No Crib for a Bed... But Amply Blessed All the Same

I have been done with school now for approximately two and a half weeks. When I was in school, I pictured myself laying in bed as long as I wanted to, getting up with a leisurely cup of coffee, and reading or crocheting or writing or going for walks all day every day.

I have been laying in bed as long as I want to every day. That has been wonderful. With the pregnancy sleeping discomforts creeping up, it's nice to be able to sleep in if baby kicking or muscle spasms kept me awake the night before. And, honestly, after Baby #1, I'll never get to do this again, so I'm savoring. I haven't been drinking coffee, though, and I haven't been spending my days in leisurely activities like reading, crocheting, writing, and going for walks. I haven't been drinking coffee because I've still got some lingering morning sickness -- not nearly as bad as during the first trimester, but enough that I have to force breakfast down and then force lunch down before my appetite starts to pick up. And I haven't been spending all my time in leisure activities because my mind has been consumed with the great question of What Next?

After much deliberation, we decided I should take the year off of teaching. Teach For America makes it possible for us to be in the schools teaching without a teaching license, but the Department of Education in Minnesota requires that we be working toward our license in order to be teaching. Therefore, I would have no choice but to continue teaching and taking evening graduate classes next year. That nearly put me over the edge this year. With a baby? No way.

However, that puts us in a difficult financial situation. We are so thankful that Mark has found a job he enjoys (and that his employer was willing to hire him on full-time when Mark asked -- otherwise, since we were on my health insurance, I don't know what we would have done when my contract with the school ran out). But the job just doesn't pay enough to make ends meet. So I've been spending a lot of time either working on my homework for my graduate classes or searching for part-time jobs that would work well with Mark's schedule.

And in the meantime, we decided not to renew our lease because the apartment is too small for us and baby. After much apartment searching, we realized it's not financially possible for us to pay for a two-bedroom apartment right now. It's actually cheaper (or just as cheap) to buy a house in a lower price range. So, we're considering buying a house. Or living with my parents for a few months and then buying a house. But a lot of that depends on whether I find a job, and if so, what kind.

In the meantime, baby's due date approaches and all of her stuff is still in an unflattering pile in our bedroom.

And our living room.

We have been so blessed. I honestly feel like we have everything we need for baby girl. Or at least, everything we need to get started. We just have nowhere to set it up. And I confess, when I see all the adorable nursery pictures of other expectant friends on Facebook, I feel jealous. I want to have a room for the baby. I want to have the room set up and be able to step inside and look around and realized We Are Ready. Unfortunately, that's just not going to be the case.

Being in an insecure financial and living situation for the third time in five years has gotten me down, especially with baby on the way. It makes me feel irresponsible and incompetent. However, I've been thinking, and other people have helped me think more positively about our situation. One of my aunts said to me: "Tough circumstances survived by grace are a precious gift to give to our children, a much better gift than expensive habits...I see so many kids that get so much material stuff early in life that sets them up for disappointment later. They're robbed of the pleasure of "yearning and earning," which is so much more satisfying than instant gratification."

And then yesterday, after I got flushed from a job I was halfway expecting to get, I felt really disappointed. (Or, to be more honest, I threw a temper tantrum alone in my apartment and sobbed on the phone to my mom .) But when I got to thinking about it more, I was reminded of the Bible verses that have been my theme in every other precarious situation since our marriage:

No king is saved by the size of his army;
    no warrior escapes by his great strength.
17 A horse is a vain hope for deliverance;
    despite all its great strength it cannot save.
18 But the eyes of the Lord are on those who fear him,
    on those whose hope is in his unfailing love,
19 to deliver them from death
    and keep them alive in famine. (Psalm 33:16-19)

And I realized, too, that even though this little girl might not be born into a world where her room is already set up and decorated, she has already been blessed amply compared to so many children in the world. Not only has she been getting excellent medical care since her conception, she has been fed (mostly) healthy foods from the get-go. She has not been subjected to alcohol (except for the glass or two I had before I suspected I was pregnant, and except for the dip of wine during communion) or cigarette smoke. She already has a stable family with parents who love her and extended family who eagerly anticipate her and pray for her. She will grow up in a family where she is taught about Jesus from an early age. Because of the family that anticipates her and the church of her parents, she will never be hungry or living on the streets as a child. Barring unforeseen circumstances, she will get to live until adulthood with her birth parents and will never know the trauma of being separated from the voices she grew to know in the womb.

When I got to that point, I no longer felt sorry for myself or irresponsible. God is good. God planned for the time when this little one would be conceived and already knows the date of her birth. He loves her more than I do, and He is preparing rich spiritual blessings for her, even if she doesn't have a darling nursery. She is already richly and amply blessed.

Stomach Flu and Answered Prayers

Last night I went down with a nasty bout of stomach flu. Oh, how I hate to throw up.

Anyway, after a night of flu beating up on my body (and mostly winning) I felt pretty exhausted this morning. And, given the temperatures in the -20s, schools had all been closed for today due to the extreme cold, so he really only needed to get one out of the two cars started. Unfortunately, even that proved too much for our little old vehicles. Mark was unable to get either of our cars started to go to work this morning. . By 9:30, he had still not gotten either car started, and as I lay down to try to take a nap, I was feeling pretty low. I was worrying about 3 things in particular:

1) Would I have sufficiently recovered from my flu to return to school tomorrow, especially with it being the first day back after a long break?
2) Would we be able to get either car started tomorrow when we needed them both to be working?
3) How would we be able to purchase a new car if we needed one soon (given that we are still trying to recover financially from 4 months of unemployment for me and 3 months of unemployment for Mark)?

By this afternoon, God had neatly answered each of these prayers:

1) Schools are closed again tomorrow because of cold. I will be able to recover at home.
2) My dad drove down to our house with a portable battery that worked to start one of our cars (and which we will hopefully use to start the other car once the battery has recharged).
3) Mark was able to do some crazy maneuvering with our finances and squeak just over $2,000 out of our working budget for next month to throw into savings in case of a car emergency.

So, neat as that, God provided for each of my concerns. Case closed.

A Beautiful Ambiguity

I don't really think ambiguity is beautiful. But I'm trying really hard. After much soul searching, I realized that most of the anxiety and nervousness I feel when faced with new situations or challenges has at the root a fear of uncertainty. I want assurance that everything will work out fine. When I do not have that assurance, I feel threatened by the possibility of loss or difficulty or suffering. A sense of anxiety follows. Maybe this seems really obvious and you're thinking to yourselves, Oh, Hillary. Obviously! But this was actually a revelation for me. I realized that when I choose to embrace uncertainty, then I'm not as anxious. It's like really cheap, really simple therapy. Mark and I have a lot of ambiguity and uncertainty right now, so I have lots of opportunity to practice embracing instead of resisting.

I had an interview at a school yesterday. Because I'm applying and interviewing for teaching jobs through Teach For America, I'm almost guaranteed a teaching position this fall. But not quite. I still have to interview and interview well. The school still needs to like me and want me. TFA can't force me on them. Unfortunately, I never feel like I interview well. I liked this school a lot. I could see myself teaching there. But I didn't leave the interview with a sense that my interviewers really wanted me teaching there.

During interviews, I always get this feeling that I should have taken speech in high school or forced myself to do something that required public speaking when I was in college. I just don't feel like I express my passion and excitement well. My nervousness makes me quieter and more reserved. I just want to stop partway through the interview and say, Can I be perfectly honest? I'm not expressing myself well. But I would be a really good teacher. I promise. Just hire me and you'll see! But interviews just don't work that way. So now I'm waiting (not very hopefully) to hear back from this school and waiting for more interview opportunities. I think I better force someone who loves me to ask me a bunch of interview questions before the next interview so I can practice conveying what I mean to convey.

Mark is also waiting. He's waiting to hear back on a job he's interviewed twice for already. We're hoping he makes to to the next round of interviews. He's continuing to search for other jobs to apply for, but this one looked good. (Yay! More opportunity for me to practice embracing uncertainty!)

When we arrived in the Twin Cities almost a month ago, I had hoped that before I started training with TFA on June 1 Mark would have a job and we would have begun to look at apartments. At this point, that doesn't seem likely. God is asking us to wait more and trust more. I'm practicing embracing this period of uncertainty.

I'm excited to start training for TFA. I know I'm going to learn a lot and be pushed hard. I'm excited to be in a classroom this summer and learning right alongside other new teachers. I don't mind that I have to spend five weeks in Tulsa, Oklahoma, for that training. What I do mind, what I am nervous about, is leaving Mark for that period of time. I haven't been away from Mark for more than three nights, I think, since we got married four years ago. Six weeks apart is going to feel like an eternity. Plus, Mark is used to my habits - embarrassing, irritating, and otherwise - and I'm just not excited about suddenly gifting those co-habitation habits to a stranger.

But in all of this, I'm trying really really hard to enjoy the moment. I'm enjoying holding and petting and feeding treats to my parents' cat. (I love cats. I really love cats. Mark really doesn't. But that's a post for another time.) And I'm enjoying sitting at the table by the sliding glass doors and listening to birds in the trees in the back yard. I'm enjoying spending time with my parents and siblings and family-in-law and niece and nephews. I have lots to enjoy now.

So, I'm trying to embrace this beautiful ambiguity. We don't know where we'll be living in two months. We don't know what our bank account will look like in two months. We don't know where either of us will be working, or whether we'll be able to get a dog. We don't really know anything. But we know that God is good. I know I can trust Him. I know He is leading us step by faltering step. God has arranged for us, right now, this beautiful ambiguity.

The Lord is faithful to all his promises
and loving toward all he has made.
The Lord upholds all those who fall
and lifts up all who are bowed down.
The eyes of all look to you,
and you give them their food at the proper time.
You open your had
and satisfy the desires of every living thing.
            -Psalm 145:13b-16

Anemic Faith: A Reflection for Easter

“Not everyone who waits to have a baby is eventually blessed with one, and not everyone who waits for a better job eventually gets one!”

This is what I sobbed on the phone to my mom yesterday morning. She was trying to console me, poor woman, over a recent disappointment that Mark has suffered in his search for a job in Minnesota.

The fact that we’re not guaranteed any happy endings, the fact that the proportion of prayers we pray in supplication does not correlate exactly with the number of favorable answers we receive from God, really bothers me sometimes. It’s haunted me, really, since we eased into our struggle with infertility, and it’s bothered me as Mark continues to deal with the problem he’s dealt with since we graduated from college: not knowing what he wants to do and somehow ending up in jobs in which he doesn’t feel fulfilled.

This is the crux of the matter for me, my ‘crisis of faith,’ if you will, that has arrived unwelcomed at my doorstep over the last few years. Can I trust in God’s unfailing goodness to me despite circumstances? Can I take into account the largest perspective possible: that of my problems in light of eternity?

I don’t know. And it’s funny that I should be thinking about this on Easter, the day when we celebrate God’s ultimate goodness and selfless love in sending His son to die for us. I know this is true. I know God loves me more than I can understand. That’s just the problem, though: I can’t understand it.

In addition, I can’t reconcile my sense of personal suffering and my questions about God’s goodness with suffering worldwide. When I think about my suffering, the face of the Mozambican pastor Vicente comes to mind. His teeth are rotting out for lack of dental care. He preaches every Sunday in a stifling rectangular building made of mud. He’s lost at least half of his children to malaria. And what must he think when missionaries come in and out of his life with healthy children? They arrive in Mozambique with healthy children, they fly to South Africa to have their babies, and then their babies grow up into healthy children and adults as a matter of course. He has experienced real suffering, and if he were to compare his life to the lives of the missionaries, he would have real reason to question God’s goodness.

My struggle with PCOS, my infertility, my desire for a fulfilling job for Mark – these are all problems for a rich girl living in a rich country. I’m so used to having my way paved straight and smooth that my faith is rocked by these minor turbulences, while a poor pastor who has buried at least four children continues to travel to his stuffy mud church every Sunday and preach God’s goodness and faithfulness.

This comparison of me and Pastor Vicente makes me think of what Jesus said in Matthew 19:23-25: “Then Jesus said to his disciples, ‘I tell you the truth, it is hard for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven. Again I tell you, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God.’ When the disciples heard this, they were greatly astonished and asked, ‘Who then can be saved?’ ”

Who then? Really? My faith is shivering inside of me under these minor blows. It’s so weak. And God doesn’t offer easy answers. But thank God, thank God, that Jesus didn’t stop his thought there. He added on the ‘but’ that makes all the difference for my weak and faltering American heart: “Jesus looked at them and said, ‘With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible.’ ”

My faith is not rock solid. We may never have a baby. Mark may never get a job where he can use his gifts. These worries terrify me if I dwell on them. But in those darkest moments of doubt, I know that God’s goodness will win out. I won’t always feel like I believe him but, even so, I can be saved from my quaking anemic faith—

With God, all things are possible.

Wishing for a Snow Day, I Mean, a Sabbath

Our church is going through a church-wide study based on a book called Emotionally Healthy Spirituality by Peter Scazzero. I was really skeptical when we started it. Partly because the title sounded funny and was hard to remember but also because it sounded like another me-centered study, which I’m always suspicious of.

I have, pleasantly, mostly been wrong in my suspicion. Both Mark and I have learned a lot from this study and have had some conversations that probably wouldn’t have been unearthed for a long time if this book hadn’t brought them to the surface.

Last week we read the chapter titled ‘Discovering the Rhythms of the Daily Office and Sabbath.’ The subtitle is ‘Stopping to Breathe the Air of Eternity.’ In my week of test-taking during which I did little other than read textbooks, this chapter was definitely needed.

True, I didn’t read it throughout the week, letting the ideas soak in. I read the whole chapter quickly in the 20 minutes before leaving for church Sunday morning. But even in those 20 minutes of skimming I was convicted.

The chapter has two main premises. One is that we as Christians should be stopping to be with God throughout the day. The ‘devotions’ that most of us U.S. Christians have for about 15 minutes once a day doesn’t cut it. For one, most of us are focused on getting ‘filled up’ for the day, not on who God is. For another, once we snap the Bible closed after those 15 minutes, most of us don’t give God a second thought for the rest of the day except for a quick prayer over our lunch at work. Scazzero calls Christians to task and says that’s wrong. We can’t expect to grow into healthy ‘little Christs’ without an intent focus on being with God, on loving God for who He is and focusing on Him before focusing on our daily lives. That’s what the ‘daily office’ Scazzero describes is all about: stopping periodically, if for no more than a few minutes, to focus on God and be with God.

The second premise of this chapter is that Christians do not treat the Sabbath like God intends us to treat the Sabbath. So many of us long for snow days. (I’ve actually had conversations with coworkers in the past week, wishing for a mammoth snowfall so we would all be required to stay home for a day, so this really hit home.) Scazzero argues that the Sabbath should be like a snow day for us. We should feel obligated to stay home and relax, or go out and relax, whatever makes us relaxed. But, our Sabbath snow days should also have the element of stopping to be with God. Otherwise, the Sabbath is just a secular day off.

Anyway, this chapter was convicting to me for a couple reasons. Number one, I leaned waaaaaaay too far in the direction of studying and found myself drifting into Type-A Study-Til-You-Drop Land during the past month or so. Maybe it was needed; I won’t know my scores beyond pass/fail until early April. But still. Definitely no Sabbaths for me during that time, and definitely no Daily Office. I was too focused on remembering the different theories of ESL education and Kohlberg’s theory on moral development.

Looking ahead to the next two years of teaching, I’m concerned. If that’s how I was for test-taking, what will I be like when I feel like I have the responsibility of educating a class of kids? How can I find balance? How can I take time out for God throughout the day? How can I keep a Sabbath for resting? How can I take care of my marriage and other relationships, for that matter?

I don’t really have an answer to these questions right now. I just wanted to put them out there. And I’m much more likely to mull them over a little bit if I put them up on a blog because I have the accountability (if only in my head) of knowing that other people will be reading my questions too and then watching to see how the answers play out.

I hope I can find a balance. I’ve thought about starting a Sabbath habit this week already. And both Mark and I have committed to taking time out to spend with God at least two times a day. That’s all great, and I’m glad we’re doing it, but the true test, I’m sure, will begin the first day I step into my classroom.

Patient Trust

Patient Trust

Above all, trust int he slow work of God.
We are quite naturally impatient in everything
to reach the end without delay.
We should like to skip the intermediate stages.
We are impatient of being on the way to something
unknown, something new.

And yet it is the law of all progress
that it is made by passing through
some stages of instability --
and that it may take a very long time.
And so I think it is with you;
your ideas mature gradually -- let them grow,
let them shape themselves without undue haste.
Don't try to force them on,
as though you could be today what time 
(that is to say, grace and circumstances
acting on your own good will)
will make of you tomorrow.
Only God could say what this new spirit
gradually forming within you will be.
Give our Lord the benefit of believing 
that his hand is leading you.
And accept the anxiety of feeling yourself
in suspense and incomplete.

--Pierre Teilhard De Chardin

What does it mean for you to trust int he slow work of God today?

A Few Thoughts for Easter

Easter this year, for me, can only be seen through the lens of infertility. Even though we don’t get to spend the day with family, I was yearning for Easter, looking forward to Easter, much more than most years. And I didn’t spend much time dwelling on Jesus’ suffering and crucifixion. I just didn’t have the heart to. All I wanted was His triumph.

I’d like to share with you a couple of my thoughts about Easter this year.

Tyler

Tyler (not his real name) is a rotund unkempt man who comes into the library daily. Despite his appearance, he’s almost childlike in the way that he just about butts to the front of the line to get a computer at the library and then to pick up his color copies of scantily clad female swimmers and gymnasts. He greets everyone he meets, whether he knows them or not. Even from a block away he’ll throw up his hand and holler a greeting to the oblivious walker. He keeps up a steady stream of conversation with himself or the librarian (though it’s often hard to figure out who he’s talking to) about baseball or the weather or his caretakers. His insatiable cheerfulness can only be dampened when the color copier is out of order and he has to print his copies on the black-and-white printer.

I’ve been continuously disappointed in myself by my dislike of Tyler. His cheerfulness irritates me. I don’t like being greeted from a block away and then trying to decide whether to yell back or wait in uncomfortable suspense until he’s closer to say hi. He’s too loud, even in the library, and I don’t appreciate all of the risqué pictures he prints off.

But at the same time, Tyler makes me think about what love really means. Loving like Christ isn’t just about reading books to my adorable nephew or feeding the wide-eyed starving child pictured on the mission organization’s newsletter. Loving the way Christ did is messy. It may involve looking ridiculous and yelling a hello from a block away or showing kindness in spite of a bad habit. Christ loved me when I was unkempt, unappealing, and all around unlovable.

Can I learn to love others like that?

Fulfilling every desire

A few quotes from the book Heaven, by Randy Alcorn, struck me yesterday:

“Nothing is more often misdiagnosed than our homesickness for Heaven. We think that what we want is sex, drugs, alcohol, a new job, a raise, a doctorate, a spouse, a large-screen television, a new car, a cabin in the woods, a condo in Hawaii. What we really want is the person we were made for, Jesus, and the place we were made for, Heaven. Nothing less can satisfy us. C.S. Lewis said, ‘The settled happiness and security which we all desire, God withholds from us by the very nature of the world: but joy, pleasure, and merriment He has scattered broadcast. We are never safe, but we have plenty of fun, and some ecstasy. It is not hard to see why. The security we crave would teach us to rest our hearts in this world and oppose an obstacle to our return to God.’ ”

When reading, I thought, what do I really want? As most of you know, right now that answer’s easy: a baby. I realized that what Randy Alcorn was saying was that all of those things, some of which are not bad in and of themselves, are really just misplaced homesickness. When I say that my heart yearns for a baby, I’m actually feeling a longing for Jesus. Only I don’t diagnose it that way.

And if that longing for a baby is really a longing for Jesus, then doesn’t it follow that when I’m with Him in Heaven or on the new Earth, I will feel fully satisfied and happy, even if I never had a baby during my lifetime? I believe the answer is yes. And that is comforting.

Steven Curtis Chapman- “Believe Me Now”

This song speaks to me. No matter our circumstances, our God is a God of love, and that has not changed.

Another Unexpected Blessing

My nephew Million came home from Ethiopia last August. He’s intelligent, a reader, and incredibly loving. Yet another blessing I never thought to ask for!

He even loves to read like I do (a love that I know is encouraged by his wonderful mommy and daddy):

Here we are reading Where's Walrus, which I will promptly request to have added to our library collection. Please do not take note of the crease appearing between my eyebrows at the ripe old age of 25.

Blessings Asked for and Blessings Unexpected

I drove up to Minnesota this weekend for a baby shower. Overall, baby showers are not my favorite pastime right now, but this shower was for my dear sister-in-law, and for her sake (and my new niece’s!) I didn’t want to miss it.

Throughout the day on Saturday, both during the baby shower and after, my mother-in-law and sisters-in-law quietly asked me how I was feeling, whether being at a shower was difficult for me. I felt so very loved and cared for. And after the shower, when we sat at a coffee shop for an hour, chatting about everything from books, to the future, to the pains and frustrations of natural hair care, I was blessed again, both by compassion and by lots of laughter.

This is us:

I’m the short one on the far left. Then next to me is Helen, Amy (who’s expecting a little girl in two months), Heather, and Mom.

As I was brushing my teeth later that evening, I reflected on how much I love my in-law family. I feel right at home among them and am developing friendships with my sisters-in-law and mother-in-law that are precious to me.

I realized that though I’ve been blessed over and over again by my husband’s family, I never asked for them. I asked for a godly compassionate husband, but I didn’t ask for godly compassionate in-laws.

Now, though I’m asking for a child and not receiving, I am conscious of the fact that God has given me many blessings I never thought to ask for. I may not always be able to believe this, but right now I can believe with certainty that God knows better than I do what gifts I need and when I need them. 

Silences of God and Sacred Cows Part 2

Yesterday, what with one thing and another that I would prefer not to go into presently, I had had enough of God's silences. Enough of no. I wanted yes. And I was an emotional wreck. Even Husband, who is very precise in the words that he chooses would probably say that that description is not far off the mark.


In the evening I had an hour at home alone, and I sensed that God wanted my attention during that hour. I was able to take a good look into my heart, and I saw, erected there, a beautiful golden calf.


Motherhood, I realized, has become for me the sacred cow, the one thing that in my mind is non-negotiable between me and God. I want to start our family now and God will make it possible one way or another. 


Husband and I have sensed for a few weeks now, I think, that God is gently letting us know that He isn't ready for us to start our family yet. He has other things for us to do first. I don't know what those are yet... Husband and I have some ideas, but we're not sure. But all along, as God has been giving us these ideas, I've been saying to Him, "OK. Sure. We can do that. But baby first," or "Yeah, we'll do that, but we're going to have a baby at the same time." I was not willing to accept the idea of waiting to start our family.


In the last few days, God has slowly and gently pulled the last semblance of control away from me, leaving me completely at his mercy. (Not peacefully, I might add. As I mentioned, yesterday, I was an emotional wreck.) At the same time, the other ideas of things that God could possibly be calling us to do have become more apparent, more concrete, even. 


And last night, when I finally sat down with God, I realized that the painful, wrenching, tearing sensation I had been experiencing all day was my letting go, my accepting that I will do whatever God calls me to do, even if that ends up being before we start our family. In the process of accepting God's will, the sacred cow in my heart began to be uprooted. And those sacred cows, I'm learning, are heavy.  


I don't know why, exactly, God has been silent to me in the last month, but I do know that He has used His silence and our life circumstances to show me what was in my heart. He has shown me what was in my heart, and He has shown me that, painful as it may be, God can and will uproot any sacred cows He finds in the heart He's claimed for His. 


I want God, and I want God's will more than a baby. I truly do. Though motherhood might not be a part of the plan yet, I'm ready to take steps of obedience.

Silences of God and Sacred Cows Part 1

Husband and I have been going through the study Experiencing God by Henry and Richard Blackaby and Claude King. I highly recommend this study. Though I don't think it's perfect, I do think it's a very good study. I'm thinking a lot and learning a lot about God because of the meditations in this book.


This morning's reading was especially pertinent to my life right now. The authors write about the silences of God. They first reference Job, which almost made me skip to the end. I don't want to think any more about Job right now. I just don't. But then the talk switches to the account of the death of Lazarus, found in John 11:1-45. I want to share what they write:


John reported that Jesus loved Lazarus, Mary, and Martha. Although Jesus received word that His good friend was sick and at the point of death, He delayed going until Lazarus died. In other words, Mary and Martha asked Jesus to come help their brother when he was sick, and Jesus was silent. All the way through Lazarus's final sickness and death, Jesus did not answer. They recived no response from the One who said He loved Lazarus. Jesus even said He loved Mary and Martha. Yet He did nothing. 


Lazarus died, and Mary and Martha went through the funeral process, preparing his body, putting him in the grave, and covering it with a stone. Still, God's silence continued. Finally, Jesus said to His disciples, "Let's go." 


When Jesus arrived, Lazarus had been dead four days. Martha said to Jesus, "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died." Then the Spirit of God began to help me understand something. It seemed to me as if Jesus said to Mary and Martha: "You are exactly right. If I had come when you asked, your brother would  not have died. You know I could have healed him, because you have seen Me heal people many times before. If I had come when you asked Me to, I would have healed him. But you would have never known any more about Me than you already understood. I knew you were ready for a greater revelation of Me than you had known before. I wanted you to experience that I am the Resurrection and the Life. My refusal and My silence were not rejection. They were opportunities for Me to disclose to you more of Me than you had ever known."


Over the last month, God has been silent. To me, anyway. I've asked for fertility medications to be effective. I've asked for healing. I've asked for a baby. On all accounts over this past month-- and year before that-- God has remained silent. 

Some Thoughts on Love for Valentine’s Day

As I stirred oatmeal on the stove this morning I had an epiphany. Not a world-class epiphany. A me epiphany. I realized something that is vastly important to me.

 Facing infertility and all of the many, many, disappointments that crop up on a daily basis because of it is putting my relationship with God through a test of fire. All my bows and frills are being burned away, pretty ruthlessly. The core of my love for God is gradually being laid bare amid the ashes. Right now, the core does not seem impressive.

                                                                                                                               

In the past week, in the aftermath of yet more bad news relating to our desire for a baby, I sat with my Bible open before God. Impatient. I couldn’t think of a single thing to say to Him that didn’t involve my desperate desire for a properly functioning body and a little one inside of it. I wrote out my prayers, the same, in essence, every time.

Please. Hear me. See me. Give me.

Every time I closed the notebook after time spent in prayer, I was reminded more of finishing a business meeting than of leaving a retreat spent in the company of someone I love.

And that was what I realized while I stirred oatmeal this morning. I haven’t been loving God for who God is. I’ve been waiting for Him to do something for me. Can I love God and want a relationship with Him outside of what He can do for me?

I want the answer to be yes.

So I decided this morning to take a break from asking God for anything. Instead, as I ate my oatmeal, I focused on who God is. And when I stopped to focus on God, I was swept up in the reminder that God is love. God loves me so tenderly and passionately. So much love. Amazing.

I’d mostly forgotten how much God loved me, or at least I hadn’t thought of love in our morning chats for the last few weeks, I think because I’m afraid. I’m afraid He won’t give me this thing that I want so much. I’m afraid He’s withholding something wonderful from me that would make my life better, more complete.

This morning, though, I pondered the verse from 1 John: “There is no fear in love. But prefect love drives out fear.” If I could accept God’s perfect love for me, I wouldn’t be afraid that He’s withholding anything good.

Right now, perfectly understanding God’s love is just out of reach, like trying to catch a seed floating down from a cottonwood tree. I see the little puff of white cotton. I reach my hands around it, but every breath of air that my hands stir up push the seed into a whirling dance, first one way and then another, but always away from my hands. I see it, but I just can’t quite capture it.  And that is why I’m still fighting the fear, still fighting what God is giving me.

I’m not entirely sure where I mean for this to end. Maybe right now these are just the ramblings of a sometimes-sad person who also sometimes understands that she is loved.

I am loved. I am blessed. And the God who loves me is worth every minute spent pursing Him and enjoying His love, not because of what He does for me, but because of who He is.

Let Me Just Say, I Love Scripture Songs

Though it may not be evident from my history of posting, I really, sincerely enjoy music. I love to sing, and my husband will testify that I can, and do, make up songs about just about anything. 


I know I am not unique in that when I hear words set to music, I am more likely to remember the words. This was why my mom set my telephone number to the tune of the "My Little Pony" theme song when I was three. For those of you who are not familiar with "My Little Pony," I have the video posted here for your enjoyment. If nothing else, this video will give you an idea of why I expect the world to meet up to my idealistic standards:

Based on how much this ridiculous theme song affected my life at a young age, I am convinced that the music I choose for my (future) children to listen to is very important. I recently ran across this gem called Seeds Family Worship. Their mission statement is, "Planting the seeds of God's word in the hearts of families." 


If you don't mind your children learning Bible verses in either New International Version or English Standard Version, check out Seeds Family Worship. They have five or six albums out, all filled with Scripture passages set to catchy tunes. 


I've had Philippians 4:6-7 bouncing around in my head all day because of them. Not a bad thing. And after listening to the "My Little Pony" theme song, I'm sure that you are more than ready to have something else in your heads too. Enjoy!

Christmas in a Dirty Shed

Merry Christmas, everyone!


Oh, is it already December 26? 


Husband and I took a few days off of work and have been making merry in Minnesota with first his family and then my family.We're still at my family's house, but things are quiet this morning. My little brother and sister are still asleep (Both of them have the night owl genes that I did not inherit. I was gasping for energy already at 8:45 last night.), my dad is reading a book with some tea at the table, Husband is doing the newspaper crossword puzzle at the table, my mom is reading the rest of the newspaper in a cushy chair in the living room, and I am using my mom's computer to read up on the connection between polycystic ovary syndrome and sugar and contemplate the possibility of starting a sugar detox for Husband and myself.


Husband and I have had a wonderful Christmas with both of our families, but something that we did with his family has firmly anchored itself in my mind and is whispering promises to stay there for a while. 


On Christmas Eve, all of Husband's family was invited to the house of his younger sister, Younger H. She lives and works at a camp right now. When we arrived at her house, apple cider and other goodies in tow, we were greeted at the front door by a sign that read "No Room in the Inn" and Husband's brother-in-law M, who took our dishes and pointed us with a smile toward the little shed to the side of the house. 


Candles flickered around the inside of the shed as Younger H ushered us inside. She invited us to take a blanket if we thought we might be cold and then take a seat in one of the chairs crammed around the focal point: a small square wooden bin resting on a milk crate. Inside the wooden bin was a towel wrapped up into a baby-shaped form. 


I must admit, I was hoping we wouldn't be out in the shed long. It was cold. I thought the bench I was sitting on might be dirty. There were seeds or bird poop on the floor of the shed.


Younger H led us through a reading of the Christmas story via Luke 2, as well as some hymns. When we were done with the reading and singing, Younger H said (and this is not a direct quote),


"I just have a few things I wanted to say... I hope that being in the shed makes you think about how there was no room in the inn for Jesus. I'm so thankful that everyone in our family here has made room in their hearts for Jesus. It's easy to celebrate on Christmas with our family and forget that not everyone has made room in their hearts for Jesus. Take time now to think of someone you know who doesn't have room in his or her heart for Jesus this Christmas."


Younger H was in tears as she said this, and it was her tears as much as her words that convicted me and made the moment stick. It's true: I usually don't spend much time on Christmas contemplating those who don't know Christ and the joy and hope this season does not hold for them because of that. But what is also true is that I do not usually feel the anguish that Younger H obviously feels for those who don't know Christ.


The day of Christmas is past, and we who know Christ have been reminded of the hope that is ours because God deigned to descend to earth as our Savior. 


Encouraged by this reminder, think of someone you know who does not know Christ. Who can you share the Good News with in the coming year?

Blessed be Your Name, Even When...

Even though I started this blog a few months ago with the purpose of being content while waiting to be a mother, I have mostly shied away from sharing my thoughts and feelings on this issue. My goal was to focus my gaze on the other blessings that God has poured out upon me and my husband and search for how God was using us here. And now. Not on how God will use us when He gives us a baby.

That is still my goal. I still want to be used by God here and now, and I do not want to take for granted all of that which I have to be thankful for.

However, today I also need to remind myself of God’s goodness and God’s faithfulness. I need to give myself a pep talk.

This morning my husband and I woke up in our hotel room, on our much-anticipated weekend vacation. My cousin’s fiancé works for a hotel in the ‘big city’ about 50 miles away and was able to get us an amazing discount on a suite, and we feel very blessed to be able to spend time away from home on a small budget.

One of the things that we are enjoying while we are here is continual internet access. (We don’t have internet access at home and must content ourselves with visits to the library or coffee shops to spend time online.) So, of course, one of the first things we both found ourselves doing this morning was checking e-mail, even checking Facebook.

“Hill, [Friend-from-church] has a picture on Facebook that you should really see,” I hear as I’m putting on make-up in the bathroom.

“Oh, OK.” Friend-from-church has a fun and quirky sense of humor, so I am anticipating a picture that will make me chuckle, shake my head, and sigh.

Instead, when I come to look, I see a picture announcing very clearly (but of course in a fun and quirky way) that Friend-from-church and her husband are expecting a baby. They are expecting their baby to be born next May, about the same time as my beautiful sister-in-law and her husband are expecting their baby to be born.

My initial response upon realizing what this picture means is not joy, but jealousy. And sadness. And then guilt because my initial response was not joy.

I try to give myself a little bit of slack, though, because I know that some of my strong feelings come from a doctor’s appointment I had less than 24 hours before seeing this Facebook announcement.

An appointment that was less than encouraging and also less than conclusive.

 An appointment at which I heard in not so few words, “You will probably need to use fertility treatments if you want to have your own children.”

“Your body may not be able to sustain a child through a pregnancy without help.”

Traitorous words. Traitorous body.

And I know, the doctor may be wrong. The doctor may not have all the information he needs yet. And what’s so very bad about fertility treatments anyway? Probably nothing.

But even so, I can’t stop the anguished questioning of God inside of me: “Why her? Why not me? They haven’t been married as long as we have! I’m sure they haven’t even been wanting this baby as long as we have!”

I don’t mean to sound melodramatic, or wimpy. I know there are so many women who have much, much more heart-wrenching stories, have been feeling empty-arm pain much, much longer and much, much more acutely than I have.

But even so, the pain is still there, and I still need to address the God whom I love and serve and who I have believed is good, oh so good, in the past.

A teacher of mine once told me that we sing songs like “Blessed Be Your Name” when times are good and it’s easy to believe God is good as a sort of exercise and muscle-building for when times are bad and it’s not so easy to see God’s goodness.

That way, when life gets hard in one way or another, the refrain

Blessed be Your name
On the road marked with suffering,
Though there's pain in the offering
Blessed be Your name.

Every blessing You pour out
I'll turn back to praise.
When the darkness closes in, Lord
Still I will say

Blessed be the name of the Lord,
Blessed be Your name!
Blessed be the name of the Lord,
Blessed be Your glorious name!

will play in our heads and we will remember, Yes, God is good. God can use this for good. Even when this doesn’t make sense to me, God is still good.

I can remember this song. I am able to say with my words (even if my feelings aren’t so sure), Yes, God is good. And I know that this one itsy bitsy difficult time will strengthen me and prepare me. I will come to know more deeply the One who is infinitely more precious than a thousand babies, and He will be my strength and my song.

Yes, God is still good!

A Cacophony of Praise

My husband’s sister and her husband were in ‘the adoption process’ when I met them three and a half years ago. This adoption process finally drew to a close two weeks ago.

Most of those three and a half years were spent in the chaotic flurry of paperwork and government red tape that is only fully appreciated by those who have adopted a baby from another country, but the last ten months have been a bit—and I say a bit—more understandable for the rest of us who watch and pray from the sidelines.

Ten months ago my husband’s sister and her husband had a baby boy in Ethiopia referred to them. Or they were referred to him. Now I’m not sure on the terminology. In any case, suddenly last October, we had the face and name of a baby to color our prayers.

Two weeks ago, my sister- and brother-in-law finally brought this baby home.

A great deal of prayer has been directed from my lips and heart toward God on their behalf throughout this process, and I was eager, oh so eager, to finally meet this baby and see the fruition of so many prayers.

My husband and I were finally able to meet this little boy (for he’s no longer really a baby—he walks, runs, and smiles a beautiful eight-tooth smile) this past weekend.

We drove to my husband’s parents’ house for our annual family gathering. My husband’s three siblings and their spouses all congregate and we enjoy a weekend of family and fun.

This was the first year with a third generation present at this particular family gathering and it was a welcomed change for all involved.

Our family’s dynamics are changing, and with each change and passing year, we see God gently leading, guiding, and loving our family.

We chose to forego church on Sunday morning in favor of a family worship time. My husband was in charge of picking and leading music, and one of the songs he picked was the familiar hymn, “Great is Thy Faithfulness”.

I closed my eyes as we lifted up the refrain to our Heavenly Father, while my newly adopted little nephew added his own vocal interjections (and that boy has some lungs on him).

Three and a half years is a long time. Ten months is longer still when there is a specific child waiting for his parents, but in that moment God’s faithfulness to me, to our family, crystallized for an instant from a misty promise into a glitteringly beautiful truth.

Great is thy faithfulness, great is thy faithfulness;

Morning by morning new mercies I see;

All I have needed thy hand hath provided—

Great is thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me!

A New (for me) Form of Prayer

I struggle with prayer. Mostly, I struggle with staying focused.

For example, I may start out praying for my little sister. A few seconds later, though, I realize that I also wanted to pray for the victims of the latest natural disaster that I read about in the news. Then I may remember that I never spent time confessing sins that I know need to be confessed, which might lead me to praying for a coworker I dislike and want to learn to love. Then my thoughts may start wandering to the to-do list I have sitting on my desk at work and I start making a mental note of things I forgot to put on the list in the first place. I start to worry that I won’t have time to get everything done that day, and I pull out my planner to write down the absolutely imperative things I’m afraid I’ll forget.

Before I know it, I’ve worried myself right out of prayer and into the nitpicky details of my daily life. At that point, if I’m feeling especially tenacious, I’ll try to discipline and quiet my mind back into a prayerful state, but if I’m feeling anything less than the utmost motivation, I’ll give up and move onto the rest of my morning routine before leaving for work.

Because I struggle so much with prayer, I try to learn more about prayer. And because there are oh-so-many books about prayer, I know I am not alone in my struggle.

An acquaintance of mine introduced me to new book on prayer recently: Praying in Color: Drawing a New Path to God. The back of the book describes that this form of prayer “…can take as little or as much time as you have or want to commit… Drawing is half the prayer, the other half is transporting the visual memories or actual images with you to pray throughout the day.”

I was inspired, and after reading through the book (a quick read), I took my somewhat inflexibly pragmatic brain to task. I’ve included some of my most recent in-color prayers. The first one shows my prayer through and meditation on a psalm:

The second one here shows a prayer of frustration about a sin I struggle with, as well as prayers for some organizations that my husband and I support. (The name of a missionary we support has been whited out of the shape on the right.)

Because I tend to be a visual learner, this has helped me call to mind prayers throughout the day when I normally wouldn’t think to pray.

And, let’s be honest, the bold colorful result at the end of a prayer time is also part of why I like this prayer form. Sometimes I just want a tangible result to my prayers, and this is one way to gratify that desire a little bit without trying to force God into a corner and demand that He make the prayer time feel worthwhile before I leave the act of prayer.

This prayer form takes more time than what I usually allot myself to pray, but the results are a richer and more focused time of prayer.

I think I’ll continue to pray in color, at least sometimes.

While I wait, I also learn to pray.

The Current Waiting Situation

This evening I told my husband that I had decided to start a blog. Then I asked him, “What would make people want to read a blog?”

He answered, “Well, people generally read a blog if it has an interesting story to tell or if the writer is especially entertaining.”

Oh dear.

I definitely don’t have an interesting story to tell, so that one’s out the window. And as for being especially entertaining… I truly doubt it.

I would love to be a mommy right now, or very soon, but for one reason or another (sorry, no specifics yet) my husband and I are not parents and do not expect to be parents in the near future. So, the story of this blog, interesting or not, is contentment while waiting. More specifically, it’s what I do with my time while I’m trying to contently wait to have that first little one.

My husband and I live in a small-ish farming town in northwest Iowa. No wait! Don’t leave! Bear with me.

We’ve been married for just shy of two years.

My husband is creative. I think he’d probably be able to make our life sound a whole lot more exciting than me, if he ever had an inclination to write a blog. He spends most of his free time intent upon the laptop that sits on top of our piano, with ear bugs in his ears, composing music. I think his songs are interesting and very well-done, but he would shrug that off, probably thinking that I’m not really qualified to give musical advice.

Even though he loves music, he’s the sort of quiet person who would be incredibly unhappy if he had to lead a workshop on some aspect of music composition and would much prefer to be the anonymous person in the kitchen washing up dishes after the conference lunch was served. (However, if such a conference was to take place, and he was able to go, he would rather attend as a participant than do dishes.)

I would not be happy washing dishes, but nor would I be happy leading a conference. I’m much happier working with children. I spend half of my week as an assistant children’s librarian, leading story time and other kid-meets-book programs and the other half of my week as a children’s programming director at our church. I rest, sometimes uncomfortably, between being wanting to hide my shy timid self away and wanting to get to know every family that comes into our library and church.

I am, however, quite decidedly an introvert, and I spend most of my free time reading, attempting various crafts, or organizing something in our house.

I do trust that God is at work in our lives. Even though the temptation is there to be discontented with our situation just because we don’t have any little ones, I’m attempting to squeeze the most out of my life before children, my life while waiting.