On Turning 50 and Other Rambling Thoughts

Here it is, the final day of February. I had set a goal for myself that I would write one blog post a month, and I almost missed the mark on the very second month of the year! I am happy to be getting one in here, just under the wire. Phew...

In January, I began using The Next Right Thing Guided Journal by Emily P. Freeman..​ 

Side note: not only had I bought myself a copy, but I was also given a copy by some friends who know me well...this I recorded as an “arrow” to keep journaling, keep figuring out what my next right thing is. I am not paid for this, but you too, should get a copy

Each month begins with a space for a quote. As January came to a close and I was prepping for February, I chose a quote from Jennie Allen’s ​Get Out of Your Head​ bible study book:

“God is not only concerned with the posture of our hearts but also the people on each of our arms. In terms of fulfilling our mission in life we can’t do anything worthwhile alone.” (85)

With this quote as my focus for the month, I have been reflecting on community. As I have looked back over the month, I have seen the theme of people - friends & family - all gathered around me at different times and for different purposes. And it was beautiful. Beautiful to see God at work. Beautiful to see how others allowed God to use them. Beautiful to see how my life intersected the lives of those I live with and work with and do life in general with. God brought so much good out of each time my life came into contact with another. Whether I was giving or receiving, a holy exchange was made. Grace was extended and received, forgiveness was offered and accepted, love was poured out and absorbed.

Sometimes I miss these moments even though I am right in them. Are you like me, often realizing a little too late that there is a holy exchange happening even though you are right in the middle of it? I actually probably miss these moments ​because​ I’m right in the middle of them. I don’t recognize the way God’s hand is moving, the way he is prompting, the way he is guiding because I am caught up in the swirl of the spiral of life that is spinning around me. But my desire is to be more present and aware. I want to recognize and acknowledge all that is happening ​in the moment​. Reflecting back has allowed me to trace the hand of God, and to see him at work. Reflecting back has helped me be more aware in the present.

Let me backup another month. January 2021. The month that held my 50th birthday.

If there is ever cause for reflection, it is the time surrounding a significant birthday. To be honest, turning 50 was something I had been anticipating for a very long time. To me, turning 50 would symbolize an arrival at something; what specifically that was, I’m really not sure. It was more of an anticipation of becoming, an expectation of what or who I would be, as well as an excitement for all that lies ahead. It truly was a moment in life that I looked forward to celebrating. (As for that particular celebration, my boys outdid themselves! They went over the top in preparation and presentation. Oh the love!)

As part of my birthday events, I was blessed to listen to words sent to me by friends from long ago and friends from my right-now world. Throughout this, I made a conscious effort to be present in the moment and not only hear the words, but to take them in. I chose to receive the words that were being said and to absorb them into my very soul, because I knew that the words came not only from my dear friends, but these words were also truth spoken by Jesus. I often have the tendency to brush off the words of others, but this time, in humility and grace, I chose to accept them. This was not easy for me, but the truth is - and this is my point - that these words were actually a reflection of who God is and who God has created me to be. Each word was an affirmation of the faithfulness of God in my life. Each word was not so much about me as it was a spotlight on Jesus. These words were a reflection of who God had been, who he is, and who he will continue to be in my life.

Being reminded of these things, of the God-things from our past - this is a good thing. Reflection brings affirmation. Reflection brings perspective. Reflection brings truth. It is good to reflect and to remember what God has done, to affirm how he has used us, and to celebrate how he has worked deep within us to change us.

Remembering is to acknowledge the faithfulness of God. Through sickness and health. Through chaos and peace. Through doubt and certainty. Through death and life. Through hard and holy. There has been a lot of all of these things in the last 50 years, and I anticipate there will be more to come in the next 50. But the good news that I have been reminded of over this significant celebration and the days that have followed it, is that I am not alone in any of it. There are people that God has placed around me for each and every part of the journey.

God has not left me alone. Ever.

Through sickness and health. Through chaos and peace. Through doubt and certainty. Through death and life. Through hard and holy. God gave me people. God provided a community of men and women, family and friends, soul mates and classmates, co workers and co labourers to journey together with through the daily grind of life.

And I am thankful for each one.

Years ago when I began writing this blog, I called it “Blessed Beyond Belief” for a reason. That reason was simple: I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I had been - and will continue to be - blessed beyond belief in this life. I do not deserve it - the people, the grace, the blessings that come regardless of my own selfish and determined actions. Yet God continues to provide. God continues to protect, redeem, restore, and forgive because God also promises, and I have lived 50 years that shine a light on the truth of those promises.

And that is why I have been blessed beyond belief for the last 50 years. If you are reading this and have made it to the very end, thank you. Thank you for being one of the many people that God has blessed me with in this life. Whether I have known you for years or for days, thank you for blessing me with your presence, with your words, and with your friendship.

You are just another reason that I am truly blessed beyond belief.

Celebrating together with a family hockey game on our rink.

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)

From Worry to Wonder

Putting words to anything has been difficult lately. There are so many words and emotions that flutter through my heart and soul these days. It seems that they can’t land in any one place, can’t settle, can’t be felt and expressed with the weight and importance that they hold. I am sure that I am not the only one. 

As I would frequently try to grasp at the words or thoughts that fill the air around me, I find myself becoming frustrated with my inability to make sense of it all. That frustration led to what I can best describe as worry. Now I am not a worrier by nature; I tend to see and fight for the positive in most situations and I can usually tackle challenges with determination. 

But I realized that this time it was different. This time I felt a little lost, a little undone, and more than a little at loss for words. It took me a while to realize - and admit! - that what I held in my heart was worry. This worry had crept in slowly, maybe beginning back when school was still in, I was still teaching in front of a physical classroom, and my own kids were busy at their various schools doing their various classes and fulfilling their various responsibilities in life, and my husband was busy at our physical church building, loving and serving and walking out every day ministry within that space. 

On the Thursday before the “last day of school” in March, my 16 year old son said to me, “Within a matter of 12 hours, everything in my life besides family and faith has been taken away. No hockey, no March Break missions trip to the DR, to friends, no school. It feels weird. I wonder what is left in my life? Those things were everything. They were all I did. What do I do now?”, and with a perplexed look, he turned and walked away. I knew that I could have spoken words of truth and affirmation right then and there, but I also knew that he needed to process the loss and grief that he was rightfully feeling. Because I was beginning to feel it too. Everything had been taken away. So I let him walk away and I felt my heart begin to ache.

What was this worry that began to seep into my soul as Covid-19 began to seep into our country? I was pretty sure that I was  not worried about getting sick, or catching this virus (and we have been following and abiding and believing in the “Stay Home” mantra), but I was beginning to worry because of the uncertainty. So much was changing so fast that I felt I couldn’t keep up.

My older two boys were home from university, then back to residence, then home again, then back, and then finally, home. Young adults moving back home after being at away at school can be challenging at the best of times, but under these circumstances it could be a disaster of epic proportion! Without much warning, they each left their friends, their routines, their communities, their supports behind. They too, experienced loss and grief as life changed quickly for them. In many ways, everything was taken away from them as well. TIme to process all of that and adjust back into family life was important. Unconditional love and grace and acceptance. And patience.

My younger two boys both play a lot of hockey. They eat, sleep, breathe, and play hockey. Now they could not play it, nor could they watch it. A love taken away. They were also both supposed to go away on youth missions trips with our church over March Break - one to the Dominican Republic and one to Windsor but both trips were cancelled. A love taken away. They were told to stay within the walls of their home, without their friends to hangout, laugh and play with. A love taken away. One had his drivers’ license road test cancelled. Hope taken away. This 16 year old who was born into the world during SARS and has major life events cancelled because of Covid-19. What does this mean for his life? How does this reality play into who he is and who he will become?

With so much being taken away, worry began to settle in. I did not invite it in, but I certainly let it in. I let it in almost without knowing it. It just started to creep into my thoughts and I let it stay there. As one postponed event piled on top of another cancellation and then another and another, I did not give myself time to think, process and accept the reality of life around me - the loss and the grief that goes along with it. I felt for my kids and for all they had to endure and adjust to. I felt for my husband and all that he was adjusting to as well. As mom and wife, I just rolled with the changes, and tucked my worry deep into my chest hardly even realizing it was there.

Until one day my chest told me it was there...literally. I woke up one morning with a heavy pain in my chest. I knew instinctively that this was a heart issue. Not a medical heart issue but an emotional and spiritual heart issue. I was holding tight to something that wasn’t mine to hold. I needed to let go of something, give it away, get rid of it. 

And that thing, that painful heaviness in my chest, was worry.

I first had to admit that I was holding it and then I had to willingly relinquish that hold. During this process, I was able to take my worrisome thoughts, those things that I was holding on to, those ideas and thoughts that I knew deep down in my soul were not helpful to anyone, especially me and exchange them for wonder. 

My heart went from worry to wonder.

I changed my worrying thoughts into questions about and for God. In doing so I shifted my perspective from worry to wonder. Instead of focusing on “What on earth is going on?”, I intentionally changed my thoughts to “What is God doing on His earth?” and “What is God doing in me?”

Worry for my kids changed to wonder about how God was going to use this situation in their lives in the future.

Worry for my husband changed to wonder about how God is changing our church for the better.

Worry for my job to wonder at how God will use these new online skills I am learning to benefit so many other people.

Worry for my ministry opportunities to wonder at the creativity of God to use me however he sees fit - and my willingness to participate in that as well.

I needed to refocus, reframe, and retrain my thought patterns. 

The Bible tells us in Colossians 3:2 to “Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things,” and in 2 Cor 4:18 we are reminded to “...fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.” In other words, if we focus on the negativity that surrounds us, we lose sight on the beauty that awaits us. The beauty given to us in the everyday good gifts from a gracious and loving God who seeks to know us and be known by us.

If we fix our eyes on the worry we will lose sight of the wonder.

So how do we do this? How can we stay focused on the wonder and not the worry? I have a couple of suggestions for you.

1. Memorize and meditate on the verses I mentioned above. (Col 3:2 and 2 Cor 4:18)

2. Go on a Wonder Walk. Get out of your house (keeping appropriate distance of course), and wonder about God. Where is He? How is He showing Himself to you? What do you want to ask Him? If you are worried about something, say it out loud and then immediately ask God a question about it. He can take it. He is a big God.

3. Make a Worry to Wonder list. Get a sheet of paper or turn to a blank page in your journal, draw a line down the middle of it. Title one column “Worry” and the other “Wonder” and begin to list your worrying thoughts. Writing them out brings them from your heart into reality, and this is helpful. Spend some time on this. Ask God what you are holding on to and then ask Him about that. What can you wonder about the worry you are carrying?

4. Read a good book! Among many others on this topic, I would suggest:

• Get Out Of Your Head, by Jennie Allen (my most favourite read right now!)
• The Next Right Thing, by Emily P Freeman
• Sick of Me, by Whitney Capps
• check out the podcast offered by this authors as well!

5. Make time to listen. Listen to the wonder of God all around you - in your home, in your family, in your watching, in your thoughts. And thank Him. Thank God for each one.

If you are holding worrying thoughts in your heart, chances are you didn’t invite them in. Identify them. Say them outloud. Write them down. Then replace those thoughts with thoughtful questions about God and about yourself. Enjoy the wonder of God and the fullness of life He has to offer you!

Fix your eyes, change your thoughts and watch your heart go from worry to wonder.

Priority Post

A couple of weekends ago, I attended the Priscilla Shirer Live event in Mississauga. Great teaching, fabulous worship, and a whole lot of fun spent with women I love.

Throughout Priscilla's exposition on Mark 1, she landed on a 'Supernatural Priority' point. During that portion, Priscilla (yes, we are on a first name basis) shared with us a story that Jill Briscoe had shared with her a number of years ago. It was about balancing life and priorities. I will summarize it here quickly from my notes:

• suppose you have 10 clear plastic boxes sitting in front of you
• each box represents a different responsibility, job, relationship, that you have
• most people think that to balance all of these - to have a balanced life with everything that needs to get done, the things that fill our lives - that the boxes should each have the same amount in them -- life is balanced if all of these boxes have an equal amount put into them
• that is pretty near impossible! (my thought)
• I need to ask God which boxes are to be my priority IN THIS SEASON; which 2 or 3 boxes can I focus on and do well to fill IN THIS SEASON…it doesn’t mean forever, it doesn’t mean not ever, but for RIGHT NOW
• and the key is??? to prioritize time with God to determine which boxes are the important ones, and then LET THE OTHER BOXES BE DEPLETED…for this season (WOW. Depleted??)
• “Having the courage to say No and let them be depleted for this season leaves margin which makes room for a wonderful YES to the boxes that God has really called you to” - also room for crises and the unexpected
• “There are great Yeses when we have the courage to say No”.

This can be so hard - to let the things we thought were important fall away because AT THIS TIME they just aren't. They will be again, no doubt, especially if they are gifts and talents and passions that God has given you. 

You gotta know and believe that God will bring those back to the forefront IN THEIR SEASON - 

and it will be great when that happens!

The journal prompt question on the page of my notetaking booklet was actually “How is God calling you right now?”. I believe that it was not random that I ended up writing this point on this page. It prompted me to think about all the things that fill my life, the responsibilities and people that fill my days. Do I have my priorities straight, have I been focusing on the right things, the God directed things? It’s tough, it really is. 

One thing that I have learned to do is to ask God to not only help me prioritize what I should be doing, but to lessen the passion, the desire, for the things that, in my humanness, I think are important, but are not to be my “box of choice” IN THIS SEASON.

• Pray that God would lessen the desires that are from Him but are not for now, and ask Him to remove the selfish, human desires that are totally just from me and are really, for never.

Some of you may know that I like to write (because you are reading this...thank you!). I have this small blog where I infrequently write about things of life and ministry and family. I believe that God has gifted me to write and I enjoy doing it. I enjoy being in ministry with my husband and family and I have SO MANY things that I’d love to see happen, to dive in to, to dig deeper into. I love doing these things! **They even bring me life and enjoyment!** But I know, when I look at my boxes God has placed in front of me, that writing and serving as my heart desires is not for right now. 

Right now, IN THIS SEASON, I know that God is calling me to teach and to parent and to serve in small ways because this is what my family needs. It’s even what I have decided I must need as it must be preparing me for the future. I know (at least I really, really hope) that God will give me time and opportunity to write and minister in a wider fashion at some point, but I have found peace in knowing that if I’m going to do a good job at the boxes God has prioritized in front of me right now, then I have to let those other boxes be depleted...for now. 

I am trusting that my courageous NO has opened up some wonderful YESES.

Does that take some adjusting? Sure it does. Does it mean that I struggle with my purpose and my place in our church? You bet. Does it mean that my work and my family are without problems? Absolutely not.  Does it mean that I don't fight jealousy when I see others spending time doing the things that I’d like to be doing? Nope, I have to constantly repent of that one. 

There are struggles, challenges and joys within each of these boxes, and I have to repeatedly ask for wisdom and discernment along the way.  But because I am focusing on a few, I have the energy to give to them from my best and not from my own depleted soul. I am loving where God has me, and I am trusting that the God-given boxes that are for another season will be waiting for me. I have to believe that they are even being prepared for me, and I for them.

It takes trust to let go of the things we desire; I don't really want to let these things go, but I'd certainly like to give them to God. He is in charge of each of those boxes. I also need to trust Him with each of the God-given desires and passion that are important and good but not for right now. I know that when the time is right, the opportunities will return, and God will open up my time and provide me with a renewed passion and desire to see these things flourish.

There is both challenge and struggle, but also profound joy and abundant grace when we can find THIS sort of balance...the balance of the God directed life, the balance of the God prioritized life.

May all of this be yours in Christ Jesus.

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.