A Tragedy...of Anger?

"...18 children, 7 teachers killed..."  "...2 more children die at local hospital..."  "...elementary school shooting leaves 20 children and 7 teachers dead...."  "...suspected gunman, age 24, grew up in small Connecticut town..."  "...possible target was his mother, a Kindergarten teacher at the school..."

These phrases have filled the living room since I turned on the television around 12:30 this afternoon.  From channel to channel, all regularly scheduled programming has been interrupted to report nationwide on this tragic event.  As I have listened, many emotions have filled my heart.  My heart began filling with sorrow, but as I continued to listen the feeling switched to that of wonder and questioning.  Then as I began to question and ask God, "Why?", a switch flipped inside my heart, and as my heart slowly began inviting in the emotion of anger, the sorrow and wonder seemed to be pushed out.  As I continued to read everyone's Facebook postings concerning this tragic event, I began to absorb their bitterness, causing my anger to swell. 

I decided to sit down and work on a Pinterest project for Nate, while the kiddos were asleep, hoping to curb the anger and place my mind somewhere else.  As I sat down with the tiffany blue fabric and scissors, my mind did go elsewhere; back to Sunday morning's sermon.

          "You have heard that it was said to the people long ago, ‘You shall not   
          murder, and anyone who murders will be subject to judgment.' But I tell 
          you that anyone who is angry with a brother or sister will be subject to 
          judgment. Again, anyone who says to a brother or sister, ‘Raca,' is 
          answerable to the court. And anyone who says, ‘You fool!’ will be in 
          danger of the fire of hell. 

          “Therefore, if you are offering your gift at the altar and there remember 
          that your brother or sister has something against you, leave your gift 
          there in front of the altar. First go and be reconciled to them; then come 
          and offer your gift.  

          “Settle matters quickly with your adversary who is taking you to court. 
          Do it while you are still together on the way, or your adversary may hand 
          you over to the judge, and the judge may hand you over to the officer, 
          and you may be thrown into prison.  Truly I tell you, you will not get out 
          until you have paid the last penny."

We have been studying the Sermon on the Mount during our morning services at church the past couple of months.  Our pastor has decided to spend the next year or so walking us through those important three chapters in Matthew's gospel, verse by verse, and Jesus' words are just as bold and brutal today, as they were when spoken.  This past Sunday's sermon was all about what Jesus says regarding the Old Testament commandment, "Thou shalt not murder".

So, as I sat on the floor, fabric and scissors in hand, ready to begin my project, the sermon began replaying in my head.  Then I realized why God brought this back to mind.  Today's tragic events were murder, yes.  However, they are also a perfect illustration of what Jesus was talking about when he stated:

          "You have heard that it was said to the people long ago, ‘You shall not   
          murder, and anyone who murders will be subject to judgment.' But I tell 
          you that anyone who is angry with a brother or sister will be subject to 
          judgment."

News reporters have said that the suspected gunman is most definitely mentally insane, based upon medical definitions of insanity.  But I would have to argue that point a little.  He murdered 27 (thus far) innocent people, but why?  What were his motives?  I just wonder if maybe it all started as a little thought or feeling that lodged itself somewhere deep within his heart?  A little feeling of bitterness and anger toward something, someone, some situation.  And that anger grew and grew and grew, until it exposed itself as murder.  Hmmm....Jesus says that those who harbor anger in their hearts are just as guilty of murder as those who commit the actual physical act of murder. 

Maybe I am overthinking things, but I feel like this is what Jesus meant in His sermon.  When He said...

          “Therefore, if you are offering your gift at the altar and there remember 
          that your brother or sister has something against you, leave your gift 
          there in front of the altar. First go and be reconciled to them; then come 
          and offer your gift.  Settle matters quickly with your adversary who is    
          taking you to court. Do it while you are still together on the way, or your 
          adversary may hand you over to the judge, and the judge may hand you 
          over to the officer, and you may be thrown into prison.  Truly I tell you, 
          you will not get out until you have paid the last penny,"

...I think about this 24 year old mass murderer.  Where did this physical act of murder come from?  According to Jesus, it came from his heart.  It came from the anger and bitterness harbored deep within that he never "reconciled...settled quickly...while you are still together on the way".  Psychologist can try to rationalize and justify actions based upon scientific data or mental conditions (the latter of which I am in no way saying do not exist), but I think Jesus gave a pretty clear explanation here.  Jesus wanted us to understand the severity of anger, bitterness and hatred, and truly grasp the reason behind the severity. And that was perfectly, and tragically, displayed this morning.

Why did Jesus say that anger, hatred and bitterness are equal with the actual physical act of murder?  Because, as seen today, when we harbor it deep within our hearts, we are in essence "handed over to the officer" (Satan), and "thrown into prison", a prison that we have placed ourselves into, a prison encased with steel bars named, "anger," "hatred," and "bitterness;" bars that we have given Satan the power to control. Then, deep inside that dungeon that we cannot escape, we allow the feelings and emotions of the heart to control our outward physical actions.  

Anger, bitterness, hatred = murder...maybe we should listen more to what Jesus spoke.  I'm pretty sure He knew what He was talking about :)
 

Good Things Come in Little Packages

As I walk through the stores and begin to see all of the Christmas ornaments, the trees, the nativity scenes (which sadly are scarce this year), and begin to hear the sounds of Christmas floating through the air, I can't help but be taken back many, many years to the time I spent in children's choir. The choir was named “Beginning Angels” (a name I'm not sure we ever lived up to during practices) and our director was Mrs. Betty Bounds, a very sweet woman of God. Every Christmas, we would wrap up as presents and sing a little jingle that went something like this:

“Good things come in little packages, little packages, yes sire'.

Good things come in little packages just like me!

I'm easy to wrap, just take a scrap,

of paper and a teeny-tiny bow, oh!

I'm easy to hide, just look inside,

won't be very long until you know, oh, oh, oh,

Good things come in little packages, little packages, yes sire'.

Good things come in little packages underneath the tree.”

I know there are more lyrics, but I cannot recall them. And for once in my life the internet has failed me miserably, as I cannot locate them anywhere! But as I hear this sweet little jingle in my head (and reminisce on the embarrassing pictures and videos of a chubby-faced little preschooler with a very boy-like haircut, wrapped in a box looking something like a Christmas present, swaying back and forth with sealed lips while the music plays in the background...yes, me), I can't help but to think of all the times I have heard in the past, and will hear this Christmas season, about that “big gift!” Every kiddo seems to have their list made months in advance, filled with all kinds of books, toys, clothes, electronics, candy, etc., but there always seems to be that one giant gift that every child wants. It may not be the same across the board, but it's always on the top of the list and in the forefront of the child's mind, for months and months. But why? What is it about a big present? Is it the competition, and the “need” to have a bigger package under the tree than everyone else? Is it a feeling of superiority? Or maybe it temporarily fills a void, and makes one feel important. Whatever the reason, I am not really sure.

As I begin to think of some of my favorite things, many of them come in little packages. Though they are not physically big, they seem to have so much more meaning at the time, in spite of their tiny stature. So, I've put together a little list of just a few of the “little packages” that have made me smile throughout the recent years. It looks something like this:

1. A beautiful engagement ring, in a tiny black box.
2. A doll-house model of a grand piano, because my Me-Mom was going to get me one no matter what, even if it wasn't the real thing!
3. A 4x6 picture album, containing a picture from each of my birthdays, with the letters and notes I had written to my Granny.
4. A box filled with what I thought was just newspaper, only to get to the bottom to find a large plastic grasshopper...thank you, Joseph :)
5. A note from a student about the difference I had made in her life, decorated with candy canes and stars, because that's all she could afford to get Mrs. Baker for Christmas.
6. A single red rose
7. A box of hot cocoa and peppermint sticks
8. A tiny glass music box, in the shape of a piano.
9. A “thinking of you card” that showed up anonymously in the mail, with a $400 gift card inside...when we were hurting financially and we thought no-one knew.
10. A note from a friend, passed in the hall between classes (and sometimes during class).

The list could continue on and on... As I think about all the things in life that seem to have had the most significance to me, they have all come in little packages. And as Christmas approaches, I think of the greatest gift of all, my Jesus. He didn't come to save the world as a highfalutin king. He didn't ride in on chariots in a big parade and celebration. He wasn't born to royalty and didn't sit on a golden throne, with a golden scepter in His hand, wearing purple silk robes. He came in a little package. He came as a baby, a teeny-tiny helpless little life. He came in a stable, among horses and cattle and pretty stinky surroundings. He came to a frightened teenage girl, and her trembling husband-to-be. I can look through my list, and I can be thankful for the earthly things that have come in little packages, but at the top of my list would have to be the precious gift of life; a life that came with the purpose of dying, for you and for me. A tiny little bundle that would one day willingly hang on a cross so that I wouldn't have to, and neither would you. A life that, though sinless, would take upon Himself my sin, and yours. A tiny little package God gave us that very first Christmas. Why a tiny package? Why a baby? Why a stable? I think maybe, just maybe, God was trying to teach us something. It's not about the size of the package, the price tag in the store, the amount of paper it takes to wrap it, the length of time it takes to save up for it, or the amount of joyous chaos and excitement it creates when it's opened. It's about the heart behind it, the heart of the giver. It's about the purpose of the package, the motive behind the gift. It's about the eternal effects, not the happiness of the moment. It's about Jesus!

Does this make my list void? Does the realization of Jesus being the only important gift diminish the excitement I have for the other “little packages” I have been given? Absolutely not! It is because of my Jesus that I can find joy in the small things! It is because of my relationship with Jesus that my heart is able to see the abundance I have, when others may say I have nothing. It is because of the number one gift on my list, the teeny-tiny little baby born over two-thousand years ago, that I can turn around and praise Him for everything that comes in line underneath.

With that said, I would like to end by adding one more “little package” to my list. You see, God doesn't have to bless us with things, he chooses to when His children listen to and heed His voice. I am so excited that over 20 years later, God is allowing me to sing, “Good things come in little packages,” about one more thing...

God chose two and half years ago to bless us with our beautiful son, Nathanael. Back in July, God chose to take away a precious little one, who is now in His arms in Heaven. But, God, in His goodness, has chosen yet once again to give us the precious gift of life! Though Nate has a sibling up in heaven, he is going to be a big brother here on earth! We have a “baby in the tummy,” as Nate would tell you (and I'm surprised hasn't slipped out over the past few weeks!) Our “little package” is due to join our family the end of May/beginning of June, next year. We have had the blessing of seeing a heart beating steady and strong for the past couple of weeks, and an inch-long little miracle, measuring perfectly. And today we experienced the joy of hearing a very strong little heart beating extremely fast!

So, you see....good things still come in little packages :)

When God Speaks

Two weeks ago, I was driving my neighbor's kiddos to school, as I do two or three mornings a week.  Everyone was in an overly cheery mood, maybe because it was a Friday.  Nate was goofy, Natalee was singing with the radio, Isaac was carrying on silly conversations, and Josh was super talkative.  We pulled into the parking lot and dropped them off at the front door.  Nate said, "Goodbye," as I sent them off with, "Have a great Friday!"  We pulled out of the parking lot, turned back onto Hwy 36, and as I approached the 50mph school speed limit sign, I reached toward the dial to turn the radio back up.

          "...blessed be the name of the Lord,
           blessed be Your glorious name.
           You give and take away,
           you give and take away..." 

Immediately, my mind flashed back.  It was mid-June.  Nate and I had run some errands, as we normally do on Fridays.  We had just turned into our neighborhood, and he was being rather goofy, so I asked him to sing with me.  I reached toward the dial to turn the radio up, and began singing:

          "Blessed be the name of the Lord, blessed be your name.
           Blessed be the name of the Lord, blessed be your glorious name.
           You give and take away, you give and take away.
           My heart will choose to say, Lord blessed be your name."

As I belted out the words I have sung thousands of times before, everything went silent.  No longer could I hear the radio or my own voice. No longer did I hear the hum of the air conditioner or the slight grinding noise as I pushed the brakes.  No longer did I feel Nate kicking the back of my seat or hear his giggling and trying to sing from the backseat.  Everything went silent around me, except for one very clear audible voice.
        
          "Will you still bless My name?"

"Whoa!  I'm sorry, what?"  "Will you still bless My name?  If I take away, will you still bless My name?"  "Ummmm, God, what exactly are you asking me?"  "I said, if I take away, will you still bless My name?"  "Ok, God.  You can't take away my husband." "No, you can have your husband."  "Ok, God.  I love my little man with everything in me.  Please, you can't have him."  "No, you can keep Nate."  Then my stomach began to churn.  I thought of the teeny tiny life that was growing inside of me.  We had been trying to our second child for almost a year, and nothing was happening.  Just five short weeks before, we had found out we were pregnant.  We were so filled with surprise and joy.  "No, God!  No!  You finally gave us another child!  You can't take our baby away!   You can't!"  "Yes, Jennifer.  Yes, I can.  This baby is mine.  It is not yours to have.  I need to teach you something.  I know you love this baby, and you have wanted this baby for a long time. But I have wanted to have you longer....to have you fully, and I don't have that.  This precious little life...it is mine.  You will not have this baby."

Tears were streaming down my face and my vision was so clouded I had to pull the car over.  The music continued:

          "You give and take away, you give and take away.
          My heart will choose to say, Lord blessed be your name."

I was SO angry!  How could God tell me He was going to take my baby?  I couldn't hear the words to the song.  My heart will choose to say, Lord blessed be your name???  Uh, no!  Not a chance!

I had all evening to think about this, and with each passing minute, my bitterness grew and my heart hardened.  God could not do this to me!  Our first doctor appointment wasn't for five more weeks.  And for the next five weeks, I argued with God...arguments filled with pain and tears.  I knew that God was going to do what He wanted, I just didn't like His plan.  As we got ready, five weeks later, to enter the doctor's office, I knew.  I had spent the last five weeks in denial.  We began moving the furniture into what would be the nursery, we bought a bassinet, and I even bought fabric that I was going to use to begin making crib bedding.  This was my baby, and I was going to have it!  I knew, deep inside though, that I was terribly wrong.  As as I heard the doctor's words, it became a painful reality.  We left the doctor's office, and my heart was filled with anger and hatred.  I had convinced myself that my God really wouldn't do something like this to me.  I spent the next week letting my children's minister know I would no longer be teaching my Sunday School class, and letting the pastor know that Bobby and I could no longer be small group leaders.  If God was going to do this to me, then I could throw it right back...I just wouldn't do for Him anymore.

After a few weeks of "healing" (ok, more like a few weeks of heart-hardening), I turned the radio in the car back to the Christian station.  I had decided pretty soon after our doctor appointment that I didn't want another "God speaking" incident, so I just tuned out His music.  When I turned the radio back, another song came on that I have heard and sung countless times.  Though I had heard the words before, it was as if God slowed down the song so much this time, that each word had minutes to sink into my heart:

          "What if my greatest disappointments, or the aching of this life,
           is the revealing of a greater thirst this world can't satisfy...

Then it was as if pieces of the shell began to crack, and then crumble, around my heart.  And as God chipped away, one small piece at a time, I began to realize something.  God didn't want to take my baby away!  God didn't want to hurt me, or make me angry!  God wanted ME!  He wanted me to thirst for Him with a thirst I had never felt before.  He wanted me to realize that He is the only thing that will satisfy.  And in order to teach me that lesson, in order to reveal such a great thirst to me, He had to take away.  He had to bring me to my knees, to my lowest point, and help me understand that though I may have nothing else, though everything else may vanish, though He take away, I should have such a thirst for Him that my heart CHOOSES to bless His name!
 
          "What if trials of this life,
          the pain, the storms, the hardest times,
          are your mercies in disguise."

Mercies in disguise...it all made sense now.  It had to hurt, it had to be painful.  But through all of that, God was being merciful to me.  God was drawing me closer to Himself, teaching me that He, alone, is sovereign.  Looking through the eyes of pain, hatred, and bitterness all I could see was a horrible selfish God.  But as God opened my eyes and wiped all the hatred and bitterness away, I began to see a God who was merciful and loving...yes, even through the trials and painful storms.  And in reality, it was that love and mercy that took me through the storm in the first place.

Suddenly my surroundings changed.  I was once again driving toward that 50 mph school speed limit sign on Hwy 36.  What had seemed like an eternity was really only a split second flashback.  The music continued:

          "...my heart will choose to say,
          Lord, blessed be your name.

This was the first time I had heard this song since my encounter with God back in June, and I had a choice to make:  I could turn off the radio, argue with God once again and tell Him he couldn't take away from me, or I could remember the painful struggle, the heartache and the trial, and praise God for the work He had performed in my heart.

So, I turned up the radio and belted out (completely off key, with sobbing between the words):

          "You give and take away,
           You give and take away.
           My heart will CHOOSE to say,
           Lord, BLESSED BE YOUR NAME!!!!!"

From the backseat, in the sweetest little two-year-old voice, I heard, "Mommy, you ok?"  And with tears of joy flowing down my cheeks, and an honesty that had never before flowed from my heart, I said, "Yes, Nate.  Mommy's ok!" 

Learning to Fall

This morning, I decided (against my will and bad attitude) to venture up to the church and begin the joyous process of vacuuming the family life center.  This has become my Thursday morning bonding ritual with Nate...teaching him how to vacuum and sweep and mop VERY large areas :)  Before we left the house this morning, he was riding around on his motorcycle (a small Little Tykes toy). When I asked him to put it up, he replied, "Mommy, Nate ride motorcycle at church!"  I decided it would keep him occupied, so we loaded into the car, plastic motorcycle and all.

Once at the church, mommy began to vacuum and Nate began to ride his motorcycle.  As I pushed and pulled the vacuum out from under each chair and listened to its somewhat soothing hum, I continued to watch Nate from the corner of my eye.  

Forward...backward....circles....forward....backward...circles...CRASH!!! 

I turned off the vacuum, and asked him if he was ok.  He proceeded to lay there on his tummy, face in the carpet, and didn't answer me.  I leaned down.  "Nate, are you ok?"  Then the carpet began giggling!  "Nate, did you have an accident?"  "No, Mommy!  Nate fall on purpose!" 

*(On a sidenote, we have been working for the past few weeks on the concepts of accidental vs. on purpose, so he knew very well what he was saying when he told me he fell on purpose.) *

He proceeded to get up, dust of his hands, and get back on his motorcycle.  No sooner did I made it back to the vacuum and flip on the power switch, and he did it again....and again....and again, literally THROWING himself off his motorcycle and onto the floor.  I turned off the vacuum again, and asked him what he was doing.  His response?  "Mommy, Nate falling." 

Then it hit me, silly as it may sound.  My two and a half year old son was learning a concept that so many of us never learn...he was teaching himself to fall, with joy!  Wow!  How often do we hit bumps and get thrown off our motorcycle of life, and stand up to joyfully exclaim, "I fall on purpose," and dust it off and do it again?  How often do we take life's bumps and bruises, and proclaim them to be a victory and a joy?  Or, instead, do we whine and moan, get angry with God, and proclaim, "I'm done!  I'm not doing this anymore!  This is TOO hard!" 

I was reminded of the command given in the New Testament book of James, which says that we should, "count it as joy when we face trials of many kinds."  Count it as joy?  That's what my son was doing.  He was teaching himself to fall...and counting it as joy. 

What an amazing lesson to learn!

A Beautiful Surrender

PREFACE:  I have fought with God, alot, about writing this post.  I have wondered how it will be taken, what people will think, if people will take what I have to say the wrong way, if my word choice is correct...but it's time to break through, through a man named Satan, who is putting all these questions and doubts in my mind.  God told me to share my story, so that is exactly what I am going to do.

A Beautiful Surrender

Have you ever experienced a time when your heart was so heavy with something God wanted you to do, but you just couldn't bring yourself to break through what felt like a brick wall, mortared in front of you? Or what if God impressed upon your heart a calling and you, in your not-so-infinite wisdom, decided to take it upon yourself to “change” or “tweak” His directions to “better suit” your circumstances?

I'd like to share with you a lesson I learned this past weekend. I don't mean for this to be selfish, but as I attended a ladies conference at church, I began to hear God speak to me as though I was the target of each and every speaker. Please join me on my journey through seven different women of the Bible, and the words that resounded in my heart as I listened in each session.

Mary-Magdalene had a job to do. Her role was to prepare Jesus' body for burial. She had all the spices and fragrances necessary in her arms as she walked toward the tomb. She was prepared to complete the task assigned to her, but when she arrived at the tomb there was something in her way: a huge stone. This stone was massive, way too large for her to move, but there it was, preventing her from carrying out her job. Then God spoke. “What is your stone? What is it that appears to be standing in your way? What are you using as an excuse for completing the task I have given to you?” See, this is where I am going to have to back up and give you some (ok, maybe a lot) of background information. When I was in high school, God gave me this crazy passion for the girls around me. But not just any ordinary girls; girls who had become pregnant and decided to have abortions. As I finished high school and went through college, my heart began to yearn for these babies...babies who would never have a voice to speak for themselves. After college, I got married, began teaching school, found out we were pregnant ourselves, had a baby, and became a stay-at-home mom. Life was peachy; then God started knocking again. “What about those babies, Jennifer?” “God, now's not the right time. I already have a little baby of my own.” And that was the end. I chose to tune Him out. Then about a little over a year ago, Bobby and I decided it was time to have another child. I remembered God's call, and I began to research adoption. It was there that I found my stone; a stone valued between $10,000 and $35,000! It was also there that I left my stone and walked away, not fully realizing until now that Mary-Magdalene was never asked to move the stone herself. God moved the stone for her.

Mary and Martha were complete opposites. Martha was very orderly, organized, in charge, and extremely Type-A (much like myself!). She had her little checklist and by the end of the day, everything better be checked off! Mary, on the other hand, was more laid-back. She wasn't so concerned with the tidiness of her home, or whether prep-work was completed for dinner. It was very easy for her to stop everything, put it aside, so that she could sit at the feet of Jesus. So Martha whined. “Why isn't she helping me? I have all this work to do and she's just sitting there. Jesus, make her help me!” Jesus answered her, “Martha, Mary has made the better choice.” I have heard this story SO many times growing up in church, and each time it has had the same message to me. But this weekend I heard a different message. This weekend God needed to teach me something different. See, Martha's work wasn't bad. All her planning and preparation wasn't for naught and Jesus wasn't chastising her for cooking dinner and cleaning the house. Jesus was trying to help her understand that all her work became useless, though, when it became a distraction. Her work was good, it was Godly. But Jesus couldn't use it if she took the reigns in her own hands to try to please the Master, instead of focusing on Him and doing what He asked. My, how this hit home. I guess I need to go back again. See, after I did my research on infant adoption, and realized the cost, I turned away again and left it behind me. We continued with our attempts to have another child, and it just wasn't happening. That is when we began to hear all these great things about fostering to adopt or adopting children who were awaiting placement. So I began to research it. As I continued my research, a rush of excitement blew over me! I found out that when adopting through the State of Texas, there are no crazy costs, just all your home inspections and the costs of your final court hearing. “Ok, God! I'm here! I'm listening. You called me to adopt and this is it! We can afford this!” But deep inside, I knew this wasn't THE plan. We contacted an adoption agency, and began filling out all the initial paperwork (application, background checks, etc.). As we completed all of those things, we scheduled our orientation meeting. We had convinced ourselves that this was what God wanted from us! But then things changed. Monday of orientation week, we made a rare discovery. We found out that after close to a year of trying to have another baby, we were pregnant! As a result, we put the adoption papers in a file drawer, and closed it. We decided that we needed to wait. But what we didn't realize (and wouldn't understand for a while) was that God had closed that drawer, because it wasn't ever a drawer He told us to open. See, we took matters into our own hands. We couldn't move that big, heavy, highly expensive stone to follow God's call, and we got distracted. We took our eyes off of Him and decided to “re-write” His plan. We would still be adopting, just not the way He told us to. It was still good, right? At least, that's what I kept telling myself. But then the drawer closed. Actually, it slammed...God slammed it square between my eyes. Maybe not literally, but that's how it felt when I heard the doctor's words, “I'm sorry. I've looked and looked, but I can't find a heartbeat anywhere,” as she shut off the ultrasound machine. Almost 14 weeks pregnant, we went to see our beautiful baby for the first time. We saw our little one's arms and hands, with slight outlines of fingers. We saw the legs and feet, the outline of the head. But in all the beauty, something wasn't there. Life; life was missing. Just as quick as our excitement came just a few months earlier, it vanished into a mass of tears. And as I saw that picture of my baby that I'd never be able to hold and cherish, I thought of all the mom's who decided they didn't want that life inside of them, and took it away. I got angry. I knew this was going to happen...God had tried to tell me for the past two months, but I didn't listen to Him. Why couldn't I have my baby that I wanted with all my heart, yet all these women, old and young, can choose to end the lives of theirs? It hurt with a pain I've never felt before. After a few days passed, God began to tug on my heart. “Why did you think you could do a better job? Why did you think your plans were better than mine? Does that make you any different than those young girls whom your heart used to yearn for?” And let me just say that God hitting you with a 4x4 while you're already angry with Him is a terrible combination. “Jennifer, I called you to do something and you didn't do it.” “Yes, God. We contacted the agency, we filled out the papers, and we set up out first meeting, and you took away my baby!” “Yes, you did. But even though that was a good thing, you got distracted. That wasn't what I asked you to do. You looked around you at the circumstances of life, and you decided to take matters into your own hands. You took your eyes off of me, and I had to do something to bring your focus back.” In the midst of all the “whys,” I learned a valuable lesson I will never forget. See, I realized (though painful as it was) that God needed to wake me up. And He would do whatever it took to return my focus to Himself; His call. Unfortunately, that meant taking away the very thing I wanted the most.

Esther was an incredible woman. She was a young jewish orphan girl when first introduced to us in the Bible. She wasn't wanted, wasn't loved, wasn't needed. But her uncle, Mordecai, was drawn to take her in. Years later, she was called into the king's presence with many other young teenage girls, so he could choose a new queen. Through God's divine plan, Esther was given more attention than the other young women, so much so that the king was without question when choosing his new queen. Esther became queen and Mordecai became the keeper of the gate, a very high responsibility in the kings palace. But there was a man, Haman, who was just above Mordecai in command. And Haman knew a secret, that the king was unaware of. He knew of Mordecai's Jewish origin. As a result of many happenings, Haman had a decree written to have all the Jew's killed, and the king granted it. Then the king was made aware of the Jewish origin of his own wife, Esther. Esther, with insurmountable courage, jumped over obstacles that should have taken her life. But God spared her and allowed her to help save herself and her Jewish people, God's chosen people. Esther, a Jewish orphan. Those words hit me hard. In those days, an orphan was worthless, unimportant, unneeded, and thrown to waste. I began to think of all the little tiny babies; babies that would never see this world because somebody viewed them as worthless, unimportant, unneeded and decided to throw them to waste. God asked me, “What if Mordecai hadn't taken Esther in? What if Mordecai hadn't followed my call on his life to care for his niece? What if, Jennifer? What if?” Then I began to ask God, “What if, God? What if one of those young women back in high school hadn't have aborted their child? What if just one of them had chosen to give life the little baby growing inside of them? What if, God? What if?” Then God said, “What if you give life to one of those babies? What if you, like Mordecai, follow my call to take one in? To give this baby a life full of worth, importance, a feeling of need instead of letting them go to waste? Imagine, Jennifer...if I could save a whole population with a little orphan girl, what could I do with one of those babies?”

By this time, I was beginning to note a pattern! I silently told God, “Ok, I think I get your point!” But God knew there was still more I needed to understand. You see, my next session was about Deborah, a judge and political leader in her day. But I honestly can't tell you much about that session, because as I sat down and my eyes focused on the words at the top of the study guide, it was almost as if God read them aloud to me...over and over again until the session was over. “Now is the time, now is the time, now is the time”.

Rahab was a harlot, a prositute in her day. She lived in a house that was built into the wall of Jericho. She watched from her window as Jehovah God provided for the Israelites, as they made their way to the Promised Land (her city). She watched as God separated the waters so they would walk through with the ark of the covenant, and proclaimed that He is the One true God. As the Israelites neared Jericho, they sent two spies to check out the land before they tried to lay siege on it. When the spies arrived, she invited them in her home and told them they could stay with her. Some officials from Jericho received word that she was “aiding and abedding” these spies, so they came to her home. She bravely hid the spies and told the officials that they had left, and gone off in a different direction. When the officials had gone, Rahab let the two spies know it was ok to come out of hiding. She, in a faith she didn't know she had, asked something of them since she had saved their lives. The spies told her to hang a red rope from her window. And as long as her family resided there and the rope didn't move, she and her family would be saved when Jericho was destroyed. To this day, in the ruins of the wall of Jericho, there is still a small portion of the wall that is intact, in comparision with the rest. And Rahab, in her great faith, is listed in the great “Hall of Faith” in the book of Hebrews, right alongside Abraham and Isaac and Jacob...as these great men of God. Acknowledgement of Jehovah God, an unmoving red rope, and a great faith. “Where is your red rope, Jennifer?” “Ummm....God, what exactly are you asking?” “Well, you've acknowleged me and what I've called you to do, you know what that stone it that's in your way, you know what a difference I can make in the world with one small child that was thrown out for waste. And you also know that now is the time. So where's your rope?” “Ok, God. I'm still not following you.” “Rahab had faith. Rahab knew that as long as that rope was there, she would be safe. Jennifer, where is your faith? What are you clinging to? Are you clinging to Me, or are you still holding tight to yourself? Are you focused on me completely? Have I gotten your attention, or are you still too wrapped up in the busyness and circumstances of life? I need to be your red rope. I need you to cling to me, trust that I alone am in control.” Whoa! See, a few weeks after we lost our baby, we decided that we needed to be back around other Christians for encouragement, so we went back to church. It was a Wednesday evening, and there were about 35 of us in Bible study. The lesson was on trials. I thought, “Gee, God. Thanks a lot. I think I know what trials are by now.” During that lesson, though, I realized exactly why God had put me through this trial. Earlier I said that God told me that He would do whatever it took to bring my focus back to Himself. This night, I learned something greater. It was stated that often times, “God takes us through trials because He needs to reveal to us a new facet of Himself that we otherwise wouldn't see.” And that facet He needed to reveal to me was His sovereignty and my need to cling to it.

Mary, the mother of Jesus. She was so young, probably 12 or 13 years old. Her parents had arranged for her to marry a man named Joseph. We don't know much about Mary, but we can read between the lines and assume that she must have come from a pretty upright and Godly family, as she was well-versed in Old Testament scriptures. As she was nearing her time to be married, God came to her and told her she would have a son, and that she would conceive by the power of the Holy Spirit. Mary, the mother of Jesus. Mary, a young teenage girl. Mary would be with child. What would Mary do? What could Mary do? What would Joseph do? What could Joseph do? What would Mary's parents think? What would Joseph's parents think? What would Mary's friends think? How would Joseph's friends react? And my mind kept going back. Going back to high school, to the young girls that had decided to choose death, over life. Why? The shame, the embarrassment, the hardship of raising a child, the labels, the glares and stares, the finger-pointing. And God spoke again. He said, “You can help them.” All this time I've been thinking of the little innocent babies with no voice. But then the rewind button went even further back. You see, when God first laid on my heart the need to adopt a child from a teenage girl had almost chosen to abort her child, God had told me that it wasn't just about the baby. That was about the mom too. The young girl who was embarassed and filled with shame. The young girl who felt worthless and filled with guilt. The young girl who was empty and in need of hope. “It's not just about the baby, Jennifer. You can make a difference in her life too.”

This concluded my sixth session of the day, and I still had one more to attend before the conference would end. I was drained. People around me kept asking if I was ok, saying I looked exhausted, and I simply said, “I'm tired.” Deep inside, though, my heart was tired. My heart had been racing all day trying to keep up with what God was trying to tell me. I though, “Ok, God. I can make it through one more session.” Little did I know that God, in His sovereignty, knew that He had saved the best session for last.

You all know the story well. Ruth was the daughter-in-law of Naomi. Ruth's husband, Naomi's son, passed away along with Naomi's husband and other son, the husband of Orpah. Naomi was bitter and told both of her daughters-in-law to go back home. Orpah listened, but Ruth refused. She told Naomi, “Where you go I'll go, where you stay I'll stay. Your God will be my God, and your people my people.” Ruth left everything. Ruth could have gone back to the familiar, to what she was comfortable with, but she didn't. She knew that God had called her to go with Naomi, and she went without looking back. She let go of everything from her past. Ruth surrendered. *Sigh* After a day of listening to God speak to my heart, remind me of the past, reveal to me the distractions, rehash with me my mistakes and bad decisions, and relive my consequences, all I could do was sigh. As I stared in a daze across the room, God left me with one word: Surrender. And how beautiful that surrender is!

Welcome!

Since I began staying at home with my son, I have wanted to begin a blog.  I was always too busy, too tired, too boring, and life just seemed too uneventful to share huge chunks of information with the world around me! 

Through the years, God has changed my perspective.  I have decided that God has placed us here, to go through our challenges and times of joy, for a specific reason:  to bring glory to Him.  And if I keep those things to myself, am I really fulfilling that purpose?  Absolutely not!  I have learned that the bridges we cross in life aren't bridges that have never been travelled over before.  And with that being the case, those bridges also aren't bridges that will never be travelled over again.  God, in His sovereignty, allows us the privilege to cross these bridges (yes, even when they are rickety and missing planks and bolts, and are thousands of feet above stormy waters) so that we can later use our experiences to help lead others across that same bridge.

I hope that you will join our family as we encounter new adventures in our life; that you will laugh with us, cry with us, look at us like we're crazy sometimes, pray with us, and be here to help strengthen our faith, as we strive to do the same for you!