Gloves in the Snow

I created this quote a couple of days ago. It was to accompany a post that I had written which I hoped would be both funny and inspiring. But alas, I accidentally deleted the post and could not find it anywhere. And that is the funny thing about this quote, the quote that says, “This event will not dictate my day but my reaction to it might.” 

Haha. Isn’t that the truth. 

I remind myself that this event, the deleting of a post, will not dictate my day. But my reaction to it could.

In the post I wrote about choosing delight over frustration. See, I could not find my gloves and it was -14 degrees and snowy outside. But as I left for work, I found my gloves buried in the snow on the driveway beside my van. I turned my van on and the words of a song came from the radio: “It’s all gonna be ok”. I laugh right out loud.

I know it was just gloves in the snow. No big deal, I get that. But I thought how quickly my entire day could change if I let frustration and disappointment overtake me right then. After all, my only gloves were in the snow, frozen, trampled on by curious bunnies in the night. And it was freezing cold and I had yard duty and recess to be outside. All of these things were true. But instead, I laughed out loud. I chose delight in finding my gloves. I chose to delight in a God who reminded me through a random song on the radio that it’s all gonna be ok. Frozen gloves and all.

That was Thursday. And yesterday I needed to remind myself of this again. As I sat alone in my classroom and wrote report cards, pouring over successes and strengths and abilities of my students, I found myself getting frustrated.

I found myself doubting and questioning my ability to teach my students. I found myself doubting my ability to write, to share, to even have a story worth listening to. I found myself questioning my very calling and my desire to teach and to reach the hearts of anyone who will listen. I found myself doubting that my story existed, that it matters, that it is even worth telling. I doubted my motive, my reason, my message.

And this reaction...this frustration, doubt, and disappointment began to dictate my day. I found myself following a spiral that was getting tighter and faster, spinning away from all that held meaning and truth and goodness, all that is full of purpose.

I broke down and cried right there in my classroom. I questioned what I was even doing there and wondered how I was going to carry on come Monday, let alone the rest of the term.

By the time I got home I was a mess. I blubbered words that I couldn’t even believe I was saying. As I spewed it out at my patient husband, I knew that I had let my reaction dictate my day. The event didn’t have to do it, my reaction of frustration and disappointment became what derailed me and the rest of my day. I had lived out what I had said I would not do. 

I could have chosen truth but I heard lies. I could have chosen delight but I heard doubt. I could have chosen contentment but I heard disappointment.

What changed it? For one, I believe saying the words out loud and hearing them in my own voice helped them lose their power over my heart and head. Naming the whirlwind of emotions that enveloped my thoughts helped me realize what was a lie and what was truth. Giving words to it all brought it into the light, and the words I was saying surprised even myself. But putting them out there released the pressure in my head and left room for truth to breathe. And then my husband told me to go and be alone and rest if I needed to. Go and do whatever you need to do, whatever is helpful. So I did. I laid down. And I also asked Jesus to help decipher the emotion that tanked me.

I am choosing humility when I let you know that the root if it all, the very dark pit that I was stuck in, was jealousy. That emotion of chasing after something with even an ounce of selfish desire and the feeling of actually getting something you don’t really deserve. I so desperately don’t want that to happen. I do not want anything I do to be done in self ambition. But that is where I was headed yesterday in my thoughts. I was throwing a bit of a pity party in my brain because I thought God wasn’t going to give me what I wanted. Really. That is what I thought.

I know better. Seriously.

I know in my heart of hearts, in my deepest desires that I only want what God wants for me. I was a mess because I was thinking about it all backwards. I was thinking about what I might do to get to a place I thought I should be. I was a mess because I let selfishness, jealousy and disappointment with myself and God take a prominent place in my heart and mind. I was a mess because I thought I saw God giving to other people what I wanted for myself and I believed God was disappointed in me. I saw God giving other people the part in the play that I wanted. But I was believing the lie that God wasn’t giving it to me.

It was just that. A lie.

A lie that dictated my day in a way that almost derailed my calling, my gifting and my desires. Because indeed, as he always does, God was actually giving me what I need. He reminded me that his timing is perfect, his love is unconditional, and his grace is more than fair. 

Every single day we have choices to make, about what we wear, what we eat, and about what we think. Events of all sorts happen to us every single day and even though those events may not dictate how our day goes, our reaction to any of them can certainly do just that. 

If finding my gloves in the snow brought frustration, I would leave for work already feeling like I was running uphill.

If running out of milk in the morning is deflating, then carrying that for the rest of the day will wear you out and bring you down.

If getting every red light on your way to an appointment, making you late, invites anger, then you will arrive into that appointment feeling like things don't ever go your way.

If your child does not listen, your spouse does not follow through, or your friend does not come through. Whatever it may be that causes frustration, disappointment, discouragement, or discontentment, remember that how you choose to react in that moment could dictate how the rest of your day goes. 

Instead of anger, offer grace. Instead of jealousy, offer celebration. Instead of frustration, offer help. Instead of discouragement, offer delight. Every event gives us an opportunity to choose how the rest of our day is going to go. Choose wisely. Choose well. Choose truth.

"Set your hearts on things above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things." (Col 3:1,2)

"Finally brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable - if anything is excellent or praiseworthy - think about such things." (Phil 4:8,9)

Today is The Day

He went to see his doctor today. He went to see his endocrinologist who keeps track of all sorts of important levels that the regular person has no regular thought of. He went for his regular annual check up, something he will probably have to do for the rest of his life. But he went to see his doctor today. And today was, seven years ago, The Day. The Day that is forever etched into the grain and ebb and flow of our family. The Day, the first day of a journey that has shaped our life & our family, our marriage & our ministry.

And today, I let myself wander back to that day. I sit there, and I feel it all. I realize that on this particular day, seven years ago, I had no idea what the rest of the story would be, how life would unfold, the crazy hard and the beautiful holy that I would witness. The truth is that we never do know what the rest of our story will be. We live in today and have a hope for all our future tomorrows. But today, I look back at the story, just briefly, and I let my mind ponder and treasure it all...

~How seven years ago tonight I left my husband in his hospital recovery room expecting him to, well...recover. His neurosurgeon had said everything had gone “very well.”

~How seven years ago I went to bed alone on this night, after tucking in my 4 young boys, and cried tears of release, anxiety, worry, and flat out hope.

Hope for something to change, for something to work, for the tumour to be all gone, for his pituitary gland to start working, for his body to begin the slow climb to health and wholeness and normalness.

Hope for our family, for the husband and dad that I once knew to return and fully embrace the life that we had built together.

~How seven years ago Jesus walked us through a valley that could have been so deep and dark except for the grace and light that kept us walking.

~How seven years ago we were given decisions to make that no one should ever have to decide.

~How seven years ago God brought us to a new dependency on Him, choosing Life and Trust and Faith when it would have been so easy to walk away...mad.

~How for the last seven years we have been learning how to live the resurrection life because God did just that. 

But I can’t help think about how different things could have been. I hear stories of others - so many stories - that ended differently than ours. Stories that are full of hope and Jesus even though they involve death and loss. And I wonder, “Why God?”, not questioning the very real pain we did go through, but rather pain we didn’t have to go through. “Why God, did you rescue him, save him, and flat out miraculously heal him? Why not her husband? Why did you not heal that pastor? Why did that dad have to leave his wife and children behind? Why God, did you choose life for Andrew - for us?" 

This is the question that sits in my heart, mind and soul each and every day. This is the question that calls me to more each day, that reminds me that even though I can desperately try to control my life, really I can’t and really, I don’t want to. 

God gives and takes away, and in either circumstance, 

He is still God and 

He is still good.

That God redeemed Andrew’s life when He clearly had every opportunity to take it, this is grace. That we, for the last seven years have been learning to live out the resurrection life that God has called us to, this too, is grace. There is so much in that, so much to figure out as we live it out. But we know this: God obviously isn’t finished with us yet. So we are determined and steadfast in our mission and purpose. 

Today is Day One is the story, the journey. It is a journey that continues to shape our life and family and marriage and ministry. This is life and when God gives you a second chance at life, you seize it and hold on tight because you know it's going to be a wild ride. 

Loss and Life

Eleven years ago today, and it still feels like yesterday.

Eleven years and the memories of the pain and reality and loss and death and sorrow and Presence are close enough to touch.

Time passes and they say time heals. And it does. Honestly, it does.

But time also holds. It holds memories and treasures and challenges and growth and people and places and events - all significant to the passing of time and the marking of wonders and wisdom. You experience loss, and time continues to pass. Oddly enough, life goes on - around you, in you, through you, in spite of you really. And the Giver and Holder of time, life and love moves with you, walks with you, works through you, in spite of you...really.

Eleven years ago today, I held our baby. After having delivered him at home, alone, in my bathroom, I cupped him tenderly in my hands and watched his little heart stop beating. There was nothing I could do. Nothing anyone could do, but sit and cry and watch and wonder. I watched as our dreams for his life and our life as a family vanquished. This was not the way we planned it. This was not what our mutual marital heart hoped for. And yet this was our reality. A life that was created and desired and longed for in love, was being carried to the Giver and Holder of time and life and love, and I couldn't take him back. No matter how hard I tried or wanted to, my baby was gone. A life lived, loved and gone. I held him, told him is Mommy loves him, and watched him go from this life in my small Mississauga bathroom to be with his Maker and Creator.

This was not my first baby loss, but it was the only one I physically held in my hands. Miscarriages happen to too many people too often, and part of the searing pain is the loneliness in it all. As much as you seek to make it a private, personal time, there is also that cavernous grief that echoes of loneliness and hurt and sadness and disappointment. The early loss of a baby is different because too much of society tells us that it isn't really a loss, you didn't really have time to love that baby, you didn't even know your baby. Those of us who have walked this road know different. Love and grief go hand in hand. It is more than OK to love, and it is more than OK to grieve.

Time passes and all the memories and moments begin to flow together. They are treasures and challenges that hold us and shape us, they change us and make us better people if we let them. When faced with challenges and heartache and questions, I always pray that God uses it to change me because I don't ever want to go through such pain and not come out different on the other side.

If I don't allow God to use this pain in my life, then it is pointless. 

If I don't let God take the time to use this to change me, make me different, reshape my heart and life and hope, then it is worthless. 

All it is then, is pain. Empty, hopeless pain. 

God wants so much more for you, for me. Pain in our world is a result of sin, of the infiltration of things that God did not intend for His creation. Yet it exists. But His promise is that He will make all things new, that what was intended for evil, He will make right and good and whole again. That is His promise to us. That is His gift of time and life and love to us.

Time. Yes, time heals. But it is the Giver and Holder of time that really heals. Time is a gift He gives us to treasure and challenge and change. Time is the space that holds all things precious and painful. Time is filled with memories and moments and stories that long to be told and used.

Eleven years and the memories of the pain and reality and loss and death and sorrow and Presence are close enough to touch. 

His Presence is still close enough to touch. Through loss and through life, His Presence is close enough to touch.

*****************************************

If you know our story, you know that Andrew and I have been through many challenges that have brought us face to face with Jesus. This is just one of them. God is the Giver and Holder and Healer of time and life and memories and moments that make us more like Jesus. And really, it is His Presence that allows time to heal us. Healing, physical and emotional, is a journey that takes time. Give it time. Give God the time to work wonders in your life. Time is a gift. Accept it and let it heal you,

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.