Kids!

Do you ever look at your kids and think, "Wow, what did I ever do to deserve you?"

I have had that happen a couple of times over the last few days.  I am impressed, overwhelmed, and so very thankful for them.  I know they have risen to challenges produced by change, but they have allowed God to change them, and that...that is so evident in their lives today.

Johnny...taking and facing the challenge of Grade 11, buckling down, getting it down when it counts, loving his new role as part of the Compass Gear team, handling people and their inquiries with wisdom and an ability beyond his 16 years.  His smile lights up the room and people are automatically drawn to him.

Matt...all of his 15 years, letting God continue to change him and become his best friend, taking on new responsibilities with grace and maturity, working hard at his job, loving working with the kids and being an awesome role model for all. His deep loyalty and commitment are shining bright in all he does

Eric...rising to every occasion to be all the 12 years are calling him to be, enjoying life with friends and brothers always at his side, he laughs loud and lives loud, yet with a growing and gracious respect that wows me every time. Today, he got out of the van and grabbed his hockey equipment from the back, his blonde hair blowing in the wind, he looked years beyond his 12.  He held himself with a poise and maturity that I have not seen from him yet.  My heart raced when I realized he was growing up to be such a deep and thoughtful young man.

Mitch...bouncing through life with laughter and emotion and passion, living with passion for all things baseball and hockey and a Walmart gift card :).  I watch him regularly and marvel at his ability to remain focused on any given task, with the dry humour that he brings to every situation.

I know kids are a gift from God. I know that they are here to make us better people, to change us, to wow us, to marvel us, to challenge us, and to show us more about who we are.  They are each a Masterpiece and it is our job to guide them to that realization.  But they are also who God uses to help show us the Masterpieces that we, as parents, are.

Yes, you...YOU, tired and sleep deprived Mommy, wondering and worried Mama, frustrated and poured out Mom...YOU ARE GOD'S MASTERPIECE.  He has created you and he loves you!

Gather up the gratitude and thankfulness today.  Soak in those WOW moments with your kids, your family, your friends.  Allow them to change you.

Today, like every day, I know down deep to my toes, that I am blessed beyond belief.

The Only Yellow Leaf

Sometimes you just feel like you are the only yellow leaf on the tree. 

That you are the only one feeling the temperature changing, feeling the warmth of the sun declining, feeling the dawning of a new season. 
That you are the only one waving hard and crying out, "Do you see me?", trying to stay put, to hold on in the midst of the oncoming storm as the wind pulls hard to rip you away from your branch, your home,... your life.

If only it stayed warmer...
If only the sun shone a bit longer and brighter and hotter...
If only I could hold on tighter...
If only I were stronger, more able to cope with the wind...
If only I wasn't so scared...
If only I were more graceful, more attractive, more beautiful...
If only the other leaves were changing too...
If only I wasn't the only one.
Lonely.  It is so lonely being the only one.
But what if...

What if instead of saying "If only I...", I asked, "What if God..."?
What if instead of demanding something of myself by my flesh, I asked of God by his Holy Spirit.

What if God is using me to show him as the light of the world that shines longer and brighter and hotter?
What if God is teaching me to hold on to him, to remain in him, to trust in him so that I can remain firm when the really rough weather hits?
What if God's strength really is made perfect in my weakness and my dependance on him is true?
What if God has good things for me in this new season?
What if I miss out on those blessings because I can't handle the chill in the air?
What if God wants me to wave hard enough, long enough, wildly enough so that everyone can see what a Masterpiece I am, so that I can show off the handiwork of God?
What if God is calling me to be the only one, to lead by example a life that is grafted into the Vine?
What is God is using my willingness to be used to pull others along, to encourage others in their walk with the Creator?  Eventually the whole tree will change colour...it's just a matter of time.

What if I truly believe all of God's promises, believe all he claims to do and be, believe all his plans for me are purposeful and fruitful?

Then I will live a life full of promise; a life full of potential; a life eager for the next season to begin.

"See that what you have heard from the beginning remains in you.
If it does, you also will remain in the Son and in the Father.
And this is what he promised us - even eternal life."
1 John 2:24-25

Raw

So, when emotions are raw, you feel deeply. Peeling back the protective layers of pride and expectations, you become vulnerable, laying it all out there.

Every now and then I feel raw.  But I have needed to feel raw. I have needed to let myself feel what needed to be felt. As the days have moved along, there have been some great moments and some tough moments. As I have reflected on the raw emotions of these days, I have realized a couple of things.

I feel a bit like Jekyll and Hyde.  Some days I am rejoicing with my kids, other days I am crying with them.  Some days I am encouraging them and proud of the steps they have taken, other days I am frustrated that they aren't trying harder or more being committed.  I so desperately want them to make the jump from Mississauga to Orangeville, to find home here in our new community.  I know there is so much that is good about our new adventure. Good for our family, good for our new community, good for each one of us. I love our new place - our new home, our new church, even our new Walmart! :)  We truly could have the best of both worlds - a wonderful group of friends we have moved away from but have not left behind, while also making new friends and tackling new challenges and continuing to make life great.

But I have to let them do it in their own time and in their own way.

     Transitioning is a process and it requires courage and grace, 
                                                                                     strength and compassion,            
                                                                                               determination and perseverance. 
All are necessary in life; good things to learn; great things to become awesome at. My boys are becoming awesome at these things.  I see them change and try and dig deeper and learn to be more than they were, more than they could have been had we stayed put. And for that I am thankful, even if they don't see it that way.

There is grief in the leaving, but there is also joy in the journey.  We are all becoming people we weren't before, these thing are stretching us and changing us, bringing us to a point of dependency on God for strength, courage, and faith.  Faith to believe that what we have done is right - for all of us.  There is great comfort in knowing that
                       "suffering produces perseverance; 
                         perseverance, character; 
                         and character, hope. 
                        And hope does not disappoint".  
How awesome is that!  Hope does not disappoint!!  

The Adventure of moving has worn off.  Nine months in and what was an exciting and new adventure for our family has become a deep seated reality.  This is life - this is our new life. A life we have been called to, a life full of new people, places, experiences and promise. There have been countless affirmations that this new life is the life we are supposed to be living, and we continue to live those out.

God has been gracious with his surprises!! His mercies continue to be new each morning.  We search and we strive to figure out what it is He has called us to.  God is good, and I am...

Blessed Beyond Belief.

Transition of Obedience: Pressing On

   “Hey Hon, take a look at this email,” my husband said as he turned his laptop to me.  “Do you think I should check it out?”  As I skimmed the contents of the email, I read about a church in a town just north of our city that was looking for a new Lead Pastor, someone who could come and guide them through the next piece of their journey.  I had heard about this church although had no personal experience or connections to it.  From what I knew, it was a large, growing, vibrant church that sought new and bold ways to do ministry.  But wait, aren’t we currently in a church that is vibrant and growing, boldly loving to do ministry together?  Why consider moving from a church and community we love and who love us?  Move from a church that has loved us and shaped us every bit as much as, if not more than, we have them?  It didn’t seem to make sense…from the outside.  However, my response to my husband’s question was something like, “Sure.  It wouldn’t hurt to find out a bit more.”

   And that was that.  God started us on a journey that would impact hundreds of lives, including those of our four children, our many friends and our family.  Relationships that have been deeply rooted over the 18 years we lived and did ministry in the city were to be tested and torn.

Leaving what we Love

   So why leave a church, a community, a city that we love?  Why uproot all we have known in life to embark on a new journey that to many seemed like bad timing, bad thinking or maybe just plain bad?  We leave what we love because we obey the call of God.  Being in ministry means devoting our life to the work of God; we know that not everything makes sense to the average person looking in from the outside, and sometimes it doesn’t even make sense to us.  This decision to leave one church and head to another was not a choice between two really “good” churches, it was a choice to be obedient to God.  Obedience is not always easy, but it is always right.  Obedience is not always fun, but it is always foundational.  Making a tough decision to transition your life, family, and ministry to another place has to be a choice of obedience, and the belief that it will produce perseverance, character, and hope (Romans 5:3-5).  The great news is that the Bible promises us that “hope does not disappoint us”!  So in hope, we press on.

   Transitioning is also a decision made out of purposeful reflection on our spiritual gifts, both individually and as a family.  After having been in one place for 18 years, both my husband and I were feeling stagnant in our spiritual walk and usefulness.  Not that anything was bad; we walked closely with God and with our partners in ministry and could have continued on there being very happy for many years to come.  There were many fantastic things about where we were living and raising our family.  

   The question that really drove this transition process for me was this: were we being all we were called and created to be?  Was there more for us out there?  New experiences and challenges that we actually would not be able to accomplish by staying put?  There were many realistic and logical variables to consider: my job was in the city, our kids were committed to sports teams, we would be pulling our teenagers from an excellent high school, my husband had gone through a significant health crisis and was still being monitored so moving might impact his care, and the reality check of whether or not he was healthy enough to make the transition and continue on long term.  God took care of each of these concerns in miraculous ways, clearing the path for our transition.  There had  to be more for us out there, God was making that abundantly obvious.  He had so much more for us. It wasn’t going to be easy, but it was going to be adventurous. It was going to be a step of faith for our whole family.

What about the kids?

   The thought of transitioning our children was the hardest part of this decision.  Our older boys were part of a fantastic high school and had made wonderful friends; they were settled and enjoying life as teenagers do.  Our third born had just begun the first of his years at Middle School and would be leaving the sense of freedom and independence that came with finally being in sixth grade.  Our youngest son loved life and school and church; he didn’t have a care in the world most days!  

   So why pull them from a life they love, a church they love, and friends they love?  As parents, this was really tough.  We endeavoured from the beginning to include them in the process.  We did not want them to feel as if my husband and I had made a decision that was forced upon them.  We talked openly about moving; we acknowledged it was a difficult thing and we were very upfront that it was not going to be easy for any of us.  Our policy was to be open and honest with each other.  We encouraged our boys to be honest with how they were feeling, and we in turn were honest with them.  We thought is was important to model Godly decision making for them.  We included them in our doubts, our fears, our excitement, and our prayers.  We shared with them our concerns but also our commitment to following Christ in obedience.  For most of the transition journey our boys were “willing to”, but not necessarily “wanting to” move.  In their heads they understood that there is a bigger picture being painted, and that God has our family as part of that.  However, in their hearts, it was more difficult to comprehend.  

   Leaving hurts.  Plain and simple: it hurts and it is hard. 

   One day while in the process of making this decision, I was wrestling with God about pulling my children from our community. “What about the kids? How can we take our kids away from the only life they have known?” God clearly returned me to a place where I had had to trust Him with my children a few years ago.  I had been quite sick and facing death in the hospital, scared beyond belief about leaving my children and God asked me then, “Do you trust me?”. I knew then that I HAD to trust Him; I had no other option.  But I also knew that I wanted to trust Him, and that I could trust Him.  And so He reminded me again that He loved my children much more than I did, and that He had a plan and a purpose for them.  This decision of transitioning was not just about my husband’s job, it was not just about us as adults and parents trying our best to follow God and where He would place us.  

   No, it was about all of us, our whole family.  God has a purpose for each one of us.

   “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” (Jer 29:11)

Finding New Community

   So now we live our lives in our new community, seeking to find and understand what God’s purposes are for us as a family, and for each one of us individually.  My children still wrestle  with the hurt and the change, but we assure them that God is bigger than their questions.  They are learning so much about who God is and what it means to live for Him in a new and different setting.  They are learning to bring their big questions to Him, that it is OK to ask God those questions, and that He isn’t offended when we feel He doesn’t make sense. They are learning things about God that I’m not sure they would have learned if they had not experienced the transition of obedience.  There is safety and security in staying, in remaining with the known and loved. But there is great opportunity for renewed faith, trust and hope in following God in obedience.  And “hope does not disappoint us”. 

   So in obedience and hope, we press on toward the goal.  

Invisible

I want to tell my kids that they are not invisible.

I want to tell them that they are seen and loved.  I want them to know that the other high schoolers sitting in their classes who are choosing to not see my sons are missing out. They are missing out on a friendship with a loyal, caring, compassionate and fun boy (or two, or three, or four).

I want them to know that my heart breaks every morning they head out the door for school. My mother's heart would do anything to protect them and provide everything they need.  But the fact is, I feel powerless to change it and them and those others who choose to not see the goodness and depth that exists within my boys. I just feel angry that it is still hard, that it is still not wanted, that it is not what it used to be.

I grieve all that was lost and I cry. I cry a deep cry that acknowledges, perhaps for the first time, the hole that exists within me because of what no longer is. I feel my heart crying, "Oh God, what have we done?"...knowing full well we did exactly what He asked us to do.

It was a transition of obedience.  But it was hard.  Honestly, it is hard.  Three months in, and I am tired and just wish it was all easier - the whole thing: life, work, school, friends, family, sports...

Moving has been the hardest thing we have ever done. It brings comparisons between what was and what is, and between who was and who is. It is a chance to grow and depend on each other and on God. But it is also a daily struggle of hoping each day is better than the one before.  Often it is two steps forward, and one step backward. I am very thankful for those who have helped us take the two steps forward each time, because there have been many! And I am also thankful for our church youth groups who have welcomed our boys with open arms.

Transitioning is a process and it requires courage and grace, strength and compassion, determination and perseverance. All are necessary in life; good things to learn; great things to become awesome at. My boys are becoming awesome at these things.  I see them change and try and dig deeper and learn to be more than they were, more than they could have been had we stayed put. And for that I am thankful, even if they don't see it that way.

But as I watch my son watch everyone around him I think, "Can you see him?  Can you just turn around and notice the boy standing alone behind you?"  I'm scared because I know that my boy is hurting; he is lonely but he is trying; he puts one foot in front of the other each morning and for that I am so proud of him.  He joins new groups and teams in an attempt to find a friend, someone who likes him for who he is, someone who laughs at his jokes and acknowledges all he is.

Someone who sees him.
Because he is not invisible.

He is loved and known. They are all loved and known.
I know that, and I pray that they know it too.

If These Walls Could Speak

"Hey Friend! Let's just --- Exhale. Let your shoulders drop and feel everything slow..." 
(Ann Voskamp, this morning.  Thank you!).

Fresh words, feeding words for a tired body and soul.  More than anything else this, this is what I needed to do this morning.  More than a visit to the gym (which is not a bad idea!), more than downing that extra cup of coffee (also, not necessarily a bad idea!), I needed to slow down...relax...breathe in the blessings that are today.

The boxes are mostly packed...mostly.  Where clothes used to sit in drawers, they are now empty.  Where toys used to sit on shelves, they are no longer.  Where medicine used to wait to heal, it is an bare cupboard.  Where hockey equipment used to gather, there is an open space.  Where boys' beds use to sit, waiting for sweet heads to fall asleep from the joys and burdens of the day, those beds now lie stacked in pieces against walls.  The same walls where pictures used to hang, telling of family and love and life and reminders of blessings and loved ones here and gone and gone around the world.  Walls that are now blank except for tiny holes left from hooks, reminders of where memories once hung.

Walls that, if they could speak, would tell many secrets of laughter and tears and struggles and victories. 

Walls that have been our house - our home - for many years.  Walls that saw children born, fevers broken, lessons learned, bodies healed, championships won, friends made, meals enjoyed, pets loved, tears wiped, hearts comforted, laughter heard, prayers answered, patience groomed.  Walls that will forever be woven into the fabric of our family.  I am reminded of a song that Amy Grant recorded a number of years ago (and I remember it with fondness because it was the one song that I (thought I) could play on the piano and sing to at the same time...my apologies to my family for that!!).  The lyrics talk about all that walls are witness to and they speak to us a great reminder of all that a family home is.   If These Wall Could Speak...

If these old walls
If these old walls could speak
Of things that they remembered well
Stories and faces dearly held
A couple in love
Livin' week to week
Rooms full of laughter
If these walls could speak

If these halls
If hallowed halls could talk
These would have a tale to tell
Of sun going down and dinner bell
Of children playing at hide and seek
From floor to rafter
If these halls could speak


See, as I write this, my family is preparing for a major transition. In four short days our lives will all change.  My pastor husband of almost 19 years has been called to leave the place our family has called home for 18 years, to begin a new ministry, in a new church, in a new city.  Among the multitude of changes that will occur, we have also had to purchase a new house.  A new set of walls.  A new framework for family life, love and ministry.   A new place to make memories in.  We have purchased a new home.

As poignant as that is, I need to remind my heart that these walls, these houses, our home (old and new)...it is but a temporary home for us.  Sure it is meaningful, it is well loved, it is a piece of what shapes us into who we are because it is the place where lives, big and small, are formed and made and have grown up.  But they are just walls.  Walls made of plaster and wood and nails and painted and repainted to our liking.  Our real home, our permanent forever home, is being prepared for us, is waiting for us and it has been built by One who loves us more than we can imagine, One who calls us his child, One who calls us...home.  

And, oh, if only those walls could speak.