Part Two... a Liturgy Newbie

Whew.

Thanks for reading Part One and not hanging me out to dry.  I'll admit now that I had loads of anxiety during the hours that the post was being read.

So St. Tim's... What was this Baptist girl to do?!?  I grew up at a mainline Baptist church.  I worshipped more recently at an Evangelical contemporary church.  Both of these feel familiar to me. I know how to follow along in a hymnal, or even on projected screen.

Dan had grown up in an Episcopal congregation... worshiping at St. Tim's felt like old home to him.  But me?  I felt like I was reading a script.  It wasn't worship as much as it was a group reading.  My only experience in an Episcopal church prior to this was as a visitor.  In fact, my first experience was when my friend Angela had me visit with her in high school.  The bishop was visiting her small congregation and she wanted me to come to the service.  All I remember is that at some point during all of the sitting and standing I tripped over the kneeler and fell for all the congregation (and the bishop) to see.

When Dan and I married, we didn't have much of a discussion of where we would worship together.  I was on staff at a Baptist church.  No discussion needed.  When we moved to Winston, however, and we began our search- we picked more contemporary services over those of a traditional bent.

So (again) St. Tim's... What?!?!  How on Earth would I even begin to fit in when worshipping in this space at first appeared daunting?  Again, I have nothing to ascribe it to other than the Holy Spirit.  This place felt right.  Immediately.  I knew I was supposed to give it a try.  I knew I was supposed to be open to new things, including giving this faith heritage a chance.

(Small caveat... I am not a big proponent of going where it "feels right"... Church shouldn't be a consumeristic space in our lives, yet it often becomes this.  All I'm sharing now is my perspective of how something so different than my previous experience immediately felt sacred and, well, right.)

What I have found at St. Timothy's is beautiful.

It is a chance to participate in the Church universal- knowing that my prayers are being echoed throughout the world.

It is learning a whole new (to me) faith tradition- and I often feel as though I'm right back in my Religious Study days.  Sometimes in Bible Study my hand goes numb as I am furiously writing all of the nuggets of wisdom I'm learning.

It is beginning to understand the beauty of Liturgy.  And to agree with what my friend John said when he pointed out that Liturgy gives him the structure to worship even when his heart doesn't feel like it. It's putting a dialogue in front of me that I get the chance to participate in- and know that I'm not alone in that process.

15 years ago- the thought of Liturgy would have been a roadblock for me.  It would have felt limiting to all that God could be teaching me.  Today, however, it gives structure for the way in which I hear His voice.

One of the biggest things I've learned in these recent days is that there is so much freedom in how we worship.  Something in which we fail frequently is assuming that truth can only be learned in one way- our way.  And now that I've worshipped in churches that are traditional, mainline, conservative, liberal, liturgical, contemporary, and other... I'm seeing a bigger understanding of Jesus's teachings.  I'm grateful for this path- although at moments it's been beyond painful.  I'm grateful that my community of the faithful has been gracious when we don't line up theologically and politically.

And I'm grateful that His mercies are new every morning.

Thanks be to God.

'Coming Out' Spiritually...

Yesterday I posted a picture on my Instagram account- publicly acknowledging for the first time the shift that has happened in our spiritual home over the last year.  While I am in no way making light of any experience my LGBTQ friends have had... I'll tell you that I felt a little bit that I was Coming Out.

The love I feel for my former church is so intense.  I have been so careful to not share about our current journey for fear it would look like we somehow didn't like them anymore.

Let me save you the trouble of looking for dirt if that's why you're reading this- wondering if maybe I'm gonna spill some big, juicy drama that occurred between us and our former church home.  NOTHING (bad) HAPPENED.

The road to a new church home has consumed the last year of our lives.  So much so, that I'm going to share that experience in two parts.  Not for a drama factor, but just for ease of sharing.

I have been a member of 3 (now 4) churches for all of my life.  The first one, I was born into.  The next one, I chose because of my time and service in Chapel Hill.  The last one, we found after a long search when we moved to Winston.  We knew going into our membership there that we didn't line up theologically 100% (spoiler alert: we're sorta liberal)... but we fell so in love with the people and the fellowship that we allowed ourselves to look beyond any differences and dive right in.  It was in this place that our biggest life events to date took place: we longed for, conceived, lost, and gained children.  We developed deep friendships- and lost some of those friends to tragic, unbelievable death.  We prayed fervently during extreme illness of children and parents... some with joyous outcomes, and some that won't be joyous again until we reach heaven.

In short, we grew in all ways during our time in that sacred space.

Along the way, especially as Elizabeth began to ask hard questions, we wondered if we needed to look at other church homes.  This is where the beauty of our marriage partnership became even more evident.  When I would feel a need to go, Dan would gently remind me that we don't all need to "look alike" in a church... and we would stay.  When Dan would feel a need to go, I would remind him about our beautiful fellowship... and we would stay.  Last year, however, we both came to the same point of needing to go at the same time.

We wept, we talked, we prayed... and we repeated that process over and over until we knew we were doing what was best for our family.

Last summer we began the Church Search again... a long and lonely process of not feeling rooted.  We were blessed, however, to explore so many neat places of worship all over our city.  We met people we wouldn't know otherwise and got a chance to see how Others are "doing church" oh so well.

We found a Community close to our house and were so excited to be welcomed in to their fellowship.  Our kids were part of their Christmas program.  We were loved well during the loss of my Mom.  It felt good.

And then....

One Tuesday night in February, my Book Club went to serve dinner at the Overflow Shelter at St. Timothy's Episcopal Church.

When we walked into the building, I had an experience that I can only accredit to the Holy Spirit.  As I entered the church, I knew it was a special place.  I knew it was somewhere we were supposed to- at least- visit.  St. Tim's had been on our short list, but since we'd plugged in elsewhere, we weren't continuing to look at new churches.  Prior to walking in that first night, I'd had 3 good friends mention to me how much I'd like it there.  One of those friends had a child in E's class and she'd also invited E to come.

So right in the middle of heading toward plugging in elsewhere, we decided to give St. Tim's a try.

And that was the end of that.

We've been there ever since.

Tomorrow's post... Liturgy Newbie

Piles and Rugs and Pain and Faith

Growing up, I thought that by the time I was "an adult", I would be done changing.  I assumed that by the time I was "grown up"... and surely being 40 would be grown up... I would be who I was for better or for worse.  Right?

Wrong.

Our house has been one big pile recently.  Piles of paperwork, piles of plastic toys, piles of Julianna and Elizabeth's clothes because they continue to get bigger and outgrow them before I can even put up the most recent load of laundry, piles of photo albums, piles of books I bought but haven't read, piles of things that make me feel overwhelmed.

I am just now able to sort through those piles.

That was a side of grief I wasn't prepared for.  The debilitating feeling of being overwhelmed.  Not even seeing an end in sight- so much to do, such a constant reminder of being the only one who is going to be able to get it done.

Also in those piles of being overwhelmed- somewhere tucked in between the death of each of my parents- was the remnants of my previous faith.

I never renounced my faith.

I did, however, try to work through how my faith looked on the other side of chaos.

I never doubted the reality of Jesus.

I did, however, wonder how a sovereign God lined up with all of the pain we experienced.

I never ran away from the Lord I knew so well.

I did, however, yell at Him with all I had in me.

In all of the chaos... in all of our piles... as my new self is starting to break out of the debris... I am just now starting to deal with the crap left behind.  I am just now filling bag after bag of trash, making lots of trips to Goodwill, and sorting through some precious heirlooms that I've been handed.

One of the material things we've "inherited" is a rug that was in my Mom's house.  Mom didn't have air conditioning until a few years before we sold her house.  (One benefit of living in the woods is that we rarely needed a/c!)  We're not sure what happened during the installation, but something made the entirety of Mom's house smell like burning rubber for a while.  (Comforting, right?)  The smell eventually went away- except for in that rug.

It's not a smell we necessarily like, but it definitely reminds us of Mom's house.

That's how so many of the things are in our house now... and in my faith.  I don't always like what I smell, or see, or feel... but I'm grateful for what it reminds me of.  The places I've been.  The people who have mentored me.  And the faith that is evolving.

We are still nothing more than a bunch of piles in this house.  There is a good chance that when you stop by, we'll have to move the laundry before you'll have a place to sit.  But I'm hopeful that eventually the piles won't bring panic and pain, but will show the strength of where we've been.  Even when we have a bizarre smell because of it... maybe eventually it will make us all feel a bit nostalgic.

Growing up is hard.

Maybe when I get to be an adult, it won't seem like it's been that difficult.

I'll let you know when I get there.

Elizabeth and Advent

This afternoon I was waiting on a friend in Old Salem.  We were *finally* going to attend the Candle Tea together.  While I'm ashamed that it's taken me 11 years of living in Winston to go, I won't throw her under the bus and point out that this was her first time in 19 years.  (See what I just did there?)

As I was waiting, the line behind me grew and an older woman kept saying "Elizabeth!  Elizabeth!"  She was calling to her daughter who had let her out of the car and gone to park.  Later, her Elizabeth went off to the bakery in search of Sugar Cake, and her mom again called out to her "Elizabeth!  Elizabeth!" We shared a moment- as strangers tend to do with people named Waldrup- and began to talk about names.

My sweet Elizabeth's name was on the forefront of my mind as our time came for the Tea and we were admitted to the Single Brother's house.  Much to my surprise, I came face to face with one of the best parts of my 2013- a friend that I gained through my grief group this summer.  She was playing the part of hostess today, so we grabbed only a quick moment to speak, but the hug from my soul sister on this journey was both sacred and life-giving.

It wasn't until we were downstairs that my mind wandered back to my friend... and I spent time thinking of her sweet daughter who I never had the joy to meet.  Her precious girl- Elizabeth- was taken from this world as a teenager.  Seeing my friend living out loud years past her daughter's death is awe-inspiring and hope-producing.  Seeing someone who keeps her daughter's life alive to those she meets as well as who is honest with the pain and the grief... that... that is real.

We eventually entered a room in which the Nativity was laid before us- both in word and in sight.  I have shared with those close to me this year (and now I share with all of you) that 2013 has been a tough year for me spiritually.  I have sought wise counsel, given myself grace, and am daily working through my confusion and frustration with a God who is Big Enough to handle all of that.  I have worked through my anger with how His People care for one another- and some of the hurtful things that we say all while using His Name as power.

Yet as I found myself in front of the Nativity, I was again drawn to Elizabeth.

We chose to name our daughter Elizabeth because of the connection we felt to Biblical women who struggled with fertility.  Elizabeth in the New Testament- cousin of Mary (mother of Jesus)- shows up and we are told her story.  And a lot of her story is told in relation to the story of Jesus.  When Mary came to tell Elizabeth that she was pregnant, this is the account according to Luke:

³⁹ A few days later Mary hurried to the hill country of Judea, to the town ⁴⁰ where Zechariah lived. She entered the house and greeted Elizabeth. ⁴¹ At the sound of Mary’s greeting, Elizabeth’s child leaped within her, and Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit.

⁴² Elizabeth gave a glad cry and exclaimed to Mary, “God has blessed you above all women, and your child is blessed. ⁴³ Why am I so honored, that the mother of my Lord should visit me?⁴⁴ When I heard your greeting, the baby in my womb jumped for joy. ⁴⁵ You are blessed because you believed that the Lord would do what he said.”

As Elizabeth is pregnant with her own child, that has nothing to do with her response to Mary.  Unlike so many women (present company included) I know, her response was not "YAY!  We can have babies together!!"  Her response was genuine joy for her cousin, reverence for being the presence of God, and admiration of Mary for her faith.

And in the midst of trials of faith and dark nights of the soul- that is what a I long for.  I long for someone to look at my life and say the words "You are blessed because you believed that the Lord would do what He said."  While I am not there in this moment, I look to Elizabeth for encouragement.  She was a woman who knew her God, and a woman who loved her family well because of it.

In these last few days in which we celebrate the Advent- the coming of Christ- I wish for us all to have a true encounter with Jesus.  While I don't know lots about how God works- I know that His son is good and kind and generous to those He loves.

And lucky for us all- we are those that He loves.

Oh come, let us adore Him.

The Wildness of The Goose

Last night we got home from our first Wild Goose weekend.  I am 100% saturated, overwhelmed, at peace, and all of the other emotions that can land one both impassioned and immobilized.

What I am most overwhelmed by is that I had an encounter with God- and I was able to experience Him in a fresh way- something my wounded heart desperately needed.

I experienced Him most clearly in a remote spot of the campground- surrounded by strangers that I instantly connected with more than even friends of years upon years.  We gathered around a picnic table and shared our stories of grief.  Each of us shared our raw emotion and were met with tears, hands of mercy, and words of comfort.  Everyone around the table knew better than to say those cliche' remarks I've mentioned before- because everyone had experienced the hurt that came with those phrases.  None of us had the same cause for our grief, yet all of us had been changed by it.  And, for the first time in months, I was surrounded by real people- professional Christians- who shared that their grief caused them to relearn their relationships with God.  And no one freaked out by those words.

My newest best friend, Frank.

Our time was wrapped up by a rain shower- not uncommon for our whole time at The Goose.  As several of us walked away from that sacred table together, we decided to seek shelter for a bit and ride out the bulk of the downpour under a tarp or a tent.  As we went for our nearest option, I spent a glorious moment in time sharing life with a magnificent man and had one of the most holy moments that I've enjoyed.  He spoke my language and affirmed my struggle, my heart, and my life in a way that I will treasure.  He shared the story of his childhood- ironically one I had studied in school, but I was given a glimpse of the intimacies of those moments left out of the assigned readings.  I felt a moment of privilege in hearing his wisdom- and at the same time, felt like we were just sharing life as friends.

And that was one of the biggest beauties of The Goose for me.  NEVER have I been to a festival/ conference/ anything of the sort where it just was.  There was no pretense of the speakers.  There was no "us" versus "them".  We were all there to learn from each other- and no one came across as "I'm just here because my agent lined this up."  I was able to tell Phillip Yancey how I had, for years, gained insight from his readings.  I hugged Glennon from Momastery and we chatted briefly about her offline summer... and squealed about our love of the Indigo Girls.  Krista Trippett laughed when I apologized for the rain and told me she was sure I didn't cause it.  My new friends Mike and Mallory are wise in their fields and I run to their books to get to know them better.  My new friends Alice and Kylin Ann are pilgrims like me and we connected over tears and role play.  I spent extended time with the people from Food for the Hungry and know them as well as their mission.  Cindy Morgan laughed (grimaced?) as I told her I had performed one of her songs at a talent show.  Nadia Bola-Weber ate my homemade salsa.  Sybil MacArthur taught me how to journal in person- rather than just through her book that I've enjoyed reading.  I have never been less and more star struck at the same time.

I came home with a bag of new books to challenge my heart and my mind and multiple new CDs to continue to sing words of truth over my home.  I have assignments of finding children to sponsor and allowing myself continued time to heal.  I have full journal pages and a renewed desire to write.

And I have more mud and dirt in my clothes than I know what to do with.

Part of the beauty of this weekend for me was sharing it with Dan and Elizabeth.  I won't lie- I would have likely gotten more out of it had I not had to worry about where E was or what she was doing.  But having her sit on my lap as I (and Emily and Amy) sang "Power of Two" to her was a moment I won't soon forget.  Watching her drag her hair through the mud while she was swinging made me cringe and rejoice at the same time.  Having her ask questions about why we want tomato workers to get paid "One Cent More" and having her play in rivers that nourished my childhood were both balms to my weary soul.  Talking with her about our obligation to help others and watching her make friends instantly... good stuff.

And one final thought on the "Christian-y" part of it all...  The last conference I attended was Passion in Atlanta with some of my favorite people.  It was about as different from The Goose as one could imagine.  People were showered and dressed "nicer".  The speakers were more mainstream Evangelical.  The Goose, however, had names I had mainly heard on NPR versus Christian Radio.  They were people from a variety of heritage, and their journeys to Christianity were entirely different.  I heard a speaker use words I had never heard from the Passion stage- both in their content and their 4-letter-ness.  I saw same gender couples talking about their "right" to be in the church.  I had one-on-one moments with some big names- something that Kristian Stanfield should be thankful I wasn't allowed to do at Passion.  Shoot, even prior to attending The Goose I had another Christian tell me that he was thankful for people "searching" (his assumption that Nothing had yet been found by Goose attendees.)  I quickly asserted that we Geese had indeed found Something... and that His name was Jesus.

I found myself continuing to reflect on the differences of these 2 conferences until Phillip Yancey put it in perspective for me during his Friday talk.  He commented on the differences in the Right and Left parts of Church... and gently pointed out that we all- for all of our hipster attire, or patchouli wearing, or  agenda pushing, or Toms-buying, or barefoot walking, or Chris Tomlin loving, or Indigo Girls loving, or conservative or liberal... we all are just looking to Jesus to guide us.  It's hard for me- as someone who loves both sides of this continuum- to remember that as I see each side hurt the other.  However I think if we look at that- our shared desire to follow the One who loves- and stop pointing out how the other is "wrong"... that will be when real healing will come.

Grace and peace, friends.  And God Bless indoor plumbing.

early bedtimes and living intentionally.

Yesterday, E just couldn't get a grip on herself.  Before church she had cried at least 2 times... getting frustrated over everything.  She got mad at me when I combed her hair with a comb rather than allowing her to continue to use the plastic fork which was giving her not much success.  She was angry and weepy about everything we said.

After church, we had lunch with friends... and she was just fine... until it was time to leave.  She walked out of their house without even a real goodbye to our friend and pouted the whole way home.  And then the whole way to Home Depot.  And then the whole way home again.

The climax of this pout came when she asked if we could go swimming and we said no, which caused a magnitude of tears and teenage-sounding lines.  She managed to pull it together for a bit... but couldn't maintain the together-ness long enough to even finish dinner.  So with only a few bites of a baked potato eaten, she went to bed.

Before 6:00pm.

(Please note, DSS, we were not withholding food from our child.  She chose to skip dinner in favor of some solitude.  I promise we'll feed her well when she wakes up.  We don't let children go hungry.)

I feel quite certain that yesterday's behavior was E's way of sorting through the emotions of a previously packed two weeks.  As we've seen with her time and time again, even when her packed schedule is packed with goodness... she still needs time of nothingness to unpack.

Her Mom tends to be the same way.  Historically, when I would cram too much in to my schedule, my body would shut down with an asthma attack.  While this still happens, it happens far less now that I have the winning combination of good medicine and a husband who "makes" me slow down every now and then.

But even when I maintain life at a good pace, my heart and mind still race.  My emotions get as jumbled as E's do... I just usually have more coping skills to fake it better.  The introverted part of me (yes, there is one) desperately requires time alone- to think, to clean, to sit, to read, to be still... and when that part is neglected, I crumble... just like my wee one.

Dan and I are constantly making adjustments to our schedule to make sure that both of us have the "down time" needed to keep peace in our home.  This morning, my quest for peace came in a laundry washing- Quiet Time having- coffee drinking start to the day.  (Side note?  I also have discovered recently that my "state of calm" is in direct correlation to how much junk is on my kitchen counter.)  Today, while I attempt to keep peace and order in my home, I'll also be nailing down some details to close out Daddy's estate.  It seems bizarre that not even 130 days ago, my life looked so completely different.  Friday I was on the phone with a friend and as I said to her "I just miss my Daddy...", the tears came and couldn't stop.  Finding peace now looks so different than it did then... but it is peace nonetheless.

The irony of my word this year is that it is "intentional".  So funny that I felt led back in January to speak a word into my life which would cause me to pause and be aware of every most decisions I make.  So funny that before I even knew how this would feel, I was preparing my heart to intentionally choose it's response.

My heart fluctuates between being a jumbled mess and at peace... and the peace only comes from Jesus.  I have become more and more dependent on Him in this season.  That doesn't mean that in the midst of this I've made all wise intentional choices... but they have (for the most part) been intentional.  And like Miss E, I've sent myself to bed early a couple of nights because I knew that was what was best- for all of us.

But here's to a new day.  And a new week.  And a (almost) new month.  Here's to making intentional choices about how we spend our time, our money, our energy, and our emotions.  Here's to Doing Good for those around us.  Here's to starting our day on a positive note- looking toward the One who created it.

And here's to making it last until bedtime... which will hopefully be later than 6:00pm.

Prologue...

Ah, sweet readers and friends... here we go... my first blog post (on this blog, anyway) in almost a month.  Before my trip, I attempted to document my days with posts containing Barenaked Ladies songs.  Sadly, Blogger was down a couple of those days, and all you got was one post.  I'm sure you BNL fans mourned.

So, now I'm back... and whirling in my brain are about 6 different blog posts.  Rather than trying to get them all out now, let me tell you what you'll see in the days to come.  (God willing, the creek don't rise, and no-Blogger crashes.)

I ventured to Africa under the premise of helping my friends.  That was the plan.  Then something else happened... God moved in my life.  (I know, we're all shocked by this... right?)  In the days to come I will show you some of the sights that I enjoyed from this angle:

Seeing the world from behind a camera lens is the perfect way to take in all of God's beauty.  I saw colors so deep and people so lovely I could weep just thinking of them.  I met people who spoke truth into my life and those who just made me laugh.  I left the land of Rwanda changed and thankful for it.  I entered the land of Ethiopia anxious and anticipating the "what's next" of life.  And I returned to the land of America ready to take it on.

I encountered a new adventure in Rwanda involving... what else... but pens.  Yep.  PENS.  Yep.  The things that make my heart skip a beat every time I walk down the office supply aisle... handed to me in Africa... in the form of loving people.  And that experience will be shared with you- beginning tomorrow- so tune in.

I fell in love with a family from Tennessee with accents reminiscent of my mountains.  I left them at the airport with tears streaming down my face because God had knit them to my heart in 19 days.  My first thought was "And this is why I said I could never do Foster Care... the letting go sucks."  My second thought was "But this is exactly why we must do Foster Care... because I can't imagine my life without them in it.  And I can't stinkin' wait to see who God will place into our home in a few short months.

I tried new foods.  I learned new phrases.  I worshiped in a new way.  I enjoyed life in a new way.  And I have come home changed.  I am sorry that I'm unable to share it all with you yet.  In fact, I tried to "quickly" tell a friend about my trip today at lunch... two hours later, I looked at my watch, stunned, and realized that life may be a lot like this in the days to come.  So those of you who will have to listen to all my stories, I apologize in advance for the amount I will talk, and yes, it's okay if you shut me up.  And those of you who read this blog, feel free to walk away from your computer at any point to get a cup of coffee... I've got lots to talk about.

For now, I'll leave you with this:  I had the front row seat to God making a family complete.  I watched two children walk straight in to the arms of their forever family.  (Actually, more than 2 if you include the other families, but more about them later...)  I saw those kids go from timid to content.  I heard them say phrases with their beautiful accents- both gentle "Be-kay" and loud "BEN-JA-MIIIN!".  I watched them laugh and cry with their parents and their sister.  I saw both of them swim for the first time.  I saw them ride on a plane for the first time.  Shoot, I saw them use toilet paper for the first time.  (When I first handed some to Marie, she said "Sank you, Be-kay", bent over, and used the toilet paper to wipe off her shoes before putting it in the toilet.)  I saw them have joyful moments and I saw them have painful moments.  I saw their parents high on life and equally as exhausted.  And you know what I saw most?  Peace.  Peace because my friends had done what God had asked them to do... they responded to His call to care for orphans.  In their family, He specifically told them to bring home 2 children from Africa.  I had a front row seat to this joyous event... and a front row seat to seeing people be obedient.

There is more to come, friends... so much more.  But for now I'll tell you the 3 things I've most enjoyed today about being back home:  1. My family.  2. Catching up with friends.  3. The allure of my bed waiting for my jet-lagged self.  And, I'll tell you the 1 thing I most enjoyed about Africa:  1. Africa.  The people, the place, the beauty.  Gonna take some time to do the things we never have....

She just lived upstairs....

When I was in Middle School, I went through this phase where I wrote "essays" about my friends.  I have tons of them... just a little one or two pager about why I loved that individual.  In my mind, it was the ultimate yearbook entry.  (It maaaay have been a touch lame, too.)

Often on people's birthdays, I'm tempted to blog about them.  I want you all to know why I love said-birthday individual.  But let's be honest... I'm not sure you'd all want to read what makes ___ special over and over and over again.  (Although, while we're being honest, I'm still not sure why lots of you continue to read this anyway.)

Today is different.  I want to tell you about my friend Kimberly, who is celebrating her birthday today.  (Yes, I stole her picture from  her FB page.)  Kimberly lived upstairs in my dorm and we were in the same Small Group my freshman year.  Quite candidly, I don't remember who led the group.  I think it was Jenn, but it very well could have been Kimberly.  Early on in the semester, we divided up and were paired with "prayer partners".  Somehow, Kimberly and I got matched together.  It wasn't that we were best friends.  Honestly, I rarely saw her outside of IV time.  She was in Pharmacy School and I was... well... being a Freshman.

Kimberly and I met to pray weekly.  And for some reason, I rarely missed.  That was a big deal because I was missing a lot of things those days in search of things that would greater fulfill my life.  I would skip Small Group if it meant I got to do something more fun.  I would skip Large Group if I got a chance to go uptown with some of my friends.  I would skip Chapter events if it meant I got a ride to visit friends in Raleigh who had better access to "good times."  I was busy living a double life of knowing I should have one foot in IV (which was, at the time, my one connection to the Lord) and the rest of me in a life of self indulgence.  But for whatever reason, I rarely bailed on praying with Kimberly.

In retrospect, I asked Kimberly if she knew I was partying it up the whole time we were praying.  She said she knew something was going on, but she didn't know my life was quite as jacked up as it was.  (My words, not hers.)  What she did know, however, was that she was supposed to pray with me... and for me.

I don't think I can put adequate words around the jumbled-ness I felt in my heart during that year.  I was on the biggest roller coaster of emotions- I felt loved and rejected, cool and unworthy, fun and distraught, determined and lost, and completely a wreck.  Yet during that year, sitting in Kimberly's dorm room, I found peace.

Jesus ordained our times together.

He did not make us best friends.  We did not spend hours catching up.  We did not do a great job of keeping in touch after college.  We did not attend each other's weddings.  Yet He wove our hearts together and used Kimberly to keep me connected to Him... all because she was available.  She lived upstairs and I knew she was there.  She was consistent.  She was grounded.  And she radiated His love for everyone... and His love for me.

Today, she is the proud mom of 3 beautiful children and the wife of another friend, Tyler, and together God is using them mightily to grow His Kingdom in Raleigh.  But 17 years ago, she was "just" a girl who lived upstairs.  And she was being used mightily in my life... and for that, I am thankful.  I pray that I am "just" that kind of girl for others, too.

Happy Birthday, Kimberly.

pride.

When I was a kid and had to sell things (Girl Scout cookies, school fundraiser chotskies, etc.), in my house we would buy the bare minimum rather than having to ask people to buy my things.  I never went door-to-door selling gift wrap, coupon books, etc.  E is having a similar childhood already- except this time, I have Facebook.  ("We're selling coupon books for MMP... anyone want to buy one?" is likely my status at some point in September.)  She has not yet entered the realm of me sending her out hawking her wares.

I don't like asking people for money.

I remember when I was considering going on IV Staff- that was one of my biggest hangups: the fundraising.  I remember talking about it with my staff worker, Dan, and he enlightened me to the world of raising support.  He shared with me that while the one going/doing/serving does indeed need the money, it's often just as important for the one sending to do their part to give.

I don't like asking people for money, but I get this.

When I've been unable to go to Haiti to help people in times of crisis, I appreciate that I am sending someone on my behalf.  When I can't travel with my friends to India, I like to think I'm part of their team by helping them get there.  Even as the Williamses have gone through their road to adoption- God has clearly called our family to be part of their financial journey.  There have been moments of near bliss for us as we've aided their family's way... so I get this.

Until I have to ask for money.

As I've been recruited to be a "helper" on their trip to Africa, finances have clearly come in to play.  I have to pay for all the things that one would need to get there: a passport, shots, plane tickets, etc.  And I've not been part of a large fundraising effort- a 5 K, a yardsale, whatever... (although, sidenote: our neighborhood is having a yardsale on Saturday and I will be selling whatever is not nailed down in our house so that I can have some extra cash!).  (And, another sidenote: at the Williams' yardsale, their daughter made a lemonade stand that had a jar with a label that read "A's plane ticket money".  It was encouraged I put up a beer/wine stand and put a jar saying "Becky's plane ticket money"... but even for someone inappropriate, I do know my limits.)  Anyway, it feels strange to ask people to "support" my trip- even though God has clearly called me there to be part of it.

Know why?

Pride.

It is a painful thing to say to people to people...  because what my head hears as this: "If we hadn't been so stupid when we first got married which you don't even know about likely and gotten into debt and then took years to get to where we were in a good place and heck even tithing regularly this wouldn't be an issue and even though we are much more financially sound now it still hurts when we don't have piles of cash lying around that we can take baths in not that we would but I'd like to see what that was like maybe and sometimes I wonder if I'll forever have this fear of money on my back like I did when we were first married and sometimes we still struggle in huge ways financially but not nearly as much as most of the world's population and yes I know I'm married to a doctor but he doesn't bring home the huge figures you may imagine and yes I know he only works 4 days a week and I get that he could work a lot more and make a lot more money but that's not really the point and honestly we pay our bills and we are even putting on a deck right now because God has been faithful to bring us to such a good place in regards to our finances but the moment I have to ask someone for financial help it reminds me of all that crap from years gone by and makes me realize we don't have millions of dollars in savings for a rainy day... or just a normal day in Africa".

Whew.

That's a lot of pride right there, ladies and gentlemen.  The sad reality is this: until God heals my crap, I will always feel like I have to justify things financially.  I don't want to be that girl that responds with "it was on sale!" when you tell me you like my dress.  Or the one that says "we saved and saved for it and got a good deal" when you ask me about my new deck.  But the truth is I have a lot of past crap I still need to sort through.

I IM'ed Laurie yesterday and told her that I would email the 2 friends who'd in the past offered plane ticket help if I needed it.  Her response was so pure and straightforward: "Good!  Everyone has a role to play in caring for orphans.  Maybe this is theirs."

So simple.  So true.

It's amazing to me how much God is teaching all of us by their family's adoption process.  We're all learning about how God does miracles, comes to our aid, and cares for His children.  Now He's gently reminding me that I have some pride-wrapped-in-fear-wrapped-in-pain that I need to work on.  Because it's not about me "asking for money"... when it comes down to it, it's me allowing people that same joy of partnering with God's plan for those kids' adoption.  They aren't funding a fun roadtrip for me and my bestie (although, bonus!), they are aiding in the plan to get these kids home!  I have the privilege of being the hands and feet of so many that want to be part... why am I letting my pride get in the way of that blessing in their lives?

Now, all this said... THIS IS NOT A CRY FOR HELP or even a request for a donation.  If God is calling you to aid in orphan care, hooray! But I'm not begging all of you reading this for money.  I'm simply sharing my story to show you what God is teaching me.  I am thankful for those of you who agreed to help- and the rest of you... just pray.  K?

Here's hoping I get to update really soon with a departure date.... and hoping I get to update a post later of how God is working on my pride, too.

Why yes, you can judge a book by it's cover.

(Forewarning: this is not a "yay me!" post... but I just have to share at how funny God is.)

3 years ago, a friend of mine and I were getting ready to start a new Bible Study with some friends.  After some dinner downtown and dessert at Midtown, we found ourselves looking through all of the Bible Study book section at The Masters Loft.  Now, unless you know specifically what topic you'd like to study, those sections feel quite ridiculous.  "Study for Relationships"  "Study for Women"  "Study for Women in Relationships" "Study for Women's Relationships"... Puh-lease.

So, as T and I found ourselves elbow-deep in these book choices... we stumbled upon this gem:

Hmmm... that looked interesting.  So we read the back cover, it sounded good, and we bought it.

One week into the study, I knew I'd met my match.  Those of you who know me know that at this point in my life, I developed a wee bit of a crush on Jen Hatmaker.  Those of you who don't know me need to know this: I still do.  In fact, it's been joked that I might even stalk her.  What-evs.

We finished this book, threw in a couple different studies after (a good ol' Beth Moore, Search for Significance...) and decided, "randomly", on the way home from a beach trip to pick up Jen's newest book.  This is how I remember the discussion--

L- on her iPhone: "Hey, it says here that Jen has a new book out... it's sounds like it's dead on to what we've been talking about... about how God interrupted Jen's life..."

The rest of us: "Cool." "Sounds good."  "Let's do it."

There, in the second holy moment, we chose a book... because the write up sounded good.

Then... bizarre things happened.  

• We loved the book.  
• So we made our husbands read it. 
•  And one of our husbands was on our church staff and offered it to our church to do as a church-wide study.  
• And after that one was over, some of us offered to re-teach it in case someone hadn't been able to do it previously.
• And two people showed up at that subsequent study who were ready to have their lives Interrupted.
• And they started praying about how God was going to interrupt their lives.
• And 14 months later, they are getting ready to pack up their entire lives and MOVE TO AFRICA.

Tonight, I had the privilege of sitting in their home as they shared with family and friends the entire story of how God wooed them to Africa.  Part of their story was that God spoke to them when they read Interrupted.... which, clearly, God would have brought into their lives somehow... but tonight, we giggled when we realized that possibly he used us judging a book ....

 by it's cover to get to this one. 

Next stop?

God's funny like that.

Facebook makes me anxious.

Who knew it... the social-networking tool I love the most makes me, well, anxious.

Wednesday evening, just returning from a six-day beach trip, I got online to see what I "missed" while I was gone.  The first 2 days of my trip I had access to FB, so I didn't miss much there.  In fact, FB told me that I was missing a Super Moon on Saturday night- something we quickly remedied.  But from Sunday on, I didn't see anything online that was happening.

Those of you who know me know that I love me some Facebook.  It really is an ENFP's dream- being connected to all of the people we love so much (and some randoms) and having a forum to share what's happening in our world, too.  With the big things getting ready to occur in Johnston-land (a trip to Africa, fostering), it's the ideal medium to share with all of you what's happening now so you don't have to wait until a Christmas card to find out.  (Like I even sent Christmas cards last year... ha!)  And, the difference in FB and this-here blog is that I learn about YOU on Facebook.  On my blog, you learn about me.  While I think your days are so enriched with info about me, I feel certain my life is not complete without knowing about you, too.

So, back to Wednesday.  I pulled up Facebook and began by reading my messages and my notifications.  Then I started scrolling back through the newsfeed.  Then I felt it... anxiety.

Whut.

Seriously... there was so much to read (and, no, I didn't read EVERY SINGLE THING that happened while I was gone) and so many burdens/joys to comprehend... and of course those of you who like to update me with facts ("It's Friday!" "Unloading my groceries." "My back hurts.")... it was all a lot to process.  I wasn't, though, until I stepped away from the computer that I acknowledged the feeling that it gave me... anxiety.

Before you jump to conclusions, I am not giving up Facebook.  In fact, I can't tell you the number of people who asked if I was going to do just that for Lent.... and the answer is still "no".  This is the only medium I use to contact our students and, if for no other reason, I need it for that.

What, then, is a girl to do?

Two things have crept into my mind as I've started processing this- both are wisdom provided by friends.  The first is from my friend, Kelly, who has been emailing me to "check in" to see how my Quiet Times are going.  (QT= time alone with God)  Kelly is someone who cares about me and my relationship with Him- it's so nice to have those emails pop in my inbox as a reminder.

The second is what we heard yesterday at MOMS from our worship pastor, Wes.  He shared that intimacy with God is the antidote to anxiety.  Funny he would use that phrase right as the word "anxiety" was rolling around in my head.

Kelly's emails + Wes's teaching = something I need to work on.

All of this to say- I don't have an answer.  I don't feel like Facebook is an unhealthy addiction in my life (despite the joking I do about it.)  I don't feel like I'm supposed to give it up.  I do feel like I'm supposed to use more moderation with it... maybe a trip to Africa will be just the cure for that.  Have any of you felt this similar FB-anxiety phenomenon?  I'd love to hear how you dealt with it.

Off to update my status....

Why God's timing is funny... or, "Y'all love you some Africa"...

Scene one, Tuesday morning:
Dan and I finally figured out which Foster Agency we're going to "use"!  We have prayed over it, sought lots of wise counsel, and feel really good about it.  So, Tuesday morning, I'm on the phone with the woman we're meeting with next week and ask her "How soon can we get this show on the road?"  Her response?  "April.  We start training April 4.  Every Tuesday and Thursday night, 6-9pm."  I quickly begin to spiral out of control in my head... 'I'll have to quit running with No Boundaries (5K training program I'm doing) on Thursday nights'... 'I can't host Bunko'... 'What will we do about childcare for E?'  Panic.  All of my plans became immediately less important than doing what we needed to to bring children into our home.  I emailed my Bunko girls asking for someone to switch hostessing dates with me... I called my friend who is in charge of the No Boundaries program to ask about rescheduling my Thursday runs... I did everything but put the April dates in pen in my Daytimer.

Then Dan called.

I told him, in a panic-y tone, how I was so excited we'd get to do our training in April and have kid(s) in our home by summer!

In his very Dan way, he told me to slow my roll.  He told me that while, yes, God has called us to do this, He's also called me to No Boundaries, and I can't quit that.  He told me that if we wait until July to do the training, childcare will be less of an issue.  And he pointed out that in the days of April, we need to be available to help out our besties that live up the street who will soon be bringing home their children from Rwanda.

Well said.

I promptly emailed the Bunko girls back and said "um, just kidding..." and stepped carefully back into reality, immediately relieved of that stress.

------
Scene Two, the last few months/years... conversations with my best friend from college:
"So, John and Laurie are adopting two kids from Rwanda!"
"Did I tell you that Austin and Ann Marie are moving to Botswana?"
"I might go with our church to Kenya next summer... heads' up."
"Guess what?  Our friends are moving to Nairobi!"

Her response?
"Y'all love you some Africa in Lewisville!"
--------

Back to Tuesday... so, I come off my self-induced roller coaster of stress, and Laurie (the Rwandan-to-be Momma) asks if she can come talk to me... that she has a "favor" to ask.  I prepare in my head that she's going to ask me to go to California to drop off their son, Caleb, when they go to Africa.  (He's not going with them, he's going to stay with his Auntie in CA instead.)

Nope.

She asks if I want to go with them to Rwanda to bring home their children.

Holy Africa, Batman... OF COURSE I DO!!!

How funny is God's timing?  An hour before this, I was ready to sign us up for Foster Care training for the same time we'll likely be traveling.  (Which, of course, I could have moved... but still...)  I was panicked about my plans... but the minute He showed me His plans, I had an amazing sense of peace and excitement.

The details:
-Not sure when we'll go... it'll be a couple of weeks after they get their referral... but that could be any day now.
-No, I don't have a current passport.  (Working on it!)
-No, I haven't had my shots.  (Getting them done soon!)
-No, we don't have any idea where the money will come from to get me there... we're just trusting that God will provide.

Seriously, even as I type this, it seems surreal.  I am going with my second-family to Africa to bring home their children.  Does that even make sense?  What a joy.  What an honor.  What a blessing.  And, funny enough, I'm not panicked at all.

The best part of my week was on Wednesday night when I got to tell their daughter, Amelia, that I'm going.  I was driving her home from church and told her... and we both got tear-y.  She kept giggling, then said, "I thought you were going to tell me something cool, like I got to spend the night with you or something... not that you are going to Africa with us!!  That's awesome!"

I told her that since I was lucky enough to be there when she was born, it was only right I got to be there when she meets her brother and sister, right?

with sweet Amelia, 2007

Me and Amelia... we love each other... and we love us some Africa.

Ihavenewsandnowe'renotpregnant.

I feel like that is the mantra I've been saying on repeat over and over the last little bit...

"I have news... and no, we're not pregnant."

Over the last 4 years, well, really... since the day we left the hospital... people have been asking us if we're going to have another child.  Really, people?  See this 3 day old baby in my arms that took 4.5 years to "get"?  Why don'tcha let me enjoy her for a bit and then I'll get back to you...

More and more as people around us were having their 2nd, 3rd, 4th child while we were stilling hanging with "just" E, we got the question more and more.

24 days ago... we got our answer.

God has been prompting Dan for years that we need to be a foster family.  Since his first psych rotation, he knew this was something we were supposed to do.  I, however, totally disagreed with that.  While I thought it was a great idea in theory, I thought it was a great idea for someone else.  I told Dan repeatedly that the worst day of my year was always the last day of camp when I had to say goodbye to all my brand new BFFs through tears and snot-filled hugs.  So how on earth was I supposed to open up my home to a child who needs love in big ways, love them, then send them "back" to what could potentially be a harmful situation?

No, thank you.

Dan, being the sweet and patient man that he is, waited on me.  He continued to mention it... and continued to pray.  And while he was gently nudging me, God decided to smack me in the face.  (So thankful it was Dan nudging and God smacking me in the face, or the adjectives I'd use to describe Dan would not be "sweet" or "patient"...)

24 days ago, with barely any sleep after our return from the Happiest Place on Earth, we went to church.  (We are so godly.)  During a sermon given by- of all people- one of my best friends who happens to be married to my bestie, God started stirring something big.  Dan and I went home to debrief the sermon and found that He had been stirring the same thing in both of us.  (Want the longer version of this story?  Invite us over for a glass of wine and we'll debrief.)  During the conversation about what home renovations we though we were being prompted to make, I casually asked Dan "Do you think we're supposed to have more babies?"  (Because, like the general public, I'm curious about this, too.)  Sweet and patient Dan responded with, "Yes... but I don't know that you're supposed to give birth to them."  Unsure whether he was talking about adoption or fostering, we talked, cried, prayed... and jumped full-on into the world of the unknown.

Here are some of those unknowns I'll be happy to not-answer for you now:

• Will we get more than one kid?  Perhaps.
• What agency are we using?  Dan keeps saying we're "dating" a couple now, trying to decide which one to settle down with.  We've narrowed it down to 3 (2, really)... so that counts for something, right?
• When will we "get" a child?  Who knows.  Upon finishing the application, there's 30-ish hours of training left to happen, then inspections, then placement.  Could be within a few months, could be longer
• Do we know the ages of the child/children? (See above since we don't know the answer to our second question, the answer to this one is... nope... but yes, we can submit a preference.  We just have no idea what that would be right now.)
• Would we adopt if the kids became available for that?  We'll let you know when God tells us, but if you ask us, we'd say yes.
• Are we worried about letting go?  Yes.  But have you met me?  I don't so much let people leave my life easily...
• How does Elizabeth feel about this?  Don't know yet... we're still keeping it on the down-low.  I feel certain she'll have something great to say.  Already she busted out (3 days after our "decision") that we needed a new car... maybe a mini-van... that could haul around more people.  I'm telling you, that kid's neat.  And, ps, we'd appreciate it if you don't tell Elizabeth yet, either.
• 8. Are you scared?  Nope.  Nervous?  Sure.  Excited?  Abso-freakin-lutely.

If you've picked up on my FB posts about "re-purposing rooms" and wondered if I'm pregnant and we're setting up a nursery... well, we're not, but you're close.  And if you've wondered why I've been a little AWOL on my blog... well, this is it.  We wanted to have a chance to tell our families first before we blurted it out on the InterWebs.  So one trip to Wilmington and one trip to Asheville down... here's our latest.

We welcome your prayers and your support over the next leg of our journey.  We are not naive- we are well aware that this will be hard.  But if our Jesus is who He says He is, we'll get through it together.  Can't wait for the adventure...

The Body of Christ

So, tonight on the way to church it hit me:  Sometimes Christians piss me off, but the Body of Christ never does. In fact, the Body of Christ never ceases to amaze me.  And my only complaint is that the world tends to see Christians... and not The Body.

Let me explain:
Christians are people who label themselves as "little Christs"... people who follow Jesus... people who want to be known as belonging to the Christian Church.  And over the years, they've gotten a bad rap.  Because they are sinners.  And they are hypocrites.  And they are mean, ugly, evil things... wait, did I mention that they are sinners?  The junk we have in our life (sin) keeps us from being good (holy) and therefore we are bad (sinners).  (Thank you, Lee Morrison for teaching me how to keep it real- Theology 101.)

But.... The Body of Christ is... well, just that.  The physical movement on earth of the person of Jesus.

And, I have been fortunate enough to witness The Body at it's best lately.

-I've seen people pour out love to my BFF who is adopting... they've answered prayers that her family hasn't even prayed yet.  They've cleaned out their closets, attics, and homes to stock a future yard sale.  They've offered resources beyond their own means... it's amazing.

-I've seen people jump on board to partner with another one of my besties who is moving to Africa.  Did you catch that?  MOVING TO AFRICA.  Why?  To be the Body of Christ to people who need some love there.   Just because that's what you do... when God tells you to.  And now people are rallying around them in a way that is beautiful.  In our sadness of "losing" them, we are celebrating what's next for their lives.

-I've reconnected with several friends from college who are all in the process of answering God's call to adopt.  Reading their blogs, seeing their Facebook posts... it's neat to see Him say the same thing to multiple people: Take care of My children.

-I've watched college students who used to like to "just" hang out now rally around each other in prayer and encouragement.  They spend hours (upon hours upon hours) being together... being real... and loving God in community.

-I've seen multiple families open up their lives to a girl who had no where else to turn.  One opened her home and her family's life to have her live with them.  One opened her schedule and became her permanent taxi, daily taking her from one side of town to the other and taking her kids where they need to go.  Others have provided meals, treats, conversation, wisdom, and... well... love.  The life of this girl- and of her kids- will forever be impacted by the love of my friends.

-I've seen a friend lose a job and respond by saying, "That must just mean God has something else planned for me."

-I've seen another friend search and pray for what her role is in the homeless community where she feels called.  After weeks and weeks searching and serving, her whole family now serves alongside her.

-I've seen a friend weep tears of joy because- over a year and a half later- she's finally able to go back to China- CANCER FREE.  While she was receiving treatment and her body was in physical pain- her heart ached for the people she wasn't able to see in the country miles and miles away.  And now she's gearing up to go back to the land she loves so much... because God is so good.

-I've made a new friend online as I've watched him seek out how he's supposed to get his mind, body, and spirit in shape.  Better than that?  He's my friend in real life, too.

-I've watched people drop everything on their important schedules to come to the aid of those in need.

-I've watched people completely rearrange their finances to give more away.

-I've watched people part with possessions they thought they couldn't live without.

-I've been in a room with other people as they read the Bible together and try to figure out just what it means.

-I've watched those same people get real with each other sharing real hurts, pains, joys, and struggles.  We've wept and celebrated together.

And... all of these things have occurred RECENTLY.  Did I mention this is amazing?

I'm fortunate enough to have been a part of the Body of Christ in the way He intended it when He called His church.  Sure, we screw it up.  We're human.  We're sinners.  But I beg of you: don't get so caught up in those Christians who are living life in a way that makes you crazy that you lose sight of The One they intend to follow.  Ignore all they've... we've.... done to jack things up... and look to The One who can fix it all.  Then- when you stop looking at us and start looking to Him... you'll see His Body.  It's an amazing place to be... join us, k?

My senses have become heightened.

I talked with one of my favorite friends ever last night.  Not only does he have the best voice in the world (and come on, anyone who lived with me during answering machine days have to admit they sometimes would play his messages again just to hear him speak), but Eric Farmer has the best "phrasing" as well.

Last night when we spoke, he was putting words around a concept I'd yet to phrase.  He said that in his world, his senses had become heightened and that the same-old-things looked brand new to him.  Thank you, Eric, for explaining in words what is going on in my heart.

Since our Disney trip, we've come home to discover a new world.  Dan and I both have experienced God's presence in new ways in our individual lives and in our marriage, and I cannot express to you how He has heightened our senses.  My overwhelming schedule has been just as busy, but calm.  My chaotic closet is still just as jumbled, but appears manageable.  My huge fear of running is just as present, but I am no where near as skeptical of my ability... and one might say I'm even excited about seeing what I'll be able to accomplish.

My senses are heightened... the friends who joined me for dinner tonight (who were some of the very first friends I met here nearly 9 years ago) were "new" to me- and that's a beautiful thing.  It's a joy and a privilege to see how God blesses and renews friendships... as well as how He protects them along the way.  One year ago, my Daddy called me with a grim update about Mary's health.  These same women sat in my house and supported me as I wept.  Tonight they sat with me as I cried with an overwhelmed heart about what God is doing in our lives.  For that, I am thankful.  

The same-old-things look new... here's hoping you'll check them out with me...

God is Good.

Want to know about my day?  Fine, I'll tell you.

I am mildly overwhelmed.  We are headed on a trip soon... I have lots to do before then... I am making a trip home in the next couple of days to check on my dad (who broke some ribs by falling on ice! ouch!)... yeah, there's a lot going on.  This is one of those days where I "need"ed to be task focused and get a lot done so that later I'm not overwhelmed.  Oh, and have I mentioned I have asthma that gets worse with stress?  Cause I do.  And it does.

So anyways, I got up this morning and had some good morning time with E... some days are restful, some are rushed.  Today was just good.  I took her to school where I went in to see some of my favorite MMP ladies (the staff there is awesome), then went to brunch at a new friend's house.  She'd invited a bunch of us a few weeks ago, but that date got snowed out, so we rescheduled for today.  It was super: good food, great conversation... an overall nice time.  We laughed about our crazy families, our cute kids, and our amazingly clean houses.  Okay, some of that was embellished, but...

I left there and went to lunch (did I say I left brunch and went to lunch?  yep, I did.) with one of my favorite friends who is heading on the adventure of a lifetime.  She and her husband have been obedient to God's call on their lives and they are packing up and heading out to Botswana!  It's so amazing to see where He has brought them (and us, for that matter) in the 8+ years of our friendship... and now to see them ready to head to Africa to fulfill His plan for them.  Just... amazing.  And lunch at Cherries to boot?  Double amazing.

I left there, ran to Target to get some last minute stuff for our Disney trip, then went to Music Class with E at school.

We came home and were blessed with some time with my favorite 18 month old, Emma.  Big E hung out with Little E this afternoon and continued to kiss and hug her the whole time that she was here.  Presh.

As soon as Emma was picked up, we headed back over to my Brunch Friend's house to get a LOAD of princess stuff.  She had loaned us a Cinderella dress (see above... the big one... because E thought she could still wear the little one) this morning, and when her daughter (L) got home from school and heard that my E was excited about that, decided she was finally ready to part with some more things.  (That was an insanely long sentence.)  And we are the proud recipients of All Things Princess in this house.  Here's what I love about that: as soon as we left, it finally clicked with E that when I tell her to pass on her things she's outgrown, it could bring someone as much joy as inheriting L's stuff brought her.  Sometimes she acts like I'm just out to get her to make her get rid of stuff (and let's be honest, sometimes I am)... but now she's so excited to go through her things to pass on to other kids.

We left there, grabbed a quick dinner, then I came home to head up the street to pick up my Gal Pal to head for our weekly Bible Study group time.  We used to meet on Friday mornings, but that got tricky... so we're aiming for Monday nights now.  And, other change, we're aiming to use that time to pray.  And, (lots of "and"s here,) pray we did.  It's a beautiful thing to spend a couple of hours with people you know and love best in the presence of God.  Sandy Mercer first showed me that beautiful near-out-of-body experience in her classroom years ago... it's amazing to be part of it with these women... just beautiful.

I came home to the news that one of my favorite childhood friends- who has had multiple heartbreaks of miscarriage- is pregnant.  That news thrills my soul.  She will be a terrific momma... and it's about dern time.

All in all, my day was... well... beautiful.  I got to be a part of friendships, excitement, tasks, prayer, blessing... it's just cool.  It's neat to be right in the middle of where God is moving.  Sometimes you learn from those who are there in His midst.  Sometimes you get to be still before Him.  And sometimes... you just get swept away in His goodness.

Prove Your Love-- Confessions of a Hypocrite, Volume Two

I've had ample opportunities lately to do some soul searching.  In the quiet moments when my heart gets heavy, I've tried to let God speak to me about what He wants me to "do" with this hurt.

And right now I think He's telling me to get over myself.

Let me give my full disclaimer now: the following words are for me, not necessarily for you.  

If you fall into one of these "categories", cool.  Whatever.  

Deal with it as you need to, and move on. 

 More likely than not, it's not for you to deal with... it's for me.

Ahem.

You might remember from this post that I confessed that I am a needy friend.  I have an air of "expecting" people to respond a certain way... to call at a certain time... to love me a certain way.  A lot of those responses came from true and honest beginnings: over the years, I have been the recipient of people caring for me in the way I desire to be cared for.  But what has happened is that I've transferred those feelings of gratitude for that love to feelings of entitlement.

And you know what's happened?  I've been disappointed.

The last 2 weeks were a glaring example of this.  People have come out of the woodwork to love on me about Mary's illness and then later her death.  For this I am grateful.  Yet at the same time, I can honestly acknowledge that when certain people didn't come out of the woodwork, I was hurt.  Really?  Because it's about keeping score?

Here's a perfect example: it just so happened that one of my besties, Christy, was heading to Asheville on Tuesday.  I was trying to juggle who had E when and how I was going to get her to Asheville on Tuesday.  Perfect solution.  When I talked to Christy (who stayed on speed dial last week... well, let's be honest... all weeks) and she said those magic words "what do you need me to do?" I said "bring Elizabeth home."  Not only did she immediately say yes, but she changed her schedule around so that she could make it more convenient for Dan and could be the easiest for E, too.  After delivering E to my mom's house on Tuesday (when she told me that E sang "Rah Rah Carolina-lina" for waaay too long for a State Fan's liking), she said those magic words again... "what else do you need me to do?"  The next night, Wednesday, I enlisted her services again.  She and her sister arrived at Mom's house with cookie dough and a bottle of Shiraz to cry and laugh with me in the darkest hour.

If I ended the story there, you might think I live a warm, fuzzy Sweet Valley High kind of life with long-lasting friendships.  Which I do.  When I allow myself to accept the love that is offered to me.

Instead, in the dark moments, my head gets clouded with the "Why haven't I heard from ___?"  or "I'm surprised ___ hasn't offered to help."  Really?  REALLY?  Because I am that important?

Dan and I have had lots of great conversations about how easily I get my feelings hurt and it all boils down to this:  I will continue to get my feelings hurt when I allow people to fill my needs.  Only when I rely on God, and not others, will I be truly satisfied.  And you'd think I'd have mastered this by now- because it's been my biggest stumbling block since, oh, I don't know, 1987.

Apparently I'm going to continue to hurt from it until I internalize it.

So to those of you who called, texted, sent cards, flowers, meals, kept E, prayed for us, posted on my wall, commented on the obituary?  Thank you.  You truly do speak my love language.  I've felt wrapped in His love through your physical acts of grace.  And those of you who haven't?  Please don't rush out now and do it... that'd just make us both feel awkward.  You know, like the year I got someone's Christmas card in January only after they received mine?  Really?  Like we both didn't know you weren't going to send me one.  Anyway, those of you who are now questioning if how you responded was enough?  It was.  And whether my heart can get over itself long enough to fully say thank you is my issue, not yours.

I was encouraged this morning to "Be strong and not give up."  I'm working on it, I promise.  In the mean time, I feel certain I'll have the occasional pity party again.  And I feel certain that some of you will be invited.  And some of you will be expected to know to show up even if you weren't given an invitation at all.  That's how I operate in my own strength.  Apparently I need Someone Else's.  I'm not going to give up on this one yet.

For now, I'll leave the need to have someone "Prove Your Love" to Taylor Dayne.

She's got better hair, anyway.
*****************************

Further disclaimer?  Often times when I post a "This is Why I Suck" kind of post, lots of you run to my rescue and try to convince me, through your comments, reasons why I don't.  While I appreciate that, there is no need to defend my selfishness today.  Yes, I know that the loss of a loved one is a time I should be surrounded by love.  I think most of us would agree with that.  So, on one hand, I know that I have lived a kind-of-okay expectation with my friends.  However, my confession to you is that my heart is often uglier than it appears, and there is no need to pat my back for that. :)  Thanks... this is why you don't suck.

Scoot on over, God... I got this one.

This morning on my way to church I was listening to WBFJ, our local Christian radio station.  Yesterday one of their DJs died suddenly.  As you can imagine, the "feel" of the station is very somber.  It's been painful to listen to at moments.  And, as a listener, I, too, felt like I knew this guy even though I'd never met him.  (Funny how even local celebrities end up as part of our lives.)

As the people on air were praying for his wife and kids, I started thinking about how unbelievably hard that would be.   I've actually been thinking a lot about death lately.  My step-mother, Mary, is in the final stages of fighting cancer.  Even thinking about her no longer being with us makes me tear up.  (Side note: this should also explain why my eye makeup constantly looks like crap these days.)

The more I think about death (which happens to be a lot), the more I get overwhelmed.  I think about the other people I'm close to in life- my husband, my family, my BFFs- and think about how I can't imagine a world without them, either.

So all of this if floating around in my brain as I'm listening to the radio this morning and I have this thought: "I would not be able to make it without Dan."  I have this gut-wrenching heart check, which is quickly followed up with what I think was the Lord speaking to me: "Yes, you could.  I would be there for you."

Now before you think I'm all "it would be a bed of roses" if something happened to my husband, let me tell you that I, too, was shocked by that thought.  I was shocked that I felt God saying that I *would* survive something that big.  I would have to, I'd have E to take care of.  And while I don't even like to think about what that would look like (and my heart hurts even writing this), I think that He is right... I would be okay, because God would take care of me.

(Enter sappy Christian music playing in the background, beginning to swell because you think I am about to have some profound thought about how I love God more than any human and I'm a good Christian...)

The next immediate thought I had went something like this: "Maybe I could survive that... but I could NOT survive something happening to Elizabeth."

Yep.  He (God) loves it when I call the shots.

I drove on, content in thinking my thoughts about how there is no way I would be able to function for time and all eternity if something happened to my little girl.  (And before you again start playing sappy background music, I'll skip to the punchline and tell you that I'm still in this mode.  I have not reasoned that I would be able to function, so heads' up.)

I got to MOMS, fixed myself a cup of tasty coffee, got my tasty plate of food, and sat down among friends and neighbors... ready to hear what Dr. Satterwhite had to say.  (He's a local pediatrician who came to talk to us this morning about parenting.)  Already I'd moved on from the internal discussion about death/children/family/functioning.

Dr. Satterwhite was amazing.  His teaching will be posted here once it gets edited.  You should all download it and hear it.  Seriously.  Fantastic.

But one of the things that struck me the most was his point that (in parenting, in life, whatever) God is on the throne and I am not.  Not a new concept, I get that... He followed it up with something along the lines of "when you try to put your will in the lives of your children, it's as if you are saying 'God, scoot over... I got this one covered'."  Ouch.

That's totally me.

He said LOTS of things I needed to hear (again, download it... you won't be disappointed), but a gentle follow-up from my earlier mind-conversation was clear.  If I trust God to get me through ____ (death, life, health, healing), why would I not trust Him with ALL things... even Elizabeth's life?  (gulp.)  I need to momma-up and daily release my daughter to Him.  Clearly, He's in control anyway, but my acknowledging it will be healthy for me, for E, for my whole family to see.

I'm not quite sure how this will all play out... but as much as I'm sure God enjoys sharing His throne with me, I think I'll scoot on back off it, and leave the controlling the universe to Him.  He seems to have done an okay job so far, so I'll go back to doing dishes and planning a birthday party and leave the rest to Him.

He loves it when I do that.

Grilled Cheesus (Confessions of a Hypocrite, Volume 2)

Holy Mother of All Good TV Shows...



So, for a week now I've been too busy to watch last week's Glee.  (And, yes, for some reason, 8 years ago when we started playing Bunko on Tuesday nights we weren't anticipating that Glee would be on Tuesdays in the future... or I wouldn't have agreed to play.)

I watched it tonight.

Do you ever wonder if things happen (like having Bunko games instead of watching it when you were "supposed" to) because you would get more out of it later (like watching it tonight?)

The episode was all about faith.  Everyone who knows my obsession asked me if I'd seen it and wanted to debrief it, but I wouldn't.  So, actually, no one ruined it for me.  (Thank you, friends!)  It. Was. Super.  I love the real way that Ryan Murphy addressed religion, faith, spirituality.  I love that lots of different "brands" got shown, and it wasn't neatly tied up with a revival service at the end.  (Hi, elders!  'Whoops' if that makes me a "bad Christian".)

More than anything, I love that these 'kids' were sorting out big things... together.  (I'll be honest... I didn't see a lot of this in my high school.  In addition to the fact we didn't always express ourselves in song, we also thought people were of "Another Religion" if they were Methodist.)

Glee also made me think about some of the things we talked about at last night's College Ministry Bible Study... which is where I dropped the bomb shell on them (and now on you)....

Wait for it...

My prayer life kinda sucks.

I mean, don't get me wrong... I pray.  A lot.  And if you've asked me to pray for something, consider it done. I feel like my life has gotten to the place where I am in constant dialogue with God.  But the danger in that constant state of prayer business?  You miss out on the set-aside, reverent, intentional prayer that I think God calls us to.

So here we are, blog readers... what to do with this?  Just like last week you all responded about weight stuff (and, thank you, ps... I'm working on a new "support group" that those of you who contacted me will be hearing about soon!), and then recently you all poured out your compassion and your own stories about fertility and miscarriage... now I'm asking you to help me pray.

I'm taking a 24 hour "online talking" hiatus.  I know, silly, silly, silly me.  24 hours in the grand scheme of life isn't much.  But given how much I comment, post, and blog... it's a lot.  Rather than talk to you online, I'll pray for you.  I'll still read emails (and respond if it's completely necessary), check your FB info, and look for your updates, but I won't comment.  I'll just pray.  Cool?  And if you have something you'd like prayer for, now's your time to hit me up.  I'm on it.  I'll take it to Jesus (not to be confused with Cheesus) on your behalf.  (He's my favorite Heb.)

So comment away, send me a message, whatever.  I'll be talkin' to you later... but for now, I'm off to talk to Cheesus, er, Jesus....

(Seriously... message me your prayer requests, or comment here:)