Heirs with Christ

to women who aren't moms: a mother's day thank you

2013-05-06T20:24:00.000-05:00

Mother's Day approaches and we plan honor for the women who parent.
It's a sweet holiday and it's deserved. A show of thanks for all who have
labored and pushed,
waited long on adoptions,
wiped noses,
removed sandwich crusts,
snapped their heads at sassing children,
worried,
hoped,
disciplined,
kissed,
prayed,
loved,
dreamed.

But what about the women who aren't mothers? Don't they deserve tribute?
I think so.

So here's to you, women who are not mothers...

To our peers who don't have kids:
You laugh and shrug when our children snatch your smart phone. You hug them and feign impressed when they "show you" their spastic leaping skills. You forgive us when our kids are rude and sullen. Thank you for never making us feel like rotten parents.

You're still our friends, despite the fact that we're in different life stages. You continue to call us, even though we repeatedly interrupt your serious conversation by yelling at our children to "be quiet" and "stop that". You trust that we care, even when our minds are scattered and we aren't the best friends anymore. You listen patiently as we obsess over breastfeeding, school choices, and play-dates. Thank you for loving us enough to stay close.

Without you, we'd forget that toy recalls aren't the top news headlines, we'd never hear our favorite band, we might forgo adult nights out, and we'd never be inspired to get out of yoga pants and into the clothes almost as stylish as yours. Thank you for keeping us relevant.

To the women in our parents' generation (who aren't parents at all):
You hang coloring books on our front door handle and have the very best treats ready every Halloween. You hug our children in church lobbies, and their little chests puff with assurance that there's love in this world. You daily teach the lesson that "family" extends past its formal definition, and that occasionally, you can find undeserved favor from the sweetest of people. Your calm demeanor soothes me every time we talk. Perhaps you've never had kids under your roof, but that doesn't mean you haven't profoundly impacted the next generation. I'm watching you, I'm learning from you, and I'm praying to become a little more like you. Thank you for the legacy you leave.

To the women who are hoping to become mothers:
My heart is tender to you most of all. You, who babysit friend's children when crisis strikes and they have nowhere to turn. You, who follow months of negative pregnancy tests with a trip to buy baby shower presents... and you show up at the shower, smiling, congratulating. You, whose adoption process stretches on and on... who wait for a child while others forget because your belly isn't visibly swelling in anticipation. You, who ache to hold your own child, yet embrace others' children with purity. Thank you for never letting your sorrow close you off to relationships around you.

Yes, mothers are to be celebrated.
But not any more so than all of you.
You contribute to our lives in beautiful ways.
You, too, leave a legacy.
You, too, impact the world.

Thank you.

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Singing Heart

2013-04-25T12:00:00.001-05:00

I was born with a misshapen heart. Still, I spent my childhood swimming, dancing, running bases, and hearing doctors marvel at the excellent surgical repair I'd received.

From a young age, I had only one question for my cardiologist: could I carry children. He'd always laugh and tell me childbirth involved organs outside of his cardiac expertise. I never got a straight answer, although I felt optimistic since no physical limitations were ever set on me.

One of the happiest days of my life was in the delivery room, pushing between laughter until Caroline was born. I never imagined childbirth could be so fun. Her name means "beautiful joyous song," which is exactly what her life has been to all who love her.

Last week at Caroline's well check-up, the pediatrician's brow furrowed as he held a stethoscope to her chest. "I'm referring her to a pediatric cardiologist," he said. "Do any heart defects run in your family?"

Do they?! Yes, in her mother, her grandfather, and her grandfather's sister who died as an infant. I wondered if I should worry, but every time I looked at our oldest daughter, I felt God surely intended to continue using her to spread more joy and beauty. (I realized I could be right or wrong.)

A week later, Caroline's cardiologist gave us another "beautiful joyous song"... news thats Caroline's heart is healthy. Two innocent sounds came from her heart: a "Venus Hum" and a "Still's Murmur." The first is literally the hum of her body working. The second is described as "a unique musical, resonate, vibratory sound."

Her healthy heart is literally humming, making music. How fitting for Caroline, our "beautiful joyous song."

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A Cry for Ethical Adoption

2013-04-24T11:44:00.000-05:00

As I was driving yesterday, my girls noticed a smooth turtle clunking his heavy shell down the road. We stopped the car and tiptoed around him carefully, not wanting our new friend to be startled and hide in his house.

Amelia begged to take him home with us. Caroline objected strongly. "What if he has a family! They'll be wondering where he is!" Perhaps Caroline has been reading the same articles I've been reading lately, and is now advocating for high ethical standards in adoption. :)

In the "adoption world," there are often reports startling enough to make many wash their hands of adoption. Corruption exists. In some instances, poverty-stricken parents are manipulated into giving up their beloved children because of the promise of greater opportunity for these little ones on the adoption "market." There are the extreme cases of neglect by adoptive parents, and plenty of sensationalist articles calling the evangelical adoption movement a "craze" and an "obsession."

Criticisms like these should give us pause. There is merit in what they say.

Yes, we should be cautious to avoid "savior complex" when we're blessed with beautiful children who didn't come from our bodies. Yes, we should take care to ensure children are safe, loved, treated with kindness and fairness in their new homes. Yes, there should be training for adoptive parents, and clear expectations set for how hard it might be to parent a child who initially comes as a stranger living among strangers.

The importance of ethics in adoption cannot be overstated.
Children are not products for sale.
Adoption is not an industry.
Adoptive parents are not heroes, and adopted children were not fly-covered objects of pity until the day we swooped in to "rescue" them. They are, and always were, the precious, beloved children of God. God gives them to us as gifts, and we crumble in gratitude. Parents and children alike are the objects (not givers) of a rescue that comes from Christ alone.

Instances of corruption in the adoption would should cause us to fight corruption, not give up on adoption as a whole.

Because the truth is, adoption is still a beautiful blessing.
There are thousands upon thousands of children in this world with no mother, no father, no hope, no future. Many have great medical needs. And for these children, adoption is a gift they can both receive and give to their new family.

Some say church culture has become adoption "obsessed." One book calls us "child catchers." If we place a sick need to feel like a savior above the true needs of children, then these labels are well earned. But if we adopt carefully, prayerfully, ethically, lovingly, with full information... then adoption is good. If we first put our money and efforts towards keeping families together, and save adoption for those situations where the child's only option is an orphanage or the street, then what is there to criticize?

To all the critics of the Christian adoption movement... we hear you.

And to all the Christians with a heart to bring a sweet one into your home... there is a true need and a true blessing waiting for you. Proceed with information, with caution, with prayer, with diligence. There is a child out there whose best option is you, and who you'll be blessed to hold.

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When You Know God is Calling You to More

2013-04-22T16:18:00.000-05:00

I'm loading groceries into my car. Above me, Spanish Moss hangs from the oak branches, swaying in the wind, and seagulls coast against clear blue skies. It is spring in Mobile, Alabama. Have we really lived here almost an entire year now?

I slide into the driver's seat and remember the many times I'd parked in almost this exact same spot over the past ten months...
Picking up cold drinks for our movers.
To compose myself before facing the babysitter after finding out about our miscarriage.
To grab desserts before dinners with sweet new friends.
To get fruit for picnics with my girls.

These past months have meant laughter and tears, new friends and new challenges. And for the first time in many, many years, I have had time. I quit work when we moved here, and I've had more time for my children, my husband, and my God than ever before. Jesus has poured into me, and I have sat in awe.

Sat and sat.
But now it's time to get up.

Maybe you're in a similar position, (even if you don't currently have my same amount of available time). Maybe God has brought you through a (bitter)sweet season of learning, being filled with His love and Presence... and you sense in your spirit this same thing I'm feeling...

It is time to pass on this love He's put in us.

It's like that line in Desert Song: "I know I'm filled to be emptied again. This seed I've received I will sow."

This morning, I read the words God said to the Israelites in Deuteronomy 1. Perhaps these are also the words God has for you and for me:

"...'You have stayed long enough at this great mountain.'..." Deut. 1:6
"...'See, I have set the land before you. God in and take possession of the land...'" Deut. 1:8

God has spiritual territory for us to conquer. He has kingdom work He is setting before us, with the promise of victory... if we will, by faith, simply get up and fight for it. The Israelites let fear keep them from immediately going after the land God promised them.

Like the Israelites, you and I have a million excuses and fears that keep us from our spiritual destinies:

God, who am I to do such bold things? You surely can't be calling me to ___.
It is too hard.
I don't have the gifts/resources/time.
I'm afraid I will fail.

Like the Israelites, I've been using these excuses too long now.

But I want to see God's face.

I want others to see God's face!

And so, sitting is not enough.

Yes, I will continue to sit in God's Presence and take in all He has for me.

But then I want to stand by His Power and pour out all He's entrusted to me.

Don't you!?

What does this mean practically in my life? It means I'm saying yes to God...
...when I'm asked to serve, to teach, to write, to disciple.
(It's not always people who ask. Sometimes, it's the quiet voice of God that stirs my heart as I sit in His Presence.)

The spiritual territory God wants you to win for His kingdom won't be the same as mine.
But we're all called to take possession of His land. To show others His love and glory.

Are you ready to fight?

In what ways do you think God is calling you to "gain ground" for His kingdom?

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By His Wounds We Are Healed

2013-04-20T21:14:00.000-05:00

When we saw my dad moments after his open-heart surgery, all I could think was,

"By His wounds we are healed. By His wounds we are healed. By His wounds we are healed."

I really didn't know what I meant by it at the time. If you've ever seen a loved one after major surgery, you know what kind of shock I felt, along with my mother and sister, as we looked on his gray fish-colored body, freshly striped red in the place where his sternum had been sawed open, then glued back together. Only the beep of heart rate machines and the faint motion of his chest assured us he was alive.

And so maybe my chant was just a comforting distraction, pulled from Isaiah 53:5. The verse is in reference to Jesus' crucifixion, and His wounds that would buy our salvation.

What did Jesus' wounds have to do with my dad's wounds?

Turns out, everything.

On Wednesday morning, I had the incomprehensible pleasure of giving a talk to a women's ministry. I chose the topic of suffering, largely because of my dad and how he's taught me in word and by example the great spiritual value in suffering.

As I was speaking, I suddenly realized what it meant when I looked at my dad's chest cut through and thought, "By His wounds we are healed."

During my talk, I mentioned Romans 8:17. I love this verse. It's where I got this website's title, "Heirs with Christ." The gist of Romans 8:17 is that we believers will inherit the same amazing things Jesus is to inherit. It's mind-boggling. I still can't understand the lavish generosity of it.

But there is one caveat. The verse says we will inherit these things "if"...

If.

IF we "share in His sufferings."

("SO THAT we may share in His glory.")

Say what? Why would we want to share in Christs' horrific sufferings? Why would a loving God expect us to?

The point of my talk was this: Suffering is what makes us more like Jesus. I even went as far as to say it is a gift, when we allow it to draw us nearer to God, rather than farther away in bitterness. (Need Biblical backup? I just picked a few here, here, and here.) God, in His great love, grants us to suffer... because suffering makes us more like Christ, and brings us to a place where we can inherit all that is His.

I remembered today that Jesus' resurrected body still bore scars. The scars were not sad signs of defeat. The scars were the proof of His glory. The cross hadn't been some bad dream. It had really happened. He had truly suffered for us. And so He bore His wounds proudly, now standing victorious.

I always pictured Jesus in Heaven with a body unblemished. After all, Heaven is where He is glorified. But I forgot that even as victorious and risen from the grave, He is pictured in Revelation as heaven's slain lamb. The wounds are part of the glory.

And my imagination went wild. When we get to heaven, will even our resurrected bodies still bear scars, glorious proofs of the suffering we shared with Christ? Will our scars be part of the glory we share with Jesus?

Human attitude towards suffering is one of disdain, and so I once assumed that Heaven will hold no trace of the sorrows we went through. We long for trials to be erased, as if they never happened, when the truth is that our greatest transformation as Christians happens during the pain. So now I wonder...

Will my dad's chest still be striped with a mark of victory? Will my own scars from surgery as a baby glow bright, so we all worship and say, "Look what He brought us through!" Will there be special markings to show the emotional pains we've battled, yet Jesus overcame for us? Will the broken places of those who have been cut for cancer radiate light, so that we point and say, "See! They suffered and now share in the glory!"

My musings are creative and not (necessarily?) Biblical... but I still wonder. It's easy to assume our bodies will be unblemished in heaven. But Jesus' resurrected body still wore holes as if they were badges of honor and splendor. And every time we suffer well, we're sharing in Christ's sufferings.

Will we too look a bit slain in Heaven?

And will that be glorious?

What do you think?

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Fear Not: Perfect Love Casts Out Fear

2013-04-04T15:19:00.000-05:00

The fear series continues.

Feb 2011

Our Ugandan angel turns three today. I spent a chunk of yesterday reading Kisses from Katie, remembering those swirling red dust roads that carried us to our daughter. I clearly see myself stepping off the plane into the black Kampala night, passing soldiers armed with machine guns, and clutching Brad's arm tight as our driver swerved through potholes and crowded streets to take us to our temporary home.

The adoption agency had asked us, "Are you sure you want to go to Uganda now? We cannot guarantee your safety."

Egypt and Libya were rioting then, and there were rumors that Uganda's presidential elections might also end in violence. Our sleep in Africa was often interrupted by the sounds of men screaming Lugandan into loudspeakers, campaigning from their vehicles. On errands, we noticed endless lines of new civilian soldiers marching, training in case of riots, holding sticks which would soon be replaced with machine guns.

But I was not afraid.

I'm baffled as I think back on that.

How in the world was I less afraid then than I am now? One armed robbery wrinkles the down comforter of my cozy American life, and I'm wrecked?

In the end, Uganda's elections turned out peacefully. But even if they hadn't, Brad and I were coming for our daughter. There is a love so strong that it doesn't back down to fear.

Needtobreathe has an amazing song about this. Read the chorus:

Tell me why I should run for cover/ at the sound of the coming thunder/ when all I hear is the cry of my Lover./ So take your shot. /I won't turn back.

And I think I finally understand what this Christian group is saying. The "Lover" is Christ... this is common Biblical imagery. And the point is this: When we love someone fully, and when we know what we can do for them, we will not back down.

We loved Amelia, and no fear was keeping us from Uganda.
And Kisses from Katie is about a girl who loved Jesus, and no fear was keeping her from following His call on her life.

And maybe right now I'm filled with fear for one reason: I'm not living with a profound sense of purpose from the Lover of my soul.

"Perfect love drives out fear." And the only way we can love perfectly is to be transformed by the only Perfectly Lovable One. Do I live to serve Him, so confident of my calling that I can stare death in the face and continue in my joyful work?

There have been seasons in the past when I knew what God was calling me to.
Our sweet birthday girl is the fruit of one of those seasons.

And Amelia reminds me today...
Perhaps, instead of praying for peace, I should pray for passionate love and purpose, in Jesus' name. Peace will be a byproduct. And when thunder rumbles loud, I'll instead only hear the cry of Jesus' call on my life.

Dear God, make us a people who can't back down.
Because of our love for You.

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Have Leftover Plastic Eggs?

2013-04-01T11:19:00.006-05:00

The fear series will continue...
But, for lack of brain power, for now I'll share with you my Instagram from several days ago. This is a great reading-development activity that makes use of those leftover plastic Easter eggs.

It's a simple idea I found on Pinterest.

Write one word ending on one side of the egg.

Write many word beginnings on the other side of the egg.

Below is the list of the eggs (word families) we've thought up so far.

Caroline is a fairly new reader, so I skipped consonant combinations and avoided words that aren't read phonetically. (For example, I omitted "gnat" from my "-at" ending words, and I avoided the "-ick" ending because this isn't our month to tackling consonant combos like "stick" and "trick.") You could make your word list a little tougher than ours!

We've had fantastic results with this activity. It's so helpful!

Enjoy!

-am

bam

Cam (the name of our friend)

dam

ham

jam

ma'am (because it's the South)

Pam

ram

Sam

-at

bat

cat

fat

hat

mat

pat

rat

sat

-it

bit

fit

hit

kit

lit

pit

sit

zit

-ot

bot

cot

dot

got

hot

jot

lot

not

pot

rot

tot

-all

all

ball

call

fall

hall

mall

tall

wall

y'all (once again, WE think this is a real word!)

-an

ban

can

Dan

fan

man

pan

ran

tan

-en

Ben

den

hen

Jen (a friend of Caroline's)

Ken

men

pen

Yen

-oy

boy

coy

joy

Roy

soy

toy

-ole

bole

dole

hole

mole

pole

role

tole

vole

-oal

coal

foal

goal

Do you know another word family list we should add?

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Happy Easter

2013-03-31T07:42:00.000-05:00

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Waiting SATURDAY {Easter special}

2013-03-30T09:12:00.000-05:00

On Good Friday, Jesus died.
On Sunday, he rose.

On Saturday... we don't talk much about Saturday.
On Saturday, nothing happened.
On Saturday, Jesus' followers waited in despair. For what, they did not know.

If you're in a Saturday of despair and waiting, take heart. Sunday will dawn. Resurrection is coming.

"Much of our life here on this earth is lived out feeling somewhat trapped in “Saturday.” I’m trying to get to a place in my life where I can embrace “Saturday.” I’m trying to get to a place where I can view it as a type of preparation for what I believe God might be doing in my life. You may currently be in the midst of a horrible, out-of-control situation. You feel as if God is not there, that there’s nothing that can be done. But here is the message of the gospel for you while you’re stuck in your helpless, hopeless Saturday life: God does his best work in hopeless situations. We worship a God who specializes in resurrections." - Pete Wilson

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Fear Not: Easter, Jesus, and Sweating Bullets (of blood)

2013-03-27T21:46:00.000-05:00

This is post two in a series exploring how Jesus is the answer to our anxiety/fear.
So far, we've covered: how my fear began, the series intro and laying out my questions.

Studying fear during Holy Week is perfect.

I may not know answers yet, but this week, I know this: Jesus understands dread.

In fact, before His death, Jesus experienced hematidrosis, a rare medical condition in which a human sweats blood in reaction to severe stress.

I've never experienced emotional agony to the point of sweating blood. Does your anxiety even approach this level?

You and I may wonder whether crises will strike, but Jesus knew fully the torture He was about to endure. Sure, He was willing, but He wasn't excited. His Spirit, (fully God,) was compliant... but His human flesh was weak.

The blood that bought our redemption began to flow even before Jesus' arrest. Salvation's plasma first dripped out under the crushing weight of holy dread.

Our Savior has felt our horror -- worse than our horror. And that's part of what saved us.

(And while I'm certain that most of my fear is rooted in sin and mistrust, it's comforting to know that even perfect Jesus experienced a kind of sinless strain.)

Christ defied anxiety by walking voluntarily into His torture and death.

By entering into all He dreaded, He conquered all of our fears.

True, I'm not yet wise enough to fully understand how this works...

...why we really have no need to fear the perils of life on Earth when the perils still clearly exist.

(If you know, email me. I'm hungry to learn. And I'm writing this series as if I have a clue, when I don't. If you noticed, this post procrastinates on answering the questions I laid out yesterday.)

But I'm comforted by this:

Jesus experienced fear, and then conquered it by submitting to God's will, rather than bowing to his own anxiety.

There's a lesson there for us, isn't there?

Do we conquer fear by submitting to God's will, rather than resigning to anxiety?

God, help us bow to you, rather than to our worries!

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Fear Not: Laying Out My Questions

2013-03-26T21:54:00.001-05:00

This is post one in a series exploring how Jesus is the answer to our anxiety/fear.
Click here for the intro and for how my fear began.

Fear's lies began hissing in my ear the night after the break-in.
My heavy eyelids cramped themselves open as I laid in the darkness, planning my defense for any new threats.

"If the girls are home and there's a break in, could I hide them under the bed? Should I buy a gun? I don't think we can play in the front yard anymore."

I knew this wasn't a healthy thought pattern.
But with adrenaline still pulsing through my veins, it seemed responsible to brainstorm.

So I gave myself a pass.

But as the days of inner turmoil turned into weeks, I knew I'd reached excess. My heart was obsessing over potential tragedies more than it was pondering the great love of our God. I had made an idol of my fear and was sacrificing my mental energy at its shrine.

Still, I couldn't will myself out of fear. I'd newly discovered how real this world's dangers are, and I needed God to tell me why I shouldn't be afraid of these irrefutable threats.

Stereotypical platitudes didn't help.
Even some of the Scriptures felt useless:

Don't fear because God is with me? I know He's with me. But that doesn't mean He keeps me from all harm! We've all heard of Christians far more faithful than me who've been wrecked by disaster. Terrible things happen to people who very much have God's Presence.
Psalm 56:4 scoffed at fear: "What can mere mortals do to me?" I wrote that verse on a note-card and stared at it for days, puzzled. Each time I read it, I imagined a dozen horrors a "mere mortal" could inflict on our family. I was baffled. What did this Psalm mean?

God, how can I "fear not" when I know the horrors that truly exist!?

And here's where I really got confused:
Luke 21:16-17: "... some of you they will PUT TO DEATH..."
Luke 21:18-19: "...But not a hair of your heads will perish."

Say what?
They'll put me to death, but I won't be harmed? Not even one hair on my head?

God, how is this not a contradiction?

And this, dear friends, is where I stop writing tonight.
God has begun to give me clarity, but for tonight, I leave my questions as a cliff-hanger.
Because...

this post is too long already, and
it's going to take some serious prayer for me to explain the glorious ways God has begun to answer these questions of mine. He isn't contradicting himself. And His truths are beautiful. They just might set me free. In fact, I know He will.

So, I'll write again tomorrow.

I think.

Assuming my sick child + healthy child with a birthday party let me. :)

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Robbers, Fear, and Other Peace-Stealers

2013-03-25T21:23:00.001-05:00

This is the first post in a series on fear. (anxiety/worry)
The past few weeks have been the most fear-filled of my life.
But God is bit by bit redeeming my weakness and terrible recent experience by using the temporal bad to usher me towards the Eternal Good (Himself).

I am not yet healed of my fear, but I'm closer.
Jesus is my only hope for restored peace. Will you walk through this process with me?
Can we grow together?

Almost an entire month has passed since that armed man entered our home and snatched my peace. I hadn't even changed out of pajamas on that beautiful Wednesday morning before he'd lurched through the door and put me screaming on my knees -- knees that would remain weak for weeks to follow.

How can eight minutes with a stranger taint my view of everything?

Family, friends, and church members circled around us like the arms of God. They've fed us, hauled our moving boxes, hugged us in hallways, written notes, sighed for the peace we'd lost. For a while, I thought my eight minutes of terror were well worth the love we'd received in exchange. But when the fear lingered, I changed my mind.

I didn't know then how this panic would last -- even spread -- like and inkwell dumped across gauze. The fear bled through all of me, and I thought it might stain. I'd shake my head in disgust because I'm a child of God, and aren't we washed white as snow? Why would I tremble in the grocery store, in the parking lots, at my bathroom sink -- soaked and blotched in fear of man? Didn't Christ buy my freedom from these chains I shuddered under?

Brad wrapped his arms around me one night and said, "Give yourself time... grace." He said my emotions need time to heal, like a broken bone nestled inside a cast. And I still feel broken, snapped clean in two. Buy why? The burglar did not touch me, did not harm me. I gush to God with gratitude for all that was spared, while scolding myself for feeling so victimized when nothing was lost at all.

And so I'd open my Bible like it was a drug and swallow down each verse like a miracle cure...
I'd pray for each dose to remedy the turbulence in my soul...
...only the words on those thin pages made little sense.

Lately, though, God has unbent a few of my question marks and shaped them into exclamation marks of praise. Those shattered cracks in my psyche are the places where His truths can penetrate.

I'm still full of uncertainty. I still jump when strangers enter my grocery aisle. But I can feel redemption's warmth thawing my frost-bitten nerves.

And as I learn, I'd love to capture a few rays of His light and share them here, with you.

You may not worry like I do these days.
But we're all anxious about something.
And Jesus calls us to more peace than that.
Will you grow with me?

Let's study fear.
Scratch that.
Let's study God, and discover Him to be the remedy to all fear.

I know He'll heal me.
He can heal you, too. Will you join me?

What is your greatest fear? I'll pray for you as I pray for myself.

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For the record...

2013-03-20T22:23:00.001-05:00

For the record, I haven't given up blogging... I'm here, hoping to write again soon. I'm mostly trying to decide just how much I should admit... Do I tell you how I slammed the front door in someone's face in fear today and that I am a general psychopath since our home robbery? Yeah, I don't know if I should divulge my secrets. :)

Faithful God, of course, is revealing Himself to me through my weakness. Scripture is coming alive, even if I haven't quite reconciled its truths to the point that my knees stop knocking. I'm a work in progress.

And I'm here. I'll be back soon, I think.

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Well... We Moved

2013-03-11T12:46:00.001-05:00

Bad news... I still don't have my laptop.

Good news... It's because my sweet husband moved us to a gated apartment while I was visiting family. And we don't have Internet set up yet anyway, so I've been more worried about getting settled than picking up the computer.

I have so much to say, but these fingers can only phone-peck so much. I'll fill you in soon!

Oh... And they caught the "bad guys"!

Bitter Waters

2013-03-07T09:18:00.001-06:00

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When Life Gives You Lemons...

2013-03-06T09:15:00.001-06:00

When life gives you a home invasion, make a trip to your sister's. Enjoy the pictures.

(My laptop was found! Real typing to resume next week!)

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Our Home Invasion

2013-03-04T12:53:00.001-06:00

On Wednesday morning, minutes after Brad left to take the girls to breakfast before his mission trip to Honduras, an armed man entered our home and held me at gunpoint.

Yes, he stole items, and no, he didn't touch me. (Although his gun did click as he held it at me, cocking it?, and he did mention my luck that he didn't rape me.)

This is the second time I've been robbed at gunpoint. The first was while Brad and I were dating, when we stared down the barrel in Brad's apartment parking lot before watching the man fly off with my car and all its contents.

But this latest violation was far more disturbing. It didn't happen in the dark of night, but on a bright, sunny Wednesday at 8:45am. It wasn't in an open parking lot, but within the confines of the place I am supposed to rest and make a life for my family. It didn't happen to a couple of single kids, but to a mother who cannot imagine how she'd be able to defend her two girls if the situation repeated.

Why would I think it might repeat? This isn't the first theft at our home of nine months. We've had multiple lesser incidences. A lawn mower stolen out of our eight foot padlocked privacy fence. The GPS and prescription bottle taken from my car. A bike a trailer snatched at night.

And while I could simply cluck my tongue at the theft of mere items, I feel chills wondering if my girls might ever witness what I did most recently... A home invasion, and the loss of peace in the place you should feel most secure.

I didn't write about it here last week for this simple reason... I wished I might first untangle the spiritual lessons/gems from my fleshly mess of fear. I know God will redeem what happened. I am already praising Him for that. But so far, my stubborn heart is clinging to anxiety, probably even more than it is clinging to Christ. I'm not proud.

See, peace is part of the fruit of the Spirit, and it is not dependent on circumstances. But if I'm honest, my peace has been rocked, (it must have been more dependent on circumstances than I knew,) and I'm not yet able to honestly say with the writers of Scripture, "whom shall I fear?" I'll tell you who I fear: I fear those who could hurt me or my children! But as I read the words of Jesus this morning:

"I tell you, my friends, do not fear those who kill the body, and after have nothing more that they can do. But I will warn you whom to fear: fear him who, after he has killed, has authority to cast into hell. Yes, I tell you, fear him! Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? And not one of them is forgotten before God. Why, even the hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not; you are of more value than many sparrows." Luke 12:4-7

And this:
"Which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?" Luke 12:25

So, I'm still processing. Still searching for the beauty/redemption in it. Still juggling gratitude, anxiety, and practical questions (such as, how quickly can we get the heck out of this house! And how does the "peace that passes understanding" REALLY find its way into life-or-death scenarios. Because God promised it. So I'm asking for it.)

I bet I'll be chatting with you a lot as I continue to process. Satan would use a situation like this to feed fear of man and other godless things. But God turns Satan's schemes on their heads. God uses them to serve His sweet purposes. God will somehow let this draw me close to His love, and give me more of His kingdom, which cannot be stolen.

(Forgive all typos. I composed this on my iPhone, as the laptop was among the items stolen.)

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Why Should Ryan Gosling Have All the Fun?

2013-02-26T21:35:00.000-06:00

I'm sure you've seen all the Ryan Gosling "Hey Girl" images all over the internet. If not, do a quick Google search for some laughs. The basic idea is that it's outrageous to imagine a hot guy saying exactly what women want to hear.

This week, my friend Toria started a hilarious new blog called "Hey Girl My Husband." There are only a few pictures up so far since it's a new site, but they're worth the web visit. I had so much fun making these submissions of Brad. And no. He hasn't seen this yet.

(To our photographer friend Chad Riley, so sorry I ruined your beautiful photos with this insanity!)

Drumroll please, while I "hey girl" my husband...

(Psst, if you want to join in the fun by "hey girl-ing" a photo of your husband, send the photo to heygirlmyhusband@gmail.com)

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Skip the Dress. Buy Water Instead. And Spread the Word!

2013-02-25T21:36:00.001-06:00

last Easter

Easter is a big deal in our family.
Obviously, it's a big deal for all Christians. Our hope hinges upon the story of Easter.

But it's a really, really big day for our family in particular. Both Brad (4/6/1980) and Amelia (4/6/2010) were born on Easter day. I love remembering how heartsick I felt on Easter Day 2010, longing for our second child, totally unaware that God was bringing my baby into the world right then.

So you see why I love this holiday.

It represents my salvation (Christ's death and resurrection)...
My true love (Brad's birth)...
My answered prayers and lavish blessing (Amelia's birth).

The stores are now filling their shelves with chocolate eggs and pastel decorations. I noticed bunny rabbit smocking on a child's Sunday dress this week, and nostalgia instantly welled up in me. I immediately began searching online for similar sweet smocked Easter dresses for my two girls.

Until...

Until our friend Jacob came to stay at our house tonight.
He reminded me that Easter dresses aren't nearly as fun to buy as some other things...

Jacob moved to Zambia a couple years ago to begin a gospel-based water ministry. Water282 brings physical water to villages through wells, while simultaneously telling villagers the hope found in Jesus, the Living Water. (Click here to find out how you can get involved with his ministry.)

Jacob is not worried about what he'll wear to church on Easter Sunday.

He's not worried about what you will wear, either.

He's worried about the thousands of Zambians who live without access to clean, disease-free water, and with no knowledge of Jesus the Living Water.

He has an exciting challenge for you:

Are you in?
Skip buying Easter outfits this year.
Instead put the money towards providing water and the gospel to many in Zambia.

It's just one symbolic way we can say we choose loving like Christ over the materialism of our culture.
And truly... it just sounds fun! I cherish Easter too much to waste the season digging for dresses at Dillards. Give me the chance to spread hope of Christ over that any day. That is a way to celebrate!

So. See that image above?
Pin it.
Blog it.
Instagram it.
Share it on Facebook, Twitter, by email, with your friends and family and small groups and office.
Here's the link that goes with it.

If you would like stickers of the above image for your Sunday school class or family to wear on Easter day, email me at rachelgoode1 (at) gmail (dot) com and we'll see if we can make that happen!

Together, we can make a difference.

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Hiding from Light

2013-02-24T21:34:00.000-06:00

via

My parents taught me about Jesus and faith from birth. When I was eight, this faith made its way out of the abstract and into the heart of my own personal beliefs.

Eight-year-olds have small hands for grasping onto the weight of glory.

But it doesn't matter. All I knew was Jesus came for me.

And it was enough.

But...

But a decade later, there came season when I tossed my faith -- my Savior -- to the side in favor of selfish living.

I hate thinking about that time in my life.

For years, I ran from God...

... yet I somehow yearned for Him at the same time.

I knew He was pursuing me.

I knew He was inviting me back.

And oh, I missed His embrace.

But every time He drew near, I would shut Him out for one reason...

I didn't want my selfish, sinful ways exposed.

I didn't love the Light, because His holy Light reveals those damp, dark places within us where we protect and nurture the mildew of self-sufficiency.

And His Light begins to kill the mold of self.

I wanted life my way.

Even when my path led to misery and chaos.

Thank God that His light broke through.

It wasn't an easy process.

It hurt... the way a spotlight burns eyes in the dark.

But oh, the glories I've seen since my eyes have adjusted.

I see more clearly than ever what nothing I am,

yet how valued I am

because of the Everything He is.

I once was blind, but now I see.

What freedom.

What joy.

So I encourage you...

Be brave.

Invite the Light in.

I don't promise ease.

In fact, you will be exposed. You will feel vulnerable. You will feel out of control.

But Your eyes will adjust.

Your heart will too.

His Light changes everything.

And

You

will

see

God.

It's worth it.

So worth it.

"We hide like thieves in shadows

Scared of the Sun

'Cause we know that Light will find us

Us and all we've done"

These Hard Times, Needtobreathe

"This is the verdict:

Light has come into the world,

but people loved darkness instead of light

because their deeds were evil.

Everyone who loves evil hates the light,

and will not come into the light

for fear that their deeds will be exposed.

But whoever lives by the truth comes into the light,

so that it may be seen plainly that

what they have done has been done in sight of God."

John 3:19-21

"When I kept silent, my bones wasted away through my groaning all day long.

[...] Then I acknowledged my sin to you and did not cover up my iniquity.

I said, 'I will confess my transgressions to the LORD.'

And you forgave the guilt of my sin."

Psalm 32:3,5

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On Water (or, On God)

2013-02-19T18:00:00.000-06:00

First, how incredible is this picture our friend took of Amelia and Brad in the rain after (attempting to see) a Mardi Gras parade? Wow.

Speaking of rain and water...

My sister-in-law Kara recently reminded me of a post she wrote comparing water to God. I had to give the comparisons a shot...

On Water

(or, On God)

life-sustaining

life-taking

peaceful

terrifying

soothing

powerful in itself

source of power for others

gentle

in all things

everywhere

cleansing

satisfying

refreshing

devastating

consuming

taken for granted

pure

deep and unsearchable

overpowering

necessary

beautiful

Your turn.

Can you think of more similarities between God and water?

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Snail Mail {Will You Join the Fun?}

2013-02-18T18:00:00.001-06:00

We've recently received some pretty sweet mail from friends and family.
Hand-made cards.
Sticker-covered brown packages.
Hand-written notes on gorgeous stationery, sealed with washi tape.

Who doesn't love a good piece of real, hold-it-in-your-hands-with-no-option-to-click-forward-or-delete snail mail?

So I've been doing my research.
(You know, on Pinterest, where all scientific research is done.)
I thought if I shared some of my findings, we'd all be inspired to be more thoughtful, and send a handwritten note or package today!

And here's the challenge:

I'm going to start sending some fun mail and taking pictures. Will YOU ALSO send some fun and/or pretty mail, and send me the pictures to post on my blog? We'll all inspire each other!

Heart Handmade UK

This is gorgeous. Brown craft paper looks fantastic with simple gel-pen doodles and an artistic collage of pretty stamps.

I've noticed many people purposely buy lower-value stamps so they can paste more of them along the envelope like a mini-gallery.

(Note to self: Must buy pretty stamps!)

Moosmaid

I want this bird stamp! What a stunning package.

Papelidades

I love this blog. It's filled with package ideas... but it's not in English. :)

Pictures are worth a thousand words, right?

Ishtar Olivera

More stamping.

Can you tell I love brown craft paper?

Omiyage Blogs

But I'm also a fan of color.

Those little houses are made of washi tape!

Okay, I've saved the most fun part for last. There's a blog called Giver's Log that shows you all kinds of uncoventional items that can be popped into the mail... instead of a box or envelope! Click here, or browse below:

holiday sprinkles

water bottle filled with colored pencils and a rolled up paper note

flip flops

You should really check out the Giver's Log for more ideas, including big bouncy balls, Easter eggs, chapstick, and more!

Now go send some mail!

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Vertigo {Telling About the California Conference}

2013-02-17T18:47:00.000-06:00

I never travel alone. Not on planes.

Except for last week, as I headed to the faith-based conference, "Choose Joy: Surviving Infertility and Adoption".

Last weekend, as the plane took off towards California, I swore I had vertigo. The clouds below me seemed up, the blue above appeared to be an ocean below. This homebody-Alabama girl was traveling to speak in slick, sleek, Orange County. I think the world had flipped upside-down.

I'd prepared for this conference for nine months. Nine months -- just the right amount of time for God to birth something new from me. Part of my labor pains included a literal miscarriage only months before the conference... and God used this to place me back in the shoes of those I'd be speaking to... women hurting and hoping in God as they wish for children through pregnancy or adoption.

Travel does a funny thing to me.

It makes me feel small.

I see new places and realize how big this world is -- and how much bigger God must be.

I trust a seventy-ton airplane to hang me through the sky -- and I breathe deep, remembering it's truly God's hand that holds me.

As the weekend progressed, I felt myself shrinking and shrinking.

Shrinking at the sight of ocean cliffs and emerald mountains.

Shrinking into the down of hotel beds more lavish than I deserve.

Shrinking into the warm laughter of friends loving enough to travel with me.

Friday night, there was a pre-conference dinner for all of us speaking.

I was blown away by the women I met and the stories I heard.

One lady: eight years of infertility, followed by two failed adoptions before finally becoming a mother.

And she is still smiling at God's goodness.

And she wouldn't take back any of it.

Another lady: similar infertility and adoption stories as the first. Plus, she's just committed to moving her family"somewhere" (location still unknown to them), to help plant a church.

Each woman seemed to have a story like this.

It went on an on.

I was inspired.

And...

felt

small.

Part of me wanted to hide under the table and say, "Nevermind! I don't belong here! I'm nothing! My story is nothing!"

But I didn't do that. Not even for a minute. God kept reminding me to lean into my smallness. Embrace my weakness. Remember that I'm nothing without Him.

Christians can be weak and powerless without an ounce of insecurity. We have a God Who is strong where we're weak, and Who is effective where we can do nothing. Because Jesus' priceless blood covers every paltry inch of my insignificant body, I am now a worthy minister of God's love.

And so, on Saturday, I spoke at two breakout sessions.

Thank God insecurity didn't keep me from this conference.

Every woman,

every moment,

every conversation there...

It was blessing, blessing, blessing.

And I still swore I had vertigo.

The world still seemed upside down.

At this conference, everything was a part of God's upside-down kingdom, where Jesus says BLESSED are those who mourn, who weep, who are poor of spirit. I got to look these beautiful, broken women in the eyes, (from my own broken eyes,) and say "blessed are we who ache."

I boarded the plane towards home and felt again the nausea of my spirit trying to orient itself.

My soul, trying to resist the lies this world tells us about what is good, what is important, what is a blessing.

Trying to point my compass towards Bethlehem's star.

Dear God, teach us that our weakness is where we find Your strength.

Give us more of this upside-down world, where we who hurt also administer God's comfort.

Where pain leads us not to despair, but to the gift of more You.

Where the leaders are the servants, and the first are last.

Thank You God, that in our smallness, we are blessed.

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Hello

2013-02-16T10:48:00.001-06:00

There's so much I'm dying to tell you.

But my sweet family...

I just can't get enough of them this week.

Partially because I've spent so much time away from them this month.

Partially because February is the month that...

I knew Brad and I were dating seriously...

our firstborn daughter was born...

we traveled to Uganda to bring home our precious second daughter.

Talk about a month of love!

I'm hoping to really sit down and chat with you soon.

"Let the songs I sing

Bring joy to You.

Let the words I say

confess my love.

Let the notes I choose

be Your favorite tune.

And Father let my heart

be after You."

-Needtobreathe, The Garden

Happy Valentine's!

2013-02-14T16:08:00.000-06:00

This morning, we picked up 18 of these...

... because the birthday girl preferred them to cupcakes for her in-class party today. (The real superhero bash is tomorrow. I'm baking like a mad woman.)

I giggle at how cheesy I once thought Valentine's Day was.

Until God gave me a first-born Valentine.
Now I'm all pink and red hearts.

And I'm crazy about the candy.

(Who doesn't love the candy?)

Now, I have to go concentrate on NOT ripping the flowers out of that vase to dump the candy down my throat.

I hope you are having a lovely Valentines as well.