the road for 11 years, all four of their children born in a different country.  I don’t desire that life, but I envy their courage.  What they’re doing isn’t practical, but it’s pretty dang cool.

Or this family, whom Lee met recently on an airplane.  After adopting a little girl from China, they felt a strong prompting from the Lord to return to their daughter’s birth country and open up an orphanage for special needs children.  So they went.  They packed up their three young children, sold all their possessions and went.

“What organization did you go with?” Lee asked.

“No one,” came the astonishing reply.  “We just asked the Lord to provide and He has.”  Through charitable donations, they have raised enough to build a five story building where they currently house 34 children with various special needs from cleft palates to cerebral palsey.  And they’ve never asked for a cent.

That’s not practical.  But it’s pretty dang spectacular.

I used to fancy myself a bit of an adventurer.  I didn’t think twice about hopping on a plane as a 20 year old and exploring the former Soviet Union on my own.  I didn’t flinch when I spent 36 hours on a train to Prague by myself, half the time trapped with a horny Iraqi German (I know…).  I relished walking the streets of London by myself.

When Lee and I went to Europe last year, I once again found my adventurous roots.  I loved not having a plan, living in the moment, exploring, living.

But I’ve felt trapped in practicality for awhile.  This isn’t a bad thing, in some regards.  Obviously parenthood requires a certain amount of practicality.  We have to provide for our children.  We have to give them stability and they do need a certain amount of material possessions to feel secure.  Of course, our Western world children (as I’m sure yours as well) have far more than they need for security and stability, but as a parent I want to give them good things.  Just as I know the Lord wants to give me good things.

But I’m a little tired of feeling held back by practicality.  Because there’s a very fine line between practicality and fear. And I think that sometimes?

I blur that line.

I’m not going to act on passion because I tell myself it wouldn’t be practical for my family.  But really, I’m just too scared to try it.  I’m not going to follow a dream because it would be terribly impractical to do so.  ‘Fraidy Cat! As a couple, Lee and I always talk about all the cool things that we’d like to do with the kids and expose them to, but most of them seem too lofty and impractical to really pursue.

We’re scared.

What will people think?  What if it takes us out of our comfort zone?  What if we fail?  What if it requires us to leave all that we know?  Where is the practicality in that?

Here’s the thing: I don’t think God calls us to be practical.  I think He calls us to be wise.  We are not to live in fear.  “Do not fear, for I am with you; Do  not anxiously look about you for I am your God.”  Isaiah 41:10.  We are called to wisdom, not practicality.  Men are called to provide for their families, and that will look differently for everyone.  For some, that means a stable job in a good home where they can minister to, and meet the needs of, those in their local community.  For others still, that means selling all you have and leaving.

One of those scenarios is practical, one is not.  But for the two men who are guiding and leading their families according to God’s calling placed in their hearts – both are wise.

Does that make sense?

So Lee and I together are working on, and learning, to let go of the shackles of practicality.

Walk in faith.

Live in wisdom.

Cry out to Jesus.

Do not be afraid.

That last one’s a doozy.

Filed Under: faith, Family, Lee, Motherhood Tagged With: , , ,

Compassion Bloggers in Philippines

May 31, 2011 by

Compassion-International-Bloggers-Philippines-2011
A few years ago I started reading about a ministry called Compassion International.  And I dismissed it.

I had seen the ads on television for child sponsorship programs before.  You know, the ones with a tearful celebrity begging you to give up one cup of coffee every day so a child could eat.  Not that I don’t think those programs are wonderful, but I was just desensitized to the weepy pitch.  So when blog post after blog post began popping up about Compassion, my first reaction was to ignore them.

I hate jumping on bandwagons and this seemed like an online Christian bandwagon.  I’m revealing a bit of evidence of my sad, stubborn little heart to you all today…

After the Compassion bloggers went to India, though, I began to take notice of this organization a little more.  I was impressed by several things -first, Compassion is serious about meeting the needs of children.  Sponsorship money goes to the child and is used honestly and wisely and lovingly to make sure that children living in poverty are given hope for the future.

Second, the hearts behind those involved with Compassion are so humble, tender and filled with love.  Compassion has a purpose to “release children from poverty in Jesus’ name.”  They take this purpose seriously and it really made an impression on me.

Finally, I couldn’t help but be impressed by how well this ministry utilized social media for the greater good of humanity.  I’m not sure you’ll find another organization that is better utilizing social media tools like Twitter, Facebook and blogging to bring hope, healing, faith and love to the most remote areas of the world.  I’m seriously amazed by what they do.

So, I finally got over my silly pride and we sponsored a child from the Philippines named Jonri, and what a blessing it has been.  The kids LOVE to get letters from Jonri and to draw pictures in return.  Admittedly we have not done a good job of consistently writing him and we are working on communicating with him more.  But it has blessed our family to know that Jonri is being loved and cared for and he is definately prayed for.

This week, Compassion has another group of lovely bloggers touring none other than the Philippines and the stories coming out of the country are beautiful and moving.  You will be blessed to follow their journey.  And if you feel led to sponsor a child, you can rest assured your money is not squandered or wasted.  It is well spent and you will be impacting a child’s life forever.

That’s a bandwagon that’s totally worth jumping on, in my opinion.

Filed Under: Compassion International, faith, Ministry Tagged With: , , , ,

Ulyana

May 23, 2011 by

Sveta and Uly

We met eight years ago. Both of us young, married and in love with the world. She was my translator and for one month she acted as my guide. I was on a grand adventure. I was touring the country of Ukraine, interviewing veterans of the great war, World War II. I was five months pregnant and became ill almost the second I set foot in the country. And she made sure that I was well taken care of as we traveled.

We took trains and taxi’s, my pregnant belly bouncing all over the pitted roads, me hanging on for dear life becuase the taxi driver’s seat belts were broken.

“He wants you to trust him,” she said. I heard the sympathy in her voice. She knew I was uncomfortable. Over the course of our adventure, Sveta and I bonded. My mom was with us and the three of us became fast friends – family. Separated by an ocean, but filled with trust and love for one another.

Sveta and her husband, Vova, were fairly newlywed and were devastatingly cute. They were, and still are, madly in love and it just made me smile to see them together. They were mushy and gushy, but not in an uncomfortable way. They just made you happy.

One of the stops on our trip was to Sveta’s hometown of Dunaivtsi. We spent two days with her family, her Mom and Dad fussing over me and making sure I was well fed and taken care of. I ate her Mom’s green borscht and it was, quite possibly, the most wonderful meal I’ve ever eaten. Ever.

Sveta and I laughed a lot on that trip. Her sense of humor was so keen and her English so sharp that she was easily able to keep up with my random wit. We visited fortresses and classrooms. We spent time in colleges and she stood by my side as a group of veteran soldiers poured out their hearts, and their memories, to me in vivid detail.

Sveta became more than a friend. She became a sister.

And for eight years, Sveta and I have remained the dearest of friends. We’ve rejoiced in children born and mourned pregnancies lost. Her first born, Ulyana (Ulya) and Landon are just days apart. I’ve watche dSveta, through her blog, as she’s grown into such a wonderful, beautiful, lovely mother. She is expecting her second child now and I’m just so proud of her and excited for her.

But tomorrow Sveta and Vova need your prayers. Ulya was born with specific health challenges that have brought them to a point of needing surgical intervention. The surgery is tomorrow and it’s dangerous and meticulous and difficult. No parent ever wants to see their child suffer pain or discomfort. It’s stressful and frightening.

Would you please pray for Sveta, Vova and Ulya tonight and tomorrow?

Pray for peace as Sveta and Vova wait. They are currently in Kiev, where the surgery will take place and they will remain there as Ulya recovers. Pray for Sveta in particular as she is dealing with major stress while pregnant. Pray for her safety and for the safety of her unborn child.

Please pray for the doctors as they work on Ulya, a sweet little girl with a vibrant personality. Pray that they have wisdom and special skill.  Pray for protection over her little body.  Pray for Ulyana’s bones, that they would be strong and that her body would be able to withstand the procedure.  Pray that this surgery would only enhance her life.

Sveta and Vova have been on my heart for some time now as they prepared for this day. They have been concerned and frightened, as any parents would be. It just felt right to share this prayer need with you all and I’m thankful because I know that you all will lift them up.

Svetochka, I love you and I, along with many others, will be praying for you, Vova and Ulyana tomorrow!

Thank you, everyone, for supporting a sister in need! I appreciate it more than I know how to express.

Filed Under: faith, Family, Random, Russian Tagged With: , , , ,

On Jeremiah and being a Disney Princess

May 19, 2011 by

“What do you want me to do?!”

Alligator tears roll down her soft cheeks, her blue eyes swimming with a mixture of frustration and sorrow.

“I want you to obey.”

“I don’t know how to obey!” she wailed, flinging herself down on the floor in fantastic Disney Princess fashion.

“But if you listen to me, you will hear exactly what you need to do to obey and when you obey me, things will go well with you.”

Oh the mournful sobs.  Being five is hard.  It’s hard, people!

Being 32 is hard too.

I have my own Disney Princess moments where I fling myself onto my bed, dramatically sighing with such force that the air pressure of the room changes.  I bemoan how difficult it is to obey, how I don’t waaaannnna do this or I’m not goooonnnaa do that.  Sometimes I cry, other times I pout.  Sometimes…sshhh…I toss out a few four letter words for good effect.

All in private, of course.  Wouldn’t want anyone to know I do that, you know?

Today I received a phone call as I was just on the cusp of a full blown Disney Princess moment.  I was working up to it.  It was slowly simmering and boiling and I was ready for a full out drama fest.  Hand on the forehead, fist clutched to my chest, “Oh my,” flop to the floor in a heap of hefty sobs.

And then the phone rang.  And a friend shared Jeremiah 42-43 with me.  You know the passage, right?  You don’t?  I didn’t either.  The Isrealites go to Jeremiah and ask him to pray to God on their behalf.  They want to flee from Babylon to Egypt and they want God’s confirmation.  So Jeremiah does what they ask and he comes back with the Lord’s answer.

“Don’t go.  Stay here and I will bless you.  I will show you compassion and favor.  Don’t be afraid.  Trust me.”

Ah, but they didn’t like that answer, you see.  Because they had already purposed in their hearts to go.  They weren’t really looking for God’s answer – they just wanted a little justification for their actions.  And in the end, they chose to go their own way.  The way that seemed easier to them.  Because staying in Babylon?  That was too scary, too hard.  No.  Going to Egypt felt right…it felt better.

Things didn’t go well with them.

We are constantly drilling Ephesians 6:1-3 into our children’s heads: “Children obey your parents in the Lord for this is right.  Honor your father and mother (which is the first commandment with a promise) so that it may be well with you, and that you may live long on the Earth.”

They hear that a lot.  So much so that I can guarantee when they are all young adults, they will probably sit around the dinner table and make fun of us for it, rolling their eyes and laughing.  Hopefully in a good-natured way, of course.  I can see it in my head, like a movie reel.

“Hey, remember when Mom and Dad used to tell us to obey them so it things would go well with us?”

“Aaaaww, yeah, that drove me nuts.”

Then they laugh and all take turns telling us every reason why they love us and why they’re thankful for our constant discipline as they grew up.  They tell us how right we were and laud us for pouring so much of ourselves into them in their formative years.  They do this while giving us each back massages and presenting us with lavish gifts because they are just so thankful for their upbringing.

This vision of mine may have spiraled slightly into the realm of fantasy, but whatever – I like it.

No matter what your age, obedience is hard.  And it’s not always fun.  Just because Tia feels ready to ride her two wheeler to the park a mile down the road, doesn’t mean she should do it.  When I tell her no, she needs to obey even if she doesn’t want to.  When Sloan wants to play with the boys down the street and I tell him no because I’m not sure who their parents are, he has to obey, even though he doesn’t understand.

“Things will go well with you if you obey.”

Sometimes that’s the only excuse I can give.

And sometimes it’s the only excuse I get.  Some decisions seem scary and hard and big and…

It would be so much easier to just move in the direction that feels good enough. The one that’s easy.  But the hard decision, the one you feel in your heart is right even if it’s scary, sometimes that’s the safest place to be.  And there’s no sense throwing a Disney sized fit about it.  Trust and obey and things will go well with you.  This is where freedom sets in.

And that’s a good thing because the drama filled life of a Disney Princess gets exhausting.  Who wants to be stuck wearing ball gowns and glass slippers all the time, right?

To the friend who gave me that timely phone call today…I thank you from the bottom of my heart for pointing me to this scripture.  If I could sing you a Disneyesque song in true Princess fashion, I so totally would.

Filed Under: faith Tagged With: , , , ,

On the wings of love

May 9, 2011 by

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Before we get started, I’d like to give you a moment to let the cheesy ’80’s ballad wash over you.  Go on, sing it out.  You know you want to…

…

Feel better?’

Great.

There is no great way to transition from obscure ’80’s music to prayer, but I’m gonna give it a try.  Consider yourselves transitioned.

Once upon a time I was an early riser.  While the rest of my generation slept until noon, I could often be found at sunrise jogging through the streets of my neighborhood.  This was pre-baby when I still enjoyed jogging and my body moved in a more coordinated rhythm to make it possible, of course.

In college, I spent many an early morning watching the sunrise as I crammed knowledge into my over-functioning brain.  In early motherhood, when it was me and one tiny baby, I watched the sunrise as I whispered prayers into his ear.  I prayed he would grow into a man of character, a man of grace, a man of stature and wisdom and knowledge.  I prayed that he would be strong and courageous, filled with love and a desire to help those in need.

But something happened to me in the seven years since I three times became mom.  I lost my sense of wonder at the morning.  My bed grew warmer and more comfortable.  My children pitter pattered their way through the house at such an hour that in order to beat them up I really needed to rise while it was still night, just so I could welcome the morning.

With this unfortunate phenomena, I also lost my ability to passionately cry out on their behalf.  My prayers for them became kernels of popcorn, popped up here and there throughout the day and rarely scratched the surface of my true desires for them.

“Help him understand love.”  “Give her the courage to fail.”  “Show him who You are.”

Generic.

A series of issues has brought me to a place of longing once again.  Longing for the morning.  The smell of life rising.  The glint of dew on green grass and the painted reds, oranges and yellows stretched across the sky.  Of darkness fading into morning light.  Of fatigue mixed together with anticipation, staving off the sleep that still lingers.   Longing stillness enough to hear.

To hear the wind blow.  To hear the birds sing.  To hear the Voice, still and small, waiting on the wings of love for my heart’s cry.

(How’s that for blending the ’80’s with prayer, eh?)

And my prayers are rising once again.  A new song, a new desire, a new longing.  I lay them down and wait.  Sometimes I fall asleep in the pool of desire and heartache that I’ve only just surrendered.  Sometimes I wait and listen.

For Sloan I pray Hebrews 10:19-24.  May he be free from the guilt that so often weighs him down and pulls him back, his tender heart torn over sin, yet wrestling with the flesh.  I pray Galations 5:22-23 and 1 Peter 1:5-6: self-control to make the right choices.  I pray for wisdom in mothering such a strong willed, lion hearted child.  I offer praise for being chosen for a clearly difficult task.

For Katya I pray 2 Timothy 2:10, that her heart would be turned toward the Savior and she would desire to know Him.  I pray Colossians 3:12, that she would be free from the apathy that her spirit seems bent toward and would be filled with compassion.  I pray 1 Thesselonians 5:15, that she would find more joy in kindness than she does in torturing her brothers.

I pray that I would have the belief that that last prayer could possibly someday be answered…

For Landon I also pray 2 Timothy 2:10.  I pray that even at a young age, he will know and understand how high and deep and wide and vast is the Father’s Love for him.  I pray Ephesians 6:1.  I pray that he will delight in obedience and that the mischief that brings that twinkle to his eye would be harnessed, but not snuffed out completely.  Because the mischief makes him oh so fun.

I pray verses over my husband that are sacred and are between me and God.

I don’t always give in to the call of the morning.  Though I desperately love it, sometimes the call of my bed is more tempting, more comfortable, easier and warmer.  But as spring is bringing change and decision, I find myself with a bit more urgency to reaquaint with the earliest hours of the day.  And to pour over my children in the quiet that comes so rarely.  I don’t whisper it in their ears anymore, as I am no longer cradling them in the rocking chair.  But I pray that as I release my pleas, they take off on the wings of love and settle within the hearts and spirits of the little ones I love so dearly.

When and how do you pray for your children?

Filed Under: faith, Kids, Landon, Life, Motherhood, Sloan, Tia Tagged With: , , , ,
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