Blessed be Your Name...

Ft. Campbell, Kentucky. Our new home. At this moment, I'm sitting in our hotel that has been our home for the past two and a half weeks. Our home on post will be ready in a few days. My mind and heart are so full. We are so incredibly blessed to be here. After the long journey of LIMBO, waiting, hoping and the many months (years) of praying for an open door, we are here, in a position that we could only have dreamed of.  God truly is the only one who can receive the glory. This is "All Him".  We are humbled beyond measure and we are truly living in the space of answered prayer.

 This journey as not looked like we thought it would. It has not gone as "smoothly" as it has for many. But, I can only think that God does these things so that we can glorify HIM. So we can give testimony to HIM. It is only because of HIM that we are here. We could not have opened this door, no matter how hard or how long we pounded on it. God had to do it..in HIS time and in HIS way.


The other day, JD and I were at a park on post, I stopped him and had him look around. I reminded him of all the times we prayed that God would open a door for "Daddy to be a Chaplain at an army base". I said, 

 "JD, look around..we are living answered prayers!" "We are living in a miracle!"

This journey, has been long. However, it has been blessed. Even in the waiting, we were blessed. The timing of God's answers may have seemed long in coming...but the time was far from wasted. I am richer for the time I spent with my dear friends in Oklahoma. My heart will be forever linked to those who walked with us in that season. God does not waste a moment. He does not waste an experience. He does not waste a relationship. We have learned that God intends to bring glory out of any situation. He gives and he takes away...Blessed be the name of the Lord!

Between

Today was a day of in between for me.  A day of welcoming a new little life to the world.  Seeing my friend Carrie's baby boy with in an hour of his birth.  Holding all 6 pounds 15 ounces of him.  Seeing the miracle of life right there in my arms.  He is absolutely perfect.  Such a sweet reminder of God's grace.  

Yet on the way to and from the hospital, I was talking with family from across the country about my precious Grandma.  She's in the hospital in western Nebraska.  She's 95 years old and is not doing well.  I literally ache to be with her right now.  Apparently, she is not able to talk, not able to swallow, not able to get out of bed.  She's had moments of clarity today, but only fleeting ones.  She's lived a life of faithful service to our Heavenly Father, and her room has been full of visitors today.  Each person who came to visit is a tribute to my Grandma's legacy.  She has loved well.   We don't know if tonight will be her last one here on earth.  My Mom and Aunt are by her side.  They've told her it's OK to go home.  Her husband went ahead of her almost 40 years ago. Her first child, Shirley Kay, who died before her second birthday waits for her So many people in heaven are cheering her on.  So many people here are wanting to hang on...but not for her.  For us.  For if she does fly to Jesus tonight...we will grieve.  Yet, we will rejoice.  For in heaven, she will hear again.  Her ears have long since stopped working well. and  I can only imagine how she will smile when she hears her saviors voice.  

My sister quoted a friend of hers, who had lost his wife to cancer.  He said that death is God's final grace.  I've thought of that today.  How it is His Grace that brings us into this world, a testament of His love.  It's also His grace that takes us home.  His grace that throws open the doors of heaven to those who call Him Lord.  His grace that ends our earthly pain and suffering.

Whatever happens, whenever Jesus calls her home, she is ready. 

Theology 101 in the minivan

Apparently, my boys have decided that our trips around town are now a mobile theology class.  During our most recent trip to the store, I was posed with several of the following questions:

      " Did God make Satan?"

     " If Satan used to be an angel, and he got kicked out of heaven, how come God       didn't just destroy him?"

      "If God made Satan, does that mean God made sin?"

      "Can Satan say He's sorry to God and go back to heaven?"

      

These are tough questions to answer on the way to Wal-Mart.  But, I love that my boys are eager to know more about scripture. Eager to understand.  Unafraid to ask questions.    I may not have all the answers, but I love the discussions.  I love the way their minds work.  I love the innocence in their questions.  

It's easy as a Mom, to get in the van and let everyone get lost in electronics. Be it my cell phone, the ipad, the radio or a video.  I've been known to put my earphones in at times, just to drown out the NOISE.  Recently, during our drives around town,  I've turned everything off and really tried to engage my kids.  I'm discovering that with my little captive audience, we can tackle some huge issues.  I pray we can continue these conversations and that they will serve as a bridge for communication in the teen years that will be here before I know it.   

    

Of Basketball and Perseverence

Caleb is small.  He stands a full head and shoulders shorter than most of his peers.  He's 8 years old and still barely tips the scales at 45 pounds.  He's playing basketball again this year.  But, this year, they raised the baskets.  Last year, they were lowered for his age group..but now he's in the next age group and the hoop looms so far above his head.  Try as he might, he can't make a basket.  His team mates shoot lay- up after lay-up and they fall through the net with that satisfying "swoosh".  Caleb can't get it anywhere near the basket.  His past coaches have always been really sensitive to Caleb, his size and personality.  This year, it's more competitive and the coaches are more focused and more competitive as well.  When it's Caleb's turn to play, his team mates don't throw him the ball, and the coaches give each other the "look" when Caleb is on the floor.  You know the one.  The one that says.."I wish he was on the bench".  Caleb has returned from every practice and every game in tears.  He knows that his team mates ignore him and he can sense his coaches opinion of him.  He tries, but ends up in tears.

As a Mom, this is hard to watch.  I've had to swallow that lump in my throat when I see it happening and cheer loudly from the sidelines.  I have struggled with the temptation to pull him off the team.  Yet, leaving the team is not the answer.  Helping Caleb learn resiliency and determination are the key to getting through this season.  Pointing his tender heart towards Jesus, and letting Him know that He is loved and believed in, not just by his Mom and Dad, but by his heavenly Father. Helping him know that his acceptance is not based on his performance, is going to be key. 


So often in life, when it gets hard, we want to quit.  When we feel like we are in an impossible situation, we want to walk away.  But that is not the answer.  If quitting when treated unfairly was the answer, Jesus would  never have made it to the cross.  Our loving heavenly Father, sometimes allows us to be in difficult situations.  He does that not because he likes seeing us struggle, but because He knows those struggles will shape our character and if we let them will draw us to Him.  So, instead of quitting, we get back on the court, we do our best.  We look to Jesus for our sense of identity and we keep going.

Broken Record and the Art of Waiting

I have not blogged much in the past couple years.  I love the art of blogging, but so much of what I was dealing with, or processing, made me feel like a broken record.  I think many of us have been in a time of waiting, where we feel like we bring the same requests to God, and we know cognitively that He hears us.  But, the void of unanswered prayers looms before us and we wait some more.  I guess it's not really unanswered prayers..but the feeling of such.  He is always answering, always communicating and is always faithful.

It's been in this time, these months and years of waiting, that I have had to learn what it really means to TRUST.  I've always trusted God, I mean, He's always been faithful.  I've seen him work over and over in my 30+ years of being His child.   I KNOW He has my best interests at heart.  I know He loves me more than I can possibly imagine.    It's just the land of waiting that is hard.  It's then when the enemy can creep in and attack what I KNOW to be true.  It's when I can here the enemy whisper lies to me like.." Sure God is good...but He's being mean.."

 It's in the land of waiting, where I can spiral down into doubt, fear, anxiety.  BUT...in the land of waiting is where I have learned some amazing things about the character of my heavenly Father.  I have learned to battle Satan in ways I have never had to.  I've learned to run to the Scriptures, not just to have "devotions/quiet times", but to literally to lap up strength.  I've had mornings where in the shower I have had shouted scripture to fight off the exhausting work of waiting and the depression that I can sink into.  I have learned to fill my home with worship.  When I feel the cold strands of fear and worry start to creep in, I crank up the worship tunes and fill my heart and mind with HIS praises.

It's been about 6 years of waiting and yearning and leaning into what Monty and I believe is HIS calling on our lives.  We see a possible answer to our time of waiting on the horizon.  We rejoice in that, but we also know better than to but our trust in what "might be".  Instead we both are leaning into Jesus, surrendering our dreams to HIM..

God could say no, He could close this door that seems to be cracking open.  My job is to "Wait patiently for the Lord" and know that HE HAS HEARD MY CRY!  So, even if this door closes, my heart will be sad, but I Will not be shaken.  I will just burrow closer to His heart and wait for what's next!

Psalms 40:1-3

¹ 

I waited patiently for the Lord;

    he turned to me and heard my cry.

² 

He lifted me out of the slimy pit,

    out of the mud and mire;

he set my feet on a rock

    and gave me a firm place to stand.

³ 

He put a new song in my mouth,

    a hymn of praise to our God.

Many will see and fear the Lord

    and put their trust in him.

Bread, Stones and My God of Everything

It is safe to trust Jesus.  It is safe...but it's not easy.  I know that Jesus promises to meet our needs, that He even promises to give "good gifts" to his children.  He says in


Matthew 7:11-Which of you , if his son asks for bread will give him a stone?"
  


So, my question is, what do you do when you feel like He is serving stones and not bread?  What do you do when life does not look the way you thought it would?   When dreams don't play out, when the rug seems to be pulled out from under you...what then?  It can sure feel like a meal of rocks and not bread. 

Perhaps, the meaning has nothing to do with circumstances.  Perhaps, the answer lies in what I decide to pick up.  What I decide to pick up..... What if God, in the midst of the tornado of disillusionment, is still serving bread.  What if it's me that is picking up the stone instead?  What if in the middle of the storm, he's giving me everything I need.  Himself.  Is not my chief end to bring HIM glory?  What if in the middle of the storm I scream out " I Don't UNDERSTAND...but I will  thank you!"    What if the storm has nothing to do with me at all?  What if in choosing bread, it brings Him glory? 

In the night He was betrayed...Jesus took the bread , GAVE THANKS, and broke it.  Jesus...took the bread.  In the midst of turmoil that I can't begin to understand...Jesus took the bread, gave thanks.  He knows...HE knows.....He KNOWS....

If he knows...then I can trust.  I can be assured  that hope in HIM will not disappoint.  I can ask him as I eat the bread, to be the God of my Hope, the God of my need...the God of my everything....

Just Run the Fence Line

Saturday I got the news that I've been afraid of. The news that I had hoped and prayed would not come true. The news that we cannot go active duty. Monty is three yeas to old, and they are accepting no age waivers. It does not matter that he is jump qualified, or prior service. He's 45..and the cut off is 42. Period.

I got the news from Monty's endorser. He called our home number by mistake. I was able to relay to him that Monty was in the desert in Djibouti, doing a desert survival course and would not be available for a few days. He obviously knew that Monty was deployed, just dialed the wrong number. It's been difficult, having this knowledge, when Monty did not.

I'm grateful that Monty IS a chaplain. That he IS serving our country with the National Guard. We're 9 months into his first deployment and I've never seen him more alive. It's just not the dream that we had when we started this journey. I had always hoped to live on a base. To wake up and hear bugle calls, to be involved in the PWOC, to live in an army community. So, I'm grieving the loss of those dreams. It just hurts.

I got off of the phone with the endorser and fell apart. I wept. For a long time. I didn't want the boys to see how upset I was. So I sat in the garage, in the van and wept. I was in rough shape on Sunday morning, and wanted to go to church, but not my church. I wanted to be "lost" in a crowd. So, I took the boys and we visited a different church. Ironically, the sermon that day was on "Praying for a miracle". I wept some more, and prayed some more. I've poured my heart out to the Lord in such raw emotion, longing for a miracle. But, none came. Monday morning I was so exhausted that I took the boys to school, came home and took a 4 hour nap. In the mean time, Oklahoma was hit with the largest Earthquakes on record. Seems fitting. I believe that the Lord could fix this. I just see Him choosing not to, which honestly makes me mad. I'm glad God is big enough to handle my emotions.

It was on Wednesday morning when God spoke to me. I was driving along the Creek Turnpike when I saw two deer. A big buck and a beautiful doe. They had obviously just run across  all 4 lanes of the Turnpike. They were headed towards a beautifully wooded area, when they ran into it. A large, insurmountable fence. They could see the woods, but could not enter them. The doe kept charging the fence with all her might. She would back up...charge into it and bounce right back off. She did this over and over. The buck stood there looking at the fence. Immobile. I knew if they panicked and ran back onto the Turnpike, their chances of survival were slim. Banging in the fence would only injure them and they would not get anywhere. I wanted to stop the van and tell them that if they just ran the fence line, that there was an opening just about a mile down the road. It was not where they had planned to enter, and in a different part of the forest, but they could get in. They didn't have to stand at the fence. They just needed to run to fence line.

I'm not sure what happened to them. But I know that I saw myself in that doe. She kept charging the fence...aching to get in where she thought they were supposed to. I finally got to talk with Monty today. I've known for 5 days, and it was a relief to know that he knew. His endorser spoke with him this morning. Monty is disappointed, but His rock solid faith once again came through. He simply said... "Well, God has something. I don't know what it looks like...but He's got us."

I said, "Yeah, you're right. We just need to follow Jesus along the fence line...."