I just said summer.
I am aware that it's the middle of October, I haven't lost my mind completely.
It's just been a bizarre few months and I'm feeling really hesitant about embracing fall this year. I've planted mums (and killed them already). I've made pumpkin bread. I've gone to a football game...and nope. It's just not coming to me yet. I am hanging on to summer, begging for just one more hot day to jump in the pool.
The whirlwind of moving and renovating our house consumed us for almost three months. I think there is some part of summer that got swallowed up and lost in the middle of all that and I'm still searching for it.
Maybe I'm still grasping for the slower pace and simultaneous chaos of having all of four kids at home all day long, heading over to the Memorial pool to keep us from killing each other, and carrying sleepy kids up the stairs to their beds with wet hair, damp swimming suits, and pink cheeks from swimming their little hearts out. Or maybe it's the smell of charcoal wafting through the kitchen window while Jeff fires up the grill, having friends over on a whim, and the familiarity of our normal routine in a home that felt like...home. Maybe it's the feeling of comfort and security and happiness all of those things bring that I'm still wanting before moving on to the next season.
But the seasons have changed in more ways than one and there is no going backwards.
I have given myself permission to miss these things...the friends we did life with, our neighbors, the teachers, the doctors, the caseworkers, the parks, the community pool, our Target (superior to Columbia's, just being honest), and what I had known as our "normal" for over a decade.
I miss it, but I really don't think my heart is trying to run back. I just long to feel at home again.
We have rolled right into life in a new town, new church, new neighbors, new school, and a new ministry. We are now two months in and I'm trying to stop and evaluate "how we are doing."
My answer would have been different a week ago. Jeff and I just got back from a marriage retreat in northern California. We went away for an entire week, the longest I've ever been away from our kids. God provided a scholarship and an invitation to this retreat, two amazing grandmas who stayed with the kids, and even sent bad weather to keep us away for one more night. I don't know if the grandmas are seeing God's "kindness" in all of that after the week they had, but we sure do. Love you both so much!!
God knew my heart was not in a good place and He had profound mercy on my weary soul. He didn't have to take me to the Scott River Lodge to mend my heart, but He did, and I'm so so thankful.
I limped into this retreat. All of the change has been hard over the last few months, but the hardest has been my relationship with Leah. I may delete this post someday if I think it would be difficult for her to read, but I don't know how to talk about "how we're doing" without being honest about this. I want to be honest, yet honoring.
The bottom line is that it's been my own struggle with my shortcomings and a wrestling with the enemy. In the middle of our chaos, I have given enormous ground over to the enemy and allowed him to fire his arrows at will through some serious lies in my heart and mind. I have gotten so used to the accusations and questions that I didn't even recognize them for what they were anymore.
Leah has been part of our family since she came home from the hospital. My love for her has been deep and real from the beginning. All along the way I also felt the weight of uncertainty over her future and ours, realizing that she belonged to someone else until a judge decided otherwise. Wrestling with the tension in that is almost impossible to verbalize and it does weird things to you. Over the course of two years I felt a myriad of contradictory emotions, even while feeling more alive and where God wanted me to be than ever before. There was also real spiritual warfare happening in our home and in my life.
Much to my surprise, when the judge declared that she was finally ours forever it didn't magically make all of that go away. There was celebration, freedom, and closure....absolutely. It was hands down one of the most amazing moments in life.
I just wasn't prepared for what was about to follow.
Crap hit the fan. I'm sorry if that's offensive, but it barely captures it.
Suddenly, everything was final. No more meetings or caseworkers. But also no place to process some things with people who can help us navigate difficult waters. We moved simultaneously, which magnified this feeling. I felt "dumped out" and struggling with the changes happening in her and our life.
Her second birthday was back in May. We had been noticing some things that were a little concerning for several months. Nothing huge, just several things that made us go, "is that normal?" This isn't our first rodeo, so we felt like we had a pretty good handle on what is normal, but we also know all kids are different. On top of general "toddlerness" she had become more and more sensory seeking and delayed in her speech. Add a lot of transition and change to the pot, and you have a kid who can't verbalize how she feels with an unhealthy need for sensory input, who in turn is unintentionally making life hard for everyone around her.
Our new normal has been filled with siblings who are defensive because they expect to be hit, jumped on, have their things taken or broken. They overreact (read: scream) to try and deter her or make her stop. This absolutely does not work.
I wake up every day waiting for it to start, panicking when she gets out of my sight for fear that she will find something that will hurt her or break, so I begin locking every single door. I'm irritable and fatigued....tired of breaking up fights and feeling like I'm not getting through to her ONE SINGLE BIT when we she has yanked someone's hair or tried to eat soap, legos, peppermint oil, just whatever she can get her hand on, or squeezed out all of the conditioner. She moves chairs around to get to what she wants, fights sleep, can't focus on anything for more than a couple of minutes, and wants to be held if she isn't doing any of that.
Absolutely none of this is her fault. None of it.
I wish that made it easier, but it doesn't.
ENTER: STRUGGLE. QUESTIONS. LIES.
These are the little foxes that ruin the vineyard.
I'm failing.
I'm tired.
I'm angry.
I need help.
God was already at work by sending me a friend here in Columbia who saw my pain and understood it. She came and introduced herself the first time we visited Karis Church and has instantly been in my business in the best way possible. She has wasted no time speaking Truth and urging me on to find help in God and the resources around me. She says, "Hey, I'll come over and play with the kids and you're going to get on the phone and call resource A, B, and C. You need help. You can't do this alone. God totally has this covered."
Everyone needs a friend like that.
As we arrived at the retreat I was empty and weary. I cried so much. The last three times I have gone to a conference or retreat I have been this way. I feel bad for everyone around me when God starts in on my heart. It's always like this. When God brings out the proverbial knife to do surgery, tears are unending.
We were met at the Scott River Lodge by long time friends we haven't seen in a while and new faces who we grew to love during the week. It was vulnerable, but exactly who I needed to be with for several days in the mountains of northern California. These friends went straight to the feet of Jesus on our behalf and prayed for bigger things, with more faith, than I had in a long time.
Here is what the Lord took me far away to speak into my heart...
I have been living in spiritual poverty.
I have an overarching trust in God and His will for my life, but I also live as though He will only give me just enough of Himself to get through. The rest is hustle, grit, and suffering through in my own strength. It's like God is at the top of the mountain and I'm climbing up in my own strength while He watches. This belief is void of His joy and peace and the power of His Spirit in my life.
It says of God, "You are not generous toward me. You withhold Yourself and Your promises when times are hard."
This is a lie.
The same power that raised Jesus from the dead is mine. The Holy Spirit lives in me...not just sometimes or a little bit. I'm am sealed and wholly His. That same power is accessible to me in the middle of my chaos and difficult days.
His presence is just as sweet as it's always been.
HE IS HERE. He can fill me with joy in His presence if I will spend time with Him, inviting Him in, honestly surrendering and giving Him permission to do whatever He wills in me. I can call out to Him constantly and live connected to Him no matter what is happening around me.
He can handle my honesty.
His shoulders are way broader than that. I can get alone with Him and just SAY IT. He already knows. All of my sin, anger, doubts, harsh words, unkindness toward those He has placed in my care....He knows. I condemn myself and deep down feel unworthy to approach Him. He invites me to come to Him and leave it at the cross.
Completely undeserving of grace, as I come close and rage against my reality, beating His chest as I lay out my frustrations and hurt and questions with sin in my heart (some I can see and some I cannot even see yet)...He wraps His nail scarred hands around me and pulls me close.
I weep.
He took all of that upon Himself already. It was part of what held Him on the cross so long ago.
HE DIED FOR THIS.
HE OVERCAME SIN, HELL, AND THE GRAVE FOR THIS.
He takes all of it and gives me His grace.
He takes all of it and gives me His peace.
He takes all of it and gives me His hope.
He overwhelms me with His love once more.
His love is still bigger than I can fathom and my heart can feel it again. Our emotions are terrible masters on either end of the spectrum, but they're a beautiful companion in His hands.
He made me to feel His love, not just mentally assent to it.
He also reminded me that He answers the prayers of His people with a yes more than I record in my memory.
He is a generous God.
The jury was out in regard to an evaluation we had done on Leah before leaving, but we found out on our trip home that she has been approved to receive services through First Steps for her sensory issues. She didn't qualify based on typical measuring standards, but God showed us favor through a compelling "informed clinical opinion" report from the occupational therapist who did her evaluation, and hearts that were bent toward us during a meeting.
He sees us right here in this little house and He has compassion for what makes our hearts hurt and our days hard. The struggle may not go away, but there is help and He is with me.
When we came through the door on Sunday night I was met by a two year old who couldn't get enough hugs and kisses. It meant more to me than I can even explain. Our story may be marked by brokenness that has touched both of our lives, but I pray that our testimony will be a powerful reminder of His love and power that redeems all things. What kindness and grace He is constantly showing me through her.
May our homes be filled with believing prayer that God is stronger than our enemy, that His love is rich and never failing even when our hearts feel like they are failing inside of us, His presence is accessible, real, and powerful, and no weapon formed against us shall prosper.
For His glory and our joy...
