The Cow and the Coat of Many Colors

I hit a cow. Yep, when I was in college, I crashed my tiny white Neon into a gigantic brown cow while driving home from work one starless country night. The cow-shaped hole in my windshield, along with rather severe front end damage was enough to total my car and earn me the unfortunate nickname "Butcher" for the rest of the school year (although, I should add, my bovine adversary remained standing and wholly unaffected as I careened into the nearest ditch). My husband sometimes reminds me of this story and chuckles, gloating, no doubt, in what he considers to be proof that his driving abilities are, in fact, superior to my own. Aside from providing Josh with a few boasting rights, I've never thought of that event as especially significant...until today. Tommy Nelson says it perfectly in The Story of God, "He uses all things, the great and the small, to accomplish His will. In fact, behind all the seemingly pointless, confusing, and mind-boggling events of life, God is patiently working out His plan." 

While driving down the road this afternoon, Aiden said to me, "Mom, have you ever been in a car wreck?" After relaying this story and offering him numerous reassurances to the cow's well-being (forget about me, he was highly concerned about how I may have injured the cow) he began trying to thoroughly define the word "ditch." Ultimately, he decided that a ditch must be a really deep hole that one is unable to climb out of, "kind of like the one," he said, "that Joseph's brothers threw him in." And that's how the story of my cow crash turned into an hour long discussion about the story of Joseph.

Maybe you're not at all acquainted with the Bible. Maybe you are and, as all too often happens with familiarity, its stories have become commonplace and lackluster. Consider me guilty as charged! I encourage you to read (or re-read) this riveting story in its entirety (found in Genesis 37-50 or, thank you modern technology, through Google). Sold into slavery by his jealous brothers, falsely accused and imprisoned for years, forgotten by friends who promised to advocate for his release, Joseph's story is one of despair, betrayal, hurt, and, ultimately, forgiveness and reconciliation. But trust me, an abridged version does not do justice to the intricacy and depth of this beautiful story.   

My car accident was a slightly scary (mostly just embarrassing) incident. God used it to create an opportunity for me to teach my son about His goodness and His sovereignty through one of the Bible's most enthralling characters. Joseph's story is heart-wrenching. Maybe your story is heart-wrenching, too. Maybe you feel hurt, betrayed, forgotten, forsaken, deeply wronged by injustice, or trapped in the midst of hopeless circumstances. I imagine Joseph did, too. But his story concludes like this: his trembling, petrified brothers throw themselves at his feet, offer themselves as slaves, wait to incur the wrath that they're certain is coming, and Joseph says, "Don't be afraid...You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives (Gen. 50:20)." The God of Joseph's story is the God of your story. The God who, after 10 years of heartache,  allowed Joseph to become one of the most powerful men in Egypt and used him to spare the lives of countless people from a ravishing famine (including the brothers who severely mistreated him) is the God who can use your darkest hour to accomplish something magnificent. Hold on, friends, it's not yet the end of your story. 

Homestudy

"The most important work you and I will ever do is within the walls of our own home."

 Harold B. Lee


If you've ever embarked on the journey of adoption (or, for that matter, tried to navigate your way through any paperwork jungle), then you know that that delays, 11th hour requirements, and fine print hold-ups, unfortunately,  are the norm, not the exception. Our story is not unique.  


Last Friday, despite originally being told otherwise, we found out that we have to have a homestudy before completing our adoption. Sigh. This would not be a big deal, except that we finally got a court date set (February 10th, yay!) and, more than likely, our homestudy will not be completed by that time, which means yet another delay. Furthermore, it's an unexpected blow to our already wounded budget. HOWEVER, the Lord is ever so faithful and we're choosing to trust Him to provide, in His own time, recognizing that His creativity far exceeds the rules of logic that we continuously try to impose on Him. 


"Homestudy," what a funny word...what a scary thought! Are they going to inspect every nook and cranny of our house? Am I going to be evaluated on my cleanliness? Even scarier! Don't judge me. I'm trying to find balance in all areas of my life and, admittedly, this is an area that has suffered since my littles have arrived and even more so since I've started working part-time. I find, though, that I'm terribly sentimental about the whole idea. I've meandered through my home, room by room, and allowed myself to recall memory after memory.


 Ms. Homestudy won't know that my sweet husband once tried to surprise me with a clean house, mopped the hall with furniture polish, and made it slicker than ice for a month. She won't know that the color of our dining room walls was once paw-printed all over the floor when our Great Dane marched her puppy self through my paint pan. She'll pass right by the place I was standing when I told Josh that Jocelyn was on the way and she won't know that before Aiden's room was decked-out with skull-and-crossbones and treasure chests it was my lovely, sophisticated, french-inspried guest room. She will never know that we spent our first few months sitting (and sometimes sleeping) on a foam mattress topper because we had no furniture or that the Great Vegetable Soup Stand-off of 2010 happened right here in this very living room (Abby, thanks for supporting me through that one!). She'll be unaware that, in this kitchen, I cooked my very first turkey or that Aiden & I pretend to be Buddy the Cake Boss and Julia Child, respectively, on a regular basis. Nope, this house, our first home, the place where we brought our babies home, feverishly prayed over big decisions, laughed, cried, slept, played, and settled will be just a house to her. Truth be told, I realize that it's just a thing and it's full of things...meaningless without the memories and emotions that give them value. Sometimes, though, our things can be reflective of our character and our values. I'm praying that Ms. Homestudy will leave our house confident that Josh and I are crazy about each other, madly in love with our babies, and that we desire to follow hard after the Lord all the days of our life. And, of course, that this will be the final step in completing the adoption of our sweet, sweet son.   

Childlike Faith

When you're a parent, life becomes less about your own red-letter days & more about those of your children. You wait with anticipation for their first words (which, I fear, for my littlest little is most assuredly going to be "Dada") and their first wobbly, tottering steps. You cheer them on as they lose the training wheels, sound out words, and attempt to do all sorts of things following the statement, "Mom, I can do it by myself!" Though it's unimaginable for me right now, you teach them to drive, watch them graduate, walk down the aisle into a marriage, and have babies of their own (Okay, where are my tissues?). Yes, as parents we have the unique privilege of going through life alongside our children as they experience all manner of milestones, transitions, and accomplishments. As great as those things may be, this past weekend I bore witness to the most special, important red-letter day of all: little man asked Jesus to be his forever friend, to be the leader and forgiver of his life.

At this point, you're either celebrating this decision with me, thinking, "What the heck is the big deal?" or maybe even thinking, "This family is crazy!" (which is actually entirely, irrefutably true). If you're one of the latter, then let's make believe for a minute or two. Let's pretend like there's a decision that your child, your baby, could make that would bring with it all of the benefits that we believe come with salvation. In an instant, your child would have a peace that passes all understanding, peace within the midst of any heartache or struggle or loss; access to God, the creator and sustainer of the universe, the worker of miracles, the compassionate healer, the friend of the unlovely and lonely; hope; the ability to find a sense of meaning and significance in suffering; a purpose that directs his steps and allows him to live intentionally; love that is unfathomable, unconditional, and unwavering; freedom from condemnation for any past or future mistakes; a rich abundant life on earth and an eternity in a heaven that is far greater than anything we could ask for or imagine, where there are no tears, no fears, and no suffering. However I may fail as a parent, I can rest confidently in the knowledge that my son is now-and-forevermore a beautiful, wonderful, child of God.

Wouldn't you want that for your child? Wouldn't you want that for yourself? Friends, life's a blink, a vapor that appears today and vanishes tomorrow. Invest in what matters. Don't be too afraid of offending people, or worried about what they might think of you, or shy, or embarrassed, or unsure of what to say (read: a big fat weenie like me) Be exuberant, unashamed, and bold like my five-year-old who wants to proudly proclaim to his Nana, Papa, Gammy, Grunkle, Yaya, Aunts, Uncles, neighbors, friends, teachers, and the check-out lady in the grocery store, "I'M A CHRISTIAN! HOW COOL IS THAT?" Undeniably, childlike faith at its finest hour.


     
     

Fruit Loops and Apple Jacks

Look at this handsome, fun little guy. 

If you've ever spent any time with Aiden, then you know that from his marvelous little boy mind flows an abundance of curious inquiries. He wants to know what makes jello jiggly and how clouds can hold rain and if dogs can pray and if belly buttons can be untied and if people really get kicked out of places (like by someone's foot). Maybe you've been on the receiving end of one of these questions and you've scrambled to compose an age-appropriate, semi-logical, on-the-spot answer. Not easy...especially if you have no idea what the answer is yourself, which is often the case! I love that I have the privilege of watching him wrestle with the literal and the abstract as he figures out language and concepts and life. I love that sarcasm is wholly lost on him because he chooses to trust people and, most of all, I love to hear him teaching his sister something that he's learned only moments before, as if he's the world's leading expert on the subject. Yes, I certainly appreciate his young, fresh, eager mind, but, admittedly, I don't always give his questions the energy they deserve. Sometimes I get tired or busy or just plain selfish and my answers become nothing more than obligatory responses. This happened a few weeks ago.

One lazy evening after supper, I was nose deep in a book when Aiden asked, "Mom, are Fruit Loops and Apple Jacks good for you? "Ummm...well, they're not terrible for you, but they're not really good for you either," I said, without looking up, as I continued reading. A little while later, I noticed that he was being unusually quiet (in our house, when it's quiet we get nervous because it usually means that mischief abounds). I closed my book and looked at Aiden. He looked at me, mouth gaping, eyes wide, arms limp at his side, "You mean...TV lies?!?" he said in the most astonished, disheartened voice. I gave him a consoling hug, kissed his head, and smiled at his sweet naivety.

After putting him to bed that night, I lingered in his doorway, as I often do with my kiddos, watching the covers rise and fall with his tiny little breaths. My heart felt heavy and sad. I felt like I had taken a hammer and a chisel and carved out a chunk of his childhood. I wanted to be like a sentry standing guard, alert and vigilant, ready to do battle with anything else that threatened to tarnish his innocence. I started thinking about all the ways that the world will lie to him, all the distorted messages that he'll receive about what it means to be successful and talented and happy and of worth. I'll be honest, in that moment, I felt a crushing sense of helplessness. Then I remembered that, for a few more years anyway, Little Man thinks we're cool. He listens to us, watches us, and, for better or worse, imitates us. What an opportunity! What a responsibility! By fiercely guarding my own heart and mind and choosing to live in truth, I can help my children learn to do the same. In his book Abba's Child, Brennan Manning says,  

Make the Lord and his immense love for you constitute of your personal worth. Define yourself radically as one beloved by God. God's love for you and his choice of you constitute your worth. Accept that, and let it become the most important thing in your life...The basis of my personal worth is not my possessions, my talents, not esteem of others, reputation...not kudos of appreciation from parents and kids, not applause, and everyone telling you how important you are to the place...I stand anchored now in God before whom I stand naked, this God who tells me 'You are my son, my beloved one.'

This is how I want my children to define themselves and so, this is how I must define myself. I can't live like I believe that I have to be skinny to be valuable or that financial security brings happiness or that other peoples' approval matters most of all. If I do, then my children will too. Take care, Friends, because little eyes are upon you.    

Unexpected Sparks

The English poet, critic, and writer Samuel Johnson said,

"Our brightest blazes of gladness are commonly kindled by unexpected sparks." 

Let me tell you about one of my brightest blazes...actually, I'll show her to you.

A big thanks to Ginny Daniels for capturing such sweetness (http://www.gbdaniels.com/#)


Sweet Jocelyn Stone, 18+ pounds of snuggly, happy, goodness. She laughs hysterically every time I wear my hair in pigtails and when her Papa pretends like he's sneezing. The sparkles in my wedding ring fascinate her, as do water bottles, car keys, earrings, and pretty much anything else that crackles, shines, or clinks. She'll bounce for hours in her Johnny Jump-Up (parents, consider this a strong recommendation to invest in one). She thinks it's silly to spew black-eyed-peas all over Daddy and that her new big brother hung the moon (If you don't know our story, then keep reading. I'll explain in a later post). She has lengthy conversations with Cora, our Great Dane who is about six times her size. She sees the world through big, bright, baby blues and she makes me pause to think that things are wonderful, too. How quick we are to forget! She is loving and trusting and pure. Being a mama has definitely made me appreciate my own parents in a way that I surely never did before and it's deepened my understanding of the cross more than any theological study or Sunday sermon ever could. God sacrificed His son, His own child, for me! Why has that not daily brought me to knees with gratitude and appreciation? The composer Isaac Watts says it better than I ever could:

Did e'er such lover and sorrow meet,

or thorns compose so rich a crown.

Were the whole realm of nature mine, 

that were an offering far too small;

love so amazing, so divine, 

demands my soul, my life, my all.

Yes, my precious daughter has taught me many things, brought me unimaginable joy, and indescribably enriched my life. She is one of my brightest blazes of gladness. So would you believe that I never wanted her?

It's true. In fact, if you know me well, you know that I've said that about almost all of the really amazing gifts in my life (including my husband...don't worry, he already knows this. I'm not publicly confessing anything here). I naively believed the doctor who told me that I would likely never be able to have children and, for the sake of transparency, I'll confess to being terrified by horror stories of stretch marks, weight gain, morning sickness, atrocious labors and deliveries, etc...I should add that I'm now committed to sharing positive pregnancy and birth stories so, if you're interested, then ask me. I have a few. I was so adamant about not having biological children that it was part of our premarital counseling. I wanted to give Josh a fair warning because I knew that starting a family was important to him. That was one of many moments in my life when I'm sure the Lord was just looking down on me and chuckling. Now, let me tell you a little bit about my unexpected spark.

Surprise! Four months after our wedding, I found out that I was pregnant with a very unexpected, unplanned baby. I only got to carry that sweet little one for a few weeks before he or she (I think she...call it a mama's hunch) went home to be with the Lord. Short though it was, that little life accomplished a mighty purpose: changing my heart. I was still riddled with uncertainty about my ability to have babies and fears about the process, but I was confident that, if possible, I wanted to experience the gift of carrying and giving birth to life. Three months later: enter Jocelyn.

So today, along with celebrating 6 months of little J-Bird's life (Please indulge me as I use the cliche´, "I can't believe how time is flying!), I'm also celebrating all of the unexpected sparks that have turned into bright blazes of gladness in my life and thanking the Lord that,

As the heavens are higher than the earth, so [His] ways are higher than [my] ways and [His] thoughts than [my] thoughts. Isaiah 55:9

Thank goodness that I don't always get what I want! Hold hope, Friend, your current circumstances might be the kindle to your brightest blaze of gladness yet.