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.

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. 

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.