Easy is not His plan.

I'm back. It has been over a year since I've written. Life has been insane, but in all the busy-ness, I've missed writing. I've missed having time to think about writing.

Last year, I started yet another job. Actually, it seemed to fall out of the sky as I never in a million years imagined I'd actually get the job after applying for it. It seemed like a long shot, but I felt something (Someone?) nudging me to apply, so apply I did. I can't count how many times I've asked God over the past year, "WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?" and "WHAT HAVE I GOTTEN MYSELF INTO????" This job has stretched me in ways I didn't know I could be stretched. Every day is different, full of one crisis and potentially life-changing decision after another. And as I stop to take time to reflect, I am humbled that He would choose me to walk into the chaos that is my job and be allowed to see Him work in ways I can't even really comprehend.

Working in the community mental health field is a window to a population of people who are hurting, downtrodden, exhausted, and often alone. Our staff (myself, 7 social workers, and an office assistant) work with hundreds of people each month, doing our best to get them connected with the services they need to live and function within the community. In the same day, we could see a client die from drug overdose and another gladly discharge from one of our programs after meeting all of her goals. There are so many ups and downs that if you don't take time to get off the roller coaster, you could get pretty motion sick.

I'm away at a women's retreat, trying to regain my balance....find my equilibrium. I've racked my brains over the past year about how to survive in this job that demands so much from me. I've scanned the job announcements to see what else is out there that might be an easier way to make a living. A friend reminded me recently of my own words. I was on the treadmill a couple years ago preparing for my first half-marathon. It was so much work for my tired body and I asked God, "Why does life have to be so hard?" And He reminded me, "Easy is not in my plan. But I'll give you everything you need to do hard." So, my prayer today is that I'll take those words and embrace the "hard" that is my job, so much of my life these days. I want to lean into it with His grace to see amazing things happen in the lives of people who feel hopeless, at the end of their ropes.

September 11th

On September 11, 2001, I was home with my two small boys watching "Zoomboomafoom" while I sat in my glider rocker nursing Josh, who was almost a year old. Mark called from work and told me to turn on CNN, so I did. Kenny (then five years old) and I sat with our eyes glued to the TV for the next 2 hours while Josh lazily napped in my lap, unaware of the unfolding tragedy. My body went stiff and tense when I saw the second building get hit. Later that morning, as the buildings toppled to the ground, I felt numb. I was less than 20 miles away from Ground Zero in suburban New Jersey. There were many people in our church who worked in Manhattan in the financial district. Over the next few months, we would hear many surreal stories from those we knew who witnessed bodies falling in front of them, saw their own cars get crushed, thought they may not make it out of Manhattan alive that day. For the past ten years, each September 11th has been a reminder of the unthinkable. More than once, I made myself go through the countless faces who fell victim to terrorism that day. I made myself look at each one to remember and pray for their families. The day had such heaviness attached to it, and rightly so.

Ten years later, on September 11, 2011, my son Josh made a decision that changed the way I'll see September 11th for the rest of my years on this earth. He decided to get baptized at church to publicly announce that he was a Christ Follower. In counseling, we call this a "corrective emotional experience". As I sat in church and watched him go under the water, I could visualize blackness falling from his skin and newness shining through him as he came up out of the water. He dried off and walked back towards me to pick up his sack of clothes, and I caught his eyes. I saw a renewed sense of peace and calmness and confidence looking back at me. He had a huge study bible in his hands, given to him by our pastor. Off he went to dry off and change and I held onto his bible for him. We sang that night....about Jesus and victory and newness of life. And I couldn't hold back the tears. For all the desolation this day has represented for the past 10 years, today was about redemption for Josh....a day I had prayed for all of his 11 years on earth. I knew that only God could do that in him....make him want to be clean and right with God. It reminded me that God is real and alive and at work in us...even in my two boys. And as dark and grueling as September 11th is for so many, God reminded me there is hope.

Change is Hard

Sometimes I just need to write to make sense out of what's going on inside me. Lately, I've experienced more than a usual amount of fatigue and weariness. Today I've stopped. I stopped planning, organizing, doing my normal "staying busy" thing. I took TWO naps, made some special coffee, and lit a candle or two. I'm taking stock of all that's transpired since we moved to Wisconsin six years ago, especially on the inside. The level of "output" has been tremendous. I found it only went well when I took the time to be connected to the Source. All the counseling, the listening, the tears...I know they add up to something more than I can put into words. I'm so grateful I got to be a part of people healing and moving forward for the past six years. I'm having a hard time making sense out of why God would have me go through all of the training and long hours towards being a licensed therapist to now walk away from it. All I know is I'm really tired. Sadly, I don't have it in me to keep my practice open, but I wish I did. I thought it would be easier to walk away from as tired as I've been, but it's grueling. I'm not sure what that means.

I took a state job earlier this year, because as hard as we tried, we weren't able to make ends meet on my private practice income. Kind of embarrassing to admit, really, but we started too far behind to begin with. I wasn't doing back flips about taking the state job, but God is clearly providing for us through it. Now in month 9, I can see more and more why God has me there. I know that's a big part of why I'm too tired for private practice. I'm just admitting I'm sad about leaving it behind. It's what I really love to do.

My career re-focus has come out of a need to provide a more stable income and schedule for my family. My boys need me "all there" for at least the next ten years. While leaving private practice behind feels like losing a part of myself, I know there will be more of me to go around at home....and more time to actually be filled up from the Source. I have a feeling I'll get back to it one day. I'm not sure how or when or what it will look like, but I know it will be in His timing.

Time

I am answering this question from Ann Voskamp's blog "A Holy Experience"



During the next three weeks, as we walk with Him, might we consider: The Spiritual Discipline of Time. Might we explore the purpose of time, how to live in time, slow it down and not rush, how to use time as a holy thing. And how do we make time for God and for all things eternal? We look forward to your thoughts, stories, ideas….



When my son, Kenny, was in 6th grade, we bought him his first cell phone. Way too soon, I'm sure, but we gave into the pull of wanting to be in touch wherever, whenever....I digress. The other day, I called his phone (now a big 8th grader) and heard the same voicemail message he made three years go. His voice sounded younger, more elementary-school-like. My first thought was to tell him to change it now that his voice is deeper...then, "No, I hope he leaves it like that for the next twenty years." I want to remember how he sounded. It made me wish I took more pictures, more video footage. The next night, after too many hours of work, I called on my way home thinking I'd get his voicemail and instead got his voice (even better!). I asked if he wanted to do a mall date with me..."YYYYeah!" I scooped him up and spent the next two hours eating Kato's Chicken, laughing at his goofy jokes, and wandering through the mall. My body was weary, but my heart was glad for the time with him. Sometimes, no often, time has to be taken. Those moments don't just happen. I have to be intentional about being fully present in those moments and recognizing the opportunity when it presents itself. As we pulled into the garage at the end of our "date", he said, "Thanks for the time tonight, Mom. That was epic." He didn't thank me for the jeans I bought him or the Kato's Chicken or the cool t-shirt he landed. It was the time that mattered to him most.

One Thousand Gifts

I just started reading "One Thousand Gifts" by Ann Voskamp. It is moving me in ways I didn't expect. I am going to start counting the many gifts in life I'm grateful for as I read this book. Today, I'll start with #1.

1. I am grateful for making it home alive today. Kenny (14) and I were driving home from church in an ice storm. As I was driving along, a car in front of me started sliding from left to right and back again across three lanes of interstate. I felt a calm come over me and give me clarity to keep switching lanes so as not to hit her. I moved far right to get far from her and suddenly she was far right in front of me. I calmly looked behind me to see who was there and adjusted left. Soon I was past her and she was stopped safely on the shoulder with her head in her hands sobbing uncontrollably. I am grateful for so much in those few seconds...for the calm that came over me. For my son who was buckled tight. And for the sobbing woman who was safely parked on the shoulder now after at least three 360 degree spins across the ice. The gift is knowing He was present in those moments. His presence is the greatest gift of all.

Red Velvet Cake

With life moving at such a fast pace these days, I am enjoying a night at home with Kenny, my handsome, goofy 14-year old son. What amazes me is that he still wants to hang out with me at 14, but I'm not complaining! Mark and Josh are in Texas on a ministry trip for the weekend. Josh has been sporting his Packers jersey around Dallas all day, and somehow he still managed to make some friends. I love that he and Mark can make some memories together down there. Meanwhile, Kenny and I get some bonding time back at the house. We watched a goofy movie tonight that I won't even name, because it was that stupid. I had more fun watching Kenny laugh at nothing than watching the movie itself. Along with the movie, we had a cake-making project going on. Kenny's been watching "Cake Boss" on Netflix a lot and wanted to try his hand at making his own cake. He chose Red Velvet with cream cheese frosting. It actually tasted amazing, but my kitchen does look like a murder scene. Well worth worth it...

On another note, my sister (Tammy) and I were in downtown Madison all day. Actually, I've been down there all week for work. We were doing training in the Concourse Hotel and Tammy had the day off, so she brought her lap-top and grad school work and camped out in another part of the hotel while I "trained". We were a block away from the Capitol Building. At lunch, we sat at Noodles and Company on State Street and watched out the window as thousands of college students marched down the street with crazy signs and hats. They descended on the capitol to voice their opposition to Governor Scott Walker's budget proposal, which would limit labor unions in their contract negotiations for state employees. We heard Jesse Jackson was nearby, but we never actually saw him. It was a high energy day. I'm not sure what I think about all of it, but I was very aware that we were sitting in the middle of something pretty historic. From my little chair, I'm just a state worker who didn't have a job 3 months ago who's thankful to be working. If they take more out of my check for health insurance and ask me to contribute to my retirement, I think I can live with that. But that's just me. And I realize the whole issue is much bigger than me.

Thanks again for reading. If you're reading this and you have something we can pray about for you, leave a comment (or send me an e-mail at fourdisciples@frontier.com) and we'll add you to our prayer list. We have family devotions a few times each week and would love to pray for you together.

Amazing Gift

I am posting this story with my sister's permission. I can't wait to share part of her amazing story with you. I wrote this in honor of my nephew's recent birthday. Grab your kleenex!

I only got to meet him once, so far. About 20 minutes old, I breathed in his light chocolate skin. I savored the moment, knowing the next time I saw him he would likely be a grown man.

My sister, his mom, gave him a selfless gift. Young, wounded and needing time to heal, she wanted more for him than she could give him then. I had the privilege of traveling that long road with my sweet sister to a faraway place. With resolute determination, her face set like flint, I watched her push through that week with the kind of strength and dignity that can only come from maternal love.

Her stomach brimming with new life, we boarded the plane with more than a few stares and questioning glances. I became her self-appointed press secretary to shield her from answering unneeded (and often ignorant) questions. Of special note was the large, nosy woman across the aisle who felt it was her job to get to the bottom of the story behind my sister's very large belly. My protective instincts kicked in and I intercepted her questions with the speed of a running back. I digress....

When we arrived in that faraway place, we were greeted by a handsome attorney, who would be my sweet nephew's adoptive father. He shuttled us to a nearby hotel and checked in on us daily (sometimes more) to see how my sister (and his future son) were progressing. He had the eagerness of a new Dad and treated us with respect and kindness.

For more than a few days, my sister and I walked the streets of that faraway place in hopes of bringing on labor. Rain, wind and cold did not stop us from venturing outside our hotel room. If there was daylight and my sister was still “with child”, we walked.

Finally, a blizzard descended on the faraway place. So did labor pains descend upon my sister – in full force. The handsome attorney pulled into our hotel within minutes of our call. Less than an hour later, my sister was in a hospital room in full-blown labor.

A very short doctor entered the room to examine my sister's condition and labor progress. (He needed a stool to stand on to do the pelvic exam!) Without much examining, the good doctor concluded this little bundle of joy would arrive very quickly.

I held my sister's hand and nearly lost my circulation due ot her intense squeezing. As I performed this important task, I regularly glanced “southward” to assess the situation. Each time I did this, my long hair flew into my sister's red face beaded with sweat. This annoyance may have slowed her labor down, but my nephew's abrupt arrival still came within thirty minutes of arriving in the hospital room.

Almost immediately the ADRENALINE level in the room slowed down to a minimum. Peace and relief reigned. The adoptive parents, my sister, myself, our short doctor friend and the nurses – we all had a different role and angle in that holy moment, but we all seemed to agree that it was all about the child. He was safe. He was breathing. He had ten fingers and ten toes. He was perfect. No matter what all the adults in the room were thinking and feeling up until that moment of his birth, that moment belonged to him. He owned it. And rightly so.

After holding him close to her chest for a few precious moments, my sister called his parents over to her bed. It happened to be his adoptive mom's birthday. My sister handed her this most amazing gift of a child and said, “Happy Birthday, Mom.” There were no dry eyes in the room at that point.

From where I stood that day, my sister was the most courageous woman on the planet. While many in her shoes may have chosen a different path, my sister chose to carry her child for more than nine months and do the hardest thing any mom could be asked to do – allow someone else to raise her child. For this reason, she has since then been my greatest hero in life.

Published!

So, I wrote this article about 2 or 3 years ago and sent it in to "Just Between Us" magazine (a magazine geared towards pastor's wives and women in ministry). I never heard back from them, so I kind of forgot about it. Yesterday, they e-mailed and asked if they could include it in their summer 2011 edition. I'm pasting it for you below....enjoy!

As a young pastor’s wife, I had my eye on the prize. As we toured the low-income neighborhood of the first church where Mark and I would work, I imagined the difference we would make. I envisioned many coming to Christ, and this building coming back to life as God used us to set our little part of the world on fire. Fourteen months later, we were loading our U-Haul to move into our next church. Disillusioned with the surreal experience of watching God’s people tear each other apart, I found it difficult to look forward to the next stop.

Onward we went. God was gracious enough to put us in a place where people loved us. My heart was cautious, though. I was hesitant to let people in. I selectively reached out to people who seemed safe, but kept the walls up around others. Even as God used our time there to bring healing and strengthening in many ways, I was exhausted. Looking back, I realize I never allowed myself to let my guard down. A good friend pointed out my sin to me. She called it “the sin of self-protection.” Ugh. She was so right.

“But, how can protecting yourself be a sin?” you ask. After all, the Bible says, “Be as wise as serpents, yet innocent as doves” (KJV). Self-protection is a sin when it becomes the single most important thing in your life. How can we be a blessing to anyone if we don’t allow them to see who we are? Beyond the Sunday clothes and women’s ministry titles…who are we? Who has God created us to be? Doesn’t He want the world to be allowed the privilege of seeing that He doesn’t make junk?
Six years later, we moved to a new church in a new state. We both sensed God’s hand in the move and in the church and community He was calling us to. I made a decision on the long drive up the interstate. Before God, I decided that I would be myself in this church. I purposed in my heart that I would pray for two solid friends in the church whom I could be honest with and share myself with. God delivered inside of a year. He answered my prayers beyond anything I could have hoped for or imagined. He gave me two friends who allowed me the grace and freedom to share from my heart and be who I was. They also had a gracious way of letting me know when I was wrong. What a gift!

Five years later, we moved again to a new ministry position in our current state. Leaving my friends behind was painful. I’m so grateful God gave me the courage to let my walls down and to go deep with my sisters in Christ. What a rich time of friendship and spiritual intimacy.

As I write this, I am three years into our new place of service. It hasn’t been easy, but my heart is free, my friends know who I am, and I realized that God is using us to begin to set our little part of the world on fire.

My Cave

I have been working my new "state job" as a vocational rehabilitation counselor since December 28th. I make the trek up to Beaver Dam each morning (32 minutes from our house in the suburbs of Madison), log onto my state computer, and busily help disabled people connect with the services they need to be able to find themselves gainfully employed one day. More than half the time is spent meeting with people who need help. The rest of the time is spent writing reports and purchase orders and e-mails and following up with vendors on the phone. Right away I decided if I was going to spend 40 hours a week in that little musty office, I was going to be sure I was happy while I was doing it! So, I added scented candles (pumpkin spice is my favorite), some well-placed pictures of Mark, the boys, and other loved ones on my desk, a Monet print on the wall to my right, and last but certainly not least....a lovely lamp Mark bought me for Christmas that has an attachment for my i-pod complete with speaker so I can pod-cast and worship-music my day away as I endlessly spend the state's money.

At one point, a couple of weeks ago, my friend Faith came to visit me for lunch. We brown-bagged it in my office and enjoyed my pumpkin spice candle on our lunch table. She asked me how it felt to be working up in my Beaver Dam office each day. On that particular day, I was feeling like I was in exile or something. Of course, I'm grateful God provided that job for me, fur us. It has just been an adjustment to move away from what I thought was my life's calling to a job I never expected to be doing. Of course, the selfish part is not having nearly as much control of my time as I once did. Faith immediately knew where to send me. "I want you to take some time to read the story of David in the Cave at Addulam this week in 2 Samuel. Ask God for an adjustment on how your viewing your assignment up here." Sigh....okay, Faith. Have YOU ever read that story? I couldn't recall it, so I dove into it that week. Here's what I got out of it....

David was running for his life. He found refuge in the Cave at Adullam. More importantly, he found refuge in the presence of the LORD in the cave at Adullam. And he experienced God there like never before. One by one, God started sending all these people to him. They sought him out in his CAVE! They were in debt, destitute, and without hope. God provided David to be their leader and to give them hope. and in return, they also blessed him. An unexpected result, I think, of someone who must have felt like he was in exile in that dirty, musty cave.

I realize I'm not David. But I think God had something for me in that story. It did feel like I was running for my life when I applied for that job. Our finances were about to completely cave in around us after five years of trying to "make it" in private practice. I felt resigned to go on up to Beaver Dam and "suffer for the family". God is surprising me with the blessing it is to have a long line of people at my door who are in debt, destitute, and without hope...people with handicapping conditions they never asked for. And I am sitting in this chair with practically an unlimited bank account to do whatever I can to help them get a job. Some need driving lessons, some need assistive technology, and some just need a job coach to walk alongside them and help them get started on a job. I get to bless them in creative ways and, in return, I am truly blessed. I see hope for our finances turning around eventually, and I am more aware of the fact that God Himself placed me in that little cave. I'm not sure how long He'll have me there, but by His grace, I remain open and willing to walk in faith.

Where to Start?

I'm not sure where to start, but I know there's a lot in me to write, so here we go.

God is teaching me to be present in the "sacred now". I have spent so much time worrying about the future and losing sleep about money and other problems that I have missed too much of the "now".

My mom was here from Florida for the past week and I made an effort to just sit with her as much as I could. I barely looked at the computer. I only worked one day while she was here. I'm glad we had the time together without too many distractions.

Josh and I have really been enjoying some reading together lately. He had to read "My Side of the Mountain" for school. He wasn't too excited about it at first, but as we started reading it out loud together, we started looking forward to our nightly tucking into the corner of the couch in front of the fire and seeing what happens to Sam Gribley next. We finished it last night and he now wants to read the rest of the series of three books. I look forward to doing that with him.

I am now sitting in a coffee shop on our first real snowy day of the winter. Have I told you about my coffee shop dream? I can't seem to shake it, so I've been asking God what He wants me to do about it. I want to open my own coffee shop. I have a vision for the atmosphere I'd want to create....so how about I share it with you here? I want to decorate it with antique, vintage coffee/tea type items. I've had my eye on some old coffee grinders in a local antique store. I want creaky hardwood floors and a two-sided fireplace with big warm rugs near it. I want to make lattes and laugh and talk and pray with people all day. I've considered hanging out my own little counseling/spiritual direction shingle with an office connected to the cafe somehow. It would have a separate entrance and I'd be available for maybe 10 hours a week of counseling. The whole enterprise would be called "Life Grounds Cafe". There would be books available for purchase and/or check-out. Of course, it would be stocked with all of my favorites and more. We would shut down on Sundays and make the space available to church planters who are just getting started and need a place to meet. I would love to also make some office space available for new church planters as they're getting started. We'd have a meeting room available for support groups/group therapy, etc...). I've been researching start-up coffee shops and estimate I'd need about $150,000 to get it started. I know that sounds huge, but nothing is too big for God. So, I just keep talking to/with Him about it and I remain open to His leading, direction and provision.

SO, I'd love to hear your thoughts...I know when I do open this amazing coffee shop one day, it will be a reflection of the journey He has had me on and will reflect something of the friends He has blessed me with along the way. There will be pictures....lots of pictures.

Bye for now....gonna go enjoy some more "sacred now". Nice sharing a few minutes of it with you....

submission, or the "s" word....

okay, so i've never been much into submission. i really do like to do things my own way. i know somewhere along the way, growing up, i heard things like, "don't ever trust a man to take care of you. they're all pigs. make sure you can take care of yourself." i'm sure this had an impact on how i took in the whole "wives are to submit to their husbands" part of the Bible. i truly have bristled against this teaching, writing it off as a cultural thing of the times it was written in that doesn't really fit today. sigh....

i started reading "the excellent wife" as part of a mentoring course i'm taking through settingcaptivesfree.com i'm not so sure i could recommend it to others since i haven't finished it yet. at first glance, it seems really legalistic with no real infusion of grace. BUT, the first two chapters are behind me and i can report that i am being challenged in my thinking and in the condition of my heart towards my husband. it doesn't feel like mis-placed guilt or pressure to please someone else. it feels like God Himself is asking me to look at an area of my life that not only displeases Him, but has been a stumbling block for me, for Mark and for our marriage.

as i took in the truth that God wants me to submit to my husband and be busy at home and look for ways that i can serve and support him, i had some good tears. one, because it's hard to look at my pride and the condition of my heart. and two, because i have to change. a lot.

so, i asked God to do the work in my heart needed to walk as He wants me to walk in this area. and i've just started changing the way i am with mark....listening to him more than talking, pouring him a glass of cold iced tea when he walks in the door, asking what he thinks about something before i jump ahead and do it, complimenting him ans showing him respect whenever i can. and doing these things is causing my heart to shift towards him. and it also is causing mark to look at me like, "who are you and what have you done with my wife?"

God has given me a good man. not perfect, but definitely good. making a conscious decision to place myself under his God-given authority actually feels like a safe place to be. it feels like i can rest in that place. weird, huh?

hopeful

i just thought i'd let you all know i woke up feeling hopeful today. i haven't felt that in awhile and i just wanted to recognize it and allow myself to enjoy it:) sometimes i hesitate to say where i'm really at when i read what you are going through, ginger. nothing going on in my life even compares to the loss you are experiencing. i want you to know that i'm grateful for the way you've shared your grief with all of us through your blog. God has allowed me to feel a portion of your grief as i've thought about you and prayed for you lately. i am thankful He has allowed that.

off i go to walk and take in the beautiful day today is. and soak in the Hope only He can offer.

edgy

i've felt edgy lately. i can't seem to relax. or feel settled. i had the whole day off yesterday and i think my brain just needed space to breathe, but i felt this pressure to use the time productively. but i didn't. i couldn't even figure out where to start. my mind couldn't think clearly enough to fold a towel. so i watched a movie. and fed the cat (she was grateful). and talked to God throughout the day....nothing too coherent. i did manage to clean our desk at home off. nice to look at that at the end of the day as something completed. josh had a make-up game. i sat and watched and asked God to just help me focus on the game. to be all there for it. He granted my request.

Group

Last night, I completed my first group therapy experience (that I was leading). What a ride it was. It was a sexual abuse recovery group and we used Dan Allender's "Wounded Heart" and the Bible as our guide. We started with four women. One dropped out 3 weeks into it...too overwhelmed.

The three women who were left were really there for each other. It seemed like God hand-picked them to be together for this season of healing. And Satan really hated it. I know it was a spiritual battle for each of them as they shared stories of how hard it was to get to group meetings and the things they struggled with throughout the 12 weeks. It was an intense spiritual battle for me and I'm sort of hoping for some relief now that it's over. My skin thing really flared up again (hence, the allergy testing), you already know about the relational struggle I dealt with, our finances took a serious turn for the worse, and for the first time in two years, depression seemed to take over.

In response to the attack (which I recognized about half way through the 12 weeks), I joined a local bible study (Bible Study Fellowship) and signed up for the online bible study I told you about, memorized scripture, started writing here again, and talked with God A LOT. God was faithful to see me through it in one piece, and I am grateful for that.

During the last 30 minutes of our meeting, we did a "Words of Life" exercise where we took turns sharing thoughts with each other about the part each of us played in each others' healing. I intended for all of us (2 leaders included) to do the affirming for the three participants. When we finished with the three, one asked if they could include Marcia and I in the exercise. What a gift. The words they had for each of us were so life-giving.

Knowing the impact that was made somehow makes it worth the blood, sweat, and tears. I wanted to do it just to be faithful. I knew God was asking me to offer the group. But what a bonus to actually see lives transformed. Each woman LOOKED different last night than they did on the first night. More open. More feminine. More hopeful. Alive.

Thank you, Jesus.

amazed

i am amazed at His patience with me. and the way He keeps pouring into me....into my endless emptiness. and somehow He fills me up. and as I watch Him move and work in the people around me, like an eternal, stealth, soft whisper, i just get caught up in the holiness of it all. the mystery. i prayed with people today. i do that on most days, but today it felt especially like we were on Holy ground. He seems more present and flows through me more freely when my heart is soft and broken. i wish i could be sure i'll never have to re-learn this. i wish i could stay in this place and watch the mystery unfold around me from now until eternity. maybe i can.

poverty

at about 3:42 this afternoon, i was desperate for a cup of coffee at work. i am trying to replace coffee with green tea, because i know green tea is better for me, but i only made it until 3:42. trouble is, pay day is 3 days away and we are literally flat broke. i had to scrape together $1.68 from several different places (my desk drawer, the bottom of my purse, the car door....) to pay McDonald's to ease my headache with some hot java. i was once again faced with how on our last dime we are AGAIN, even with all the hours we work between the two of us. the pressure to keep the bills paid and keep our heads above water nearly consumes me sometimes. i prayed on my walk back from McDonald's, "Lord, i don't know what it really is like to live in poverty, because i have a job and a roof over my head, but i trust You to provide everything we need. You always have."

lately, i find myself poverty-stricken before God. it is finally sinking in for me that i really have nothing to offer Him. on my own, i'll choose the selfish thing and do what makes me feel good. when i pray to Him these days, it seems like all i can say to Him is things like, "i need You. please protect me from the enemy. keep me safe. i am nothing without You. in my poverty, You make me rich. where i am weak, You make me strong."

sometimes it feels like i'm scraping the bottom of my purse to find what i need to walk in holiness and keep my head above water. and He reminds me that it isn't there. He freely gives me what i need for life and Godliness. the pressure is off. i don't have to fight alone. i can rest in His finished work on the cross for me. i am an heiress of the King.

as i get ready to rest my head on the pillow tonight, i rest in the knowledge that He is all i need. Selah...

Ode to Phillip Hillery

I've had these words formulating in my mind for weeks since Philip's day of going home to Jesus, so I think I'll write them here.

Because of God's grace, we had the privilege of living in Madison, New Jersey for several years and attend church with Phillip and his beautiful family. It was a season of pain and joy and perseverance for Phillip. As an onlooker, I watched him struggle with who he was and how to live that out in a way that honored God. He was a gifted writer, a seminary graduate, a Christian whose waters ran deep....he had so much to offer. During that season, God chose to allow him lots of time to be at home with his family and to serve in his church.

He came to NJ to be with his dying father, moving his wife and five children from Texas. I always admired this selfless act of love and was inspired as I watched him and Ginger walk through the emotions of both of his parents dying within 2 weeks of each other. Every time I stopped by their home, Phillip was either landscaping the yard or remodeling part of the old home he inherited from his father. I wonder how much God was rearranging inside of Phillip as he worked tirelessly to improve his physical surroundings.

Our time in NJ was also a season of pain and joy and perseverance. In our five years there, our church experienced much spiritual turmoil. We had two pastors who quit under stressful circumstances, one whose wife died during his interim service to us, and as we were leaving, a new pastor was just beginning. Meanwhile, Mark (my husband) was on staff and doing all he could to manage all the transition and pain and chaos. He found himself struggling with who he was and what his calling was. Phillip proved to be a faithful friend to Mark. I know that Phillip's voice of courage drew Mark closer to Jesus. He also provided a few good belly laughs along the way. God sure did gift that man with a unique way of lifting others' spirits around him.

Not long after we moved to Wisconsin from NJ, God moved the Hillery's to VA to purchase and operate their own farm. I regret that I never got to see Phillip in this setting, but I imagine he was in his element. His home-going is bittersweet. It is painful for me to think of Ginger and Thomas and Patrick and Maggie and Rose and Nora on the farm without him, but I know God is surrounding them with people who love them and providing everything they need. I rejoice that our good friend, Phillip, is no longer in pain and is worshipping Jesus day and night, as we all long to one day do. I am grateful for the time on this earth that He allowed our paths to cross.

Surviving vs. Thriving

For eight years I have lived daily with a skin condition for which no medical professional seemed to be able to find a cause or a cure for. It affected everything, from what I wore to my sex life to how I felt about myself. After thousands of dollars in doctor bills and untold number of ointments, creams, oral medications, natural remedies, diet modifications, light therapy… I gave up. I told myself, “You can’t afford to keep spending time and money on something that just will not go away, so just learn to live with it.” So, I did. I went through life in constant pain, just learning to accept it as a part of who I was.
Somehow, throughout this time, I managed to do a fairly good job at raising two boys, working on my marriage, growing in my walk with God, going through a couple rounds of intense personal counseling, purchasing our first home, earning a second master’s degree, moving my family from New Jersey to Wisconsin, growing closer to some pretty amazing friends, teaching students with learning disabilities, starting my own growing private practice, and completing the required 3,000 counseling hours towards my professional counseling license. WOW. How did I do all that? I have no idea. I just know I did it all while living in constant pain.
Recently, the skin condition took a turn for the worse and turned into a bacterial infection. I had no choice but to subject myself to the medical professionals AGAIN. The first available appointment was with a doctor I had not seen before at our clinic. She hurried into the room on a typically busy morning at the clinic. I assumed we’d have a brief conversation, she’d write a prescription to clear up the infection, and I would have a couple days of relief before all was back to normal with a new flare up. When I casually told her I’d been dealing with this problem for EIGHT years, she looked dumbfounded. I could sense her blocking out everything else going on outside the doors of our little exam room and zeroing in on me. She looked concerned. She asked a lot of questions. I tearfully told her the whole story. She very sensitively examined every affected area of my body. And out of nowhere came an idea of where she thought this might be coming from that immediately made sense to me. It looked to her like my skin was having an allergic reaction to certain types of elastic in my clothing. In eight years, not one medical professional actually took the time to help me figure out the cause. All I heard were lectures on caring for sensitive skin, not scratching or touching when irritated, and not to use certain medications for too long as they could be hazardous to my health. She gave me doctor’s orders to go braless for awhile, and avoid wearing anything that would require elastic or rubber of any kind to touch my skin. That took some doing, but I gladly obeyed. She did write a prescription to help clear up the infection, and within 24 hours, it was gone.
Over the next several days, I thoroughly enjoyed my braless state and wearing bulky sweaters and sweatshirts in the middle of the Wisconsin winter. And less than 48 hours later, I woke up feeling….normal? “Is this what normal feels like?” I forgot what it felt like to not be itching or in pain ANYWHERE. For the first time in eight years, I felt good.
I went to work and found I had a much larger percentage of my heart, mind and body engaged in what I was doing. I had so much more energy to put into the things before me. At home, I was less irritable with my kids. I was into my husband And I started tacking long overdue projects around the house.
My only frustration was this: why didn’t I think of that? Why hadn’t it occurred to me that what I was wearing was causing the problem ? I had to rest with this thought: Sometimes when you’re in the muck of a mess, it’s hard to see clearly. You go into survival mode, and survive I did! What seemed like common sense was so far away from me, because I was so focused on surviving that it never occurred to me that thriving was a very real possibility. Sometimes it takes an objective pair of eyes (and a professional who is dialed in and cares) to see clearly.
I feel like I have my life back….like the possibilities are endless. When I think of what I accomplished in 8 years while operating at less than 60% capacity, I am excited to see what will unfold in the months and years ahead as I get used to the idea of operating at 100% capacity. Watch out, world! Here I come!

Winter

Winter is taking a tremendous toll on me this year.  The temperatures have been so ridiculously low and my attitude has not been even close to grateful.  The contrast between Florida at Christmas and Wisconsin in January are too great...maybe we won't do that again anytime soon.  

So, I was driving up to Portage today for a training thing at church through another dumping of snow and I was asking God about winter.  "God, why do we need winter, anyway?"  And I turned my radio off and just made a sincere effort to tune in and listen to Him.  Here's what my heart was struck with, and I think I'll take this as His answer:

"The snow keeps coming, doesn't it?  It's steady, like God is.  It makes everything clean.  You may not see it clearly, but the winter has it's purpose, given by God.  He knows the balance of nature and what the earth needs and what we need.  If life was always sunshine and beaches and green grass, we'd be so bored with GOOD it would be ridiculous.  Winter is a good time to take stock and step back and listen. "  

Its almost like God was saying, "Trust Me, I do happen to know what I'm doing up here.  As steady and relentless as the winter is, so is My love for you."  I just soaked that in.  And rested in the "wintri-ness" of things right now.  

It's been too long!

Wow...I hate that I've let this go as I really valued the time I took on here to sort things out that God was doing and hear back from some of you. This has been a busy season with finishing up counseling hours, etc.... but mostly I've felt free and in this space in my walk with God where I've been purely experiencing Him more than writing about it. It seems like I've spent to much time in counseling and training and introspection...I think I sort of pushed away from needing that for awhile. By doing that, I don't want to communicate to my friends that I don't need them! I love connecting at a heart level with those of you who read this.

We had a snow day today and I actually had time to do Christmas cards and even make a blanket. You guys know I dont' make stuff, so this was huge! It was fun to let my creative side come out. I'm not doing much in the way of gifts for Christmas, but I spent about $100 at Joanne's Fabric's 50% off sale and have enough polar fleece to make "tie blankets" for my mom, ken and josh, my 2 neices and 4 nephews! Very fun! I even managed to make a couple of scarves with the scrap material.

We probably have 2 feet of snow on the ground or more and are expecting another 8-10 inches tomorrow. I just hope it stops snowing long enough for our plane to take off to FL on Tuesday! I can't wait to have a reprieve from the frozen tundra, as beautiful as it is.

My heart...I have never felt more fully alive. It's hard to explain. Things I used to struggle with are SO in the past. I don't even have to fight away the thoughts that used to plague me. It has taken awhile to get used to living in this new reality....unsure of it at first, but what freedom! The possibilities are endless! God is asking more of me and it doesn't feel like a burden, but a privilege. We've moved to a church about 30 minutes away, (www.portagechurch.org) and love it. God orchestrated this and called us to moved to a place with a lot of needy people and I am all in! I love what He is doing there so freely in people's lives. The boys love it and that makes my heart smile. Mark is there sometimes, but is happily trotting about the WI countryside doing what he does most days.



Bye for now....