Scenes of Autumn

After my prayers have been poured out and the sun has poked its sleepy head over the pond, after breakfast is eaten and the bus has picked up our precious cargo, it's our time. The chill of the morning air stings our faces. We walk down the driveway, past the first of yellowed leaves scattered across the lawn. Our footsteps fall into a comfortable rhythm, much like our conversation. We savor these final quiet moments before work and school crowd our day. We knit our hearts together and forge a friendship ever deepening, this man I love and I.

Crisp red apples become sweet golden sauce, emptied into sparkling jars and stored away for the winter.

The soup pot, no longer ignored, cradles the first of many meals.

I smile as I hear the music start, then stop in hesitation. The song starts again. I can picture my girl, her face all concentration, her fingers poised over the keyboard. This new venture is part of her search for her place in ministry; these lessons are her offering to the Lord. I silently thank Him for drawing her near and pray He will teach her His music, that He will sing with her.

Evenings are filled with schoolwork and reading and music and conversation. Weekends are marked by football and bonfires.


The pace of life is steady and sweet, yet my heart longs to be settled.

After a particularly long day, I glance at my girl in the seat beside me. Her voice, unusually quiet. "Are you tired?" I ask. "Not really. I'm just ready to be home," she replies.

Me, too, my sweet girl.  Me, too.

I am ready to be tucked away safely with those I love most, hidden from the uncertainties and worries.

Some days bring us low, and we bow to drink deeply of the Living Water. The prayers of faithful friends have become our sustenance, nourishing us as we continue to feel our way around in this new place, these unfamiliar surroundings.

We cling to each other. We trust. We hope. And we see glimpses of the garment of praise that Our Father is fashioning for us.  It is more beautiful than the spectacular colors of Autumn.  May it proclaim His glory.

...to grant to those who mourn in Zion—

to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes,

the oil of gladness instead of mourning,

the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit;

that they may be called oaks of righteousness,

the planting of the LORD, that he may be glorified.

~Isaiah 61:3 (ESV)

A New Dance

17 years of marriage should have prepared me for this, I think.

How? How do 17 years of day-to-day living in a comfortable rhythm, one that you've memorized so well you hear it in your sleep, prepare you to learn a new dance? Especially when the old one was so sweet that your heart aches at the memory. And your body aches at the stretching and moving this new dance requires.

We are clumsy, awkward. I push and turn when I shouldn't. I stubbornly take the lead because I think I know the steps better. He resists and strains in frustration. I, exasperated, step on his feet and demand he pay attention. Slowly I realize that he can't hear the music over the sound of my voice bellowing instructions. Neither can I.

We stop. In silence, we listen.

The chords come faint, unfamiliar. The tune is dissonant to our earthly ears, not at all what we anticipated. How can we learn this dance? Will we get the hang of it?

I look him in the face. Beyond the crinkles that frame his sea-green eyes and the specks of gray in his thick black hair. Here is the man I love, my partner for life. The Maestro is conducting the orchestra. The music of our lives washes over us, as we start moving slowly, tentatively.

We will learn this. And it will be beautiful.

The Lord your God is with you, He is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, He will quiet you with His love, He will rejoice over you with singing.
-Zephaniah 3:17

In This Season

The sun beats down in constant assault. Lack of rain has caused crops to wither and fade. Summer has been brutal. And yet my family is flourishing.

CJ returned from her first mission trip, saddened to leave the experience behind and eager to share it with us. My ears listened to her words tumbling over each other in her excitement. My heart raced as she described the blessing of helping those less fortunate. My skin tingled when she said she wants to go back. I swallowed past the lump in my throat when I realized that for the first time, my girl has witnessed the Lord in a giant, tangible way that I have no part of. My eyes moistened as they peered at this young woman, searching for the little girl she used to be.

In this season, my girl is growing.

In a few weeks, R will be a full-time student.  This path of his youth, long forgotten and now considerably different, is intimidating. The buildings full of classrooms, textbooks that cost a fortune, and classmates two decades younger all loom large. Yet he returns, full of determination to complete the journey and confident of the prize that awaits.

In this season, my man is stretching.

The setting sun casts a pink glow over the kitchen. It's been a long day. I survey the work and rub my aching hands. Tomatoes from our garden have been frozen, along with corn and blueberries grown by someone else. Bread has been punched and formed and baked.  Other treats for the week have been prepared. I smile, drink in the happiness that blessing my family brings.

In this season, I am learning.

Make me to know your ways, O LORD;

teach me your paths.

Lead me in your truth and teach me,

for you are the God of my salvation;

for you I wait all the day long.

~Psalm 25:4-5 (ESV)

Glimpses

The benefit of removing hindrances and distractions is a clearer, sharper focus. Peering keenly toward God, I begin to see glimpses of what the future might be. My heart flutters at the possibilities. Nervous, excited, a little scared. The jumble of emotions is tied in the knots of my stomach, straining against the confines of my skin and begging to burst forth.

With our girl safe on her first mission trip, my man and I take a trip to his college campus. We hold hands not like the college sweethearts we never were, but exactly like the fiery ones we are. Behind the veil of my sunglasses, I steal a glance at him. I see him walking this campus, roaming the halls of giant buildings, navigating library stacks. I see beyond the coming months of hard work. I see the man he will be after he's withstood this test, standing tall to proclaim God's work.

I see a young girl watching in admiration as her daddy presses on.

I see a family changed in the shadow of our Lord's glory.

I read Radical, Just Do Something and Prayers Of An Excellent Wife and I am challenged. I see a woman not content with substitutes.  Oh! how I want to be her!

I begin to eat Real Food and my body begins to change. I see a woman no longer craving the manufactured goodness of this world, but hungering deeply for the Lord's goodness and sweetness. Oh! how I want to be her!

These momentary glimpses mark my days, spur me on, and take my breath away.

The Slow Start

I turn the page on the calendar, from a parched canyon to a luscious waterfall. A new month has begun. The old one covered, gone with the things thrown aside.

Extra pounds. Unnoticed by others, yet they are absent. The scale creeps down and my heart floats up in happiness at the small success. I continue along the steady, healthy course in spite of the effort and my impatience, the desire for a quick fix.  This slow start, I know, is best. It leads to a change that will last.

Extra commitments. Giving myself and my family room to breathe. Saying no to even good things. Delighting in outdoor games and the cracking sound of a sturdy book's spine. Watermelon, a young girl's giggles, and my husband's smile bright from his suntanned face. I drink them in, remembering the difference a year makes and knowing that these days cannot be recaptured.

Extra spending. Our first month without the security of R's paycheck. Without a doubt God has been creative with our finances. I marvel at His ability to stretch pennies farther than I could stretch dollars. I sink deep into the abundance of His provision. Just last week, CJ lamented that we would soon have to start living on less. "Start? We have been living on less for more than a month!" I exclaimed joyfully. Her eyes opened wide, and my girl saw Him in all of His glory.

In throwing aside the extra, the unnecessary, we are able to fix our eyes on what is of true worth. What is real. What is good. What is important. Casting my thoughts on these things, I don't fret that the pace is too slow. I forget to worry about the uncertain future. I look only at today and His incredible goodness.

And it is well with my soul.

Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.

~Philippians 4:8 (ESV)

A Period of Adjustment

One week into our new life, we ache from all the adjusting and stretching going on. Some is welcome. Some is painful. All is for our good.

We cautiously feel our way around this new place, discovering things we forgot about each other and ourselves. Perhaps we never knew them.

Doubts hover just below the surface. Is this really happening? Are we actually doing this?

The combination of anxiety-tinged nerves and preteen angst have caused tongues to lash out more easily. Apologies have been just as swift. Grace abounds in this period of adjustment.

The budget is tighter, pinching. Afraid one concession will lead to another, I plot and plan and pray there won't be an ensuing riot.

Quiet time with a good book is harder found. My sin-sick heart is too readily disappointed at this development. 

My soul craves routine. Wonders if our lives will be routine again. I find myself surprisingly satisfied to think they may not be.

How wonderfully strange it is to come home from work, to my people who have begun dinner preparations. Mealtime discussions include a question we ask each night. Where did you see God today? The responses as different as the responders.

With the school year winding down, we find time to examine the garden and play and laugh.

These days are different.

Harder.

Better.

Empty of some things.

Overflowing with others.

Marked by the One called Faithful and True.

Keep on believing...because as a child of God, it is just who you are. - Nancy Guthrie Hoping for Something Better: Refusing to Settle for Life as Usual

Speechless

Three weeks of blogging every day, counting down the end of a life that is now ended, has left me dry. As we step into our new life, my parched soul needs replenishing, refreshing.

I'll be back in a few days to start memorializing this new life with all its ups and downs, twists and turns, and the One constant. Faithful is He.

In the meanwhile, these words are never far from my mind.

You're starting over now
Under the sun
You're stepping forward now
A new life has begun
Your new life has begun

And there's only grace
There's only love
There's only mercy and believe me…it's enough
Your sins are gone
Without a trace
And there's nothing left now
There's only grace…

~"Only Grace" by Matthew West

The Final Step, The First Step

(You'll be completely lost if you don't read Part I, Part II, Part III & Part IV)

News of R's pending unemployment crashed over me, a tidal wave of grief and despair. The force broke the chains of bondage R had wrestled with for so long. He was walking away, yet maddeningly unsure of his steps. I selfishly denied him time to gain his strength, to heal. His trepidation fueled my need for control.

I plotted and planned, wheels spinning and getting us nowhere. Exhausted and spent, I finally gave up.

And my sweet husband started to smile again.

I could only hang my head in shame. I'd allowed my dreams to crowd out his. I'd put myself first and stifled him in the process. I'd been unwilling to sacrifice my comfort for his.

I was heartbroken. Amazed that my husband and my Savior could still love me, knowing there was nothing beautiful about my ambition, pride, and selfishness.

We wanted a new, different life.  With no clear direction on how to get there, we resigned ourselves to waiting on the Lord.  For a woman who likes to know, it was excruciating. All I could do was pray.

I waited patiently for the LORD;

he inclined to me and heard my cry.

He drew me up from the pit of destruction,

out of the miry bog,

and set my feet upon a rock,

making my steps secure.

He put a new song in my mouth,

a song of praise to our God.

Many will see and fear,

and put their trust in the LORD.

~Psalm 40:1-3 (ESV)

With great joy, awe and humility, I'm happy to announce that our wait is over. After 17 years of wandering, of pursuing what we thought best for our lives, God has given us a way to go back to the beginning.

This fall, R returns to college. The same university as when we married.

It astounds me how God has used the past two years to prepare our hearts.  Too merciful to allow us to wander anymore, He has ended our self-directed detour. Granted us a fresh start.  (Except, as CJ quickly reminds us, we now have our fantastic daughter.) We are also older, wiser, more willing & ready to submit to His leadership.

Whenever R talked about returning to school, I tuned him out. There was no way we could afford it. By God's grace, we don't have to. Oh, He is good!


Today is the last day of our old life, the one we chose for our own comfort. Where this new road goes from here, I honestly don't know. But I'll be holding His hand, and my dear husband's, all the way.

(P.S. - I'm allowing comments so that you can praise the Lord with me!)

Final Steps: Part IV

(To catch up, read Part I, Part II & Part III first.)

If it's possible to test God's patience to the limit, I did. He finally pried my hands from my ears so that I could hear Him speak about the hurt I was inflicting upon my husband and my daughter, and even myself.  He told me enough was enough. He started weeding my heart.

My oft-chronicled journey toward peace & simplicity commenced. I learned to let go of things, except one. I was still hiding the key to R's chains in my pocket, clutching it until my knuckles were white. Every time he mentioned breaking free, I assured him we were where God wanted us.

Isn't that what the Israelites thought about Egypt?

I was standing my ground. Little did I know God was about to pull the rug out from under me.

(We'll finish up next time, I promise!)

Final Steps: Part III

(You can't just jump into this series. Read Part I and Part II first.)

As the years passed, R would occasionally rebel against the bondage of his employment. I endeavored to convince him that we were in the promised land. I had already convinced myself. I was bold and tireless in my manipulations.

Untended weeds spread quickly, almost imperceptibly.

The new home was no longer new. I knew it would be impossible to change it into what I wanted. Even if we did, it wasn't where I wanted. Why not put R's carpentry skills to use? I reasoned.

We found the lot and the house plan. Sold the home that had seen two young people fight for their marriage, grieve the loss of a child and a father, and welcome a baby girl into the world. We crammed all the stuff into a tiny apartment where we spent the next 18 months navigating the obstacle course of boxes containing our old life. Boxes waiting for our new life were soon stacked among them.

We poured the foundation of our house and cemented R's future in a job he despised.

But God...

Final Steps: Part I

Three weeks ago, I started counting down the days until R's employment ends. His schedule changed, leaving only 5. God's direction came just in time. I want nothing more than to shout it from the rooftops. Tell you all about it. And I will. To understand these final steps in our old life, I need to take you back to the beginning of our life together...

When R & I married, I was six months into a new job. He was a part-time carpenter and part-time student. We lived in a small apartment filled with hand-me-down furniture and wedding gifts. Friday night Chinese food and a rented movie was our weekly splurge.

One day, we decided to tour the homes R's boss was constructing. Beautiful, I thought. I'd love to have a house like this.

After that we spent many Saturdays visiting different houses, each watering the seeds of envy and discontent growing in my heart.

A few months later R's boss offered us a great price on a house he was just starting. Our mortgage would be little more than our monthly rent. A good investment, we said. Paint colors and carpet samples consumed my thoughts. I wanted our first home to be perfect.

Meanwhile, R was realizing that being a husband, a part-time employee and a part-time student (at a university an hour away) was no piece of cake. He eagerly accepted an offer to work full-time and packed up his school books.

Seven months later, we moved into our new home. Those seeds of envy and discontent, quietly resting under the surface, soon found company in pride and greed. When they burst forth, I didn't recognize them for the weeds that they were. Instead of yanking them out by their roots, I searched for ways to nurture them.

 To be continued...

Eleven

Months ago, the Lord directed us to stop. To wait. Such a hard thing to do, impossible without his grace. These days of waiting, of not knowing, have been a strong reminder of  John 15:5 and the unfathomable depth of my need of Him.

My Father often speaks to me in acronyms. For this season, With All, I Trust.

Did I?

Could I?

Would I?

Daily, sometimes hourly, I've cried out to God. The burden of the wait, and the trusting in the wait, has been heavy. Tears have come when words wouldn't. It's been a season of glimpses, of being upheld by believing God is faithful even when I wasn't quite sure I believed.

In the past few weeks, my body has tensed in anticipation of His arrival.

Today, at last, He has come. The map of our future in his nail-scarred hands, unfurled past "You are Here". 

It's time to move.

It will be said on that day,

"Behold, this is our God; we have waited for him, that he might save us.

This is the LORD; we have waited for him;

let us be glad and rejoice in his salvation."

~Isaiah 25:9 (ESV)

Twelve

Continuing in Lamentations...

"The Lord is my portion," says my soul,

therefore I will hope in him."

The Lord is good to those who wait for him,

to the soul who seeks him.

It is good that one should wait quietly

for the salvation of the Lord.

~Lamentations 3:24-26

Notes from my ESV Study Bible:

wait for him - Not passive, listless sitting, but faithful serving until God acts.

wait quietly - In a posture of prayer and expectation.

There, in his Word, I once again find strength. The Truth penetrates the marrow of my bones, encouraging and equipping me to do the hard thing.

Wait.

Thirteen

It's a fresh start, a friend says.

A Fresh Start.

Yes, it is. And I like it.

Because of the LORD's great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. ~Lamentations 3:22-23 (ESV)

Fourteen

Hands raised.

Heart filled.

My Jesus, My Savior.
Lord, there is none like You.

I am overcome by my need to worship Him.

Are you?

The thought pushes its way into my consciousness. I am reminded of that woman I identify with most...the one who went seeking water in the heat of the day, avoiding the shame that was heaped on her head. And the Living Water meets here there. Just before He proclaims his identify, He declares

"...But the hour is coming, and is now here, when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for the Father is seeking such people to worship him. God is spirit, and those who worship him must worship in spirit and truth." ~ John 4:23-24 (ESV)

And I ask myself Do I worship the God of the Bible? Or is it the god I envision, the one I want to believe in?

The gospel reveals eternal realities about God that we would sometimes rather not face. We prefer to sit back, enjoy our cliches, and picture God as a Father who might help us, all the while ignoring God as a Judge who might damn us. Maybe this is why we fill our lives with the constant drivel of entertainment in our culture - and in the church. We are afraid that if we stop and really look at God in his Word, we might discover that he evokes greater awe and demands deeper worship than we are ready to give him.

~David Platt, Radical: Taking Back Your Faith from the American Dream

Oh, God! I want to worship You for who You truly are. You are too great to be reduced to the god of my imagination, to mighty to be held into my concepts of You. May I worship You in spirit and in truth, my Sovereign Lord.

Fifteen

The worst pains we experience are not those of the suffering itself but of our stubborn resistance to it, our resolute insistence on our independence. ~ Elisabeth Elliott, Keep a Quiet Heart

After taking this step, I wholeheartedly agree.

Sixteen

What God is bringing you through is preparation for what He's taking you to.

Paraphrase from Dr. B. Courtney McBath

Seventeen

My nerves are raw, stretched so far they threaten to shred. Veins tight, at the ready to explode. Today, I grasp the meaning of "jump right out of my skin". I can think of no words more appropriate.

I am tired of the waiting.

Exhausted by the waiting.

So OVER the waiting.

And yet, we wait.

Today I want to kick and scream and demand an answer. Truth be told, I have.

And still the waiting.

No news is not good news. It's nothing but the agony of one more day without an answer. Without knowing. Without being able to move. My muscles ache, sore from staying in this one place for so long.  I am ready to leap in whatever direction He calls. If He would just call.


Today, exercising patience has never felt more like work.

Eighteen

CJ: I love my Daddy.

Me: I know. I love your Daddy, too.

CJ: I love him more.

Me: No, I do. And I've loved him longer.

CJ: My Daddy loves me.

Me: Your Daddy loves me, too.

CJ: Well, he loves God more than both of us.

She's right. He does.



Lord, today I thank You for the gift of my husband. For the way he loves You, and his girls. For his commitment to work in a job he has disliked for so long to provide for us. For the opportunities the coming months are bringing, to use his talents to serve others and bless our family. I see his excitement. I sense his nervousness. Thank You, God, for growing him during this transition. Thank You for considering me worthy of such a beautiful, fine, godly man.

Nineteen

Why?

The question not often on my lips, but never far from my heart.

My shaking legs take unsure steps on the road away from this life. I  am a newborn foal not yet ready to run, ignoring my Father's nudges. I want to stay in the shelter of the stable, lie in the warmth of the hay. Yet He is calling me to step out of this life, and into a field unknown.

Why?

In direct contradiction to the American dream, God actually delights in exalting our inability.  He intentionally puts his people in situations where they come face to face with their need for him. In the process he powerfully demonstrates his ability to provide everything his people need in ways they could never have mustered up or imagined. And in the end, he makes much of his own name (see 2 Cor. 12:7-9)...This is how God works. He puts his people in positions where they are desperate for his power, and then he shows his provision in ways that display his greatness.

-David Platt, Radical: Taking Back Your Faith from the American Dream

(Scripture reference added from footnote)

The sun glistens brightly just outside the stable door. It dances across the grass of the open field. The warm breeze whispers my name.

Am I ready?

No longer held back by my own comfort or expectations. No false security in an employer. It's almost time to run in the wide open spaces with my Father.

He brought me out into a broad place; he rescued me, because he delighted in me. 

~ Psalm 18:19 (ESV)