Posted in Beautiful Mess, Emotions, Faith, Freedom, God, Hope, Murder, Prison, Word of the Year

Dear Kim (my letter to prison about what might really matter),

What is important is seldom urgent and what is urgent is seldom important. (Dwight Eisenhower)

Hey Kim,

Hope you are doing well.  Thank you so much for your letters.  Seems like your life is full of crazy stuff in the prison system, things I have no understanding of, nor comprehend how you tolerate, work through and actually still have peace and joy in the midst of them.  I can’t believe you’ve sent me four letters and I have not responded to any of them yet.  It makes me sad to think about that.  I wonder why I haven’t and why I’m sad.

I could give you the “excuse” that life has been a bit crazy lately and it would be true.  In the past month, I’ve spent time with my mom during her surgery, helped Sarah with the baby, had a power outage for a week from a major winter storm, helped Jared move into his apartment, looked for a new place to call home within the next two years (we need to downsize–our taxes and this big house are killing us), along with the normal things I do like manage our home and rental property at the beach, have some kind of exercise regimen, lead my women’s group and stay committed to our small group (both of which provide grounding and love), spend time in our marriage mentoring ministry while keeping our own marriage from falling apart, make time to write and keep up with my blog (that also keeps me processing and grounded) and try to maintain some kind of close relationship with God (my lenten fast being a huge thing right now – click HERE and HERE to find out more).

Just seeing all of that in print makes my head spin and I’m not surprised that I am a little exhausted and stressed.  My Word of the Year is “TEND” (for those of you reading my blog, I will be having an update right after Easter) and I’m not sure how it’s playing out in my life.  As I perused your latest card this morning, your words struck me right between the eyes of my heart.  I paused and re-read all four of your letters, reflecting on what might really really really matter and what I might need to “tend” to.  As I sit here and process, two huge things jump out.

First, the urgent often takes the place of the important.  The urgent are the things that supposedly need immediate attention:  endless “needs,” work, house stuff, emails, the “fires” of life, etc. etc. etc.  Many times, I have to respond quickly or they don’t get “fixed,” “checked off my list” or I have disappointed someone.  I’m not saying they shouldn’t be taken care of, or they aren’t good things, but oftentimes my focus needs to be shifted.  In all the flurry of the urgent, the truly important gets neglected:  my relationships and heart connection with people (people like you), my dream to bring hope and healing to myself and others and figuring out the avenue to do that best, and most importantly, a vital and deep relationship with God.  I miss what’s best for what’s good.

Sometimes I envy you in prison (click HERE and HERE to read more about Kim).  You take the time to make what genuinely matters matter.  I know you have great loss in not having external “freedom,” and I don’t take that lightly, but you seem to spend your time and energy on the larger things of life, not being encumbered by all the seemingly urgent things it takes to make life keep “humming along,” whatever that even means.  I would imagine you really miss the normal  parts of life and are envious of me at times as well.  As I read your letters and am getting to know you again, it seems like you just “get it” and see life through the lens of the important and not the urgent.  You’ve caused me to pause and listen to the cry of my own heart today.

Second, your encouragement from prison is baffling and beautiful.  Your letters remind me that it’s not our outer circumstances that dictate our inner life.  Nothing can touch our true selves and the hearts God has given us.  He is continually healing and bringing us into closer touch with His own heart, the best place of all (not the Women’s Correctional Institution or Stirling, NJ).  You penned that the SAME God who has consistently “held you in his loving arms as you have suffered the consequences of your own actions also holds” me too in all the things I am journeying through.  I was mildly taken aback.  What kind of person says those things (and more importantly believes them) in your situation?  The answer does not surprise me:  you are someone who understands the deep heart of forgiveness, mercy and grace of God like no one I have ever met before.  Your words today healed my own heart further and placed me right in the palm of God’s most loving and generous hand.  Thank you.  Thank you.

I am making plans to visit you (I am sorry they were thwarted this past time by your illness) because I want to take some time to set aside the urgent for the important and continue the path of relationship with you, one that we both believe has been one of the most redemptive and healing of the past year!  I miss you and can’t wait to see you again.

Much much love,


P.S.  To answer your question about being a grandma, it’s truly amazing!  Broden Bear is a fun little guy!   I love that your daughter sent you 265 pictures of your sweet granddaughter!  Yay for us!


Posted in Childhood, Family, Freedom, God, Health, Love, Parenthood

To Pick Up or Put Down (Every Parent’s Never-Ending Battle)

“Have a heart soft enough to give love and mercy, but wise enough to know boundaries.”  (Kayil Crow)

It has started:  Sarah and Cody’s battle whether or not to put Broden down (cry it out) or pick him up when he is fussy.  Believe me, both have been tried.  (Don’t let the pics of the happy baby fool you.)  The truth is holding him tends to calm him.  He sleeps better.  He stops crying.  He is basically happier.

It continues:  Esther and Allen’s daily battle about how much to help our adult children (pick them up when they are “fussy”) or let them figure things out on their own (many times painful and uncomfortable).  Believe me, both have been tried.  For decades.  The truth is helping them tends to calm them.  They sleep better.  They stop “fussing.”  They are basically happier.

It never stops:  My mom and dad’s battle about how much to help their youngest son with the care of his children while my mom goes through radiation treatment during the next several weeks.  This is a big one:  he lost his wife about 18 months ago and the situation is complicated.   They are 84.  He is 56.  It never ends.  The truth is helping him calms the situation.  Everyone sleeps better.  The “fussing” is abated.  He is basically happier.

If you are a parent, you can completely relate, no matter how old your child is.  It can be teaching a baby to sleep by themselves, driving a forgotten homework assignment to school for your elementary daughter, purchasing a car for your new driver, allowing an adult child to live at home rent-free for a season, watching grandchildren for your middle-aged son, the list goes on and on.  I’m sure you can add your own.  The questions are basic:  how much do I “pick up,” help, console, “save the day,” when my child has a need or even a want?  How much do I let them “ride out the storm,” figure it out on their own, “put them down” so to speak?  Where is that line drawn?  When is that line drawn?  How is that line drawn?  What choice should we make so that we are promoting emotional health and good boundaries, yet making sure the other feels safe and completely loved?

I am becoming keenly aware of how daily of a battle this is, no matter how old the parent or child is.   I am also highly in tune right now with how many opinions everyone has about this and how strong those opinions are.  I also realize how often I go to others to ask this very basic question:  what should I do in “X” situation with “such-and-such” child?  Do I pick them up or put them down?

For many years, I went back and forth, always unsure if what I was doing in any given situation was right.  I felt trapped.  If I “picked them up,” I heard the voices that shouted, “You are doing too much.  Your boundaries are too lax.  They need to learn for themselves.  This is unhealthy.  This is bad.”  If I didn’t help, I heard opposing voices, “You aren’t doing enough.  Your boundaries are too rigid.  They need to feel loved and not alone.  This is unhealthy.  This is bad.”  Ugh.  And if the truth is known, I still struggle with this and it is real and it is still almost every day.

Today, I share with you my “half-thoughts” on the subject.  A “half-thought” is something I am still in process about and haven’t completely “landed” anywhere quite yet, but still want to share.  I hope these bring you some freedom for the “back-and-forth,” trapped feeling you may find yourself in today:

  • Even though the questions are easy, the situations are complicated.  No two are the same and rarely is there a quick answer or fix.  Rest in that.
  • This dilemma is part of being a parent, period.  There’s no getting out of it.
  • Other parents are in the same boat.  We all need each other, not to judge and give solutions, but to listen and give grace.
  • Don’t ask yourself if the decision is right or wrong, black or white, good or bad.  Rarely are decisions that we make all one way or the other.  That’s an exhausting treadmill and only promotes fear, guilt and shame.  Either decision will have both difficult and wonderful attached to it.  Usually it’s some combination of beautiful and messy.
  • Ask yourself these questions instead:  What do I really need?  Why do I want to help?  What do they really need?  Take the long-view and dig a little deeper.
  • Change your mind if you need to.  Take the time to re-evaluate and get counsel from others.  There is great freedom here.
  • Show yourself boatloads of grace no matter what you decide.  Remind yourself that God loves both of you and He can come in and provide all that’s lacking no matter what decision is made in the moment.
  • I leave you with my biggest one for this past six months because many days I just don’t know what to do.  This verse comes up every single day on my reminders.  I pray it every morning:

If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives GENEROUSLY and FREELY to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you.  (James 1:5)

Here are my not-so-secret questions that I have asked God about recently about my own parenting:

  1. Do I pay for a hotel room for Josh for his Psychology conference?
  2. Do I buy all Jared’s starter supplies for his new apartment this week?
  3. Do I keep making meals and sleeping over at Sarah and Cody’s (with this new baby)?
  4. Do I call the apartment complex where Rachel lives about an unwarranted noise complaint (we are the lease-holders)?

You see, it never ends.  I’m okay with that.  I am growing and being stretched and learning to love in a healthy, hope-filled, very complicated kind of way.  Here’s to our children and here’s to our parenting.

I would love to hear your feedback.  I would love to know your secret questions.

(Also would you mind liking the post back on out social media if you came from there? It helps me to get the post viewed by the most people.)

Posted in Beautiful Mess, Emotions, Faith, Freedom, God, Health, Hope, Sacred

One/Fifth of the Way (What the Heck is in My Pot?)

Spiritual hunger and spiritual thirst
But you got to change it
On the inside first
To be satisfied
(Van Morrison)

Last night, I had an epic “fast” fail.  I was supposedly making a mango curry over quinoa recipe and I must have purchased chia seeds instead of quinoa (thanks Shoprite for having them in bins right next to each other).  Needless to say, I cooked this supposed quinoa according to the directions and I ended up with a black pile of very broth-soaked chia seeds.  The best part of all is that Allen did say “aren’t those chia seeds?” as we were purchasing them and I assured him, “No, they’re quinoa.”  Thankfully, this was one of those moments (and it could have gone either way) that I just laughed and we made some actual quinoa I had in the pantry.

It’s a little over one week into Hummus and Hosanna.  I believe I am starting Day 9 of 40.  I am out of sorts.  I started off with a great attitude and was really excited for all that God was going to do, the great breakthroughs and the weight I was going to lose (don’t judge me.  I know it’s not supposed to be about weight loss).  But reality struck pretty quickly.   The comfort foods I eat that hold me emotionally and physically have been stripped away and I am left with an internal hunger for something all the time.   It’s a low-lying buzz in my body and in my mind, an unsettledness in my spirit.

You might be reading this and thinking, “not a lot of hope and healing here.”  This sounds like despair and dis-ease.  I hear you.  It sure does.  When I have all these sensations (which is also quite often) on my regular “non-fast” days, I reach for the fridge or pantry door.  Potato chips and milk (I know, it’s really weird, but it’s seriously my favorite snack ever).  Slices of Jarlsberg cheese.  An Almond Joy from the candy jar.  It works.  I am temporarily satisfied and that interior craving seems quieted.  It happens all over again the next day and the next day and the day after that until the voice inside is minimized to a whisper that cannot be heard.  I go about my business as usual believing all is right and well with my world.

Until it’s not.  Until the “tools” (quick fixes) I normally have are not available anymore.  What now?  I have two choices:  reach for the cheese, chocolate and chips or sit, listen and explore the noisiness in my spirit, the cry of my heart, the jitters in my body.  I probably won’t reach for those foods because I am a “line-in-the-sand” kind of girl and a rule follower for the most part (plus I shouted to the world on my blog that I am doing this).  I also know that this is what is best for me, even if it feels not so good right this second.  I choose to trust the process, and the God who is the orchestrator of that process.  I explore parts that are usually shut down by physical satiation.  I ask myself these questions:  What do I really need?  What am I hungry for?  What will truly make me satisfied, at peace, filled with the “long-view” kind of good?

I want to quickly jump ahead and repeat some Bible verses or inspirational quotes to myself, but that becomes just another form of “food,” a way of quieting the noise.  The real truth is I am not sure.  I don’t know yet.  I am waiting with hopeful expectation.  This is where I am and this is what’s true.  I don’t have to be sure or know quite yet.   I’m really okay.

You might be waiting too.  You might have a noisiness in your own spirit, a cry of your own heart, jitters in your own body.  I imagine there are times that you do.  What if we listened and explored together?

If so, I see a glimmer of hope on the horizon for both of us.

**Please feel free to comment or share or follow me via email**

Posted in Beautiful Mess, Faith, Freedom, God, Hope, Love, Sacred

Hummus and Hosanna (#40days)

“The Lord, your God, is in your midst, a mighty savior, who will rejoice over you with gladness, and renew you in his love.”  (The Bible)

Love, loss and lent all collided on Wednesday.   The very best part of being human, our deep love for one another, was celebrated.  Another horrible and murderous act showed one of the worst parts of being human, our collective and individual brokenness and the tragic loss we all feel in our very bones.  Ash Wednesday couldn’t have come at a better time, marking the beginning of a period of human reflection, repentance and renewal.

Oh how we need it.  I need it.  When I hear “hard-to-understand, out-of-my-control” things on the news or from a friend or family member, or experience these things in my own life, I tend to move quickly toward fear and anxiety.  All the “what-if” thoughts come careening into my head and heart.  I go through all the natural “lizard brain” (as I call the amygdala) reactions:  flight, fight, faint or freeze.  Sometimes, I run the other way and pretend it doesn’t exist.  Other times, I get angry and try to come up with a plan to fix it.  I seriously just take a nap or watch mind-numbing television many times.  However, to be honest, my reaction oftentimes is to become completely paralyzed, unable to do anything.  One thing I certainly don’t do often enough is to take the time for the spiritual:  reflection, repentance and renewal, what I actually need the most.

That’s why I am so thankful for the season of Lent, this specific time marked on the calendar that shouts to me to do things a little differently than I do every other day of the week, month, year.   Take a break from the status quo.  Carve out time to shake things up in my every-day life.  Exchange the natural for the spiritual, the outside for the inside.

About a year ago, a difficult, out-of-my-control, situation reared its ugly head in my life.  In fact, it was something that kept coming up over and over and no matter what I tried, the problem just wasn’t getting fixed or even getting pushed in the right direction.  It wasn’t for lack of effort on my part.  I had tried all four methods of fleeing, fighting, fainting and freezing along with better tools like counseling, prayer, you-name-it.  That night, in the dark, on my knees, a last ditch effort at telling God I was super serious this time, the word “Hosanna” flooded my mind and also my mouth.  I wasn’t sure why.

Of course, I had to check it out.  What did this word that I had heard so often in my churchy life even mean?   Thanks to ever-helpful Google, I found that “Hosanna” was originally an appeal for deliverance, a cry that shouted “PLEASE SAVE.”  Over time, it developed into an expression of joy and praise for deliverance that was anticipated and would be granted, an oral burst of hope in God, an “anchor for your soul” kind of hope.

Being the “doer” that I am, I came up with a Hosanna list (that now exists on a pink sticky-note on my computer and I have a feeling you are going to try to see if you are on that list…that’s why I made it blurry…LOL), that being at the very top.  I eventually added people and situations that seem completely out of my control, the ones that seem hopeless, the desperate, only God-can-fix-this, things.  I only have one word for them:  Hosanna.  Please save.  I repeat this often to myself when I see that pink note, “When you don’t know what to do, pray Hosanna.”

So what’s with hummus (see title of blog post)?  Starting on Monday, I am participating in a partial fast for forty days during Lent, ending with a celebration on Best Friday (as my friend Jody has named it since she is getting married that night).  I’m taking a break from some of the foods that I love:  cheese, chips, and chocolate (to name a few) to make room for what’s better: hummus (along with veggies, fruit and nuts). 

Forty days from now, I probably will be a little thinner and a lot healthier (great perks of this fast).  But I want it to be much more than that.  I am combining Hosanna and hummus.  You guessed it.   I want to take a break from my go-to, very natural methods of controlling and fixing (which I also love) to make room for what’s better for my soul:  reflection, repentance and renewal.  When I want to reach for the natural, I pray that I will instead be reminded to reach for the spiritual, the super-natural.  I am asking God to “please save!  Please save!”  Speaking words of hope to my own heart that He is the BIG GOD who hears my deepest cries and can truly save and renew even the seemingly impossible in my life and the lives of those I love and even some that I don’t even know personally.

Today, I invite you to take this journey with me.  You don’t have to give up what I’m giving up.  This is personal.  Along with this,  I would be honored to hear what or who might be on your Hosanna list (click HERE to get in touch with me privately).  If you want, I can add them to my pink list for the next 40 days and as I am eating my hummus, I will be quietly shouting “HOSANNA!”

By the way, it’s my birthday today!  What a great way to start of my new year!  I wonder how God will show up!  I can’t wait to find out!

As always, I would love for you to sign up for my email list so that you never miss another post.  And feel free to share this with anyone or any way you’d like!  



Posted in Childhood, Ethiopia, Family, Freedom, God, Missionary, Third Culture Kid, Travel

1,246 Missionary Slides (The Best and the Worst)

“You know you’re a missionary kid when you see a picture of your family on random peoples’ refrigerators.”  (Anonymous)

Two weeks before Thanksgiving, Jared scanned all of my parents’ slides from Africa.  It’s one of those projects that keeps getting put off, but we actually tackled it and got it done.  They were coming here for the holiday and all of my siblings and my parents were going to be together.   So, on Thanksgiving Eve, we spent most of the afternoon viewing them on the large TV screen in our family room and heard stories about each one.  Needless to say, we made a pretty good dent.

That same weekend, in conjunction with the slides, I asked my parents about the “Five Best and Worst Things” about being a missionary in the latter half of the 20th Century.   I seized the opportunity to listen and learn what it was like from their perspective.   I have had my personal kid’s-eye-view and have spent years processing my own experience (good and bad), but I was in the dark about theirs.  Truth be told, I heard stories that corroborated my memories and beliefs and learned many things that were new and unexpected.

Here are their Top Five(ish):

Mom Worst

  1. Deputation. Dragging the kids around to all kinds of churches in the USA trying to raise money. (This seems nuts to me and I remember how we all didn’t like it either.)
  2. No converts.  Questioning what they were doing there.
  3. Terrible food.
  4. Leaving her kids at boarding school.  It was a heartbreak.
  5. Not getting along with other missionaries.

Mom Best (she only had Four)

  1. Freedom not to be encumbered with constant schedules.
  2. Teaching in the school.
  3. Experiences that you were exposed to that were “out of the norm.”
  4. Getting to know people from all over the world.  The friendships they developed.

Dad Worst (he only had Three)

  1. So few converts.  Asked himself, “what are we doing here?”
  2. Deputation.  (see above crazy-making)
  3. Not getting along with other missionaries (I’m seeing a pattern).

Dad Best 

  1. Learning another language.
  2. Traveling to new places.
  3. Seeing kids learn in the school where they were teaching.
  4. The experience with the death of a close friend who was gunned down in front of his wife by an extremist and how God protected him and my mom. (sounds like a best and worst to me)
  5. Meeting people from other countries (missionaries and nationals) and all the friendships they made.

I learned a lot about my parents over Thanksgiving and continue to.  This past week, we plowed ahead through more slides during a visit as my mom is recovering from surgery after being diagnosed with cancer.  It makes our time even more precious and the learning and gleaning even more pressing.  So far, here are my top five takeaways which are for all of us, missionary kid or not (sorry, the new correct phrase is third culture kid).

My Takeaways

  1. There were a lot of slides of animals I only now see in zoos.  Growing up in another country meant having a different experience than your average American kid (like my husband).  Attending boarding school, living as a minority and foreigner, knowing people from all over the world, being surrounded by war and poverty, vacationing in exotic places, and eating strange food is not your average American childhood.  But I wouldn’t trade it for the world.  I’m sure you wouldn’t trade yours either, no matter how or where you grew up.  It makes us into the people we are today, both broken and beautiful.
  2. Those 18 years my parents spent serving God in a far-away country was exciting, hard, beautiful and complicated all at the same time.  Like all of our lives, my parents’ lives were filled with struggles and triumphs, joys and sorrows.  I draw comfort in knowing this.  My “normal” adult life has looked very different from theirs on the outside.  But my own life has been filled with the exciting, hard, beautiful and complicated as well.  It’s not what’s happening on the outside that matters most.  It’s what’s happening on the inside.
  3. They matter and all their experiences matter.  It was really good for me to take a peek from their point-of-view, to understand all of this effected them, as well as us four kids, for both good and bad.  I have been so wrapped up in my own “how this effected me” for a long time.  It was helpful to step out of that for a moment to see the view through another lens.  I want to do this more often with all those I know.  My life will be richer when I do.
  4. Our family mattered to my parents.  My mom wants to delete every slide that doesn’t have one of us in it.  She keeps saying, “What does that matter to our family?”  I love this.  For a long time, I had a warped perspective on this.  My view was that “God’s work” was more important than our family.  It’s just not true for the Marets at the very core.  It’s so good for me to know that.  It brings great healing to me.  Yes.  They made mistakes.  Yes.  It was very hard and unusual.  BUT.  Yes.  They did their best.  Yes.  They loved us.  (Doesn’t sound very different from my own family and my own children.)  This is where grace comes in and wins!
  5. Life comes down to people.  People are the hardest parts of our lives.  People are the best parts of our lives.  It doesn’t matter where we are in the world, what cultural differences we have, or what we are trying to accomplish together, it all boils down to people and the relationships we build with them.   People bring the most frustration and hurt, but they also bring the most joy and healing.  We can try to avoid people and all the “bad” stuff they bring, but in doing so, we miss out on all the hope and healing and love that they bring to us.  People are worth it!

My heart is for greater healing for each of us.  This project is bringing me much.  It brings me back to what matters most:  being fully-known and loved, but with a twist.  This time was not about me being known, but getting to know another.  That’s my unexpected surprise.  I hope this will prompt you to take on a project (person) of your own.  Who knows what will happen?


Posted in Uncategorized

SURPRISE! A Super Kid and an “Up Sydrome” Adult…TT (Season #01, Episode #07)

Sometimes, someone comes into your life so unexpectedly, takes your heart by surprise and changes your life forever.  (

The past two Tuesday evenings, I “cheated” on my husband and went on two dates.  The first was with a little beacon of light, my five-year old friend named Olivia.  We went and got ice cream FIRST, poked into a pet store and checked out the fish and the hamsters, went to Staples and spun around on chairs and bought Silly Putty, ate pizza while we bowled, and ended our night playing arcade games.  The second one was with my friend Robby, a man who thinks he should have something called “Up Syndrome.”  He is right.  We ate hamburgers and french fries (only pickle, ketchup and a bun for him), enjoyed ice cream (see a running theme here), played a matching game that he handily beat me 12-8 and sat and watched a couple of episodes of Full House while we waited for his dad to pick him up.

 Of course, I made these “dates” to bring help to my friends who are the caregivers of these precious souls.  I mean, what parent wouldn’t want someone to come along and love on their child while they get a much-needed break?  But as usual, God seems to have had something else up His sleeve.

God is wise and knows what He is doing.  He knows exactly how to reach deep into our hearts and souls and bless us, heal us.  Many times, when we think we are helping others, we are being helped.

These two people I spent time with couldn’t appear more different.  One is a typical little girl who is navigating Kindergarten (learning her ABCs with the Super Kids reading program – anyone heard of Cass who loves to Cook Casseroles in the kitchen with her Cat, Coconut). The other is an adult male with Down Syndrome (and I totally agree with him, why isn’t it called Up Syndrome?) who goes to Pride College (as he calls it), a school for adults with special needs.

They are so dissimilar at first glance.  Olivia is 5.  Robby is 30.  Olivia is a fireball.  Robby is chatty.  Olivia likes soccer.  Robby likes swimming.  Plain, straight-up different.  But, as you know, God is filled with surprises and likes us to repent (all that means is THINK A NEW THOUGHT) for our own journey of healing and wholeness.  These two beautiful souls are alike in so many ways that really matter, thus bringing me to tears filled with gratitude (hence the Thankful Thursday post).

  • They BOTH see the world through fresh eyes.  Everything is exciting to them.  The simple things I take for granted and go through the motions doing are seen with a new vision.  Spinning around on chairs at Staples (don’t judge me) and imitating Joey imitating Popeye while watching Full House are enjoyed to the full (check out the video below).


  • They BOTH are very smart and want to learn and grow.  Olivia is able to tell me all the rules in her classroom along with counting in both English and Spanish to 20.  Robby is able to tell me all about his family (who is still alive and who has passed on and what towns they live in and how they are all related to him) and also actually spelled out words for me when I had a hard time figuring out what he was trying to tell me (he has a speech impediment).
  • They BOTH are free with their love.  And I mean FREE!  No holds barred.  When I look at how closed off and closed up I am, it is such a beautiful thing to watch and then experience personally.  Their complete, uninhibited love for me frees my own heart just a little bit more.  I don’t have to hold back either and I am free to love them in return (this is not a lesson to be learned, but a heart to be changed and healed).

This all sounds so magical.  But to be honest, this is how it really played out.   The first date was super easy and I was looking forward to it.  I have spent the better part of the past 30 years immersed in children:  children’s ministry and having my own children.  I love children.  They are easy for me to figure out.  I actually play a little game with them to see if I can get each one to open up and light up when I interact with them.  My goal is connection and I like the hardest and most closed off ones the most.  It’s an adventure that I embrace fully.   And I am usually successful.

Leading up to the second date was hard for me.  I knew I wanted to stretch myself and go outside my comfort zone, but I was very nervous.  What would we talk about?  Would there be awkward silences?  How much do I have to keep him occupied?  How long should it be?  Will he be bored or afraid?  What happens if something goes terribly wrong?  It’s sad to say that I have never spent time with anyone with special needs other than in passing during child ministry.  I feel downright confused and uncomfortable, and there is probably some “special needs phobia” I struggle with.  But this is a man I kiss every Sunday (he’s the only other man in my life I kiss right on the lips other than Allen) when I grab my church bulletin from him.  A date was certainly the next logical step (I hear you.  Kissing usually comes after you’ve had a date or two).

Like I voiced earlier, God is a God of surprises.  The first date was not a surprise, but filled with all the goodness I expected.  Olivia was a bundle of light, joy and curiosity that touched the depths of my heart with exactly what I needed that evening.  However, the second date was one of the happiest surprises of 2018 so far.  Robby made it easy to connect.  He answered all the questions I asked.  He shared his likes and dislikes without fanfare.  He embraced each activity I had planned for him.  He even put his feet up on our coffee table and relaxed in his socks while we watched his all-time favorite show.  He was happy and made it so easy to be with him.  It was one of the best first dates I’ve ever had, filled with all the goodness I did not expect.

These will not be the only dates I have with these two.  Next time, Olivia and I might paint together (I learned that about her on our first date) and Robby and I will go bowling, but still eat hamburgers and have Diet Coke (I learned that about him on our first date).  I want to get to know both of them better so our time together is even more to their liking.

Isn’t this what so much of our journeys are all about?  Meeting others, getting to know them and loving them right where they are.   Connection.  Relationship.  Intimacy.  Freedom.

I don’t do this often, but today I will ask this question:  how about you?  What surprise can you be on the lookout for, that God has up His sleeve just for you, possibly a person that might bring more healing to your heart?  It might be a typical individual or someone with special needs.  It might be someone in your family or a complete stranger.  It might be someone similar to you or a person completely and utterly different.   It might be someone you already know or a brand new person you’ve never met.  Expect the unexpected!  Right now, I just envision God crouching down behind His heavenly “couch” and jumping up when you come in the door and shouting “SURPRISE!”

Posted in Emotions, Faith, Freedom, God, Hope

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes (Help!)

“I believe that faith is less like following a GPS through a precise grid of city blocks and more like being out at sea, a tricky journey, nonlinear and winding, the wind kicking up and then stalling.”   (Shauna Niequist)

Our town had a snow day this past week and I didn’t even know it until I saw it on Facebook in our town’s moms’ group site.  Oh my goodness.  The thought roared into my brain, “You are not one of those moms anymore.”  I remember having the same feeling this past fall when I realized I would have no more school year in my life.  I didn’t even know when the first day of school was until I saw pictures being posted by young moms with their adorable children in cute “first day of school” outfits.  After 22 years of first days of school and snow days, I felt clueless.  Huge change.  No more pics on the porch with Allen.  No more “you have a snow day” surprise visits into bedrooms with sleepy “awesome” replies.  Huge change.

These past few years have brought change after change for our family.  Each child slowly left the nest for college.  Allen took a new job commuting to Pittsburgh three days a week.  I started this blog which has brought a host of new and old friends into my life.  Grandchild #1 was born.  Close friends experienced horrific tragedies and loss and I didn’t avoid them (huge change for me).  And just this past Wednesday night, Allen and I slept with no one else in the house for the first time in 26 years  (that doesn’t count the 5 nights all four kids were at camp one summer…best week of my mom life).   There are many days, where I can’t get my bearing and feel tossed around by the “sea of life.”

As a young child of missionary parents, I embraced change.  I moved 21 times in my first 19 years.  I got a kick out of it all.  I constantly adjusted and readjusted to new normals and enjoyed it as much as I can remember.  Change kept happening, as it does throughout our lives no matter how much we try to stop it, and it took its toll on me.  Horrible anxiety came over me one summer with such a force that I couldn’t even leave my house.  At that point, I believed with all my might that change was the villain and I was the victim.  Uncertainty was the culprit and I was the casualty.

Those beliefs are just not true or helpful.  They shout loudly that the external things in life have control over my internal world.  I feel powerless and without hope.  No wonder anxiety comes right along side.  Thankfully, I’ve been slowly discovering a few new and very helpful ways to approach the changes that are sure to come (after all, I am only 51…oh, that kind of rhymes).

  • Embrace change itself.  Shauna Niequist reminds me, “If you dig in and fight the change you’re facing, it will indeed smash you to bits.”  Think of the example of a wave.  If you stand in the sand with knees locked as a wave comes in, you will be knocked over, tumbled through the rough sand and probably get pretty banged up.  But if you entrust yourself to the water just a little further out, you will be gently carried above those seemingly scary waves.  My hope is to embrace change.  Wait for the next step.  Stop “locking my knees” and bracing for impact.  Choose the long-view of my story.  “Ride the waves.”  I find it much easier to live there.
  • Embrace BOTH the darkness and the light.  I don’t want to lose touch with the heart of the story, the part where life comes from death (but not skip over the death part).  I spent many years just trying to “go up and to the right” and avoid all the bad stuff.  This past year, I have plunged headlong into grief, murder, anxiety, all the more shadowy sides of life.  I am going deep there.  People are really hurting.  It’s hard.  But there is always a glimmer of hope.  It’s not all bad.  Redemption comes.  Again, I don’t want to skip the death part, the darkness part.  I want to sit still where it’s not okay NOW (where darkness reigns) but still have hope it WILL be okay in the future (where the light shines brightly).  This is huge for me.  It’s been such a tremendous gift.
  • Embrace uncertainty.  Making peace with uncertainty is the hardest of all for me.  I have learned that certainty is not part of life.  The more I demand it, the more it eludes me.  Much of my life is driven by this force of demanding certainty.  “If this, then this.”  Formulas.  They just don’t work.  Because I bring my kids to church and read them stories from the Bible doesn’t mean they will embrace the deep love of God for them.  Because I exercise and eat right doesn’t mean I won’t get cancer.  Because I do all the right things (whatever that even means), doesn’t mean bad things won’t happen.  Certainty.  The insatiable hunger for it that I believed was my friend is actually my enemy.  Desire for certainty enslaves me.  Making peace with uncertainty frees me.

In the end of the day, change is one of God’s greatest gifts and most useful tools.  Change is one of the things that redeems me, brings me into greater freedom.  As Shauna reminds me once again, “It’s not a function of life’s cruelty but of God’s graciousness.”  God longs for me to have freedom from all that would hold me captive.  This hope of freedom helps me to embrace change the way I truly long to (even just a little bit at a time).

I don’t fear change the way I used to.  I’m up for the next round (and to be honest, a little fear crept in as I wrote that).  When I do think of all those changes I mentioned above, I get excited.  I have less constrictions on my time and energy.  God keeps bringing those who need me and who I need.  We are going deep together.  This blog is opening those doors.  I love and long for relationship.  I love and long for wholeness and healing.  I love and long for impact.  That core of who I am actually has not changed even though the world around me has and will continue to.  I am preserved through all of it.  The outside, external world does not have control over my truest self.  I am not without hope.  Change is NOT the villain and I am NOT the victim.  Uncertainty is NOT the culprit and I am NOT the casualty.   I am not losing myself, but marching forward on this journey of finding myself with the gracious, kind and loving help of God and others.  It’s really worth it.