Still quietly praying over here while life swirls wild all around. And God? He’s up to something good… Hearing prayers… Changing hearts… Moving mountains.
Praying for you as well, my friends. May you know His power and His presence in very real ways as we continue to pray our way through October.
For His Glory ~
~ Sara
Monday morning dawned with to do list overflowing its page and calendar squares bulging til the end of the year and an irritable crankiness settled in like a heavy fog. And I grumbled against that to do list and these children and how home schooling just takes so.much.time.
And this morning as I sat at His feet and soaked up His word, still battling the irritability and anxiety, I read in Streams,
Do not fret. (Psalm 37:1)
I believe that this verse is as much a divine command as “You shall not steal”. But what does it mean to fret? One person once defined it as that which makes a person rough the surface, causing him to rub and wear himself and others away.
And isn’t that what I’ve done all week, what I do every time I allow life to overwhelm and crowd out the most important things? I become rough on the surface and wear us all away. So I pray about schedules and priorities and how to put first things first and not let the urgent become a tyrant in our lives. And today is a new day and I choose to trust God with our schedule and our time.
In the early morning dark I also read this quote from Ann,
Life’s not hard because you’re doing anything wrong: Life is a battle. Put on your armor.
And it doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with schedules and surrendering our time to God, but it gives me strength today as I remember again that this life is not easy, it is a battle, so I should expect hard and I should expect challenges and I need to dress for war every day. But by surrendering my time, my expectations, my schedule to Him, I am freed to fight the battles He brings with both hands, rather than fighting one-handed while clinging fiercely to my own plans with the other.
And as I drove across town this week to get a tooth for a science project, I soaked in the silence but begrudged the trip out in the middle of busy. But as I drove I talked to God and heard His Spirit whisper in the midst of my unhappy grumbling just give thanks. Thanks for to do lists that will never be done. Thanks for kids and projects that send you driving all over town collecting teeth or staying up helping with fundraisers or cleaning rooms you’ve helped clean a thousand times. Thanks for the opportunity to die to myself and my own plans and to serve Christ by serving others, primarily my family. And thanks for all the gifts He daily gives….
2154. perfect fall days
2155. a tour of the local fruit farm
2156. apple cider slush
2157. apple cider donuts
2158. making happy memories
2159. a pantry re-stocked
2160. a couple of days off school
2161. resting, relaxing, slowing where we can
2162. thirteen miles run
2163. a long, slow Saturday
2164. laughing all evening long with old friends
2165. seeing others give so generously to help the oldest go to Haiti
2166. warm furnace turned on
2167. girls in jammies all Saturday long
2168. the Sunday crazy train and all it teaches me about grace and giving it abundantly
2169. an honest, insightful letter from a daughter who struggles to find her place
2170. a Spirit reminder to just say “thanks”
2171. grocery day
2172. fall riding in on a cool north wind
2173. new shoes. again
2174. yummy new recipes and happily feeding my family
I continue in my 31 days of prayer and I lift up prayers for a changed heart and eyes opened and a mind stayed on the truth of His Word. I lift up prayers to continue to rest from the fretting and the wearing down of those around me and to daily put on my armor and die to myself and my plans. And I lift up prayers that you would each know the realness of His presence in your life this week.
For His Glory ~
~ Sara
She comes to me tear-stained and tired. She says no one wants her here and no one cares, so she’s just going to leave. She wants to run away and wasn’t I just saying the same thing yesterday?
I ask where she’ll go and how she’ll care for herself and what will she do. And she says she doesn’t know but she’ll be safe because she has her Swiss army knife, an arrow, and God.
And I find her a little later, a couple houses down and I call her back and we talk and I hold her and ask her to just come inside and do her school and think this through a little more before she decides to go. And she does and I try to go on with my day.
But isn’t this what we want to do when life gets hard? We want to grab our water bottle and our arrows and run away. Away from training, away from discipline, away from the tough love of our Father. I realize it’s what I’ve always tried to do and I know I’ve always been a runner, even before I wore running shoes. And this little girl, she has her mother’s heart: a heart that wants to escape and a heart that doesn’t like to do hard, a heart that wants to run away.
And my beloved sends me encouragement from the book of James, that book we just spent a year (or more) memorizing, that book I should know well but have somehow forgotten already. He reminds me of chapter 1 and trials and temptations and counting it all joy. And I ask myself, am I still running? It is one thing to write about it and to say it to myself in the early morning quiet, but when it comes right down to it, and my child is carrying on irrational and the calendar is overflowing and it feels like this whole thing is going to come crashing down in one spectacular heap – am I then looking to God and saying, “Yes, Lord, even this – thank you.” Am I running to my Jesus and saying thank you, even for this – for our daily stumbling and falling and facing imperfections? Or am I picking up my weary heart and running the other direction – running to quietly nurse my wounds and hide myself away from the world and from the sinking feeling that I’m never going to get this right.
And I know I’m still a runner. And my girl is a runner. But I want us both to be running to Jesus, not running away. And I’ve seen it on a few different blogs this week, how October started this year on a Monday and brought fall and a feeling of something fresh and why not commit to something for the 31 days of October. And that Monday morning I knew what I’ve known since we came home from Haiti in February – I am to commit to pray. Pray for my little family. Pray for our hearts and our minds and our relationships and that we would all be children who run to their Father.
I don’t know what this will look like here online because it’s hard to get on consistently and write in the midst of school and home and life in general. But will you join me in praying for our families for the remaining days of October – yours, mine, and all of those struggling around us? May we lift ourselves and each other up to our Heavenly Father for strength, encouragement, and wisdom as we struggle to be lights in a darkened world. And if we must run, “let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus.” (Hebrews 12) And as we think about running with perseverance, let us contemplate this definition that Matt shared with me:
Perseverance – a steadfastness in doing something despite difficulty or delay in achieving success; continuance in a state of grace leading finally to a state of glory.
Steadfastness despite difficulty or delay in achieving success. Was I not just talking to my friend this morning about how it feels like we keep having these same struggles and will we ever see progress? Am I being steadfast regardless? And, oh, to continue in grace! Grace that overflows from the throne of God, grace that I must simply ask for and gather like manna because He supplies it new every morning, grace that leads to glory.
Lord, as we embark on 31 days of prayer, may you bless our efforts. May you draw us closer to your heart. Open our eyes to see our families the way you do. Give us renewed love and affection for our children, our spouses. Give us steadfastness and love and mercy and grace. Protect us from the fiery arrows of the evil one and may all that we do bring You glory. Give us runners hearts that run to you with wild abandon. And may our love for you spread like fire to those around us. Amen.
For His Glory ~
~ Sara
It’s Sunday morning and no matter how we prepare to avoid it, try to derail it, we board that weekly crazy train that sends the whole day into a tailspin. Children bicker over shoes and outfits and hair accessories and through our own gritted teeth we say how much prettier they would look with a smile. And on this particular Sunday I’m so thankful we’ve decided only to go to Sunday school, so I don’t have to referee the arguments during the sermon.
And it’s clear this day is going to be a doozy, because the arguments they pick up right where they left off after church and one child wails angry and another does everything in her power to aggravate. One shuts herself up in her room and another is trying to figure out who to side with. And I just want to run away.
It’s Sunday night and we sit, the six of us, all crowded into our little sitting room, and we discuss angels and demons and the very real battle that is always taking place around us. We discuss the full armor of God and how we are to dress ourselves, prepare ourselves, to engage in this battle, because even the most non-confrontational among us will be called to the front lines.
We talk first about the belt of truth, the breastplate of righteousness, the shoes of readiness given by the gospel of peace, the shield of faith, the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit. And then we talk about how we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, “but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places.” (Ephesians 6:12). We talk about how our Enemy the Devil, he wants to distract us and confuse us and he does want us to wrestle against each other and how he does a victory dance every time he drives a wedge or builds a wall between us. He doesn’t want us to love each other or be kind or obey or control our tongues and when we fight and bicker against each other he gains a foothold and he wins a battle for our hearts. We talk about our instruction to be light to the dark and to help the poor and needy and to raise up children who love the Lord and how much Satan hates us for trying. We affirm that we know Who ultimately wins the war, but these battles we fight every day are important and we can’t give up even one just because we’re too tired to fight. We purpose to work together to fight this common enemy, rather than letting our enemy divide us. We agree that God has given us each other to love and care for and protect, and to make us more like His Son, and that we are a team and we’re all working toward the same goal.
And privately, we wonder do we make too much of this spiritual warfare thing. No one talks about it much since our high school days and Frank Perretti books and perhaps it’s a bit too charismatic and maybe this is just life? But in the past two years we have seen it, we have lived it, and my spirit knows somehow when it’s life and when it’s war. The battle is real and Satan fights dirty and he knows the chinks in our armor and will aim his fiery arrows straight for us. But we wait for a coming King, whose kingdom is not of this world, so why would the battles we fight be merely flesh and blood?
And in a small way that grows big, we can fight the battle of discouragement and discontent by daily listing His gifts – the good and the hard gifts. Because if it all passes through His hand and it all has the ability to draw us closer, make us more like His Son, then is it not worth thanking Him for? Is it not worth writing down and remembering? Is it not worth a whispered, “Yes, Lord, even this….thank you.”?
2116. cooler days
2117. chilly nights with windows open
2118. feet and legs that ache
2119. hope that new shoes will help
2120. continuing the hard struggle with one girl
2121. an impromptu date night – a few hours away from the “sick ward”
2122. God’s grace when I don’t deserve it
2123. hope when I am discouraged
2124. days that go horribly wrong
2125. words of encouragement in the morning
2126. hope overflowing
2127. Haitian girl actually speaking to us over Skype
2128. her silly, sweet smile
2129. an unplanned “in service” day to give this sick mama time to rest
2130. more rain
2131. more coughing
2132. never quite feeling caught up
2133. an unexpected hour and a half in a quiet house
2134. a lovely lunch hour run
2135. laughing with my girls
2136. heart burdened for one in particular
2137. weeks that I’m happy just to make it through
2138. a to do list too big to finish alone
2139. a God who sees me
2140. a beautiful fall Friday
2141. a thirty minute nap
2142. a home school soccer game
2143. full moon hanging low over western sky
2144. fog draped over grass
2145. husband who gives up his morning workout to ride his bike with me while I run in early morning dark.
2146. good friend who (literally) goes the extra mile (or two!) to help me finish my long run
2147. jeans that feel looser
2148. neighborhood cafe and incredible chips and guacamole
2149. country dancing with everyone twenty years our senior
2150. a good date night
2151. family talks about spiritual warfare and the battle we all really face
2152. learning to fight together rather than fight each other
2153. putting on the whole armor of God
Praying that as you fight your own battles this week, you will be able to see His goodness in everything.
For His Glory ~
~ Sara
So tonight I lay here in bed. Tired from an early morning and a busy day, with my heart and stomach doing flip flops over our news.
Today we learned that we have exited IBESR. Excellent news. Amazing news. Praise God news. Because that means she is one step closer to being home.
To being here.
Forever.
A while one part of me is kid-on-Christmas-morning excited, another part is oh-dear-God-what-have-we-done terrified. If we’re being honest, that is.
From the moment I laid eyes on this little girl in a grainy photo sent from Haiti via Blackberry Messenger, I have known she is ours, she is one of us. Our fifth daughter. And yet this isn’t a child who has grown in my womb, developed to the sound of my voice, my heart beat. She comes with her own strings attached to someone else, no matter how much she may think she loves me in her 5 year old mind. No matter how much I love her. She comes with a story and a history and a lifetime of hurt.
And what that means for the rest of us scares me more than a little. This great unknown of what are we inviting in. Some days we’re barely hanging on as it is. What happens when a little girl who doesn’t speak our language gets here and realizes she can’t pinch these other children when they want my attention because she has to share me with them forever? Or when she cries at night and wants a mama with her skin color, her hair, her history? Or when one day she longs for her homeland and in her personal wrestling forgets what a gift it is to be here with us?
How do we deal on those days?
I have no idea.
But over the past few months I have watched as God has taken last year’s impossible and overwhelming schedule and opened it wide, making time for the six of us here to bond, connect, and slow before she comes. I have watched as God has given both of us more of a heart for our children. Still not where we want to be, but more including, sharing, doing life together. And I have watched as God day after day puts hope in my path. In devotions. In blog posts. In scripture reading. In a quote. Everywhere there is hope. And I cling to it. As we travel this road of adoption. As we struggle through home schooling and parenting all these girls. As we fight for our marriage against an enemy who hates it. I cling to hope. I cling to the point that I write it on my skin, a daily reminder of what I have in Christ.
And this little girl, she will carry this hope with her always. Amania Hope: faith in God, hope. What a name for a little girl whose part in our story has only begun to be written. Faith in God. Hope. That is where our strength is found. That is where her strength will be found. That is where all strength is found – as we continue to wait. As we continue to weather. As we continue to walk this path that He is leading us down.
And Ann writes today, “hope, it can split right open in the dry places and yield up life”. And as I read that post, God gives more hope as she writes on, “Sometimes if you wait until you really know what you are doing – means you don’t know really God and what He can do.”
And peace comes as I realize I don’t have to know how this will all play out. There are no guarantees with our biological children, just as there are no guarantees with this adopted one. But as we follow Christ is serving the least of these, we know we are doing right and He will lead and never abandon and we can trust in His plan and we can have hope.
For His Glory ~
~ Sara
I implore you to not give in to despair. It is a dangerous temptation, because our Adversary has refined it to the point that it is quite subtle. Hopelessness constricts and withers the heart, rendering it unable to sense God’s blessings and grace. It also causes you to exaggerate the adversities of life and makes your burdens seem too heavy for you to bear. Yet God’s plans for you, and His ways of bringing about His plans are infinitely wise.
Streams, June 1
Romans 5 says, “We also have joy with our troubles, because we know that these troubles produce patience. And patience produces character, and character produces hope. And this hope will never disappoint us, because God has poured out his love to fill our hearts. He gave us his love through the Holy Spirit, whom God has given to us.” (NCV)
The past nine months have been riddled with trials. Trials common to life but trials just the same. I have not been patient. I have not developed character. I have bucked against and resisted every single one. And I have lost hope.
But today I choose hope. I choose to yield and listen and trust. Trials will continue to come and the flaming arrows of the Enemy will continue to fly. But I will hope in the salvation of the Lord. I will hope in His steadfast love. I will hope in the victory that has been promised.
Because this hope will never disappoint. My children will disappoint. My husband will disappoint. Life will disappoint. I will disappoint. But this hope will never disappoint because it is founded on the Rock, a firm foundation, One that will never move or change or let me down. He is unshakeable, unfailing, an anchor for the soul.
We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure.
~ Hebrews 6:19
For His Glory ~
~ Sara
Often it is simply the answers to our prayers that cause many of the difficulties in our Christian life. We pray for patience, and our Father sends demanding people our way who test us to the limit, “because…suffering produces perseverance” (Romans 5:3). We pray for a submissive spirit, and God sends suffering again, for we learn to be obedient in the same way Christ “learned obedience from what He suffered” (Hebrews 5:8).
We pray to be unselfish, and God gives us opportunities to sacrifice by placing other people’s needs first and by laying down our lives for other believers. We pray for strength and humility, and “a messenger of Satan” (2 Corinthians 12:7) comes to torment us until we lie on the ground pleading for it to be withdrawn.
We pray to the Lord, as His apostles did, saying, “Increase our faith!” (Luke 17:5). Then our money seems to take wings and fly away; our children become critically ill; an employee becomes careless, slow, and wasteful; or some other new trial comes upon us, requiring more faith than we have ever before experienced.
We pray for a Christlike life that exhibits the humility of a lamb. Then we are asked to perform some lowly task, or we are unjustly accused and given no opportunity to explain for “He was led like a lamb to the slaughter, and…did not open his mouth” (Isiah 53:7).
We pray for gentleness and quickly face a storm of temptation to be harsh and irritable. We pray for quietness, and suddenly every nerve is stressed to its limit with tremendous tension so that we may learn that when He sends His peace, no one can disturb it.
We pray for love for others, and God sends unique suffering by sending people our way who are difficult to love and who say things that get on our nerves and tear at our heart. He does this because “love is patient, love is kind…It is not rude,…it is not easily angered…It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.” (1 Corinthians 13: 4-5, 7-8)
Yes, we pray to be like Jesus, and God’s answer is: “I have tested you in the furnace of affliction” (Isaiah 48:10); “Will your courage endure or your hands be strong?” (Ezekiel 22:14); “Can you drink the cup?” (Matthew 20:22).
The way to peace and victory is to accept every circumstance and every trial as being straight from the hand of our loving Father; to live “with Him in the heavenly realms” (Ephesians 2:6), above the clouds, in the very presence of His throne; and to look down from glory on our circumstances as being lovingly and divinely appointed.
~ Streams in the Desert, May 13
As I wrestle through another morning at home and the little ones continue to wear my rough spots smooth, I find myself resisting, and seriously considering running away. At least for a little while.
And then I send them all to read and rest after lunch. I hide away in the quiet writing spot I just created, Sonic ice water on the desk, and I begin to decompress. I grab the Streams I had book marked from a couple of days ago and smile with God at how I needed this today.
These things I pray for…why am I surprised at how I must learn them? And what more effective tools of God than these little people who are with me day in and day out? And what will it take for the lessons to stick?
I don’t know when this heart will learn to respond first with grace and patience and gentleness. I don’t know when that “one more thing” that wants to push me over the edge will instead push me to my knees. I just don’t know when this heart will be right. But I do know that He who started a work, will be faithful to complete it. And I continue to trust that He will take these broken things that I offer up daily – my meager attempts to love and trust and give. I trust that He will use them and make something beautiful out of the dust that I am and that He will be glorified in this home, in these lives.
For His Glory~
~ Sara
Sometimes an old acquaintance posts something to Facebook that makes you stop and think:
I have no idea if she was talking about me or not. Hopefully I wasn’t so bad to actually qualify as a “godless whore”, but you never know. I was definitely a bit of a mess. Either way, it got me thinking about so many things. Like how the choices you make and the reputation you earn can follow you the rest of your life. And also how amazing it is that a perfect and holy God can overlook it all.
I’ve battled against the Enemy’s lies this year and I finally feel myself becoming stronger again. God’s truth is once again drowning out the sound of defeat and discouragement and I feel myself rising again to do battle against the Prince of Lies. These words of healing played through SUV speakers last week….
There’s a girl in the corner
With tear stains on her eyes
From the places she’s wandered
And the shame she can’t hide
She says, “How did I get here?
I’m not who I once was.
And I’m crippled by the fear
That I’ve fallen too far to love”
But don’t you know who you are,
What’s been done for you?
Yeah don’t you know who you are?
You are more than the choices that you’ve made,
You are more than the sum of your past mistakes,
You are more than the problems you create,
You’ve been remade.
Well she tries to believe it
That she’s been given new life
But she can’t shake the feeling
That it’s not true tonight
She knows all the answers
And she’s rehearsed all the lines
And so she’ll try to do better
But then she’s too weak to try
But don’t you know who you are?
You are more than the choices that you’ve made,
You are more than the sum of your past mistakes,
You are more than the problems you create,
You’ve been remade.
You are more than the choices that you’ve made,
You are more than the sum of your past mistakes,
You are more than the problems you create,
You’ve been remade.
‘Cause this is not about what you’ve done,
But what’s been done for you.
This is not about where you’ve been,
But where your brokenness brings you to
This is not about what you feel,
But what He felt to forgive you,
And what He felt to make you loved.
You are more than the choices that you’ve made,
You are more than the sum of your past mistakes,
You are more than the problems you create,
You’ve been remade.
You are more than the choices that you’ve made,
You are more than the sum of your past mistakes,
You are more than the problems you create,
You’ve been remade.
You’ve been remade
You’ve been remade.
You’ve been remade.
You’ve been remade.
(You are More by Tenth Avenue North)
[ From: http://www.elyrics.net/read/t/tenth-avenue-north-lyrics/you-are-more-lyrics.html ]
And those lies that my sins are bigger than my Savior have haunted me in my past and they’ve haunted me this year. The lie that all of my weaknesses and inadequacies, my struggles and my stumblings with these children, this husband, this life, that He’s not big enough to overcome it – all a lie from the one who seeks to devour and destroy.
A dear friend sends this quote yesterday from The Mother Letters:
It is a complete matter of trust that He will give our children what they need despite our shortcomings. ~ Rachel McAdams
And last night as we sat in worship we sang the lyrics,
Sing to Jesus
Lord of our shame
Lord of our sinful hearts
He is our great Redeemer
Sing to Jesus
Honor His name
Sing of His faithfulness
Pouring His life out unto death
Come, you weary
And He will give you rest
Come you who mourn
Lay on His breast
(Sing to Jesus by Fernando Ortega)
Oh the mighty Savior that He would bear our sins and shame and welcome us with open arms, a soft place to fall. And that He would cover over my weaknesses and fill in the gaps with His strength and healing.
So as I come back to the Facebook post that prompted this spilling of words, two things come to mind. First, for anyone young who happens to be reading this – what you do now matters. Who you are now matters. In a world of social networking and digital never-to-be-deleted connectedness, your choices now matter a lot. But the second point, and this is for the young person and everyone else – this God, my God, He’s big enough to cover it with His grace. Friends from fifteen years ago may not offer fresh-start grace, but Jesus does.
And for that grace, the thanksgiving never ends.
1714. four days, five doctor’s offices
1715. six and a half hours in outpatient care
1716. a mended arm
1717. a red cast
1718. my girl feeling so much better
1719. serving the hungry with my Chandler, my servant-child
1720. going to the airport to welcome home the Jayhawks
1721. making a memory with my girls
1722. feeling the weight lift
1723. James MacDonald study
1724. bearing up
1725. finding His blessings
1726. the annual candy toss
1727. Easter celebrations
1728. a Texas trip with my Emma
1729. evening with good friends from Matt’s past
1730. audiobook on the iPod
1731. discovering the joy of listening to a book
1732. last days of school – the end is near!
1733. pinpointing some of my struggles
1734. praying through changes
1735. a new office, a new chapter in our lives
1736. home school conference, lunch, and shopping with my favorite
1737. a two hour nap
1738. quiet girls
1739. Overflow worship
1740. relentless, overwhelming grace
All for His glory ~
~ Sara
I don’t know if it was the spring break or the broken arm or the James MacDonald video in Sunday school. It may have been the turning of the calendar page to April and the knowing that by the end of this month all of our school books will be put away. It could be the beautiful sunshine or simply the prayers of others. But something in the past two weeks has shifted. Something has broken loose and I no longer feel the weight, that burden I have born all year. I’m still more than ready for this year to be behind us, but I can face each day. I’m still totally over starting each day in the early morning dark and feeling like I’ve accomplished nothing come the end of the day, but soon that too will change.
And I give humble thanks for what the Lord has been showing me, that the bearing up under the trial is where the blessings are gained. That my idol of a “manageable schedule” is just that – an idol. And while I still firmly believe we have bought a lie about how busy we must be and how much we must do, I still can find peace and strength in Him as we finish this crazy year off. I thank Him for showing me that my younger girls still need to be read to at night and washing the hair of my oldest (for this short season) is a blessed gift. That handing off my role in our business feels a whole lot like sending my kid off to college and it’s hard but He has purpose in that too and a quiet relief comes with it.
This year has been a wild, rough ride. But I can see glimpses now of His purposes. Purposes of teaching me flexibility and greater trust in Him. Teaching me to have faith in Him and what He’s up to in my kids and trusting Him for results I may not see for years. A purpose of teaching me to go even deeper into the Word, further into prayer. Establishing systems in our home to foster encouragement and kindness and thanksgiving. Reminding me of the joy of making my home beautiful with my own hands.
He has carried me. And He will continue to carry me. More hard days will come, perhaps more hard years. But there will be purpose in those as well. And He will be with me. And I will continue to give thanks.
When the tears fall free and hard before 7 am and you talk controlled-soft to keep from yelling in frustration, it’s hard not to wonder where you went wrong. When you fall asleep praying tomorrow will be better and you wake up still praying for a softened heart, for joy, for grace, you sometimes wonder what God is up to.
This year has been hard and I’ve said it too many times and I feel like I’m using it as an excuse. But God has put us here for a reason, for a purpose, and I just don’t understand it yet. But we wrestle, He and I. And I ask and I pray and I cry out and I wait patiently for an answer for why He has called us to this, led us to this, yet every step lately has been so painful. And some days are good and some days I see hope. But most days, it seems, we are just getting by, trying to make it through to the next one.
I hate just surviving. I want to enjoy this life, these days, this time.
I walked by a stray Barbie doll this morning and my heart stopped momentarily. I was taken back to five years ago, eight years ago, when life was Barbies and Princesses and nap times and trips to the zoo and my biggest concern in life was what time does the baby need to eat again.
Now here we stand at the precipice of adolescence. Two girls on the brink of teenage-hood, two more following hard after, and one waiting in Haiti with who-knows-what kind of baggage to unpack. And I know that, comparatively, these are the easy days too; the days before boys and periods and driving. And my heart hurts because I don’t believe we’re ready, don’t believe they’re ready, and I feel like I am the one that has failed them. And I fear that we’ve somehow missed our window.
I know that’s not all entirely true and it’s a lie from the Enemy as he tries to knock me off my feet. But you hear a lie day in and day out and it starts to become a part of you.
But my God, He makes beauty from ashes. He restores what the locust has eaten. And when I give thanks, even amidst the hard days, hard years, I open my life – our lives – up to more of what He wants for us.
Some days life gets so crazy and the way gets dark and I can’t see Him, but that doesn’t change the fact that He is here with me. I have to trust Him that He will see us through this season, that better days await us. I cling to His promises that He will not leave nor forsake. I trust that He will take my offering as a broken mother, broken wife, and make something beautiful out of these children, out of our lives.
As I go to the Word throughout the day, He reminds me to give thanks in all things. In my quiet time He reminds me to bring the sacrifice of thanksgiving. Regardless of my feelings. He tells me to thank Him for my irritations. This constant giving of thanks, it doesn’t always make everything better. Some things are still hard. But my heart, it softens. My mind, at least for a few moments, finds peace and rest in the middle of the rushing roar of life.
God’s grace is amazing and His faithfulness is never failing. He is with me and He is at work, even if I can’t see or feel it. He is not surprised by the struggles we have and really I shouldn’t be either. He has a purpose for this season. He is making beauty from ashes.
1673. priceless words from our daughter’s mouth –
words of love, longing for her home, family, Papa
1674. a weekend away
1675. time as a family
1676. six bodies in one small room
1677. protection
1678. stitches that help heal
1679. Shredding with my favorite
1680. tears that fall early in the morning
1681. continued brokeness
1682. husband that leads, regroups
1683. a God that never fails
Thanks for hanging in with me this year. I’m beginning to feel like a bit of a whiner as our troubles are so small compared to so many. But our struggles are real and God has us here for a purpose. And as eager as I am to be out of this valley, I never want to forget what He’s teaching me here.
All For His Glory ~
~ Sara
My Ears Are Tired 