inquiring minds

Rachel: Mimi, do all firefighters love Jesus?

Mimi: No, not all firefighters.

Rachel: Well if they don't love Jesus, than why do they go into fires and save people?

breakfast chatter

At the breakfast table this morning with Rachel (5yo) and Carly (2.5yo)...

• Mommy: The Bible says we should do everything "as unto the Lord." How can we do that?

• Rachel: Praise God!

• Mommy: How can we praise God in everything we do?

• Rachel: Pray and read the Bible.

• Mommy: How about when we do other things? How do you play when you play with your sister?

• Rachel: Be kind!

• Mommy: YES! That's one way we can do everything "as unto the Lord." When we are kind to each other, God feels that we love Him, and we always want God to feel that we love Him, right?

• Rachel: But we can't always be kind. We can't always make good choices.

• Mommy: Why not?

• Rachel: Well, because, we always sin just a little bit. I can't always make good choices.

• Mommy: That's true! But we can always try, can't we.

• Carly: But someone taked away our bad choices. Someone did.

• Mommy: Yeah? Who did?

• Carly: Jesus did.

• Mommy: And how did He do that?

• Carly: He died on the cross.

• Mommy: Yes He did! And He rose from the dead so that we can have eternal life!

Thank you, God, for these precious children and their sweet faith. Thank you for the simplicity of your Gospel--that my children can know it and understand it. I pray that they own it and know that it was for THEM that you sent your Son--that you, Jesus, died for Rachel and for Carly and for James. What good news!!

oh the wonder of my wandering and wondering mind

I am 30 years old. I've birthed 3 babies in the last five years. The clothes that I keep shrinking back into are out of style now, and too young for me anyway. And I can't imagine a day when I will ever be alone and not preoccupied with the whereabouts and goings-on of my family. Life is different.

I catch myself thinking that my best days are behind me--that my window of opportunity to do the fun things in life is gone. I have been realizing lately that there is a list of things I long to do. I miss playing team sports: basketball and soccer. I wish I had had the opportunity to roller derby when I was freer to do that kind of thing. I want to go to an open mic and play my guitar and sing my heart out; I didn't do it enough when I had the chance, and I want to get better at it, too. I wish I had learned to dance.

But there's a duality here. I miss those things and I want to do them. On the other hand, I know full well that if I step onto a soccer field tomorrow, it would not be fun--at least not the fun I remember it being. I know that I could not compete well enough in basketball to make myself happy. I know that roller derby would ache my aging body. And I could go to open mic, but my mind would be racing with all the things being neglected at home, not to mention the fact that I had not had time to practice my singing/playing, which would also render it not-as-fun. And I just feel too old to learn to dance.

How did I get here?? Maybe it's true--that my best days are behind me. Or maybe I am moving to a new stage of life. Hmmm... Maybe I should be finding new things from which to derive pleasure and enjoyment. Is it sewing? Maybe sewing is my new fun-thing-to-do. It's just not the same, though. I like it, but it's just not the same.

My firstborn, Rachel, just turned 5 years old. I've never wished her to be involved in any organized sports or activities until recently. She suddenly seems old enough--ready. Where should we go with this? Tae Kwon Do would teach her self control and spacial awareness, which she definitely needs. So would dance or gymnastics. She would love a team sport, because she's so social. I look online for dance studios nearby, and I find one that seems great. Even greater, is that they have a horrible website, so I begin thinking that Jarrad might possibly be able to work out a barter with them so it's not so expensive. There are some youtube videos on their site, and WOW there are some dancers doing some amazing things! They look so athletic and precise. I watch the same video several times, and show Jarrad.

The images from that video stay in my mind, and as I daydream in the following days, I suddenly realize that I'm not wishing I could do that. I'm not imagining myself in that studio, learning choreography and excelling as a dancer. My daydream is not of myself, but of Rachel.

And then it hits me like a gust of wind that takes my breath away: my new fun-thing-to-do is to watch my children grow, learn, mature, achieve, and excel. My new best enjoyment is their enjoyment. I will henceforth be most delighted when they are delighted.

I can see now that my best days are ahead. And as my fun will be their fun, I anticipate that my heartbreak will come when their hearts break. My saddest moments will be when they are sad and I can't fix it.

And so I stay tuned for a richness of life I have not yet experienced. I imagine that the happiness and pleasure and enjoyment that I experienced in my youth might pale in comparison to the happiness and pleasure and enjoyment I derive from my children's experiences. I know I have already learned so much more from these little ones than I could possibly have learned as a student--even when I was at the pinnacle of my formal education. All of those lessons now have flesh, and they teach me and re-teach me every single day.

I'm a mommy now. And suddenly I feel freer than ever to embrace my new(er) role in life. Thank you, Jesus. My freedom is in you, and you alone. I know my selfish pursuits will leave me empty. Thank you for giving me new joy every day. Thank you for the reminder that I am not made to live forever or to be stuck in the same place forever. Thank you God for your promise to make me whole again--the perfect version of me--when you redeem me to glory one day, to sit with you and to sing praises to Jesus forevermore. Amen.

thoughts on the Resurrection

I woke up today, excited. Today is EASTER. It is the best day of the year. I felt a big sense of accomplishment and relief. The anticipation of this day has been building, and here it is.

These have been my feelings for the past couple of years at Easter. It has gradually become a realization that today, Resurrection Sunday, is by far the biggest reason to celebrate--my only reason for joy. I know, Christmas is big--I mean, it's Jesus's birthday and all. But today--TODAY--we celebrate that He yet LIVES!

You know that feeling you get after a big exam that you've studied for and anticipated? That feeling that you are FREE? That's how I felt today. Jesus's life built up to THIS day. His 3 1/2 years of ministry was for THIS.

He worked hard. He did not rest. He taught deep spiritual Truths. He loved the unloveable. He toiled, and He sweated. He shifted the paradigm. He was hated. He was spat upon. He was mocked, tortured, beaten, stabbed, and rioted against. He was HATED. He was killed. He was forsaken. He was innocent.

But three days later--TODAY [as we celebrate it]--today, he lives. Today His tomb was empty. Today darkness and sin and evil and death were defeated once and for all. ONCE AND FOR ALL.

This was the end that began the HOPE that lives because of Christ. Because Christ Himself LIVES.

"Praise God, from Whom all blessings flow.
Praise Him, all creatures here below.
Praise Him above, ye heavenly host.
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Amen."

lackluster

At my doctor's appointment yesterday (feeling pretty rough):

• OB: How are you feeling?
• Me (hoping for sympathy): Okay, but I had a terrible stomach virus over the weekend.
• OB (totally monotone, not looking up from chart): Mmm, but it ran its course?
• Me: Well...yeah...
• OB (still looking at chart): I see you were able to maintain your weight gain.
• Me: Yeah...

YES, I've been sickly. Last week, Carly got it--a 24-hour stomach thing. She threw up all night last Thursday, and she's still recovering. Saturday afternoon, just when I thought we were all in the clear, I came down with it. Thankfully, some friends were coming over, and they were just in time to entertain the girls while I lay down and tried to decide if it was all in my head, or if I was really sliding that fast. Sure enough, before the afternoon was out, I had handed my oldest daughter off, not caring what she'd be up to, I was praying that the littlest one would take a long nap (which she graciously did), and I was hunched over in the bathroom with the worst stomach virus I ever, ever, remember having. Of course, I'm sure being pregnant only magnified the effect. Hmph.

On the up side, the whole situation has made me so grateful. Grateful for my husband. He took such good care of Carly when she was sick (his mildly-paranoid nature leads him to be extra caring when our babies have sickness or injury or...anything). And when I was sick, my dear, wonderful husband was at my bedside, while at the same time juggling our ever-dependent children--feeding them, entertaining them, washing dishes, giving baths, vacuuming, calling on friends to pick up my medication (wonderful, good medication)...everything. He's the best.

And grateful for my health. Over the last three months, my health has been up and down. This pregnancy is kind of taking its toll on me. I've had terrible sciatica pain. It started early, and I didn't recognize what it was for weeks. It sloooooowly and gradually got worse, until standing to walk sometimes brought me to tears.

In the meantime, I was an emotional wreck. I casually mentioned the problem to my midwife, who casually suggested a chiropractor. I casually made an appointment, not really confident it would work (and not really confident I had a problem worthy of that sort of attention). For about two weeks leading up to the appointment, I was in tears, crying hysterically over nothing situations on a daily basis. I felt out of control, worthless, and...dramatic, anyone??

Finally, I went to the chiropractor--several times. And it helped--a lot. And, almost immediately, my perspective and my outlook did a 180. I did not realize how much my physical state was affecting my psyche, but it clearly was.

Which brings me to my point--so so many people live in constant pain. Some of you might be reading this right now. I don't know how you do it, but my heart hurts for you. I have no other words, because I have no idea what life is like for you.

Last night, I mustered up the strength to clean the kitchen for the first time in 4 days. Jarrad actually mentioned to me later that he felt he should have done that for me. I couldn't accept that, though. I was feeling so blessed just to be able to do it myself. When did I stop believing it was a blessing to have the capability to do things for myself?

So I'm thanking God for His little reminders of His blessings--the ones I miss every single day.

you can't choose love

As I have searched my heart over the last year and a half, the Lord has revealed to me my faulty thinking in many areas. Last night, through a conversation with a good friend, I reconsidered a phrase I've heard many times, especially among Christians in reference to marriage: 'love is a choice.'

Is it? I realized that this sentiment is possibly at the root of some of my misrenderings of what marriage looks like. 'Love is a choice' sounds genuinely burdensome, albeit [self-righteously] noble. If 'love is a choice,' I will consider that I always choose love in spite of the faults of the other person (namely, my husband). Consequently, when I'm not feeling the love, I can easily pass it off, because, after all, 'love is a choice,' not a feeling.

I don't think I believe this line of reasoning anymore. Love is, by definition, an emotion; it is affection, tenderness, admiration, benevolence, attachment, devotion, desire, adoration (Webster). However, we all know that, while love is an emotion--a feeling--it can only be expressed through actions and behaviors. The Bible defines love as patient and kind, neither jealous nor boastful nor proud (1 Corinthians 13:4).

How can we possibly achieve that kind of love for others? 'Choosing' love means that we dictate our actions and our speech to be of the language of love. But in marriage, don't you always know your spouse's heart? For a long time, I 'chose' to love Jarrad. I paid him lip service because I knew in my head that he's a good man. But he knew my heart, and, in my heart, I was forever disappointed in him. I was wrong, and I knew I was wrong. My 'choice' to love him really meant that I pretended to believe what I knew in my head to be true, in spite of the fact that my heart didn't believe it. And I failed. I failed miserably at loving my husband.

When a teacher of the law asked Jesus, "Of all the commandments, which is the most important?" Jesus laid out two basic instructions: "Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength," and "Love your neighbor as yourself" (Mark 12:28-31). When I realized the terrible mistake I was making by looking to Jarrad as my provider (instead of looking to God), I ceased focusing my energies on 'choosing' to love Jarrad. All of my efforts to 'choose' love had failed and left me wanting. All at once, I stopped idolizing Jarrad (treating him as my god), and I began following the first great commandment--to love the Lord my God with all my heart and with all my soul and with all my mind and with all my strength. And all at once, I gained a natural, unstoppable, overwhelming love for my husband that was unlike any love I had 'chosen' in the past.

When we say "love is a choice," I think we are cheating ourselves out of the most wonderful, natural, God-given feeling that we are meant to have for one another. Of course, there are times when I forget myself, and I forget who God is, and I forget to love Him. That's when I fall, and that's when I lose that warm and fuzzy feeling (I'm thinking particularly about my husband). What, then? I do try, in my own strength, to 'choose' love. I hope, though, that in the future, I will catch myself 'choosing' to love and realize that it means I am far from real love. And with that, I hope I will immediately fall to my knees to return to the Giver of perfect love.

the end of a season

I believe I am returning from my longest-ever blogging hiatus. I've had a few topics bouncing around in my mind, but never made it to the computer with the expressed purpose of recording said topics. For now, suffice it to say that we've been extremely busy, in more ways than one. Of course, Christmas is a busy season for all of us, isn't it? My wonderful husband's dedication to building us from debt to wealth (thanks, Dave Ramsey!) really freed my stress this year. I decided to make as many Christmas gifts as possible, to get done what I could manage without gaining extra grays (where are all these gray hairs coming from??), not spend an excessive amount of money on people who have everything they need and most things they want (like ourselves), and to let the rest sliiiiiiide. And as a result, for the first time in many many years, Christmas was fun. I love giving gifts--truly--but I hate the artificial pressure of our artificial celebrations during such a sacred, REAL season of what should be the most genuine and humbling of celebrations.

Rachel is 3 1/2 now, and she understands so much. How do you teach a kid that this a season to GIVE, not get? I told her every chance I got. I helped her make gifts for a few of her most beloveds--her grandparents and her daddy. But everywhere we went, people asked Rachel what she wanted for Christmas, what was Santa going to bring her, and if she had been "good enough" to get STUFF. Stuff, people...really?? That's what it's all about?

I have never reflected on the toy drives that occur during this season. We are encouraged to make Christmas happen for families who can't afford to "do" Christmas the way Christmas should be done (apparently). I have never, until this year, considered the implications therein. What is Christmas?? Is it a time when it's okay for kids to be greedy? Who are we, that we can "make" Christmas for people? The very beauty of Christmas is that it is available to everyone, no strings attached. There are no people who cannot experience Christmas. Christmas is nothing, if it is not free and available to all.

I don't mean to downplay the mercy ministries that happen during this season. After all, as we reflect on God's mercy in sending the greatest gift to us on Christmas day (or somewhere around that, anyway), how could we not respond by extending similar mercy to those among us who are without? But this is the first year that it struck me that it is all vanity if we don't proclaim the name of Christ and communicate God's ultimate gift to us. All of our mercy-giving and gift-giving, even among our families and close friends, is vanity without Christ.

Jarrad and I are very blessed with families who seem to genuinely enjoy blessing us with good gifts during this season. We hardly feel the need (and nearly feel guilty) purchasing gifts for our own children because of the volume of gifts given them by others who love them so. We would never want to take the joy out of that. But I can definitely say that I'm at a loss for how to help my children understand that receiving gifts is absolutely at the bottom of the list of important-things-that-happen-in-December. I do think we'll start by trying not to allow our children to get caught in the "gift race," wherein one finds oneself trying to guess who will spend how much to buy which gift for me so that I can do my best to match, if not exceed those gifts by giving equal, if not better gifts in return. I shook that this year, as I've been most guilty in the past.

Okay, okay...I promise I'll do a fun post soon about all the stuff the kids got for Christmas. In the meantime, here are a few of the gifts I created for our loved ones this year:

An outfit for my nephew, from a pair of my cords I never wore (the pants are a tad too small for him...sad!) key fobs! (these were so quick and easy and FUN to make) embellished onesie and handmade tutu for my niece (my favorite gift, hands down) hand-printed tee for a cousin, whose name I drew at Thanksgiving :) ...he's a bird lover! laptop sleeve with matching drawstring cord pouch, made from an upcylced hoodie (second fav gift)

the gods of a culture

I believe that our culture worships two gods: comfort and convenience. Even within the church (perhaps especially in the church), we blindly worship these gods.

I am wrong when my emotion flares as a result of some effect to my comfort or convenience. When I feel I have been mistreated by my spouse, I can choose to be angry. I can apply energy to pouting and fuming--maybe even yelling and crying. Why do I do this? Have I been wronged? Perhaps. Am I commanded to love anyway? Most certainly. Nowhere does scripture allow even a moment for anger, retaliation, resentment. Is my anger justified? Society would say, 'absolutely,' because my comfort or my convenience was compromised--or, worse, forfeited--by the actions of another. And maybe after years of being inconvenienced and discomforted, it is a natural progression that I leave my spouse. I might reason that my spouse is not contributing to my comfort nor my convenience, and, in fact, he never has, and, in fact, I have made it clear to him that he must, and, in fact, he chooses not to, and so I am justified to leave him and pursue comfort and convenience for myself.

We disregard our neighbors regularly, in favor of these gods. We do not wish to pursue anyone who is not useful to us and our gods. We may have those in our lives who once provided us with comfort and/or convenience, but from whom we distanced ourselves when some action of theirs led to our discomfort or our being inconvenienced. Once this phenomenon has occurred (maybe several times), we excuse ourselves from trusting others and from loving others. After all, I've been "burned" by others (which really means that others have failed in providing me with the comfort and convenience I expected from them).

To behave in this way exposes our own idolatry. There is nothing that excuses me from doing what God has commanded us to do in His Word: to love Him and to love others. To love is to trust. There are no exceptions. My comfort and my convenience can play no part whatsoever in my choosing to obey these commands. If I can manage to disregard my own comfort and convenience--to stop worshipping these idols--I will understand that these two commands--to love God and to love others--are really one command.

"Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your strength." If I am doing that, I have no energy left to worship another. I have nothing left that will allow me to pursue my own comfort and convenience. And, in fact, I can easily leave those gods behind, as my comfort and convenience are in no way tied to my happiness nor my self-worth nor my motivation. And if I leave those gods of comfort and convenience behind, I can easily disregard the actions and words of others, in favor of loving them, as I am commanded to do. And thus, if I am wholly fulfilling the first (and greatest) command--to love God--then my ability to fulfill the second command will be unwavering--a mere side-effect of the first.

Friday night, Jarrad played board games with some of our good friends. They enjoy strategy games--the kind that take hours to finish--and he didn't come home until almost 2:00am. I tried to wait up for him, but I fell asleep. The next day, I woke up angry. When he woke up, he knew I was angry. He was tired and cranky all day. He took a nap when I wanted him to help me clean. He lashed out at me when I spoke sharply to him. He went to bed early when I still had things to get done.

He was useless to me. Sound harsh? In my anger, that is how I was behaving. And because he was useless to me, I chose not to act in love towards him. I put my own comfort (I did not want to go to bed alone) and convenience (I wanted him to happily help me prepare for guests in our home), above God's command to love. Idolatry. If I were perfect, I would have shown him love anyway. Was he wrong? Maybe. Does it matter? No. Was I wrong? Definitely.

So, then, is there ever a place for confrontation? It happens over and over in scripture, and Jesus was a part confrontation repeatedly. If Jarrad acted wrongly, I have a responsibility to confront him. However, I must do so in love. Practically, that means I am thinking only of what will draw Jarrad closer to God, and what will strengthen our marriage relationship (in order to better reflect the relationship between Christ and His followers).

Today (a day and a half later), I asked Jarrad to forgive me. I recognized in humility that I should not have acted towards him the way that I did. He graciously (as always) agreed to forgive me. We later had a civil conversation about Friday night, and we both were able to make concessions and agree on future arrangements, should this situation arise again.

Two things are obvious whenever I humble myself in this way. One is that it is difficult. I will never understand this, but it is clearly rooted in pride (as all sin is, yes?). Secondly, the other party is completely disarmed. Jarrad had been angry, too. He was angry that I held expectations for him that he was not privy to. He was angry because he felt that my anger was unjustified (if not absurd). But when I humbled myself and muttered those alien words, "I'm sorry," he immediately softened and was able to hear my perspective with an open heart and mind.

And so, as always, I will move forward, praying to focus on following God's greatest commandment--to LOVE--instead of the gods of comfort and convenience.

oh, dear

I don't know how to fix it, but Rachel has been very demanding lately. I don't mean demanding like "I need lots of things from my mommy, which makes her tired" demanding; I mean more like "I'm unhappy with what I have and want anything else, please" demanding. All day long, it's "I want" and "Can I have" and "gimme gimme gimme!" How do you teach a kid to be content?

To add insult to injury, she is becoming a bit more...how shall I say?...conniving? That sounds extreme, but it's actually quite accurate. Here's a prime example:

• Mommy (seeing Rachel jumping on her bed): Rachel! You are not to jump on your bed!
• Rachel plops down on her bottom, laughing.
• Mommy: Rachel, I do not think this is funny.
• Rachel (still laughing): I'm just laughing at something else.
• Mommy: Excuse me??
• Rachel: I was just laughing at sissy. She's a funny baby.

I was flabbergasted. I can't believe how sophisticated her thinking is becoming, and it's disheartening to see her trying to deceive and manipulate. That girl definitely keeps me guessing!

She tried to pull the same lie on me a couple of days later, but I was more prepared and handled it better. I couldn't help but feel like my heart was breaking a little, though. I guess it's natural that we want to think our children perfect. But at a time like that, it is undeniable that they are human--imperfect--like the rest of us. As I looked her in the eye and explained to her that she lied, and that it is never okay to say something that is not true, it struck me how alike we are. It struck me that God's heart breaks a little every time I disobey Him. It struck me that, in spite of my imperfection--in spite of my wretchedness--He loves me still. I had the opportunity to share with Rachel that God is HOLY, and that disobeying even one time is unacceptable. He cannot bear to look at us when we have even one sin. His perfect justice simply cannot ignore my wrongs. But, because He loves me--because He loves Rachel--He took what should have been my punishment for my sins, and dealt it out to His only Son. And Christ, in all of His Godly perfection, willingly sacrificed Himself so that I CAN be in the presence of a Holy God. Thank you, Jesus! If I can communicate this Truth to my children, I have done my job. I try to remember that God law has one function: to show me that I cannot fulfill it--to show me that I NEED Him. I pray that the rules our family holds, and the discipline we impart, will have that same function.

In the meantime, Rachel's hair is, after waiting almost 3.5 years, finally in a style. The sides and front of her hair have grown long enough to cut it all to that length (seriously...three and a half years of growing!). Jarrad wants her hair to be long, so the goal is for it to all grow out together, now. I'll have to admit that I like the little bob cut. She looks like such a big girl!

from ramblings to rumblings

God has been stirring my heart lately with thoughts that have blown away a lot of the pettiness of which I am oft guilty. When I consider these things He's taught me, I look back in shame at the condition of my heart towards some people in my past. I have spent time lamenting, and have even sought forgiveness from one friend. Wanna hear it?...here it goes...

I have no right to feel wronged when people sin. I have the ability to wrong others, but they have no ability to wrong me.

Whaaa?

God makes the rules of how I am to treat others. He does not allow for me to have expectations on others about how they should treat me, however. Therefore, when another person behaves in such a way that is a)sinful and that it b)inconveniences me or causes me discomfort in some way, I am required to disregard my own comfort/convenience and choose to trust that the Lord will supply my needs (physical, emotional, or otherwise), and I am required to concern myself only with the reconciliation of the other person to God the Father by first praying for that person, and then by allowing myself to be used by the Holy Spirit as He sees fit to draw that person to Himself through my actions or words (or not through me at all).

So, practically, if my sweet husband, Jarrad, were to leave us tomorrow (he wouldn't dare, mind you), I would have no right to feel wronged. Sad, of course, but not sinned against. Only the Rulemaker can be offended when the rules are broken. From my perspective, Jarrad's [hypothetical] sin would be against God alone, not against me. And so, I would be required to continue to love him the way the Lord has called me to love all people and in light of the covenant I made with God to love Jarrad as my husband until death separates us (presumably without regard to whether he chooses to fulfill the covenant he made with God to love me as his wife), and to concern myself only with his reconciliation to the Father, which should also [conveniently] result in his reconciliation with me.

But the Bible does speak of people sinning against people, not just against God. But isn't that a call to me? In other words, from this reasoning, I can sin against others, but they cannot sin against me; I am required to reconcile the wrongs I have committed to others, but I must not require reconciliation from others for the wrongs they have committed (lest I make myself equal with God) in order to love them in obedience to God's command.

Phew! Okay, I've been sitting on this for a few weeks. I'm not wholly convinced that my reasoning is sound. I do know that the Bible says we should forgive others--and what is forgiveness if there is no sin? But I think it is somewhat semantics, and it has really, truly helped me to think in these terms: that I cannot ever consider myself sinned against, because I am not Holy enough to be sinned against. With this thinking, I have been able to offer a LOT more grace to others (specifically my husband, who is a wonderful-while-fallible man), because it forces me to disregard ME. What freedom!!

it's today

Today is our seventh anniversary. Seven years ago, we had no idea what we were getting into. We knew each other so well, but we did not anticipate how much we would change over the years. We have fallen in and out of love several times over, but we have remained committed and we continually choose to love one another.

Last week, a friend/mentor of Jarrad's came to town for a conference. He stopped by for a visit, and we related to him the journey the Lord has been guiding us through over the past few months. He is on staff with FamilyLife, and is a champion of life-long marriages full of God's joy. He decided to use our story in his June newsletter. Reading it from another's perspective had kind of a sting about it, but reflecting again on the experience only serves as a reminder of the grace that has been given to us by the Almighty God. Praise Him!

Here is his story:

Idols of the Heart

by John

Last week I traveled [out of town] conference. While there I visited with Jarrad and Anna. I met Jarrad in 2000 while on a mission project in Santa Cruz, California. He was a college student that blew a bunch of my paradigms: he was a skater, loved to work out, was an extremely nice person, and loved Jesus. I didn’t have a category for those things combined in one person.

He and Anna married shortly after that summer and seemed to be off to a great start. Fast forward to November 2008 and the birth of their second child. Jarrad was giving leadership to the youth ministry at their church, along with a few other responsibilities. He was out 3 to 5 nights a week. Anna was growing jealous and bitter, “Why do I have to stay home with the kids while you do ministry?” Ironically, she had been urging him for years to get more involved in the church and lead their family spiritually. Now she didn’t know what to do with this polarity of emotions and Jarrad was growing frustrated with the mixed signals. She did not respect him, and he could feel it. All he felt was shame every time he walked in the door. And she even admits that she knew he “was a good man.” Yet her mind could not force her heart to give her husband respect. The home was growing cold, ice cold.

And then Anna started to pray. For the first time in her life she really started to pray for things in her life, including her husband. She asked him to consider giving up just one thing at church. He prayed about it, then prayed some more, and did not feel it was time to drop anything. She received his answer and prayed, then prayed some more. Her first response was frustration, but then acceptance. She realized that if God was leading her husband, and if he was walking by the Spirit (which he was), she needed to trust God’s direction in their life. The resentment began to subside.

But the big breakthrough came when she remembered the importance of her marriage vows in relation to Ephesians 5.33 “… let the wife see that she respects her husband.” She says “I wish, I wish somebody would have told me more about this, or I would have listened better when we were engaged.” Her vow made on the altar was not to Jarrad, but to God. Her responsibility was to respect her husband unconditionally, regardless of Jarrad’s response.

Her face lit up retelling this epiphany, “I feel like I have a testimony now, something that I can’t wait to share with other women and tell them how Jesus wants to direct their marriage and free them of all anger, bitterness and jealousy.”

One of the conference speakers last weekend said, “We are all hard-wired to worship. You will worship something. If it is not God, it will be something else, and that will be your idol.” Anna changed from worshiping the idols of security and comfort to worshiping God. She no longer saw her husband as her main provider, but God as her provider through her husband and others.

Now, this brief article is not intended to vilify Anna for her misplaced worship. It is meant to rejoice in the amazing restoration God did in a young marriage! It is also meant to provide an opportunity to reflect on our own misplaced worship. The problem is, we all have blind spots, and our idols are often hiding there.

During his talk last week (which I highly recommend), Mark Driscoll gave the following tips for unveiling your

• Start by recognizing that idols tend to be good
• Look for the things you treasure most (Matt 6.21).
• What is that person/experience that you are most fearful of losing?
• If your house was on fire and you were running out, what would you take with you?
• You can also examine the things for which you make sacrifices.
• Where does your time and money go?

Not everything that you hold as important is an idol, but there is a chance it may be. If your identity and significance is so wrapped up in a person or item that you can not imagine being satisfied and joyful without it, then it probably is an idol.

What do you do when an idol is discovered? Repent. Ask God to forgive you for breaking the first commandment and for the strength to turn your heart back to him. Pray that your deepest desire would be to know and love Jesus and to cherish him above all else.

blessings

Jarrad has been leading the youth group at our church for almost a year. Last summer, I was a bitter, pregnant woman who did not see the joy in his service, because it meant so much time away from us, and away from what I perceived to be his "duties" in our home and our family. One of the families who has two children in the youth group lives closeby, and their 14-year-old son came over multiple times over the summer last year to "bless" us by mowing the grass and tending to a few other outside chores. Every time he came, I cringed. "Here he comes to do Jarrad's job again, because Jarrad doesn't care enough about us to do it himself," I [erroneously] thought.

Today, that same teenager and three other boys from the youth group came over. They mowed, trimmed, sprayed, and spread pinestraw. They hung out. They drank my sweet tea and served as my girls' afternoon entertainment, and they walked away with some snacks and two pictures from Rachel (she "wrote" their names!).

Today, I was blessed. My husband spends his time blessing others in the way the Lord has called him, and I now see all the ways the Lord was waiting to bless me by providing our needs through others. Don't get me wrong--I had faith, before, that the Lord would provide. But, somehow I missed that He chooses to provide in many many ways. I had grown to believe the lie that the Lord would provide only through my husband. And so, my sin was keeping me from receiving the blessings He was offering to me through others.

How sweet it is that my husband is willing to be used by God to bless others. How sweet it is that his service gives others the opportunity to be a blessing. How sweet it is that the Lord is teaching me to receive those blessings with thanksgiving and praise.

For about a week, the phrase, "the Lord is my portion," kept coming to my mind. I knew it was from God because I wasn't even completely sure what it meant. I finally Googled it, just to see what came up, and I got a beautiful explanation that [of course] fit with this process I've been going through. The Lord IS my portion. He IS what I need, and I have my portion in HIM. When I think of a portion, I think of it as exactly the amount needed. And He IS exactly what I need!

The last two days, I have been meditating on another one of God's names: Jehovah-Jireh, "the Lord will provide." Each time I have been tempted to think that Jarrad is failing us in some way, I remind myself that I serve Jehovah-Jireh, and HE will provide! And He proves it over and over and over again.

ramblings from mommy

I have a ridiculous amount of work to do to catch up on this blogging thing. My computer crashed about three weeks ago, and my hubby keeps his tied up most of the time, so I have been pretty well media-free ever since (did I ever mention that we chucked our TV a couple of months ago?). It's been a little strange, but I haven't missed any of it like I thought I would. What a relief, right? But I do miss keeping up with my blog, especially since the Lord has been teaching me so much lately.

I am learning all about what it means to be a Godly woman. I have finally found the true freedom that exists when I am obedient to what the Lord calls me to as a wife and mother. It is so amazing and humbling, and it makes me wonder what in the world was hindering me from understanding it before now. But since I can't change the past, I am anxious to get on with the future and see what other surprises await! I have fallen in love with my husband all over again, and this time is sweeter and much deeper than the first. I praise God that my husband is the Christ-follower that he is. I also praise God for daily reminders that it is He who sustains me, not my husband, and it is He who will never fail me. I realize that I was holding entirely unrealistic expectations for my husband and depending on him to provide for me and fill my heart, when God was just waiting for me to turn to Him instead. And so, over these 7 years of marriage, and especially since the arrival of our firstborn, I have felt disappointed over and over, oppressed, and angry. I knew that it was illogical and ridiculous, but I just couldn't seem to put all the pieces together. I am realizing now that it is wrong for me to ever be disappointed by another person on the level that it affects my heart. When that happens, it exposes where I have been placing my trust--in that person rather than in God.

Now, daily, I lay it down at the feet of Jesus. And when my husband fails me (because he does, God bless him), I remember that it is the LORD who will provide what I need. If I can cling to that, I will never be angry or resentful toward him, and he will never feel the need to be defensive with me. Praise God for His model that he laid out for us in the Word! It's so counter-intuitive that I should make little of myself and much of my husband in order that God will be glorified and I will have true freedom, but I am discovering how true it is, and how SWEET it is!

And so I publicly beg the forgiveness of my humble, patient, God-fearing husband, who put up with me when I was so ugly and sinful and unrealistic. He chose to love me through it, as he committed to do on our wedding day almost 7 years ago. I am amazed at the sweet season my heart change has thrown us into, and I look forward to being that old couple who still can't get enough of each other...it was hard to imagine before, but now I know it will be.

simplest plans

I know I haven't blogged in a long while. God has been doing some amazing things in my heart and in our marriage, and I have been learning SO MUCH! I love that having babies is such a spiritually growing experience. Anyway, this is worth a blogpost:

Jarrad and I are fairly responsible. While we aren't mega-planners, we do like to have an idea of what major occurrences are in the works for us. On Sunday, however, we got in the car to come home from church. The weather was beautiful--and HOT. It felt so much like summer that I found myself saying, "I wish we could go to the beach." Silence. "We could," said Jarrad. Silence. "Can we?" says I. We did. We got home, threw everything together (after I rushed to wash the diapers...no one wants to come home to stinky diapers! My wonderful friend/neighbor, Theresa, agreed to come over and let them dry after we left), and we left for the beach within 3 hours! I think that's impressive, considering we have two little ones in tow. We passed through Jarrad's grandparents' to visit with them and to get the key to their wonderfully peaceful [and free] beachfront condo.

And that's when the purpose of our trip began to change. We found out that a close friend of the family was going through a really difficult time, and, wouldn't you know, she lives close to the beach. So today, our only full day here, we took the girls, and visited her.

If I had known what was going on, I would have called and offered to be there with her. But she would have said, "No, no, you don't need to come," and I would have respected that and stayed home. So God worked it out for us to take a "random" trip to the beach so that we would be here for her. And then, when we got to her, God worked it out that her neighbor has a wonderful little swing set, where Jarrad and Rachel occupied themselves for almost the entire three hours we were there, as Carly and I gave our friend a much-needed distraction and a listening ear.

I could write it all off as an inconvenient coincidence. After all, we came for a break--a vacation! Instead of wiling away our time on the beach, we found ourselves consoling a friend. But I find it most humbling and exciting that God clearly had a purpose for this short trip. I love how He works things out like that. In the meantime, our little family of four have had a wonderful time together. Rachel and Daddy have spent a lot of time on the beach, playing in the sand and low-tide pools, and Carly and I have done a lot of playing and snuggling indoors. She had her third ear infection last week, and she's still not quite well. We've been outside some, but I'm happy to mostly keep her in and enjoy the quiet together.

I'll post new pictures soon (I know...it's been awhile). And I'll write more Godstuff soon too. Promise.

monkey business

Several mornings ago, Rachel greeted us with ramblings about a monkey visiting upstairs. She took me by the hand and lead me to the nursery, where we looked for the monkey. "He's gone now," she declared when he was nowhere to be found. She said he was big and red, and she seemed amused by him. She mentioned several times that she hoped he would come back and play with her. It was cute.

Until bedtime that night. Somehow, a second-floor monkey is delightful by day, but kinda scary by night. I couldn't argue with that, either. She screamed. She shrieked. We couldn't leave her alone upstairs. The first night, Jarrad stayed with her until she went to sleep. She woke up at 11pm and became hysterical again, at which point Jarrad let her sleep with him in the guest bed. The next two nights were difficult. She was scared, and we couldn't bare it, and we didn't know how to solve it. After reading some, and mulling it over, I quickly implemented "sleep rules:" 1. Stay in your bed, 2. Close your eyes, 3. Be still and quiet, and 4. Go to sleep. I hyped them up, made posters to hang on her wall, and promised stickers and various other rewards the next morning. She bought it. After a little whimper, she made the conscious decision to follow the sleep rules.

Our problem was solved for almost a week. But yesterday, we fought at nap time. After some visitors, we got to nap about one hour too late, and she was spent. After some "reminding" about the rules, she finally slept. We had visitors again last night, and she went to bed about an hour too late, again. And she screamed. She shrieked. She did finally give up and go to sleep, but we were exhausted. Nap today did not happen, and I was so very ready for bedtime to come tonight. We put her down a full hour earlier than usual. She was so sleepy, but she protested nonetheless. I finally had the brilliant idea to promise her a time frame: follow the rules for 30 minutes, and then we will come check on her. That did the trick...this time.

In addition to the sleep rules, the monkey dream has given us lots of opportunities to talk about God. We have always talked with Rachel about God, but she's never listened like she has in these last two weeks. She has become fixated on being by herself and she doesn't like it. If I had a dime for every time she whimpered, "but, I'll be all by myself," I'd be one rich mommy. Anyway, we've talked and prayed and talked some more about how God is always with us and she does not need to be scared of anything. I tell her that Mommy and Daddy love her most of all, but God loves her even MORE than Mommy and Daddy (that's so hard to say, but it's true, since I don't have the capacity to love the way God does). We've read from the Bible, and she's even prayed some herself, and she does seem comforted by that. Of course, all of this is what prompted the ramblings from my previous post.

I am glad to hear her talking about God and working through what it means to have God in her life. I want her to understand how powerful the name of Jesus is, and I love hearing her talk to Him or asking me to pray to Him, "for the monkey." My greatest prayer is that she will soon be able to comprehend the immense sacrifice He made for us--and that she will desire a relationship with Him.

Praise God for the ways He gets our attention!

a baby story

I wasn't prepared for this.

But then, who is? Bringing home a newborn for the second time sounded easy enough. After all, I know what to expect this time. I know not to panic when she goes through the various strange but short-lived stages of changing sleep cycles and feeding habits. I didn't plan to be so worried.

But I am. It is unbelievable how I can worry so. I was not anticipating the wave of emotions that would accompany this new little one: fear that I can't take care of her adequately, guilt that her big sister suddenly cannot have all my attention, and dread at the thought of figuring out how to care for all three of us once things are supposed to be back to 'normal.' How do people do this?

But they do. And I will. I just want so much to do it well.

Carly Britt came on November 4, 2008--an historic election day in our country. My labor was almost identical to my labor with my firstborn, Rachel. As with Rachel, contractions stirred me from my slumber around 2:45am. I timed them, and, although they were mild, they were frequent. The first time around, I woke Jarrad almost immediately, and he jumped out of bed and started dancing around, excited to meet our little girl. This time, I got up and scurried around putting the finishing touches on each element of planning for the day. I did wake Jarrad, who grunted and grinned, called his dad (who lives 3 hours away), rolled over and went back to sleep. My contractions continued with regularity, but did not get much stronger. With Rachel, I remember these same contractions feeling painful, but this time, having already experienced what was to come, I knew to go about my business. By 4:30am with Rachel, we had called the doc and convinced her we needed to be admitted for labor and delivery, but that left us with a very long day of very slow progress. This time, I went back to sleep at 4:30am for almost an hour, and was discouraged to wake up and find that the contractions had almost disappeared. I was determined not to rest again until this baby came. Not wishing to spend that frustrating day walking around a birthing facility, but convinced things would move along much quicker this time, Jarrad and I finalized arrangements for Rachel and made our way to the mall.

We walked. We walked and we walked. We had lunch and we walked. We rested on a bench, had a milkshake, and walked. Almost four hours ticked away. My contractions were getting vaguely stronger, but not regular. We were exhausted, and I was beginning to feel defeated. So we returned home around 4:30pm to get some rest.

Aunt KiKi came around 6:00pm to pick up Rachel for a sleepover. By the time she got to our house, my contractions had suddenly become frequent and debilitating. It was time--finally.

We rushed to the birth center, where a midwife and nurse were waiting. They had already filled the tub, as I desired a water birth. Things progressed so quickly--we arrived at 6:30pm, and Carly was born at 8:30pm. Almost identically, the end went very quickly with Rachel, too. With Rachel, though, the doctor had not yet arrived at the hospital when I was suddenly ready to push. Rachel was born at 8:43pm, and I had an episiotomy and third degree tears, resulting in a lot of stitches and a two-week recovery. At the birth center, the midwife talked me through the pushing stage. She told me that I would be much more likely to tear again because the scar tissue is just not as strong as the original tissue, and that I should focus on letting the contractions do the work. She talked me through each contraction, and I was able to exercise enough control that I didn't need even the first stitch this time.

So, Rachel was born at 8:43pm, and Carly at 8:30pm. Although Rachel was born on her due date, and Carly was 7 days late, my two girls weighed the same: 7lb 12oz. Bizarre. The difference? Rachel was born with the tiniest bit of fuzzy red hair, but our Carly's fuzz is quite a bit darker. Rachel has looked like her father and her PopPop from the beginning, but tiny Carly already favors me and my family. These two girls will probably scarcely look related. My thought is that this is a good thing--maybe they will be less likely to be compared to one another if they look so different. I already know that my love is not split equally between the two, but is, rather, quite impossibly doubled.

These two long days of labor that I experienced with my girls has done one more amazing thing: made me love my husband even more. He is the most wonderful man, who knew all the right things to say and do with each passing moment and each intense contraction. Both times, I remember being completely focused on the hard work of labor and on him. He was the only one I could hear--he even had to repeat everything the midwife said as she talked me through to the end. I was unaware of the others in the room (there were several this time around), and I wanted his touch and his voice only. I am still in awe at how close we feel after working together to bring our babies into this world. He still looks at me like I have accomplished the impossible, and I imagine him to be the strongest, most perfect man alive. I am so grateful.

This process of labor is so moving to me. It is perfectly laid out in such a way that my body instinctively knew what to do. Our Creator created a miracle in this, and I am so blessed to have experienced it twice.

Here is a sampling from Carly's first pictures. It's hard to believe that she was barely 12 hours old when we took her home. BubbleShare: Share photos - Find great Clip Art Images.

musings by rachel

Ohhhh, Rachel...

We have been reading The Big Picture Story Bible before nap and bedtime, and Rachel has loved it! I have enjoyed it, too, because it really gives an overview of the story of Jesus and the grace God brought to humanity through His son. Anyway, I was discussing with Rachel that the Bible says that everyone who loves Jesus will be in heaven one day. She thoughtfully inquired, "Take toy?" Well, what would heaven be like without toys, eh??

And yesterday, my girl, who insists on doing everything, "my byself," was sitting on the floor, bare-bottomed, trying to get her undies on, when she calmly grabbed her left ankle, pulled her foot up, said, "spank spank," and smacked the bottom of her foot. She repeated this on her right foot. I was watching from behind, so I sat down by her and asked, "Rachel, what was that? Why did you do that?" She stayed focused on her task, but mumbled something about her feet not going in the holes of her undies. Oh, brother!

As my mom always says, kids are a "laugh a minute!"