When Grace Is Really All You Have

Imagine that about a year ago you accepted a foster care placement to help a little boy with special needs.  Excited and nervous you wanted to do it, and you quickly fell in love with him.  You felt sure that God had called you to do this.  You weren't getting much sleep because this sweet kid needed you to take care of him in the night and you also had responsibilities during the day that you couldn't ignore.  Life keeps moving and people expect you to show up for work, doctors' appointments, meetings, and meals.   You don't always get to check out of normal life, even under stressful circumstances.  Your exhaustion was real, but you never doubted it was worth it and you knew it would only be this hard for a time.

Then, one day, you were driving with your foster son in your back seat and missed a stop sign.  Your eyes were open.  You weren't distracted by your phone.  You were just tired and your senses weren't operating like they should.  You got t-boned and the little boy in your back seat who you had sacrificed so much to help was now seriously injured.  

You feel helpless and guilty and completely responsible.  You were the one driving.  You wish with all of your heart that you could rewind the clock and just put your foot on the brake.  How did this happen???  You've never even had a speeding ticket.  It's a bad dream you wish you could wake up from.

Suddenly, you find yourself at the center of attention.  Local media had a slow day and caught wind of the story.  People who don't know you or your foster son suddenly care deeply about his well being.  They all jump on the self righteous band wagon with their comments that read...

"How horrible! I hope that person pays for what they've done!"

"How do people like this become foster parents?  Our system is so screwed up!   Prayers for that little boy." (This is my personal favorite...condemnation followed by "prayers")

"I hope they take that child away!"

"Children deserve to be in loving homes with adults that will take care of them.  How irresponsible."

"This makes me sick."

"I bet they were texting and driving.  This makes me so angry."

None of these people know anything about the circumstances.  They don't know you.  They have no idea what it has been like over the last several months when you have been up in the night over and over, feeding, changing, holding, singing to, praying over this precious one.  You LOVE this child and hurt more than anyone over what has happened.  If you could take it back or trade places, you would do in an instant.  

IT WAS A MISTAKE.

The world is cruel and people can be unmerciful.  We can all be arrogant when others make a mistake and think "we would never..."

Over the last month I watched one of my friends get raked over the coals for a mistake that she made.  In the midst of following God to a hard place and putting so much on the line, she made an honest mistake.  She immediately owned it, everyone was okay, but it was the sort of mistake that had consequences.  If it would have been her own kid no one would have even known it happened.  

In foster care, so much of what you do is under a microscope.  

When kids fall off their bike and get scraped up, fall off the chair and get a knot on their head, cut their finger and need stitches...you take pictures, report it to your caseworker, talk about it at the next meeting, and deal with whatever judgement other people may have about how it happened or could have been avoided.  You may have to sit across from their bio parents and swallow your pride while they express their anger toward you.  

You didn't imagine the day that you would be asking for their forgiveness.  

I appreciate accountability.  This is the way it has to be, but it's also really really hard.

In foster care, and other times in life, we are exposed and laid bare before people who don't even know us.  People who live in the public eye deal with this constantly.  They are more vulnerable to rumors and judgement. 

My mom has one of those mirrors that lights up and has two sides.  One side is normal and the other side is magnified.  She bought it precisely for those features.  I, however, never want to see myself in so much detail under bright lights.  It's frightening.  Why would I want to see my acne (in my 30s...seriously???), and fine lines that are appearing all over my face.  WHY WOULD I DO THAT TO MYSELF?  

Sometimes that is how the rest of the world gets to see us.  Our mistakes are viewed under bright lights and appear larger than everyone else's.  It doesn't seem fair, and the story that's told is rarely accurate.

While perfect strangers malign our character on Facebook and we can do nothing to make it stop, what will we do?  Crawl in a hole and never come out?

Have you ever stood face to face with someone who gets to decide whether or not your mistake or your sin is forgivable?


What do we do with a mistake that others aren't willing to forgive?   

What happens if Jesus is the only one left standing there with grace?

I have really been thinking about this after watching someone I love have to deal with a similar reality.  Because I love her, I have felt her anguish.  

It has reminded me of the times in my life when I have felt completely unworthy of forgiveness.  I remember how raw those moments of vulnerability and weakness feel.  It caused my heart to run to the one place where undeserved grace, mercy, and love was demonstrated in fullness and perfection.  The cross.  Not one sin was left unanswered for at the cross of Christ.  There is not one mistake that the grace God demonstrated through Christ doesn't cover...completely.  

I can promise you this.  When Jesus seems to be the only one left standing with grace in His hands instead of a stone you will want to run with abandon into His arms.  His grace will never mean more to you than on that day.  

On our worst day.  On our best day.  This is exactly how much we need His grace.  

When His grace becomes the only thing we've got to make it through the day and not give in to despair, we will finally understand what He means to us.  EVERYTHING.  We are bankrupt without Him.  

When is the last time you felt this desperate for Him?

When we come to the place where His grace has given us true liberty from our sin and freedom to not be defined by our mistakes, we will also see the people around us differently.  We will be quick to extend grace, give the benefit of the doubt, and be generous with second chances.  We will be less inclined to make hasty judgements about others when we read the headlines or hear whispers.  

When grace is all we have, grace is what we want to give. 

Whether we find ourselves struggling to forgive someone else or struggling to forgive ourselves, we must remember this:  His grace is sufficient.  Let's own our mistakes, confess our sins, surrender ourselves to Him, and trust that He meant what He said.  Freedom awaits.  Why wouldn't we run into His arms to receive this kind of love?  Nothing compares.  

 Love unfailing.  

Grace unending. 

/ / / /

 

For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are-- yet was without sin.  Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.  Hebrews 4:5-16

/ / / /

The teachers of the law and the Pharisees brought in a woman caught in adultery. They made her stand before the group and said to Jesus, “Teacher, this woman was caught in the act of adultery.  In the Law Moses commanded us to stone such women. Now what do you say?”  In the Law Moses commanded us to stone such women. Now what do you say?”  They were using this question as a trap, in order to have a basis for accusing him. But Jesus bent down and started to write on the ground with his finger. They were using this question as a trap, in order to have a basis for accusing him. But Jesus bent down and started to write on the ground with his finger.  When they kept on questioning him, he straightened up and said to them, “Let any one of you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.”  Again he stooped down and wrote on the ground.  At this, those who heard began to go away one at a time, the older ones first, until only Jesus was left, with the woman still standing there.  Jesus straightened up and asked her, “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?”  “No one, sir,” she said. “Then neither do I condemn you,” Jesus declared. “Go now and leave your life of sin.”  When Jesus spoke again to the people, he said, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” John 8:3-12

Seven Things I've Learned So Far This Year

I got connected with some fellow bloggers recently.  Someone asked if we would want to write a post on the same topic for fun, and to help pull some of us out of a writing slump.  I decided to give it a whirl.  I've never done a list post. Someone is probably gagging right now because they hate list posts (I understand. So sorry.)

For everyone else, I present to you...

Seven Things I've Learned So Far This Year

1) Parenthood and The West Wing are the best shows of all time.  

I realize that is a matter of opinion, but they would have to be contenders.  I mourned for days when Parenthood ended last year.  Why in the world would NBC cancel it?  The only plus is that it doesn't consume an hour of my life every week.  I have never watched a show that made my heart connect to the characters like this one did.  I cried and laughed and I will love the Braverman family forever.

The West Wing was brilliantly written, quick witted, and engaging.  President Bartlett made me long for a leader that will govern with conviction, conscience, and lead with vision.  I loved CJ, Josh, Toby, and Sam. This is an older series, but I was too busy being a college student when it originally aired.  If you're looking for a series to watch, I highly recommend it!

2) My metabolism hates me.  

So, I am fine.  I am not wallowing in despair.  I just think there comes a time when you have to decide if you're going to deal with what's happening in your life or live in denial.   My options seem to be:

a) Eat healthy, deny myself dessert (and most foods I love), and stay exactly where I am.

OR...

b) Eat what I want and keep gaining weight.

I have chosen (b) over the last year and half.  I just want to stop the train before it gets out of hand.

I decided a few weeks ago that I would really try to wean myself off of refined sugar and flour.  I fasted from all such things for about two weeks.  I virtually saw no change.  This went way differently in my twenties.  Over the course of a few months I shed 20 pounds with healthy eating and moderate exercise a decade ago.  Now in my thirties, my metabolism mocks my efforts.

Jeff joined me (except he still ate dessert and had cheat meals, if you can call that joining me) and he confessed yesterday that he lost a few pounds.   He didn't want to tell me because he knows how unfair it is.  He wanted to keep me from feeling more frustrated, bless his heart. I told him that I still hate his guts.  I kid. 

3) Sending my second kid to school was as hard as the first. 

I felt exactly the same about Avery going to kindergarten as I did when Micah went.  She is 9 months younger than some kids in her class which feels like a big gap.  I worried about whether or not it was a good decision.  To my surprise, our fragile flower has blossomed with confidence.  She has no problem confronting problems with other kids.  Now we just need to work on her delivery.  Sass is not well received, in case you didn't know.

4) I strangely feel at home with people who are seriously a mess, addicts in particular.  

Let me explain.  My experience is still limited but the thing that I "love" about the addicts I have interacted with (which have all been in one particular demographic) is that they know they're a mess and you can freely ask them whatever you want.  I have not been met with defensiveness yet.   

They lie about the story but tell the truth about themselves.

They will tell you the wildest lie and then admit their criminal record in the next breath.  If you have discernment, you can generally put the big pieces together and see what the real story is behind the one they are telling.  They don't bat an eye when you ask them if they have any warrants out or past convictions (I ask because that might be the real reason they "can't get a job.")   They don't get angry when you very kindly remind them that the reason their mouth is in so much pain is because they keep using meth, which then makes them want to use more meth to deal with the pain, but if they continue to use meth they will lose all of the teeth they have left....SO STOP TREATING IT LIKE A FRIEND.  (How about that run on sentence?) They will still lie and their expectations of what they think others should do for them doesn't follow any logic.  It's just the one thing that I can appreciate about interacting with them.

I'm a question asker, and while that makes guarded/normal people nervous, I feel complete freedom with them.  Addicts don't protect their image or heart the way most of us do.  We are more sophisticated.  We often want to protect how people perceive us.

We will tell the truth about the story but lie about ourselves.

Their lens through which they see the world is so different.  It's whack, but for whatever reason, I get it.  At least they're honest about what a mess they are.

5) Traveling with four kids is so hard it's barely worth it.  

OH MY WORD.  We had fun last summer but I did more traveling alone with the kids and it almost did me in.  L graduated to the toddler stage and is living up to every expectation you probably have of tots.  If there is something not child proofed in your house she will find it, climb it, open it, eat it, get into it, tear it up, take it apart.  She also hates, and I DO mean hates, riding in a vehicle when it's dark.  This aversion combined with her screaming/hitting phase almost made me lose my mind and hand in my parent card over the summer.  I have learned that screaming triggers big feelings for me a lot more than it does for Jeff.  The older kids can push his buttons more quickly with arguing.  So let's just say there were a lot of buttons being pushed all summer while we traveled together.  Van rides, sleeping in dorm rooms, sleeping on air beds in the same room on a church floor, hotels, using gym showers, public restrooms, eating out a lot, and a very random routine did not produce the best version of ourselves.  Maybe next summer will be easier.  Or maybe we'll stay home.  Probably neither.

6) I'm an introvert.

I'm just now realizing this.  I have carried massive mother guilt for not enjoying certain parts of this season of life more.  I am deeply thankful for the family I have, I just struggle with parts of it.  I recharge by being alone, one on one time with people, and when it's quiet.  This is why I feel like everything is closing in and my life is being sucked right out of me when there is a lot of noise and I have to be "on" constantly.  Days when there is no break from it are super hard.

For so long I wondered why I feel such dread about social gatherings where you are supposed to mingle and get to know people.  The "get to know you" games give me so much anxiety.  I always thought something must me wrong with me or that everyone feels this way.  Neither are true.

I LOVE meeting up with a couple of people at the park or for coffee.  I don't even have to know them very well.  I am happy to have lots of people over to our house.  I love it actually.  I realized that we are all wired differently, and that's okay.  It helps me understand why I feel the way I do in certain situations and how to deal with it better.  I can't skip this stage of parenting and I can't avoid every large social gathering for the rest of my life.  I can let myself off the hook for how I feel about it and be more intentional about putting some alone time on the calendar.  I'm a better mom and human being when I do.

7) I love writing.

I feel weird typing those words.  I don't claim to be good at it.  I just like it a lot.  The truth is, I have found something so life giving by putting words on a screen and sharing them.  I used to have more time to give outlet to these words by frequent coffee hangouts with friends and leading small groups.  I can't do as much of that right now, and surprisingly, blogging has met a need to communicate my thoughts in a fun way.  I love hearing your feedback and getting to share encouragement with people I've never even met from time to time when the topic fits.  So, I admit it.  I love doing this.

If you made it to the end...congratulations!  I'm sorry, you don't win anything, but I appreciate your perseverance.  Thanks for reading about my weird discoveries over the last year.  What are some of yours?

A Heartfelt Tribute to Coffee

In case you've missed it on your Facebook or Instagram feeds...today is an important holiday. 

 It's National Coffee Day.  

Throw a party, drink an extra cup, deliver some to a friend, but by all means...CELEBRATE.

God invented this precious bean as a demonstration of His mercy and grace to us.  He knew that after the fall we would be SO TIRED FROM EVERYTHING.  Our bodies were once made in perfection, but now we must suffer the consequences of our depravity.  This is our lot.  But God, in His great mercy, gave us redemption through Jesus.  He's so good to us that He didn't stop being kind there.  As the Giver of good and perfect gifts, He also gave us coffee.  This is a perfect moment to stop and give Him thanks if you never have.

So, I have a few words to say to this faithful companion of mine. 

Coffee, thank you for being a constant friend.  You have been with me through every season since I was a teenager.  I had to get used to you at first, as your personality came off a little too strong.  I paired you with chocolate and syrups and topped you with whipped cream to sort of pretend I liked you.  Still, I grew fond of you as I sat on couches in a little coffee shop with friends in high school.  You opened me up to a new world where good conversation was often had when you were around and I could feel older than I was.  I don't need you to help me feel older now, but thanks for the memories.

I apologize for my poor attempts at brewing you at first.  I would mix you with hot cocoa packets to redeem my efforts, but it was no use.  We both know how bad it was.  Thank you for not walking out on our friendship early on.  I grew in knowledge and quickly ditched my dorm room microwave espresso maker, hot cocoa packets, and trying to make Folgers taste edible.   I admit my folly and let's call a spade a spade...Folgers is a disgrace to your name.   

I also want to thank you for giving me employment for several years.  You truly bring all kinds of people together.  Townies, tourists, homeless folks, Israeli taxi drivers, celebrities, French Consulate workers,  grumpy business men, prep school kids, haggard moms, dads looking for pound cake and hot chocolate to feed their kids for breakfast, and people looking for their identity in a latte.  I remember, Bruce, and his "for here grande half-caf 180 degree latte with half of a raw sugar on the bottom half of a raw sugar on the top."  No more, no less.  I remember the way he initiated all new baristas by never approving of their efforts at first.  He was sure they screwed it up and made them start over or go get someone who knew what they were doing until they proved themselves. He was not even the most complicated person I served (God help us).  He was a different person after I got know him,though.  The cranky old lawyer thing was a bluff.  I could mess it up and he never said a word after a few months. 

Really, I learned about humility and serving others because of you.  I learned to be around people that I never would have chosen to spend time with outside of that common ground.  People can also be cranky, demanding, selfish, and mean over you.  I still had to do my job with the right attitude.  I had to figure out that it didn't matter if someone else treated me as if I were sub human because I was serving them coffee.  I still had to represent Christ and my company well.   I learned that people hope to find some comfort when they walked through the doors of those establishments and get their cup of joe.  They love when someone knows their order and has their drink waiting for them by the time they get to the front of the line.  It may be the one place where they feel known and cared about in their day.  You bring so much joy to the world.  You bring people together.  And people spend ridiculous amounts of money on you.  I will admit that I was happy to not see you so early in the morning after those years were over.  We were spending a little too much time together and I honestly got a little sick of you. 

Speaking of sick, I have to apologize for one more thing.  Sorry for how mean I was to you those three times in my life when another human was taking up residence in my body.  It was really all their fault.  They made me so sick for two months at a time.  It was hard on you and me...and Jeff.  Sorry I kicked you both outside when it was time to brew you every morning.  I'm happy to tell you that those days are over.  Don't ask how I know, just trust me.  That is glorious news for both of us. 

And finally, you have sustained me over the last 7 years of parenthood.  I don't know where I'd be without you...or where my kids would be.  I have some guesses but I'll keep those to myself.  When I couldn't tell the difference between night and day because babies needed to eat every three hours with no mercy for sleep deprivation, you comforted me.  You were decaffeinated, but still you made me feel better by your presence.   Now, when there is endless screaming and crying and talking and questions that threaten my sanity, you are there.  You distract me from murderous and suicidal thoughts.  You are quiet, you smell good, and you never disobey.  Please teach my children how to be more like you.  Disciple them.   

You are my nap in a mug.  You know how much that means in my life.  So, never leave me.  Be mine forever and ever.  You have been a friend that sticks closer than a brother. 

 With so much gratitude and with all my heart I say, Happy National Coffee Day. 

 

Do I Really Have To Love Her Parents?

I want to talk about something.  Be warned that if you need someone to make you laugh right now, you should move along.  I'm not feeling funny.  Some other day.

Something is eating my lunch so I thought I would just spill my guts right here for all of you to read.  

Every single day, and I do mean every single day, Ella prays for two people by name.  She starts at least 90% of her meal time prayers with, "Dear God, thank you for _________ and __________." The names that would fill in those blanks happen to be our foster daughter's parents.  She loves L and she loves her parents.

I can be found sitting next to her thinking, "Oh, good grief.  Just thank God for our food and say amen.  Why do you need to pray for them at every meal?  Must we think about them while we eat our chicken casserole???" 

Welcome to my ugly inner thoughts.

The night before we picked L up from the hospital, we huddled up before bed time and prayed for her and her parents.  We asked God to help them overcome their struggles so they could be with their baby again.  We asked God to use us to help her feel loved and safe in our home. There was vigilance in the beginning when it came to loving all three of them and honoring her parents with our words.    We even took the kids with us to L's first visit with her mom.   We wanted them to know her as a real person, not competition.  To help ease the awkwardness and bridge the gap, we had them bring some flowers and a care package to give her when we met. It was hard and emotional but God opened hearts on every side as we extended love in that small tangible way.  She received it and our kids liked her.

How about that?  God answered our prayers.

As time goes on it's hard to keep that kind of fervor.  It's been a roller coaster for my heart.  I have loved her parents deeply along the way, but this case has been long and I have no idea when it will end.  We're not close, that's all I really know.  The ball is totally in her parent's court.  We are moving toward adoption but it guarantees nothing.  It could all change again.  Uncomfortable meetings happen every month and I can't lie, I'm nervous about November.  What is usually the most celebratory month in the entire year for our family, because of our anniversary and numerous birthdays, I face with some amount of dread this year.  We will turn the page of this story and meet her parents once again.  Except this time she has been with us for much longer than she was with them.  

She calls us mommy and daddy now. 

We know her likes and dislikes.  What know what makes her laugh and what makes her scared.  For 16 months we have fed her every meal, gave her every bath, changed every diaper, put her to bed every night, endured every screaming fit, taken a million pictures of her smile that lights up a room, cheered her on when she started to crawl, waited anxiously for her to take her first steps, heard her say her first words, held her in the middle of the night, spent hours at court dates, meetings, and doctor visits.  Not only us, but a whole village of people have loved her like their own.

We are her people.

A lot of time has gone by without them around.  I have worked through bonding issues (that I might talk about someday), I have struggled with whether or not I am really cut out for having so many kids (hahaha...too late!), I've been tired and at my end on more occasions than I can remember, and now find myself rounding a corner where I feel a deeper peace with our family dynamic than I have in a long time.  I get to enjoy it for about 6 weeks and then everything will change again.

When we started down this road I didn't think about all of this when we taught our kids to pray for her mom and dad.  And now every time they pray we get confronted with whether or not that is where our hearts really are anymore.

Do I wish we had never taught them to care about her parents?  Honestly, deep down the answer is NO.  An important truth we want our kids to know is that when they see someone making bad choices it doesn't make them our enemy.  Is there anything more natural, even from childhood, than to vilify people who sin in different ways than us, though?  Every time I walk away from venting sessions with other foster parents I never feel any better.  I gain nothing but conviction.  How can I be honest about my feelings without sinning against them?  I don't know.  I don't know how to love someone who is really selfish and/or has harmed a child.  A fresh reminder of this came last night when some of my friends came across a toddler being loosely supervised by middle schoolers in nothing but a dirty diaper and flea bites all over his body.  One of my friends had to remove a flea from his little head.  THIS IS NOT OKAY.  My justice seeking self wants to investigate the situation, while assuming the worst, and take him home with me on the spot.  It doesn't work that way, in case you're wondering.  This is also why I needed to marry someone like Jeff who would say, "Whoa. Hold the train for just a sec."  Caring about his parents is not my first instinct by a long shot.  Except for those rare moments when God moves in my heart and does what He does.

So, here is part of the rub in foster care.  Can we love a child well and not love their biological parent?  You guys, this is difficult terrain.  Some would argue that our job as foster parents is to love the kids in our care and that is good enough.  That alone can bring us to the the brink of emotional collapse in some cases.  I do not disagree that our main job is to love the kids in our care. 

We shouldn't gloss over poor choices, neglect consequences, or tiptoe around sin, especially when it affects the vulnerable.  The problem I am having is that Jesus is super bossy and doesn't bend His words to fit my circumstances.  I can't get around His words to me when it comes to the posture of my heart, even in the face of cruelty and selfishness.  I hear Him tell me to act on behalf of the widow and orphan bravely in a spirit of humility and grace.  Some choices have grave consequences, and they should, but the second we forget the depth of our own need for grace we are in the weeds.  We need grace as much as the next person, even on our best day.  Sometimes, we also need firm consequences and accountability.  Myself included.

Foster care can be a hard place to remember grace, though.  

It's really easy to elevate our own morality.  When I hold myself up to the drug addict, physically abusive, or negligent parent I always seem to come out on top.  I forget where the verse is that says we should find our righteousness by comparing ourselves to someone whose sin is "worse."  Help me out, someone.  {It's non-existent in case you didn't catch my sarcasm.}

Our kids don't know all of the details, so maybe it's easier for them to love.  Jeff and I have joked in moments when we feel convicted by their prayers, "WHATEVER.  They don't know what we know." 

But what we actually know is that God is using them to remind us of the truth.  Kids are just better at forgiveness and loving without caveats, if we're really honest with ourselves.  They forgive me without hesitation when I ask them for it.  If parenting has taught me anything, it's how much I need forgiveness and grace.  Oh my word, I need it.

Sometimes the student becomes the teacher.

On days when her parents haven't even crossed my mind, or I'd rather not try anymore, one of the kids will pray for their good.    Here are some of the prayers that I hear on any given night.

Dear God, please help _________ and __________ to make gooder choices.
Dear God, thank you for ________ and __________. 
Dear God, please teach _________ and ___________ to love you.
Dear God, please help __________ and ___________ to get out of _____ soon so they can see L.
Dear God, I hope __________ and ___________ have a good weekend.
Dear God, please let __________ and ___________ get out of _____ because it will be weally important. 
Dear God, please let ___________ and ___________ get more pictures of L. (I crack one eye open to see if Avery is staring at me while she prays that and think, "Gee, I wonder how will God answer that prayer?)

I cannot get away from it.  God wants me to love her mom and dad.  I don’t know exactly how to do that when it seems that they are not dealing in reality.  I want to throw my hands up when they won't be honest about their choices or take responsibility for them.  We disagree about the permanency plan for L.  HOW DO WE DO THIS?

I see the face of a 15 year old girl in my mind.  I see her sitting next to me on her bed with tears in her eyes.  She struggles with finding redemption in her story.  She feels the animosity we have toward her biological parents that she doesn't even remember.  She wonders how we could love her when we hate where she came from.  Her worth depletes in her heart every time they come up in conversation.  She cannot separate herself from that part of who she is.  She thinks she must be like them in some ways.  Is she not worth loving?

I weep at this thought, and I need to think about it.

Someway, somehow, I have to find my way to a posture of humility before God that acknowledges how holy and beautiful and perfect He is...and that I am nothing without him.  I am bankrupt.  I have nothing in my pockets to offer as even a down payment for the grace I need.  I have as much to offer Him as a broken drug addict.  We all need the same grace.  He levels the playing field.  I want to love her parents and want their good, while also wanting L's good.  These things do not always look like the same thing.  I want to see with God's eyes and love them with His love, always.  I want to see the good, or even the hints of potential that I can tell her about years down the road.  The fiery spirit that may be disastrous in her mom can be such an amazing quality in her life under the leadership of the Holy Spirit.

Would you pray for Jeff and I?  At the end of the day, what we really need is to be filled and led by the Spirit of the One who made us and called us to be His own.  Only He can do in us what He wants to do through us.  It is a wonderful and painful gift to be put in such an obvious place of dependence.  I know that only HE can do what He is asking of us...but HE CAN DO IT.    He is more than able. 

Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.  Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.

And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.  Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace. And be thankful.  Colossians 3:12-15

Family Secret...Recipes

A while back I wrote a post about my grandma's tortillas.  It was really about her wisdom and influence on my life, but someone asked me about the tortilla recipe.  That would have made sense to include, yes?  I promised to share it and I have been thinking about some other recipes that I would want you to have because I want your life to be more meaningful, happy, and rich with things that matter.  Speaking of rich, mom thinks some desserts are too rich but I cannot comprehend that statement.  I will eat my roasted chicken and broccoli like a good girl...and then I'm going to ask you to pass me the richest dessert on the table.  I am so excited to share some of my favorites with you.  I will have to dedicate more than one post to this because I cannot narrow it down to only a few.  I'll just shoot you straight, there are more desserts than main dishes running through my mind.  Jeff and I both come from a long line of dessert lovers.  We are an American family (Tell me someone read that in Tom Hanks' voice and thought of  You've Got Mail.  If you did, we are meant to be friends forever and ever.)  Generational sin or family traditions...you can call it how you see it.  Either way, I won't waste your time on tasteless recipes when I share one with you.  Pinkie promise.

I was going to kick this off with tortillas but my mom and I decided that you will need a video tutorial to really feel prepared to tackle it.  The ingredient list is short but there is an art form to rolling them out and frying them off.  So, stay tuned for a guest appearance by my mom or grandma.  I'm so excited!

Instead, this recipe post will be brought to you by the letter C.  As Ella and I work our way through the alphabet this year I try to find a recipe to make that begins with each letter. Last week we were on "C" so we had an excuse, as if we needed one, to make Chocolate Chip Cookies (triple C baby) and my family's legendary Caramel Sauce.  Both of these will instantly improve your mood and quality of life.

Caramel Sauce
1 1/4 c. brown sugar
16 large marshmallows
1 c. heavy whipping cream
1/4 c. butter
1 tsp. vanilla
A pinch of salt

Directions: Mix brown sugar, marshmallows, whipping cream, and salt in a medium sized sauce pan.  Bring to a boil stirring frequently.  Boil for 6 minutes and remove from heat.  Add the butter and vanilla.  Store in the refrigerator after it has cooled.

Note: It will become very thick once it has cooled in the fridge.  Warm for a few seconds in the microwave before serving on ice cream, cheesecake, brownies, coffee, a spoon...you get the idea.  It takes whatever you're putting it on from good to great.

This is what I fix myself when I'm having a hard day.  I have a lot of hard days.  I can't figure out why I'm not losing weight right now. 

Ella's Favorite Chocolate Chip Cookies  (Recipe credit: America's Test Kitchen)
1 3/4 cups unbleached all-purpose flour (8 3/4 ounces)
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
14 tablespoons unsalted butter (1 3/4 sticks)
1/2 cup granulated sugar (3 1/2 ounces)
3/4 cups packed dark brown sugar (5 1/4 ounces) (see note)
1 teaspoon table salt
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 large egg
1 large egg yolk
1 1/4 cups semisweet chocolate chips or chunks

Directions:

1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Whisk flour and baking soda together in medium bowl; set aside.
2. Heat 10 tablespoons butter in 10-inch skillet over medium-high heat until melted, about 2 minutes.
 Continue cooking, swirling pan constantly until butter is dark golden brown and has nutty aroma, 1 to 3 minutes. Remove skillet from heat and, using heatproof spatula, transfer browned butter to large heatproof bowl. Stir remaining 4 tablespoons butter into hot butter until completely melted.
3. Add both sugars, salt, and vanilla to bowl with butter and whisk until fully incorporated. Add egg and yolk and whisk until mixture is smooth with no sugar lumps remaining, about 30 seconds. Let mixture stand 3 minutes, then whisk for 30 seconds. Repeat process of resting and whisking 2 more times until mixture is thick, smooth, and shiny. Using rubber spatula or wooden spoon, stir in flour mixture until just combined, about 1 minute. Stir in chocolate chips, giving dough final stir to ensure no flour pockets remain.
4. Divide dough into 16 portions, each about 3 tablespoons. Arrange 2 inches apart on prepared baking sheets, 8 dough balls per sheet.
5. Bake cookies 1 tray at a time until cookies are golden brown and still puffy, and edges have begun to set but centers are still soft, 10 to 14 minutes, rotating baking sheet halfway through baking. Transfer baking sheet to wire rack; cool cookies completely before serving (if you have any self control).

I had a video of Ella making these cookies that Blogger is not letting me upload. Sad face.  It was so cute.  I will upload it to Facebook after I post this.  The magic of these cookies is browning the butter.  DO NOT SKIP.  The depth of flavor this adds is what sets them apart. I also love that you end up with a large coffee shop style cookie that is evenly baked.  I'm am admittedly a cookie snob.  I really do not like any cookie 24 hours after being baked.  I have started wrapping them individually after they cool and putting them in the freezer.  I can pull them out and throw them in lunches for school or work.  They still taste amazing once they thaw out.  If you try either one of these recipes, let me know how it turns out!

Sometimes Love is a Bouquet of Weeds

I came across this picture that I took a few months ago.  I remember the kids had been playing outside and a few minutes later Avery came running inside with a scrawny little bouquet of weeds.  "I picked these for you, Mom!"

We don't have beautiful flower beds or fields of wild flowers for her to frolic through and gather beautiful bouquets of flowers for me.  She was just playing outside in our sad little yard that Jeff has labored in for hours and hours, not once but twice, just begging it to grow grass.  Similarly, my attempt at flowers by our mailbox always starts out very hopeful and ends with me saying, "well, better luck next year."  And don't get me started on the trees that drop walnuts and acorns, pelting the poor struggling grass below every year.  AND THE MOLES.  A reminder of the fall of man.  I have a lot of feelings about this cursed little animal that wreaks havoc to spite us (it's personal) and our efforts to just grow some stinking grass.  It laughs hysterically at us when we walk in the house.  It mocks us while it pushes up the grass and leaves mounds of dirt everywhere.  To make matters worse, Jeff will set a mole trap in the yard where they leave a fresh run and cover it with a gallon ice cream bucket, weighing it down with a brick on top.  Ahhhh...yes.  That adds to the beauty of our yard.  He would argue that it's worth doing since he has caught ONE over the course of three years.  I wish I could use so many emojis to help you understand my emotional state about this.  We want grass in our yard.  Is this too much to ask???  We just want grass instead of dirt.  Excuse my big feelings about the moles..and our yard.  We should just stop talking about it.

Anyway...

Sometimes we don't get beautiful yards or fields of flowers.  We just have our shabby grass and fields of weeds.  It's where we are and what we have.  You know what I love about kids?  They don't notice.  Avery was so proud of her handful of freshly picked weeds flowers.  I told her how beautiful they were.   It was true.  Whenever the kids hand me something they have made I don't care about how well they stayed in the lines or that their stick figure rendition of me has an oddly large head.  It will never make it into an art gallery but I will hang it proudly on my fridge.  I didn't care that this bouquet was already wilting by the time it made it to my hands.  The love that came with those wilted flowers is extraordinarily beautiful.  She wanted to give me something because she thought I would like it, because she wanted to express her love for me.  For the first time, I appreciated the weeds and I saw their beauty.

I feel like I pick a lot of bouquets of weeds. 

Sometimes I want to encourage a friend going through a hard time or give a gift to someone I love and it just feels like I missed the mark.  I said too much.  I said too little.  I gave the wrong gift at the wrong time.  I added to their pain instead of bringing comfort through my words.  I meant to give them roses but I gave them weeds instead.  I am usually one who is not afraid to engage the hard places but sometimes when I get it wrong I think it's not worth it.  Being vulnerable with each other and reaching out when we see someone hurting brings some risk of rejection or unintentionally hurting them.

So, should we just toss our bouquet of weeds in the trash and never let them know we care?

I come across articles that give the "top ten things to never say to a person going through X, Y, or Z."  They are often written from a disgruntled perspective that expects everyone to understand what they are going through and be sensitive to things they know nothing about. Who does that help, really?  Will shaming people make them more sympathetic?  Will it make them want to reach out or help more?  I feel this way about some foster care articles I read.  Can people say things and ask questions that they shouldn't?  You bet. Can people be nosy?  Sure.  You know what I think most of the time?  People are just trying to care.  They don't know what to ask or how to ask it the right way.  Let's give each other a break.  Let's give the benefit of the doubt and just help people understand where we are.

We could use less "never do this or say that," and more "here are ways that you can show you care."  Sometimes people just need a little more perspective.  They need to know that it's okay to reach out.  They need a little encouragement to do SOMETHING instead of playing it safe and doing nothing.  Let's also give some reassurance that they don't have to say it, whatever "it" is, perfectly.  Let's give grace to each other and receive those bouquets of weeds with grateful hearts.  Someone loved us enough to give the best they have.

And when we look around because we want to pick the best flowers we can find for a friend and all we see are weeds, let's give them the best ones we can find.  Let's stop letting the enemy rob us of giving the gifts that we have at our disposal.  You know what it communicates to the one who receives them?  We care.  We see them.  We love them enough to give our best.  Let's pick the best bouquet we can find and give it to them with a smile, or a hug, or note, or even eyes full of tears.  Let's get over our fears of it not being good enough, or the right time, or the right words, and let's start loving each other with a little more abandon.

Now that you have purified yourselves by obeying the truth so that you have sincere love for each other, love one another deeply, from the heart.  -1Peter 1:22

When Your Soul Unravels

Let me tell you a story.  Once upon a time I wanted to quit…everything.  I wanted to run away from my life. 

Defeated.

Overwhelmed.

Insecure.

Trapped.

That adequately sums up what I was feeling.  What a nice tidy little list. 

I was unraveling.

 

Regardless of how it started, when you enter a season of "unraveling" it is hard to make it stop.  It’s happening, it's real, and it doesn’t just go away after a good night’s sleep. Oh, how I wanted it to. Emotions jumped in the driver’s seat and stepped on the gas.  What was true and what I felt were at complete odds with each other.  

I entered a dark night of the soul.   Life kept moving no matter how much I wanted to find a stop button and I was desperate to find a way out.  Every day the heaviness hit me when I woke up.  Joy felt so far away.  I wanted to choose it but the lies and darkness pressed in on me.  Anxiety was so thick that it literally felt hard to breathe sometimes.

How did this happen?  How could I find myself in such a dark place when I have hope in Christ?  I thought I was so much more mature in my faith.  I thought I should be further down the road than this.   The “I should be” statements were so loud in my head.  I had a list of expectations for myself that was a mile long and I wasn’t living up to any of them. 

Spiritual dryness, stress, exhaustion, difficult relationships, lack of communication between Jeff and I, carrying more responsibility for others than was good or necessary, and unrealistic expectations of myself after bringing our third baby home in under four years finally ate away at my emotional margin.  One day a small statement seemed to break the dam.  This fragile dam had been keeping all of the stress, lies, and expectations inside the boundaries of my mind where I thought I could control them.  I thought maybe none of it was really affecting me as long as I could “keep it together.”  In reality, the dam wasn’t serving me well.  It wasn’t helping me work through any of it.  It didn't bring freedom.  It just kept everything trapped inside and held me captive.  As it turned out, the dam was weaker than I thought. 

So, what was the answer?  Memorize more verses?  Try to keep pushing through and risk growing bitter?  Take a vacation?  Just quit?  I wasn’t really sure, but I knew I couldn’t live like this.

I was desperate for God and for His Word to come alive in me.  His words were literally light in my darkness.  I yearned for Him in a different way than I ever had before.  When everything else in life, even good things, leave you feeling defeated where can you go?  I was so desperate I couldn’t even watch t.v.  Everything felt so trivial and empty.  I needed Him to speak life into my soul when the kids went to bed at night, or I didn’t know if I could face the next day.  He felt so far away but I sought Him with an intensity that I had not experienced in years. 

I reached out to some friends who spoke truth and prayed for me to hold onto what I KNEW was true even when I didn't feel it.  They stood with me and fought with me.  They sent me text messages with scripture, songs, and let me know how they were specifically praying.  They held my arms up in the battle.  This is the necessity and beauty of the body of Christ.  They were His hands and feet to me.

I also had a husband who was even more determined than I was to get through this together and find joy again.  He didn’t give up on me.  There was no “I didn’t sign up for this, so peace out.”  He stayed.  We felt distant and confused for a while.  We didn’t know how to walk this out together.   He took the brunt of it more than anyone else.  He let me say how I felt and didn’t get defensive.  He forgave me when I said hurtful things.   He showed me the grace and love of Jesus in a deeper way than I had ever known or embraced before.  He saw me at my worst and loved me still. 

He showed me the sort of faithfulness that made his words at the altar worth their weight.  He meant what he said that day. 

With the encouragement of a few friends we knew that we were in too deep to swim through all of this alone.  We needed some outside perspective.  So, one hot July day we walked into a counselor’s office.  To be honest (I mean, why stop now?), I felt scared and awkward about being there.  I hate that I felt that way.  Somehow I had adopted a double standard.  I wholeheartedly supported friends when they sought counseling.  I thought it was awesome, brave, and the healthy thing to do.  When it was my turn?  I thought it was because I was weak and not mature enough to handle my problems like a normal adult. 

Read: Prideful.

One of my best friends helped me fight back that lie with her famous phrase, “It hurts so good.”   She kept telling me that it was going to be hard, but so good in the end.  It’s the right thing…the hard thing…the healthy thing.  I wasn’t totally sure but I really had nothing to lose.  The other option was to suffer through it for who knows how long and hope for the best.

We walked into our counselor's office that day, sat down, and began to tell him why we were there.  I wanted to stay in that room until everything was better, but for some reason he had to see other people and go home at some point so we had to leave when our hour was up.  I had to learn patience in the process.  I’m a fixer by nature, so I like to get to the bottom of it and deal with it as quickly as possible. 

It took time to get to the place of real progress, but progress did come.  Freedom and joy made their way back into my life.  

Our counselor asked me questions that helped me identify why I felt so overwhelmed and defeated.  I finally realized that I was really the only one who had unrealistic expectations for myself. 

  

Here were some of my biggest realizations. 

1) The child rearing years are some of the most difficult years in life...but they are wonderful if you can appreciate them for what they are.  This is so hard to embrace in the middle of the crying, fighting, whining, sleeplessness of parenthood.  There are only so many hours in the day and so many years that I will have with my kids before they leave though.  There are some things that I prefer, like lots of peace and quiet and a clean house for instance, but have to lay these aside for a season.  I can have a clean and quiet home someday.  Chances are pretty good that I will miss the noise and the mess when that day comes.  For now, I have to let it go.  I don't have to become a slob but I have to let our kids be kids and prioritize relationship over tasks.  I have to crucify the thoughts that nag me about the dust on the end table, the dirty dishes, and the laundry piled up on my dresser.  This is intentional work for me because of how I'm wired.

2) Life is a process.  Laundry and dishes are just part of the process.   What has always bothered me most about those things is that they are NEVER DONE.  This is torturous  for a check list lover.  It was adding to my stress and defeat constantly.  This is the statement that I held on to from our counselor.  It doesn't need to be finished because we are always in the process of living.  The laundry will be finished when we are done living.  So, I started to look at it as part of the process of living.  Such a slight difference in the way I looked at it relieved the pressure.  I still don't like when I get behind and it's piled up in our room, but it doesn't have the power to make me feel defeated anymore. 

3) We can eat cereal for dinner and no one will die.  Jeff was okay with cereal for dinner some nights and the house being a mess when he got home.  I had a June Cleaver in yoga pants complex.  Since I'm home all day with the kids just doing nothing (wink wink) "I should be able to" make a decent meal every night for dinner.  Add to that my internal pressure/guilt over feeding my family all healthy things.  Organic.  Fair Trade.  Unprocessed.  Whole food.  TIGHT BUDGET.  TIME CONSUMING.  CAN'T DO IT.  I think you should do whatever you want to do with all of that.  Just obey what God asks of you.  I am going to do the best I can with the resources God gives us to steward.  We are going to eat our whole foods and we are going to eat corn dogs too.  That’s just where we are and it’s okay.  I’d rather have my sanity on a crazy day while I dip my corn dog in some ketchup.  I really like to cook, and while sometimes I would rather do that, there are too many little people that need me on some days.  

4) My kids are not a direct reflection of me.  I realized that when the kids were having a bad day and I could see it stressing Jeff out, I felt like it was my fault.  I had to stop.  Every person in this family is their own entity.  Everyone will have their own bad days and make their own choices and it is not always a direct reflection of how I am doing as a mom or wife.  I have my own bad days and make my own choices, and I am responsible for those as well.

5) Jesus is enough.  I cannot be every woman.  I have limitations.  I blow it sometimes frequently and have to ask my kids for forgiveness.  I wish I could accomplish more.  It seems like some people get more done in a day than I can in a week, but comparison doesn't help me one iota.  I can only be me and keep my eyes on Jesus.  And you know what?  I am aging like all humans do.  There are no exceptions to this process, only different rates of progression.  I cannot have my pre-baby 25 year old body back.  There is so much more to life.  I am loved beyond all of that by the God of the universe.  Jeff demonstrates that sort of love to me, but when and if he doesn't...I am wholly loved by an infinite, eternal, never failing, perfect God.  Jesus is enough in my weakness and He is sufficient for me.  He is sufficient for Jeff too.  

So, how do I feel about counseling now?  It was hands down one of the best things I ever did for myself and we ever did for our marriage.  I could have gone to those sessions alone and it would have been good for me, but the value in processing things together made every penny twice as worth it.  Sometimes we need to hear someone else ask our spouse a question and hear their heart.  It’s good to have someone ask the questions that we may be afraid to ask or just haven’t thought to ask. He gave us some great ideas on how to invest in our marriage (another post perhaps).  He helped me think through where some of my lies were coming from.  He encouraged our love for Jesus. 

I am so so glad we did the hard thing and walked through that door…and kept coming back.  We are better and healthier for it.  We still go see him from time to time for a "check up."  He is like a mentor in our lives.

I’m grateful that there are people who are trained and passionate about helping us get to the truth, deal with it, and work toward being in a healthier place.  Some people are so good at this.  Are there some counselors that I wouldn’t go to?  Absolutely.  There are some counselors that have different values or just aren’t good at their profession.  It's worth doing some homework before you make an appointment.  It would also be ludicrous to write off a whole profession aimed at helping others because of some who we do not agree with.  We have a tendency to paint large groups of people with a broad stroke of the brush because…it’s just easier.  It’s not better. 

Maybe someone reading this is in a hard place and struggling with anxiety, depression, or just feeling overwhelmed in this season of life.  You don’t know how to overcome it no matter how many verses you can quote or how many times you tell yourself you shouldn’t feel this way.  It’s not going away.  I can’t encourage you enough to do the hard and healthy thing.  Get a recommendation from someone you trust.  Make that phone call.  Walk through that door.   

What do you have to lose?