My Little Girl Got Baptised Yesterday

My little girl got baptized yesterday. I am praying that her decision to do that will be one that will influence her life for the rest of her days on earth and into eternity.

I'm so grateful for those who have influenced her little life for Jesus--family, friends, church servants, camp counselors.

Oh, how I prayed for her when I realized she was coming. I was so afraid for her. I never intended on being her mom--I was excited to be her grandma!

Then if became evident that we or someone else would need to raise her. I fearfully held her in my open hands to the Lord. I knew it would mean a completely different life for us than we had planned, but I couldn't bear the thought of not having her with us.

Oh, how I need your light, Lord. I want to live a people of the light. I denounce the anger and rage, the passive aggressive way I often react. Please forgive me, Lord.

Raise this little girl up into the person you dreamed of when you created her. Work in her life and in her heart. Fill the holes there where people are missing. Heal her little abandoned heart. Amen.

The Dedication

Once our adoption was final, I was ready to celebrate! I had worked through so much of the grief as the date of the court hearing approached. I had cried (sobbed) many bitter tears of regret, anxiety and fear. So much of this situation just wasn't fair--to my little girl or to my husband and me. There was so much pain involved, that even though I was thrilled with the finalization of the adoption, I couldn't keep from acknowledging the grief. But I was done crying (for the time being, anyway.)

So, on the evening of our celebration, we had an adoption/dedication service during our church's Saturday evening worship service. Our pastor and many others in our church family, as well as our own families had walked with us through this whole process and nothing seemed more appropriate than to celebrate with all of them under one roof. I didn't count, but I'm sure I sent out over 100 invitations. We had friends and family from three different states. New friends we've only known a short time, old friends who've known us since our older children were little, and even friends from high school! Not to mention our family, including 11 of our 14 nieces and nephews and our great-nephew. My mom's cousins who we rarely get to see came as well. As our pastor asked everyone who was connected to us to stand, three fourths of the congregation rose to their feet. Amazing... God has so blessed us with support, and we are so grateful.

Our pastor had heard me when I shared with him that I could not celebrate without acknowledging the hard parts of this situation, and he addressed them. He has witnessed our heartbreak for our son and our little girl's biological mother. Even though they were not present, we could not leave them out of this service. Here are the words our pastor spoke over our little girl, her biological parents and my husband and me.


We come together today to celebrate a very important and precious transition in the life of this family. This little girl has been adopted by her grandparents as their daughter. Today we celebrate the life of this little girl. She is a unique weaving together of nature and nurture into one marvelous little human being with incredible potential and purpose.


May all of us remember that, regardless of the circumstances of our birth or who our parents are, God had a plan in creating each of us. It doesn’t matter whether our parents were good, bad or indifferent. God knew that those two individuals possessed exactly the right genetic makeup to create the custom “us” He had in mind. They had the DNA God wanted to make us. Not one of us is here by mistake.


Adoption is a time of celebration and rejoicing. But it is also a time to shed tears. Just as an oyster is wired by its creator to wrap its innermost being around any unexpected pain to produce a beautiful pearl, everyone involved in this adoption process has wrapped his or her innermost being—time, energy, blood, sweat and tears—around this little girl. Tears oftentimes are the only language we can speak and they have been a part of this process.


As the poet, Washington Irving said, “There is sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are messengers of overwhelming grief and unspeakable love.”


In this adoption, there is a time to celebrate and a time to mourn. To this little girl’s birth parents, we say that there is tremendous courage in the decision to make sure that their daughter’s future needs are being met. They have done their very best under difficult situations. So we bow our heads in a word of prayer for them right now…


Dear God, we pray for the birth father and mother of this little girl. We ask Your comforting hand to be upon them as they have released their daughter to her grandparents. We know that this was a terribly difficult situation and decision. May You guide their lives and bring them to a place where they see with utter clarity Your grace and love. And may they one day accept You and follow You with all their hearts, souls, minds and strength. In Jesus’ name we pray, Amen.


Now, [speaking very gently to our daughter and taking her little hand in his] remember to look at your fingerprints often and remember that they are the marks of ownership on you, like a shepherd’s unique marks on his sheep. Your fingerprints will never leave you and they remind you of who and whose you are.


I anoint you today as the precious little girl you are, loved by God, loved by your birth parents and loved by your new family—not only adopted by them, but adopted by us and God as well. In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, Amen.


Now, [speaking to my husband and me] you, as this little girl’s grandparents, have agreed to take on the responsibility to raise her as your very own daughter. I am sure that the unexpected twists and turns that finally brought you together as a family have not been easy. We affirm you and are proud of you for wanting to provide for her and take care of her. So I ask you now, in the presence of God and your family and friends…


1. Will you do all in your power to raise this little girl in a Christian home. If so, say, “We will.”


2. Will you do all in your power to teach her the treasures of the Bible, the power of prayer and the personal worship of Jesus Christ as her Savior? If so, say, “We will.”


3. And will you involve her in the family and faith of God so that by the teaching and example of the church, she will come to profess her own faith in our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. If so, say, “We will.”


[We obviously responded affirmatively to each question!]


You are the new parents to this little girl. Go forth with confidence, knowing that you are the ones responsible for her physical, emotional and spiritual well-being. Love her with God’s love and form a brand new home. Work through your grief, continue to bring healing to your family and grow new hope and new grace in your little girl.


Let us pray, O God, we lift up these parents and their new daughter to You. May Your love and grace fill their family. May You help them to be parents who are examples of Your love. May this little girl find a new family and a new place to be loved and nurtured into faith in You. And may she come to know, like all of us, who her Father truly is. In the name of the One who created us, loved us, and raised us into His kingdom, Jesus Christ we pray. Amen.


Friends, a new family has been formed this day from all the circumstances and situations of the past, and all the hopes and dreams of tomorrow. And so we step forward with courage into a brand new day and a brand new family. For we know that we are all adopted as children into the family of God. May God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit bless and preserve and keep us all now and forevermore. Amen.

And so, we now move forward as a family--acknowledged by the state (two states, in fact!) and the church. May I remember the vows I took that evening and never forget the sacred trust that God has placed in me. May her beautiful brown eyes always remind me that God did not have to give me this beautiful little gift, but He chose to do so, and I must never take that for granted.

A Mother's Letter

I wrote this letter to my little girl about six weeks ago, before our adoption was final. Now that it has all be finalized, I want to share it because I know I'm not the only woman who has lived through unthinkable life experiences. I am not the only mom who has survived trials she never dreamed she could survive. I'm not the only person to go through a process like this one that can evoke every maternal emotion in the book, both postive and negative. So, here is my letter to my little girl...

In a few weeks it will be final. On December 21, 2010, a judge will finally say that you are officially our daughter. We’ve prayed and waited (sometimes not at all patiently!) for 2 ½ years for this day. You’re only 3½ now, but someday we’ll tell you about the past 2½ years.


We’ll tell you how much every home visit, every intrusive interview, every background check, every home inspection, every piece of paperwork, every conference call and every 4,000 mile round trip was worth this day. It’s all worth the opportunity to look into your little eyes, to tuck you into bed at night, to know that you are safe and nourished, cared for and loved.

We’ll talk to you about your parents and their struggles. We’ll tell you how much they love you. How they wanted so much to raise you themselves. But when they realized that was impossible, they did what was best for you. We pray that you will know them one day. We pray that they will be healthy: spiritually, mentally and physically. That they will be able to tell you themselves how much they love you. We pray that they will be free from the addictions that are such evil and controlling taskmasters.

We’ll tell you about every agonizing trip we made out West. How I cried every time we left you. We’ll tell you about every court hearing and every frustrating delay. We’ll tell you about the wonderful foster family you had, and how you stole their hearts. I hope you get to meet them again someday. And I’ll tell you how I sobbed tears of relief and joy when we finally got to pick you up and bring you home for good on August 14, 2009.

Someday we’ll tell you more about your namesake… your Auntie. Oh, she would have loved you so much. She would have been so tickled to have a niece to bear her name. She loved your first daddy so much. He was her big brother, and despite his problems, she looked up to and admired him. And he loved her. That’s why he named you after her. He remembers her bright and bubbly personality. He envied her carefree spirit. Even though you are very much your own person, you bear, not only her name, but many of her features and characteristics. We’ll explain to you why we changed the spelling of your first name and your middle name so that you would never feel like your job was to replace her—that you don’t have to be any more like her than you already are. You are a separate person, created by God to fulfill your own purpose and no one else’s.

Someday I’ll tell you about the spiritual battle I’ve fought for the past 2 ½ years. About when God had every right to strike me dead for my accusations against Him, but He didn’t. I’ll share with you how I wailed at God when it felt like He didn’t care. I’ll tell you about the time I said that I was tired of God being in control because “He wasn’t doing a very good job.” I’ll tell you about the times I accused Him of being brutal and cruel—how I felt that He had allowed me to be kicked when I was down. I’ll describe how I felt when I believed He had given me more pain than my mother’s heart could bear. I’ll tell you how I felt when my “year of new beginnings” ended without any apparent new beginnings, but feeling more like the same old broken record being played over and over again.

And then I’ll tell you about the spiritual lessons I learned during that time. I’ll tell you how I learned to trust God—to really trust God. I’ll tell you about the months that the only prayer I could utter was, “I trust You, Lord, I trust You.” I often said that prayer with fists and teeth clenched, fighting with all my might against the doubts, the fears and the anger that I felt. I’ll tell you about God’s unfailing love, patience, grace and forgiveness. I’ll share with you how He cared for me during that time. How I felt Him weeping right along with me because He was so familiar with my pain. He knew exactly what I was feeling, and yet He was willing to allow it because He knew the end result would be me becoming just a little more like Him. That is God’s will for all of us—that we each become just a little more like Him. And as painful as it can be, He’s willing to go to any length, to allow however much brokenness as it takes to purify, shape and mold us into His image.

So while we’re thankful for the end of the waiting for your adoption to be final, we realize that this is just the beginning—finally, our new beginning! Even though we’ve been together for well over a year, we have many more years together, many more spiritual battles, many more smiles and joys, hurts and tears. We will go through it all, trusting steadily in God, hoping unswervingly, and loving extravagantly, until one day when God looks into each of our faces He’ll see nothing… but His own reflection.

Daddy and I love you and we are honored to have the privilege of having you in our lives.

Forever Family

“Forever Family.” That’s a phrase I’ve seen frequently as I’ve been reading and gaining as much understanding about adoption as I can. Our adoption was finalized 30 days ago and we have, indeed, become a forever family--in more ways than I originally imagined.


In adopting our little “Punky,” we have pledged to be here for her through thick and thin, “as long as we both shall live.” At our adoption hearing, the judge asked my husband to leave the room while he asked me some questions. Then I had to leave the room while he asked my husband the same questions. I don’t remember the exact words he used, but the “jist” of it was, “Do you know what you’re getting into? Have you counted the cost? The long-range cost?”

If you would read any of my blog posts from a couple of years ago, you’d know I could answer a resounding YES! to that question. I’ve wrestled with God over this issue. I’ve even wrestled with myself over it. My emotions have swung from one extreme to the other. I’ve begged God for this adoption to be final, quickly and easily (picture God smiling and shaking His head over that one!) I’ve also begged Him to provide someone else—someone younger, more grounded and better equipped to raise this little girl. I’ve thought and journaled about all that I will lose if I commit the rest of my life to raising her (I will be an old woman by the time she’s an adult.) I’ve wept over the fear of being hurt again. Our parental hearts have been broken, devastated. What if we get hurt again?

After all that wrestling, journaling, weeping and praying, God impressed upon me that I have so much more to gain than I could ever lose, and that we are His choice as the ones to parent this precious little life. It’s been a joyful, yet sobering realization. The weight of this honor is heavy, but one that we can and must bear.

But our Forever Family means even more than that. Not only have we adopted our little one, she has adopted us. If you talk to her about Grandma and Grandpa, you had better not be referring to my husband and me! Despite my referring to myself as “Mamaw,” she began calling me “Mommy” very shortly after she came to live with us. And even though we referred to my husband as “Papaw,” within a few months, she began calling him “Daddy.” At first, it was uncomfortable, but now it feels so natural, it’s hard to imagine being Mamaw and Papaw again.

Not only have we and our little girl adopted each other, the same thing has happened with our extended family and friends. As I stated earlier, you had better not refer to us as Grandma & Grandpa, because our punkin’s grandma and grandpa (my husband’s parents) are her favorite people in the world! She also has lots of little cousins, aunts and uncles who have become incredibly attached to her. She fits so naturally into our family—she’s the youngest cousin, but only by 10 days!

Then there’s our church. We had a celebration last weekend and (even though it’s against the rules to run in God’s house,) it was an amazing joy to see her and her cousins and friends racing up and down the halls of our church. It was hard to maintain our composure as we saw three fourths of the congregation stand up to show their connection to and support of us. What a confidence boost for us to know that we are not alone in this endeavor. Our pastor did a beautiful job of acknowledging the difficult aspects of this adoption as well as the incredibly joyous ones, but more about that later.

I have more I want to share about our celebration weekend and I’m sure it will appear in this blog, but for now, there is laundry to be done, thank you notes to be written and a little munchkin to chase—naptime is over!

Trusting My Unswerving Hope

I have not written a blog in a very long time. The holidays are tough for us (and many people), and when you throw in something as huge and emotional as the adoption of a grandchild, it’s hard to capture enough coherent thoughts to make enough sense for a blog. But today, I’m going to give it a shot…


On December 21, our adoption was finally final. It was the day we for which had waited and worked for over two years. We had endured the probing questions of our social work for our home study. We had child-proofed our home. We had attended the required class. We had had our well tested. We had had a fire inspection and a safety inspection. We filled out what seemed like endless paperwork—twice—once for our state and once for our granddaughter’s state. We had had two FBI/BCI background checks. We had physicals to make sure we ere healthy enough to parent a young child. We had secured five references. I had made ten 2,000 mile trips out West, my husband had made five. We had been to court hearings, supervised visits with our little girl and finally graduated to unsupervised visits. We brought her home for two weeks, then took her back. Two weeks later we went to pick her up for good. The process was exhausting—and we didn’t even have any opposition. (I can’t imagine what people go through in bitter custody battles.)

I thought I would wake up on December 21, feeling exuberant, filled with nothing but pure, unadulterated joy. I did have joy—this was the day for which I had pleaded with God—but I also had so many other emotions raging in my soul. I was an emotional basket case, but I wasn’t ready to admit that yet.As I endeavored to go through my day, emotions securely stuffed, I began to realize I couldn’t do it. Some of those emotions began to leak out.

The first emotion I was able to admit was the grief… Grief that we have been denied the privilege of being our little girl’s grandparents--where we would go and visit every few months, be together as a family every Christmas, and maybe even have her come and stay with us for summer vacations… Grief that her parents still struggle with addiction and mental illness--that, despite their intelligence and creativity, they are not yet living as happy, healthy contributors to society… Grief that our little girl’s auntie, her namesake, is not here to enjoy her little niece.

Later, I realized another powerful emotion that was not as securely stuffed as I thought--fear. We’ve been down this parenting road before and we had thought we were doing a pretty good job, but now, 25 years into our parenting journey, we have one child entrapped in addiction and the other is deceased. Will we fail again? What could we be thinking… could our hearts survive the sting of failure and the pain of loss again? What could God be thinking… isn’t there someone younger and better equipped to do this job than us? What could the authorities be thinking… they put us through this rigorous process and they say we passed--do they really know what they’re doing?

This is where trust comes in… and hope. Trust that God truly is in control and that He knows what He’s doing. Hope in His promises that He knows the future he has for us and our little girl and her biological parents, that they are plans for good and not for evil, plans to give us a future and hope--unswerving hope!!

I made it through December 21. And once I did, I was ready to celebrate! And we did just that this past weekend. More about that later... when I am able to capture all the thoughts and emotions that are swirling. Until then, I will trust steadily in God, hope unswervingly and love extravagantly!

Because You're Mine

Why is it bedtime? Why can't we eat cookies for dinner? Why does Daddy have to go to work? Why is the sky blue? Why do you love me?

Why do you love me?? I expect all those other "why" questions from my three-year-old. I even attempt to answer them even though it usually leads to the next "why" question. But why do you love me?? That one dumbfounded me for a moment last night. How does that come from a three-year-old?

Because you're amazing and very lovable... because God wants us to be together... because you're my girl. Why do I love her? I don't know exactly, I just know that I do love her very much.

Why does God love me? I have no idea. I constantly let Him down... I get mad at Him when things don't go my way... I grumble and complain when He doesn't give me what I want or even need... I forget Him when things are going well and run crying to Him when they aren't.

Yet He loves me. Why? Because I am amazing and very lovable--yeah, right... because God wants to be together... because I'm His girl. He loves me because I am His. Period. That's my unswerving hope because sometimes I am not very lovable!

Placing My Burden on God's Very Capable Shoulders

My last blog was March 20. Today is April 8. It's been a busy couple of weeks! Easter was huge at our church since it was also the first day in our newly built Worship Center. Moving to this state of the art building from a building that has housed our congregation for over 100 years took us to a whole new way of doing worship in just one week. It was a tremendous amount of work for a small army of servants. But the best part about it was that once all the physical work done, God showed up to perform the real work.

Now the sun has barely set on Easter, and the next Big Event for our Women's Ministry looms largely on the horizon, less than 2 weeks away. We barely have time to regroup. My mind is moving so fast, I must find time to slow it down.

With all this going on, the wheels of the adoption process are finally starting to turn. We've waited so long for this and it's finally happening. Last summer would have been a much more convenient time, God! But here we are, and this adoption is my main focus.

So now, we must prove to authorities that we are capable of raising our granddaughter. We are being asked questions that probe deeply into who we are and what we feel and believe. We are being asked questions about our marriage relationship and how we feel about parents who refuse to parent their children. We even have to answer questions that don't apply to our situation. It's all to get at the root of who we are--and it's exhausting.

Today, we go to the doctor to have him verify that we are healthy enough at the age of 49 to care for a toddler until she's an adult.

This is our granddaughter, for goodness sake! I hate that outside agencies have to be involved in this very emotional family situation. We've only had our granddaughter for eight months but we have become a family. Our hearts are broken for our son and our granddaughter's mother, but this little girl cannot wait for them. She's growing up before our very eyes, and they are still stuck in the same place they've been for several years.

To think that anything could break up our little family of three right now makes fear rise up in me. My face gets flushed and my heart pounds. I try not to go there, but I'm continually faced with questions that probe much deeper than I've taken time to probe on my own. I wonder if my answers are "right." Will my answers reveal something in me that could disqualify me from being a mom? Will the doctor find something that would disqualify me or my husband? What if, what if, what if????

I've got to stop that! I've got to trust that God's plan will be fulfilled--no matter what. If I am disqualified (and I don't believe I will be) it's because God's got something better for this precious little girl--and that is ultimately what I want anyway.

What a relief when I move from the "what if's" to God's plan for my granddaughter's best interest. The pressure and the burden move from my shoulders to God's. And I need to leave them there. I need to quit taking them on myself. Our future and our granddaughter's future are in God's hands and He is perfectly capable of carrying that pressure and burden.

...And that is my unswerving hope!

Bittersweet

My heart is aching for my son today. I love him so much, but have no way of telling him. I'm pretty sure he's believing the lie that we have written him off. But it's actually quite the opposite. We speak of him every day and wish we could contact him. We pray for him daily as well. I think of him every time I wake up in the night. And I know that God sees. God sees where he is at this moment. He knows what he is thinking and feeling. And I must trust. I must trust that God can and will reach him. He knit him together in my womb. He knows how he is wired and just what it will take to communicate to the deepest part of his spirit.

The only thing we can do for our son right now is to pray for him and to care for his daughter. In just seven months the three of us have become a family. I wish there were four of us--or five--or even six of us. I thought I would be so overjoyed to begin the adoption process, but it's all so bittersweet on so many levels.

• Bitter because this little girl needs her parents and will always know that there's something different about her home than other kids her age...
• Bitter because she has both the name and face of my "first" daughter who is no longer with us...
• Bitter because of all the circumstances surrounding this arrangement. Her parents, as far as I know, are slowly killing themselves and blaming everyone else. They are in such great need of a miracle from God...
• Bitter because I'll never get to be this little girl's grandma and spoil her with pudding cups and chocolate chips. Instead, I have to discipline her and put her in time out...
• Bitter because I have to prove to authorities that I am a fit mother..

Yet sweet...

• Sweet because she brings such joy and life to our family...
• Sweet because she has the same name and face as my first daughter...
• Sweet because we are financially able to take care of her...
• Sweet because we have amazing family and friends who support us...
• Sweet because God is so gracious to give us another chance...
• Sweet because even as I wrote this, she was sticking Mickey Mouse stickers on the pages of my journal...

God promises to bring such sweetness in the midst of much bitterness. And that is my unswerving hope.

A Precious Gift from God

As I tucked my little girl in for nap time today, we read a story called, "You're My Little Love Bug." The story tells how much the author (or reader) loves her little love bug, and ends with the something like, all this is true and more because one thing's for sure, "You're my precious gift from God."



When I was pregnant with my daughter, I remember having a conversation with God about whether the baby would be a boy or girl. I told God that I was fine either way, but since I already had a boy, and since my mom passed away when I was only 19 years old, I would sure be blessed if this baby was a girl. I knew a daughter would never replace my mother, but something in me desired another close female relationship. When the Doctor proclaimed, "It's a girl!" that early Sunday morning she was born, all I could say was, "What a precious gift from God!"



When my daughter died just 15 years later, I got really angry with God. "What would be so wrong with my having an adult relationship with a mother or a daughter?! Is that too much to ask? These two relationships have been taken away from me and I don't understand!"



As I tucked in my granddaughter this afternoon and read those words at the end of story, it hit me. Who is so blessed to receive not one but two unspeakably precious gifts from God? My granddaughter will never replace my daughter, just as my daughter could never replace my mother. But God hasn't taken anything away from me. He hasn't replaced any of the people in my life who I've lost, but he gave me 19 years with my mom and 15 years with my daughter. No matter how much time I have with my granddaughter, it will be a blessing. On top of that, God has blessed me with many amazing relationships. And when I think about it that way, I have lots of precious gifts from God in my life!

God doesn't cruelly take things away, and he doesn't replace our lost loved ones with exact replicas. And in reality, He is the only relationship we really need. But out of His unending generosity, He blesses us with special people. They are not perfect, and they were not created to meet our needs, but God allows us to be blessed by them. What an amazing Unswerving Hope!

I'm Back!

Oh, I hope I'm back! I feel like I have slowly been digging my way out of a self-centered, self-protective hole for almost a year now. And today, at least, I have felt like my old self. For the first time in months, I felt the dark curtain that seemed to separate me from the rest of the world drop completely away. As I served at church this morning, I actually wanted to be helpful. I didn't feel like blaming everyone else for my mistakes (and I did make a few) and I didn't obsess over them.

My life has been such a roller coaster for several years. So many changes--huge changes... kids growing up, a 2,000 mile move from the city to the country, the loss of a child, the life-threatening struggle of my only remaining child, entering the time in a woman's life when hormones rage and moods swing like a giant pendulum, spending 5 years with an empty nest, then a year of waiting to fill that nest with a gorgeous little granddaughter, and finally, working to merge the schedule of a two-year old with the schedule of two older but wiser (and a little bit lazier) empty nesters. Oh, I'm tired just thinking about it!

Each one of those changes brings stress and has the potential to pull a person down. But God is good and patient. I have swung from faith filled days when my spirit soared as I worshiped to days so dark I wasn't even sure I wanted to follow God anymore and I could hardly pick myself up off the floor. But God never moved. He wasn't afraid of losing me. He knew I'd make it through with my faith not only in tact, but even deeper and stronger.

Will there be more challenges in my future? Uh, yeah! Will there be more changes and stress? Uh huh. Will there be more dark days? Probably. But now I know on a deeper level that even in the darkness, God is there. He doesn't get offended and storm off. He waits... And He sings... over me... that sends me to my knees.

It's good to be back.

Life is Not Fair!

It's January--time for my annual re-committment to health. I do this every year, but this year, I have a little more motivation. I realized this past weekend that if my husband and I don't live to be at least 76 years old, our little girl could lose both her parents before she's 30. I don't want to do that to her!

Neither of my parents came close to 76. My mother died at just 39, and my dad at 63. I was 19 when I lost my mom, and I was pretty oblivious to grief. By the time my dad died, I was 39. By then I had learned a little about taking time to grieve. But even at 39, I felt like an orphan. Even though my husband and I had been on our own for over 20 years, had lived in several states and overseas, and we had children of our own who were teenagers, it was a scary feeling to realize that I had no parents. My dad, my rock, the one I knew I could always run to was no longer here. I knew it was time for me to grow up.

My little girl will only be 30 when I'm 76. I don't want her to feel like I did when my dad died when she's that young. There are many things that are unfair about our situation, but right now, this is the one that bothers me the most. How can I prepare her for that? How can I prepare her for life without me?

I've got to pray. I've got to trust God to bring people into her life who will be there for her. I've got to know that He will be there for her. Just as he has been there for me, He will be there for her. He has been My Unswerving Hope, and I must find a way to share that with her. God, I'm counting on you to reveal yourself to my little one. As you have been my Hope, be hers as well. I trust you that, no matter what unfairness life hands this little girl, you will be there for her.

Struggling to believe in and trust My Unswerving Hope for 2010 and beyond!

Aahhh, Christmas!

Christmas can be so hard. We have a love/hate relationship with it. We have all had these high expectations of what it should be. Everyone says Christmas is about family and being together. We look forward to our time together, and go through all the preparations, expecting miraculous healing in our relationships like we see on the Hallmark channel. then suddenly it's over and we don't see any miracles! Most of our families are so broken, and we just don’t get those warm fuzzies that we think everyone else is getting.

I’ve decided that Christmas is not about friends and family. I know that sounds like heresy, but Christmas is about Jesus, and only about Jesus! Families let us down. Friends can only go so far with us. The miracle of Christmas is in what Jesus did and nothing else. He left heaven—can you imagine willingly leaving heaven for this messed up world?! That alone is huge. But he didn’t leave royalty in heaven to become royalty on earth. He came as a poverty-stricken, homeless, helpless infant! After creating the universe, He became a poor baby, wrapped in rags, completely dependent on others. He was born, not in a clean hospital or even a warm comfy house, but a dirty old barn! Have you ever spent time in a barn? I have and I love it, but it's not a place for the birth of a King! It's dirty, dusty, and smelly. There are mice and rats and other critters lurking in the shadows. This is the birthplace of the originator of the universe?! The more I think about that, the more it blows me away!

Jesus loved us so much that he chose to be one of us. To live among us with no special privileges or royal treatment. He came so that he could experience life as we do. He came to save us, not just for eternity, but for now too. He came to fulfill us.

We have got to quit putting our spouses, our children or our friends in God's rightful place. They can't do for us what God is yearning to do and it's unfair to them for us to expect them to! So give your family and friends a break. Quit expecting them to make your life worth living. They can't do it--they're too busy trying to get you to make their life worth living! Love them, give to them, and let God fulfill you. He's the only one who can!

Hope Renewed

I am loving The Hope Experience. I am on Day 40, which talks about Naomi and Ruth. What a story of redemption! The book of Ruth was my daughter's favorite book of the Bible, so it will always be special to me. But after this past year, the story of redemption is so near and dear to my heart. I went through several months of bitterness like Naomi. I can't compare my life to Naomi's. Her loss was not just emotional, but her very survival was on the line because she had no husband or sons to provide for her. But I can relate to her grief, her loss of hope and the feeling that God had completely left her.

Her hope was finally renewed as she looked into the face of her grandson, Obed. My hope is also renewed every time I look into the face of my granddaughter. I am so moved by this picture of redemption. I'm honored to have my granddaughter in my home and humbled that God would allow me this privilege. There are still plenty of struggles ahead (and daily!) but my hope has been renewed, and that's a much better place to be than the valley of bitterness I was in a year ago! Oh how I love my Unswerving Hope!

Thankful

I am thankful for my husband who works so hard to support us and who puts up with this crazy woman's moods and quirkieness.

I am thankful for my little princess who brings a fresh new perspective to my life and gives me hope for the future.

I am thankful for extended family and friends who have been so supportive through life's ups and downs. They have wept with us when we wept and they have celebrated with us as well.

I am thankful for friends who quietly go about their work, drawing no attention to themselves. I am humbled by them.

I am thankful for my home in the country that makes me feel like I live in a Currier and Ives Christmas card.

I am thankful for the wonderful smell of turkey roasting in the oven; a warm, cozy home and a beautiful view out my back windows.

I am thankful that I live in a country where I am still free to worship and live as I choose.

I am thankful most of all for my savior who I need so desperately because I am so flawed. Without Him I would not only be bound for Hell, but also completely incapable of surviving life on earth. I love him more each day as I continue to open the doors of the darkest places in my heart to him and he so graciously loves me in spite of my shallow faith, my judgement of others who he loves so deeply, and my pathetic attempt to live a life that brings him glory.

I am so undeserving of all these things and I realize all but One could be gone in an instant. And the One is really the only thing I need. How often I think I need so much more.

Thank you, heavenly Father, for your presence in my life. Thank you for the unswerving hope you give me. You overwhelm me.

Finding Hope All Over Again

Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful. Hebrews 10:23

Yesterday I was sharing with someone about my spiritual condition a year ago. Last November I entered a black hole where I spent several months. I described it as a time when I had lost all hope in God. But I realize it was more a time of finding true hope in God.

I have been a Christian my whole life--since I was a little girl. So, I really don't remember of time of not having faith in God. I trusted God for lots of things, and life was good. But the last five years, life has not been so good.

Last November, people kept telling me to remember that God was in control. Well, if He was in control, it sure didn't look like He was doing a very good job. My daughter was dead, my son was struggling with an addiction so powerful, I felt like I was helplessly watching him die a slow, painful death, and my granddaughter was in a foster home 2,000 miles away. How could God be in control and still allow my family to suffer so deeply? A year ago, I was struggling in my faith. I had to decide whether I was going to continue to follow this God who was allowing me to be broken so deeply.

For about four months, I argued with God. I was angry with him. I asked him where he had been the afternoon the car my daughter was riding in was hit with such force that it was almost unrecognizable. I wanted to know what was keeping him from healing my son. And on top of it all, how could he let my granddaughter to continue to sit in a foster home so far away instead of moving the court system to allow her to come and live with us.

"Where are you, God!? Why won't you move on my behalf? I have covered my children with prayer since before they were born. I continued to cover them everyday when they went to school. I have trusted you my whole life and you have let me down!" Those were the kinds of prayers I was praying, and some of my friends wanted to keep their distance so they wouldn't get struck by the lightning bolt that God would surely send my way for questioning him so vehemently.

And yet, God was not moved. He didn't strike me with a lightning bolt. He wept with me. And he sang over me. He understood my pain and frustration. But he didn't budge. He knows the plans he has for me and they are plans for good and not for evil. My attempts to manipulate him to do things my way didn't work. He was and continues to be unmovable in what he is doing in my life and in the lives of my son and granddaughter. He has already completed his work in my daughter.

As I began to hear from God and sense his nearness, even as I shook my fist in his face, I fell in love with him all over again. I don't understand him, I can't see the end result, I wish it didn't have to be this way, but I trust my heavenly father. I trust him in the midst of circumstances that seem insurmountable--painful beyond survival. But God walks with me every day. He cares for me in my pain. He doesn't completely relieve it, but he comforts me. And that is my unswerving hope.

The Identity Crisis Continues

We had an excellent sermon this weekend on transformation. One of the things that struck me was, "The enemy of transformation is self-centeredness."

I have been in such a state of self-protection. That could also be described as self absorption or self preservation or, I hate to admit, self-centeredness. I realize that has been an issue of mine all my life, but even more so now. In five years, I've gone from being a working mom, to being a displaced stay at home mom of a teenager, to a 43-year-old emptynester, and now to a 48-year-old mommy of a toddler. Like many of you, life just keeps changing and taking unexpected turns. And with that many massive changes in such a short time, I've gone from wearing my heart on my sleeve to a self-constructed prison of isolation and back again.

In the past month I've gone from complete independence to having to be home for potty training, nap times and for our 8:00 p.m. bedtime routine every night. My morning devotional time is not the same because of the beautiful, blurry-eyed face that appears in my room, usually just as I'm getting started. Every time my laptop, my Bible or my dog is on my lap, my toddler wants to be be there too. Just since I started typing this blog, I've had to get up to refill her cereal bowl twice--once because she ate it all, and once because she spilled it all. We've been out in the garage playing and in the house playing. I can hardly finish a complete thought without interruption. As many of you know, that's the way it is when you are in charge of a toddler.

So, as the middle aged mom of a toddler, who am I and where do I fit?! I don't fit with the other young mommies at church. The women my age have grown children or older teens. My job has changed because I can't do it all with a toddler in tow. I work for my church and for a while, poured my heart and soul into my job because it was all I had. Now I want to pour my heart and soul into my little girl. Since I'm scaling back my job, my "church identity" is ambiguous. I don't know where I fit in my job and I don't know where I fit in my church. Even my position in women's ministry is a blur because my mind is a blur.

As I sat by my friend in church this weekend, listening to this sermon about transformation and self-centeredness, I felt like a glass dome had been lowered down over me that I just couldn't break out of it. It's hard to be real with people when can't be real with myself because I don't know who I am or where I fit. So I asked God, "How do I get out of this glass dome? I'm tired of walking around with my guts hanging out all the time, but I can't stay in isolation either! How do I find the happy medium?!" And I heard him say, "Tuck your guts back in and reach out to someone else!" Wow, what an epiphany. I enjoyed reaching out and talking to people I don't talk to very often after service--not my usual set of friends, but a few people on the fringe. Maybe God's on to something here. I think I'll try that more often!

The transition/identity crisis/transformation continues...

Identity Crises

How many identity crises can one person have? Five years ago, I was catapulted into an empty nest by the sudden death of my beautiful, blossoming 15-year-old daughter. One day I was a mom, teaching her to drive, talking with her about boys and helping her adjust to our new home, and the next I wasn't. There was a transition period as we went through the motions of the funeral and a memorial service and were ministered to by friends and family. But I remember the fear I felt as I wrote that last thank you note. What now? If I'm not my daughter's mom, who am I?

My pastor invited me to serve on our church staff as an unpaid servant. In doing so, I took a personality quiz and a strength finders test. I began learning much about myself that I didn't know, and I began to function fairly well in that knowledge. Then, just when I was getting it figured out, thinking God was going to use me in a really big way in Women's Ministry or by having me write a book or something, everything changed.

I had bought my mid-life crisis car, a cute little fire engine red Volkswagen Beetle. I poured myself into my job and ministry. My husband and I took a cruise. And we became grandparents. Life was starting to feel somewhat normal. I still grieved the loss of my daughter. Some days were worse than others, but life was pretty good and something I could get used to.

But there's always an emptiness. I didn't get the affirmation and kudos I felt I deserved from my employers. Did they have any idea how hard I was working? Probably not. And that shouldn't be what I'm working for anyway.

I began having problems with my left hip and could hardly get in and out of my cute little car.

The cruise was a bit of a fiasco when our first flight was delayed and we literally missed the boat!

This foot loose and fancy free empty nest life just didn't seem to be all it had been cracked up to be.

I'm now in my 2nd identity crisis. After having my home just the way I wanted it for five years, we are now tripping over baby dolls and dress up shoes. The driveway is cluttered with a tricycle and Fred Flintstone car. The patio door is smeared and smudged even though I just washed it. I keep restocking the diaper bag only to find its contents all over the kitchen floor--again. I'm finding myself in power struggles over nap time and bedtime. I'm exhausted, but I can't sleep. The responsibility of raising a third child are heavy tonight. The changes she has brought are mostly wonderful (see my earlier post) but the fears that came with her can be paralyzing.

And who am I anyway? I was a mom, then suddenly I wasn't, now almost as suddenly, I am again! How am I supposed to keep up, Lord? The rules of the game keep changing. The answer is obvious but elusive. Of course I can't keep up. I just have to trust the One who can!

How Quicklly Life Changes

Just when I blogged that I would be back to my normal blogging schedule, my life got turned upside down! Have you ever waited for something so long that you started to feel like it would never happen, then when it did finally happen, it caught you by surprise? That's where I've been for the past month or so.

I suddenly went from reading my Chronological Bible to the Storybook Bible. I no longer drive my little red Volkswagen Bug -- I'm back to my old minivan. For the first time in 20 years, I'm dealing with car seats, sippy cups and potty chairs.

And I'm tired. But oh, what a good tired. Because now every evening, instead of sitting in front of my computer, I get to snuggle and look into the most beautiful pair of brown eyes I've seen in a long time. I get to sing to her as she watches my lips and tries to mouth the words just like I do. Every morning, I get the greatest hugs from this pint sized bundle of energy. There is nothing like seeing someone so little toddle as fast as she can toward me because she can't wait to get that hug.

What a transition we are in. I'm transitioning at home, at my job, and even in my relationship with God. For about 4 years, I've been free to pour my heart and soul into my job, and loved it. I jumped into Women's Ministry with a passion. I've had time to write and pour out my heart in this blog. But now my heart belongs to another. I will continue to work, to serve in Women's Ministry and to write, but the bulk of my time and energy will be given to my little Snicker Doodle. My early mornings, evenings and weekends again belong to my family, rather than my personal pursuits.

I've wanted to do something great for God--something really big. Right now, the biggest, greatest thing I can think of doing... the only thing I can think of doing... the only thing I really have time to do is to love, cherish, protect, teach and nurture this little angel that has moved into our home. And that will be my main focus for as long as God allows me to do it!

The Journey of a Lifetime

Today my husband and I will embark on a journey that will change our lives forever. It's the answer to our most fervent prayers, and yet my knees are knocking, my heart is pounding and my stomach is churning. Am I worthy of this thing that God is entrusting to me? Am I well enough spiritually, emotionally, financially, physically for this new life? I keep asking God those questions and all I can hear is, "Do you trust Me?"

"Yes, Lord, I trust You, but..." I also see how flawed we are. I see our imperfections so clearly and we seem so powerless to fix them.

As I read the introduction to my devotional reading this morning, I was reminded of how often you have used flawed people to do some of your most amazing, world-changing things. My reading today was about Samuel appointing Saul as King of Israel. Talk about flawed. That guy had some major character flaws, and yet You used him. I think of others...
Abraham - Lied about Sarah being his wife
Isaac - Played favorites with his children
Jacob - A conniver
Joseph - A show-off and bragger
Moses - Insecure stutterer
Rahab - A prostitute
Samson - A womanizer, selfish, spoiled brat
David - A lustful adulterer, murderer and lier. Yet God still called him a man after His own heart.
Peter - A burly, mouthy sailor.
Judas - A greedy, slimy traitor. Yet he was necessary in God's plan for our redemption.
Paul - Religious, persecutor of Christ's followers

I'm sure the list could go on and on. God used most of these people in the midst of their imperfections. He didn't clean them up and make them worthy before He used them.

So Lord, can you use me in the midst of my imperfections to do the most important, world-changing, risky job in the world? A job that involves many unknowns? One that we're never really trained for or ready for? One where we have less control over the outcome than we realize? One that drives us to our knees before you with great fear and trembling? One where you entrust to us the thing more valuable to you than heaven and earth--a precious little human soul.

This is an area where we don't have a great track record. One in which we have felt like complete failures. One that we prayed you would give to someone else. And yet, here we are, preparing to do this most impossible job. Only by Your grace, Lord, only by Your grace.

Two-Weeks of Joy

For more than two weeks, I have severely neglected this blog. This may sound terrible, but I’ve had more important things to do. My two year old granddaughter had come to our house for those two weeks. It’s been a very long time since I chased a two-year-old and she has been keeping me busy.

For five years, I’ve enjoyed being able to have my house the way I wanted it. No childproofing necessary. It has stayed tidy because there was no one to mess it up. There have been no toys, no booster chairs, no babies or dress-up shoes or princess houses. And it’s been very, very quiet. I think I enjoy the mess and the laughter more. It comes with the cutest little package that includes a great little belly-laugh that makes it impossible not to join right in. The little head that has bounced around this house with her confident, happy-go-lucky walk made me cry, because I knew the day to take her home was fast approaching.

Oh, there were the two-year-old battles: “I want up, no, I want down!” “I want in, I want out!” “I want more, no I’m full!” “I can do it myself, help me!” “I want juice! No, I want water! No, I want milk! No, I want juice!”

But then there are the boo boos that need to be kissed, the polite little “Tink Too’s” (Thank You.) and the “I lu you too’s” There have been bubble baths in the bathroom and bubble blowing on the patio. There have been tea parties, and dress up parties. There have been visits with cousins, and train rides at the fairgrounds. There have been wonderful story times— we read the same one every nap time and bed time. We have sung songs together and played with bugs together. What an awesome two weeks we had.

But tonight, I’m a little bedraggled. I’m sitting on a plane next to an immaculately dressed young woman. She has the most beautiful bag, her nails are professionally manicured, her hair and makeup are flawless. Her outfit is perfectly coordinated. I, on the other hand, am in the tee shirt, jeans and tennis shoes that I put on at 4:00 this morning. I have no makeup on and I’m carrying a black nylon backpack. One leg of my jeans is stained where my granddaughter’s diaper leaked this morning, and there is something on the other leg that I can’t identify. I’m not on my last leg, but I am on the last leg of a 4,000-mile, 16-hour journey. I had to take my granddaughter home today. I’m not sure when I’ll get to see her again. I’m having trouble seeing my computer screen because of the tears in my eyes. (Good thing I didn’t wear any makeup.)

So, at least for a while I should be back to my regular blogging schedule, which I truly love. And tomorrow I’ll probably go through my house and pick up all the princess shoes and baby dolls. I’ll take down the princess house and put the booster seat away for now. Or maybe I’ll just leave them where they are. Either way, I will be missing that angelic little face that came out of her bedroom each morning, with blurry eyes and tussled hair. I’ll miss seeing her finger instinctively go into her nose and meander down to her mouth. She’ll only be two for a short time and I’m so glad that I got to enjoy two weeks of it. It will be a two weeks I will never forget!