Keeping Watch

The Advent Altar  occupies the kitchen corner, fresh candles and a new Advent resource alongside the familiar wreath and the small nativity. I carefully write last year's message on the board, reminding us to Prepare...our home and our hearts.

Yet this year, there is a new message on my heart. Its whispers, deep in my spirit, nearly reach my ears.  It dominates my thoughts and I hold fast to it.

I erase last year's message and painstakingly write this single command,

Watch.

Watch for the Redeemer made incarnate.

Watch for the unexpected.

Watch for the miraculous.

Set aside the distractions and just watch.

In this season of celebrating the Babe in a manger, I find myself watching for Immanuel, God with us.

Watching for His guidance, as my husband graduates from college.

Watching for His plan, as we continue to search for a job.

Watching for His grace, as the benefits we counted on are cut.

Watching for His provision, as our savings dwindle and our income is once again drastically reduced.

And so while we wait, we watch.

O my Strength, I will watch for you,
   for you, O God, are my fortress.

~Psalm 59:9 (ESV)

Lessons Learned - About Myself

After sharing lessons learned about our home, our girl, and my man, it's only fair that I share lessons I've learned about myself during the past year and a half.

I am more easily satisfied and resilient than I thought.

Several years ago, I wanted the newest and latest of everything. I bought shoes and purses on a whim. I was constantly feathering my nest with pillows and other decor.  If I saw something I wanted, I found a way to justify buying it. We took trips to Boston and New York. We were living the American dream. And paying for it dearly.

God, in His sovereignty, knew that some things needed to change. Nearly two years before R's employer announced the mill closure, He began convicting me of all the waste in my life.  As I began to reduce the clutter and the spending, an amazing thing happened. I realized the things I thought made my life were really choking it out of me.

I've learned to weigh the value of everything before allowing it to take valuable space in my home and in my life. I've learned I'm just more satisfied eating a meal I've prepared, watching a movie at home, and hanging out in our back yard than going out for dinner, a movie, or shopping. I've learned that the things I have and the places I go don't define the quality of my life.

I am more controlling and selfish than I thought.

I've always been a controller. Not only do I like to know what's going on, but I like to be in charge of it. It's been an exercise in patience and self-control to balance helping my husband with schoolwork and paperwork with taking over completely. It's been an exercise in humility to remind myself daily that God's ways are higher than my own.

When this path doesn't seem to make sense, or I want to just get-to-the-end-and-be-done-with-it-already-thank-you, I must tell myself yet again that having control is an illusion crafted by the enemy to draw my attention from God. When I tire of being the primary source of our family's income, wanting to slough off that responsibility along with my work clothes at the end of a long day, I have to remember that this is temporary and that I should be grateful for the provision of my job. When I'm tempted to stomp my feet at God and ask why my dreams of going back to college have not been realized, I recall the changes wrought in my dear husband's life, changes I would not have witnessed if my plans had prevailed.

In those moments, I quietly whisper prayers seeking forgiveness and the strength to let go.

I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing. 

~John 15:5 (ESV)

Lessons Learned - About My Man

I've shared lessons learned about our home and our girl. In honor of my husband's birthday this weekend, I thought I would share things I've learned about him in this past year. 

Next month brings the beginning of the third decade I have known him, the man I love. For twenty years now we've been the closest of friends and confidantes. I thought I had him pretty well figured out. Then life changed.

Through shock and grief, tension and uncertainty, anxiety and more uncertainty, I've seen the man I married transform before my very eyes.

My man is more intelligent than he realized.

Confidence has been an ill-fitting garment on his shoulders, despite my best efforts to make it more comfortable for him. My praises, and the praises of our girl, go only so far. In these past months, his confidence has been built upon the respect of his classmates and professors, the right answers on homework problems, and the satisfaction of a job well done. The man who was unsure about taking this path has grown with each passing step, and it has been a sight to see.

My man is more intelligent than I realized.

I've always known he's smart. I've long admired his talent to build and fix things, to look at a drawing (his own or someone else's) and bring it to life. I've never seen him give himself over to reading and studying like he's had to do this past year. Listening to him talk about statistical analysis, ethics and the regulatory environment, and leadership in business, I've gained a new appreciation for his intellect.

My man is finding new things comfortable.

The work jeans have been retired. The once standard ball cap hangs in the mudroom. Steel-toed boots have been replaced by sandals and tennis shoes. A new life requires a new wardrobe.

Days of coming home at the break of dawn, trying to sleep while the sun burns down hot through our bedroom window are a faint memory. Missing Sunday worship twice a month is all but forgotten. His body recovers from the years of swing shift, the snatching of sleep at odd times. His spirit recovers from portions of life missed, family gatherings and dinners with friends, ballgames and trips to the amusement park.

I am finding new things comfortable.

Hearing him greet me when I arrive home each day. The privilege of family dinner each evening. The blessing of feeling him next to me in the bed each night. They are things I don't take for granted. I never want to.

My man appreciates the little things.

A few months ago, I started leaving him short notes listing the reasons I love him. He quickly became accustomed to getting them. Who knew such a small act would mean so much?

Sending silly texts to each other throughout the day, holding hands while watching our favorite television series on DVD each night, learning Spanish with him. All little things, small investments that have yielded big dividends in our  relationship. Fires make our love stronger, more enduring.

My man loves me more than I realized.

He spends his days surrounded by classmates young enough to be our own children, his evenings immersed in books. He stretches his brain to grasp foreign concepts. He humbles himself to allow me to be the breadwinner.  He is daring to dream new dreams. All of this to make a better life for our family and to better serve the Lord. His life boldly proclaims his love for me, the depths of which I had never understood.

As we celebrate another year of my husband's life, I'm thanking the Lord

...for His goodness in knowing just how much a lost and hurt young woman needed this man who would cherish her.

...for His wisdom in bringing me to this man who is most certainly my better half. Aside from Christ, he is the best thing about me.

...for His grace in giving two selfish and sinful people these 20 years of love and friendship, a strong marriage, and a beautiful daughter. I am blessed beyond measure.

Happy birthday, my sweet man. I am so incredibly proud to be your wife!

Lessons Learned - About our Girl

A few weeks ago, I shared some lessons I've learned about our home during the past year. I'm finally getting back to this series with lessons learned about our girl.

The stretching of the past year has been tough on our girl. There are days she handles it with grace, knowing that our current state is temporary. Yet to a 12-year old, temporary can seem like an eternity.

She's watched friends' dads go back to work, their lives resuming normalcy. While her own is anything but. It must be difficult for her to understand that we are living in a new normal. Sometimes, I struggle with that reality myself.

As she's learned to adjust to having a full-time student for a dad, I've learned a few things about her.

My girl is stronger than I thought.

She admits that she first saw R losing his job as a tragedy, but she realizes now that God is in control and that He is good. She's seen Him work in our family and has proclaimed that to her friends.

Some days the weight of "No, we can't afford that." or "Not this weekend. Dad has a lot of homework to do." is too much to bear. She complains. She is, after all, 12. In those times, I tell her that this temporary sacrifice is bringing great reward for our family.  Not the reward of buying things we don't need in order to keep up with the Joneses, but the reward of a simple yet satisfying life. I remind her that R's working hard now so that (hopefully) he won't have to go back to a life of shift-work.

These reminders strengthen her resolve to persevere.

My girl is more adaptable than I thought.

She's learning to appreciate simple pleasures. In cooler months, we had family game nights and movie nights at home. We laughed. We cried. We snuggled. We enjoyed the quiet haven of our home.

She's been working alongside R to plan and plant our garden.  Her hands have gotten dirty.  Her eyes have sparkled. She is excited to watch the plants grow and produce food to sustain us.

This summer will bring homemade popsicles and ice cream, church softball, and evenings in the backyard. We'll savor our time together before the demands of school creep back into our lives.

My girl is funnier, more loving, and wiser than I thought.

As I watch her navigate the perils of middle school along with the tremendous changes in our family life, I'm amazed at some of the things she says and does. Little things, like drilling her dad for a quiz or helping with dinner, give me glimpses of the woman she's going to become. True, there are many, many times when I'm frustrated because I've had to tell her four times to do something. In those instances, I need to stop before I yell and remember occasions when she's done something without being asked. I need to remember just how hard it is to be 12. I need to give her grace.

Lessons Learned - About our Home

There have been many lessons learned in our new life. Some have been simple. More than a few have been hard-fought. Others continue to be a struggle. In the coming days, I'll share some of these lessons with you. Most are principals I already knew in my head, but had no room for in my heart.

Today I'll share two lessons I've learned about our home.

Breathing room is essential. 

Meaningless knick-knacks, pretty as they were, sucked the life out of our home. They are gone. We are surrounded by pictures, family treasures, and words of encouragement - things that matter.

Fewer things to dust. More space to live.

And we do live in our home. Even when piles of laundry beckon, I am able to look around at the surfaces and see space. Space allows me to relax, to breathe easier. 

Fewer unimportant things to keep track of. More time to live.

2008 was the Year of Peace & Simplicity in our home. I learned that our family functions better when life is calm. When I am calm. Not having to remember where important papers are (because they've been put where they belong) or being a slave to a complicated organizational system keeps me calm.

Homemade is worth the effort. 

Laundry detergent, dish detergent, household cleaners, apple sauce, bread, ice cream, and even mayo.  The planning and the time spent are a small price to pay for what we've gained by eating better.

Making pancakes from scratch creates room in the budget for real maple syrup. We buy eggs from pastured hens instead of boxes of cereal.

The trade-off works well for us.

There are some things I will always buy, but many I've committed to making at home because the benefit is greater than the cost.

The quality of our choices takes our focus from the quantity.

Our home is still (and will always be) a work in progress. Yet I think for the most part, my family would agree that it's a sanctuary for all of us.

 Any sacrifice I might make pales in comparison.

One Year Later - The Final Step, The First Step

Revisiting our journey, and God's answer for a new life. Read Part I, Part II, and Parts III/IV first.

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, 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 taken us 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. He has 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.

One year ago, my husband reported for his last day of work.  We were a mix of emotions - excited, sad, afraid, and nervous, to name a few. We didn't know what we were getting ourselves into or how it would turn out. We only knew that we could trust God.  

We were right.

And that man who was unsure about returning to school...well, he's made Dean's List both semesters!

Next week, I'll share some things I've learned in this past year.

(edited, from the archives)

One Year Later - Final Steps, Parts III & IV

Continuing to look back on the last days of our journey towards R's unemployment.  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...

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.

(from the archives)

One Year Later - The Final Steps, Part II

(Looking back at our journey, one year later.   Scroll down to read Part I first.)

A bigger home needs more stuff.

A sinful heart will rationalize anything to get what it wants.

More stuff isn't free. Despite the beauty of R's craftsmanship, a carpenter's salary  wasn't going to finance all the stuff we had to have. The answer was clear, at least to me. I wasn't subtle in my attempts to persuade my husband that gaining a job at the paper mill would give us the life we deserved. He submitted himself to the long process of application and testing. We were so happy when he was finally called for an interview. The day he was hired was cause for celebration. We were giddy with anticipation of a better life.

R was the first to feel the chains. He began to resent a job that didn't allow him to use his God-given talents and required him to work ridiculous hours. He grew restless. His conversations were peppered with words of another career path. He was eager to shake the dust of the current one from his shoes. He talked of unpacking those school books.

And I? I was comfortable. I didn't hand him the key to his chains. I simply cleansed the wounds caused by his resistance, washing them with my words instead of the Word. Occasional bandages kept us from having to examine the depth of the cuts.

The weeds that had grown in my heart appeared to be beautiful blossoms, but they were choking the life out of my husband's dreams.

To be continued...

(from the archives)

One Year Later - The Final Steps, Part I

One year ago today, we were counting down the final week of R's unemployment. One week until a new life began. One year from today, we'll be two-thirds of the way through our journey, we told ourselves. It seemed so far in the distance.

And yet here we are.

In this past year, God has taught us so much. I keep saying that, I know. I also know my words fall flat, in no way adequate to describe His goodness. I've come to realize that all I can do is proclaim that He is good and we are standing only by His grace and mercy. 

One year ago today, my fingers took to the keyboard to tell the story of our old life before we journeyed into the new one. I had no idea just how far we would come...

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...

*from the archives

A Place for Weakness - Chapter 1

I had not heard of A Place for Weakness: Preparing Yourself for Suffering by Michael Horton until Elizabeth announced her online book discussion. The book's title, and Elizabeth's first post, stirred something within me.

I need this.

These past months - all 17 of them since R learned he would be losing his job - have been a time of weakness. I cannot say suffering. Not in light of what so many others are enduring in Japan and Alabama, in hospitals and on the mission field.

The red tape of school funding. The hurt of leaving a life we had grown so comfortable in. The weight of homework and this new life. Concerns about money. Church issues. An illness that's lasted far too long and interrupted life more than I would like.  They are merely inconveniences.

So why do I have a hard time remembering that?

Michael Horton's words bring to mind the first days of leaving the old life, of knowing that God was giving us a precious gift.

Our weaknesses really are an opportunity for God to show his strength....without the trials, faith is not really roused to grab hold of the God of promise. (p. 17)

I look back on this journey I would not have chosen, with deep gratitude that God chose it for me.

For giving me an opportunity to grab hold of Him with both hands.

For reminding me how much I need Him.

Others are discussing Chapter 1 at Elizabeth's today.

Just Enough

I practically giggled, telling him of the latest item in my ever-growing repertoire of homemade household items. His eyes caught mine in the mirror. What a difference 18 years makes, he said. I never expected that you would be making so many things.

The truth of his statement cuts to the insecure part of my heart, stinging. I look up to see the admiration in his eyes.  It covers the hurt, soon forgotten. The truth is, no one is more surprised than I at the changes wrought in our lives, in my life. The young girl he married - brash and loud - turned up her nose at the word frugal. She was far too busy wanting to be somebody to think about cutting corners and looking well after her household.

People change.

Life changes.

The calendar hurdles toward the one year anniversary of my man's last day of work. I am still completely amazed at how God has proven Himself time and time again. Life is not perfect because we are not. Yet this path we never would have chosen is. We are living Romans 8:28 every day.  For it is good to have enough.


Too much breeds greed and idolatry.

Too little breeds resentment and envy.

In His sovereign wisdom, God has given us enough.

...enough to cover the bills.

...enough to have some fun.

...enough to support His work.

...enough not to worry about where our next meal will come from.

...enough to know just how much we need to rely on Him for our sustenance, because He is more than enough.

Two things I ask of you;
deny them not to me before I die:
Remove far from me falsehood and lying;
give me neither poverty nor riches;
feed me with the food that is needful for me,
lest I be full and deny you
and say, "Who is the LORD?"
or lest I be poor and steal
and profane the name of my God.
~Proverbs 30: 7-9 (ESV)
(emphasis mine)

Living on the Altar - Revisited

It is still dark and my mind's a little fuzzy. It rolls over these two words, time and time again. Contemplating...

living sacrifice

What does it mean to be a living sacrifice? I delve deeper, scratch some notes in my commitment booklet.

My thoughts immediately rush to that scene in Genesis...Abraham taking the son long awaited - the son of promise - up that hill, bearing the weight of God's command. In faith he assured the child of God's provision and goodness. How do you praise and proclaim His goodness when He is requiring your very flesh and bones?

I remember a verse I've been meditating on for several days in my Bible reading plan.

John answered, “A person cannot receive even one thing unless it is given him from heaven."

~John 3:27 (ESV)

The man who ate locusts and honey recognized our depravity, our complete and utter lack of anything of substance. Abraham knew it, too. He knew the pain of the enormously hard task, but also the grace and peace in the moments of quiet obedience. They are God's gifts to us.

My own inadequacy presses down hard on me.  The life I've been asked to sacrifice has died hard and cruel, the moments of quiet obedience too few and far between. I have plodded up the hill begging God for any other way to teach this lesson, waiting for Him to provide another sacrifice. But here I am, bound by His protection, His love, and His sovereignty.

Did Isaac chafe against the ropes his father wrapped around him to bind him to the altar? Did he fight until the ropes burned into his wrists and ankles?

I see the marks of my own fighting against this life on the altar, the wounds of one who lacks faith. They are still tender. I pray that His grace will pour over them as a soothing salve, bringing peace and healing.  Life on the altar is not comfortable, but it is the truest place of worship I know.

I appeal to you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.

~Romans 12:1 (ESV)

*from the archives

Living on the Altar

It is still dark and my mind's a little fuzzy. It rolls over these two words, time and time again. Contemplating...

living sacrifice

What does it mean to be a living sacrifice? I delve deeper, scratch some notes in my commitment booklet.

My thoughts immediately rush to that scene in Genesis...Abraham taking the son long awaited - the son of promise - up that hill, bearing the weight of God's command. In faith he assured the child of God's provision and goodness. How do you praise and proclaim His goodness when He is requiring your very flesh and bones?

I remember a verse I've been meditating on for several days in my Bible reading plan.

John answered, “A person cannot receive even one thing unless it is given him from heaven."

~John 3:27 (ESV)

The man who ate locusts and honey recognized our depravity, our complete and utter lack of anything of substance. Abraham knew it, too. He knew the pain of the enormously hard task, but also the grace and peace in the moments of quiet obedience. They are God's gifts to us.

My own inadequacy presses down hard on me.  The life I've been asked to sacrifice has died hard and cruel, the moments of quiet obedience too few and far between. I have plodded up the hill begging God for any other way to teach this lesson, waiting for Him to provide another sacrifice. But here I am, bound by His protection, His love, and His sovereignty.

Did Isaac chafe against the ropes his father wrapped around him to bind him to the altar? Did he fight until the ropes burned into his wrists and ankles?

I see the marks of my own fighting against this life on the altar, the wounds of one who lacks faith. They are still tender. I pray that His grace will pour over them as a soothing salve, bringing peace and healing.  Life on the altar is not comfortable, but it is the truest place of worship I know.

I appeal to you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.

~Romans 12:1 (ESV)

Beginning Again

His backpack sat lonely in a corner of our bedroom for the past month. He needed a break from it, from the books inside that that weighed heavily on his back and on his brain. For one wonderful month he didn't worry with papers, required reading, or exams. There was no girl cast aside while her dad scratched out calculus problems and her mama's fingers raced over the keyboard, taking handwritten words to the screen. There was no mad scramble to clear books from the table at dinner time. There were no doubts and fears.

There was just us.

The girl returned to school a week ago, coming home each afternoon with algebra problems and Tom Sawyer. Reality slowly crept back into our lives. Even though we've been on this path for months now, it is still unfamiliar. Terrifying at times. Exhilarating at others.

There is so much newness on this path. Today is a new semester. New books, new professors, new schedules, new apprehensions. I bristle against the thought of the coming adjustments, and pray the start of this semester is not as bumpy as the last.

In his pre-college days, my husband enjoyed lifting weights at the gym. You build muscle by tearing it, he would tell me. Like unused muscles, we have grown cold in our comfort. In order to stretch, we must be torn. In order to be built up, we must first be broken down.

I know somehow in all of this stretching and tearing, we are being built up. I know it.

I'm praying I will learn to believe it.

Behold, I am doing a new thing;

now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?

I will make a way in the wilderness

and rivers in the desert.

~Isaiah 43:19 (ESV)

Christmas in the Middle

Ann wrote of being pregnant with Christmas, of being stretched to the limit by God.  I nod as I read.  Today, I understand.

Today feels like I am stretched further than I've been since we started on this journey. I imagine Mary great with child and riding on a donkey, its every move jarring her teeth and sending shockwaves of pain up her back. The end is near.  Soon her son will arrive. The pain of being mother to the Savior, unknown to her. She can only think of bringing forth the child, giving her body relief.  Joseph feels it, too. They are weary.

I am weary.

Just a few hours away from the end of my man's first semester back in college. I am so full with the expectation of it that I could burst. We don't know what next semester will bring, but today I am ready to put these hard months behind us.  To take a break.  To be a normal family again, if only for a few weeks.

Sometimes the path God puts us on isn't easy. I've learned that over and over again these past 13 months. Mary and Joseph had a difficult and long journey to Bethlehem. It didn't seem logical. Could Joseph have claimed extenuating circumstances, pleaded to stay at home until the baby was born? Yet they went in obedience, on a journey that took who knows how long. Bethlehem must have been a welcome sight.


I tell myself that we, too, are giving birth. Not to a child, but to a new life. Like Mary, I am eager to leave the road and settle in. This last day, these last exams, will soon be behind us. I look at how far we've come since last Christmas. I dream of next Christmas, when, Lord willing, my man will be graduating. Yet we are here, at this Christmas in the middle. It's not comfortable, but even though I am worn with exhaustion, I wouldn't chose to be anywhere but here.

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 II

(If you haven't read Part I, do so here)

A bigger home needs more stuff.

A sinful heart will rationalize anything to get what it wants.

More stuff isn't free. Despite the beauty of R's craftsmanship, a carpenter's salary  wasn't going to finance all the stuff we had to have. The answer was clear, at least to me. I wasn't subtle in my attempts to persuade my husband that gaining a job at the paper mill would give us the life we deserved. He submitted himself to the long process of application and testing. We were so happy when he was finally called for an interview. The day he was hired was cause for celebration. We were giddy with anticipation of a better life.

R was the first to feel the chains. He began to resent a job that didn't allow him to use his God-given talents and required him to work ridiculous hours. He grew restless. His conversations were peppered with words of another career path. He was eager to shake the dust of the current one from his shoes. He talked of unpacking those school books.

And I? I was comfortable. I didn't hand him the key to his chains. I simply cleansed the wounds caused by his resistance, washing them with my words instead of the Word. Occasional bandages kept us from having to examine the depth of the cuts.

The weeds that had grown in my heart appeared to be beautiful blossoms, but they were choking the life out of my husband's dreams.

To be continued...

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...