It hurts, this chest-constricting, vision-darkening, hope-deferring season.  It’s not that I intentionally dwell on it…it just kind of blindsides me when I’m trying to do life-as-usual.  It’s getting the wind knocked out of me because the laundry detergent is low and I realize I have to spend $10 to get more, and then I realize that $10 doesn’t actually matter when our need will be thousands, and that just to get through one month.  It’s the tears that fill my eyes when I think about piano lessons, or chickens, or choir performances, or baseball, or anything else that might be wrenched from my kids if we have to leave to make ends meet.

Financial belt tightening won’t do us any good.  We’re not just facing a little, one-time, budgetary shortfall.  We’re facing nothing.

I don’t say that to try to convince anyone of how bad we have it, I say it because I’m trying to wrap my mind around it.  I’m trying to figure out how to have faith for all of that nothing to turn into something that can sustain us here.  I know it doesn’t matter that for 7 weeks there’s been almost nothing in the way of hope-giving possibility, that it just takes one open door, except passing closed door after closed door makes it hard to believe there will ever be anything different.

The other day, Tim was holding onto Elijah and spinning him around (at his request).

Elijah said Daddy, stop!  I can’t hold on much longer!

Tim’s simple, obvious reply?  That’s okay.  I’m holding on to you.

I feel like we’re being spun around (not at our request).  I can’t count the number of times I’ve prayed for God to make it stop, told Him we’re losing our grip and can’t hold on any longer.  I want His answer to be to stop the spinning, to let us adjust, wrap our arms tighter, feel that He’s firmly within our grasp, and know that we have made ourselves secure enough to handle the trials that come.  I want to be able to trust our strength, our abilities, our wisdom, our resolve.

But maybe these spinning, upside-down, storm-tossed days are to make us fail.  To make it obvious that our strength isn’t enough, that our determination isn’t enough, that our ability to mitigate circumstances isn’t enough to make life work.  Maybe God is trying to shake off all illusion we have that we are the ones keeping ourselves safe and secure, so that we will acknowledge that He is holding us, and guarding us…and is in complete control of every dizzying turn and crashing wave that causes us to feel helpless.

If I let myself think otherwise, then I would be utterly hopeless right now.

The car won’t start.  It just goes ‘click’.

I stared back in a bit of disbelief, then left the room.  Even if it turned out to be a minor issue, this was more than I could handle.  I stood in the kitchen and made a decision.  I walked back to where Tim was sitting.

I’m going to go out and try…just ’cause God’s gotta make it start.

It was more denial than faith.  I slipped on my shoes, grabbed my keys and went out the door.  As I sat, key in the ignition, I pleaded with God.  I told Him this was too much, that we couldn’t take another thing going wrong.  I turned the key and the car started.  I cried.

Yesterday,  Caedmon looked at me, almost teary-eyed, and relayed how he had been playing with a certain toy (that had the goal of moving from one ‘level’ to the next) and was stuck on a particular level.  He said he asked God to help him get to the next level, and right away, he had success. Tim and I talked to him later last night about holding onto those “little” moments of answered prayer, about how they help to build faith, and remind us of God’s love and care and provision, about how sometimes, prayers will seem to go unanswered and remembering these moments can be important to trusting that God is working for our good.

I’m thankful for this answered prayer today.  I’m thankful for something to remind me that here, in the midst of uncertainties, He hears.

For posterity, mostly…

January

Tim installed our new dishwasher.  Holly came to visit.  Upward started.

February

Caedmon turned 10!  We went to an indoor waterpark (and Johnny Rockets…simple things sometimes make the biggest impressions with these kids).  A trip to Toys R’ Us, where each kid got $20 to spend on whatever they wanted.  Basketball games.

March

We got our Excursion, and in the process had a whirlwind trip to Washington, D.C. which lasted less than a day, but allowed us to quickly run through the Air and Space Museum and the American History Museum, plus get falafel and hot dogs from a food truck (a big deal for my foodie-in-the-making kids).  More basketball!  My biggest girl turned 8, I turned 35 (one of these occasions was more celebrated than the other…).  We got chickens :).

April

Hmm.  I don’t remember April very well.  There was Easter…which I’m sure was exciting and memorable for the kids (obviously, not as much for me??).  Oh!  We turned our unfinished “utility room” in the back of the house into a mostly functional guest room.

May

Beautiful, smiley, precious Isabelle was born.  Lots of baseball.  I like watching my kids’ baseball games.  The fourteen year mark of being married to the best guy.  Celebrating his 36th birthday.

June

Bethany got baptized…I don’t have words for how wonderful and special this is. More baseball.  The start of summer break.  Elijah learned to ride his bike!  Tons of strawberries from the garden…or about 20 quarts, I think?  Sugar snap peas and asparagus – yum!  Plus the start of our summer CSA share.

July

Swimming lessons – and the three oldest kids learning to swim despite temperatures that, more often than not, were below 70 degrees…they did such a great job!  My parents and a few of my siblings came for a visit.  Then Holly came and introduced us to [her now fiance] Chad.  I started going for walks…short, but really a blessing for me that I could get out of the house for a little bit most mornings.  Our first eggs from our chickens, I think?

August

Nathanael turned 7, and we went to the Watertown zoo to celebrate.  Cucumbers, cherry tomatoes, squash, kale, broccoli.  Ummmm, was there more to this month??

September

Ava turned 2, and we went to the local playground to celebrate :).  Bethany started gymnastics lessons (during which Tim took ALL the rest of the kids to do miscellaneous shopping each week, so that I could just watch Bethany and read books).  Speaking of books, I read two that I really liked…The Family – God’s Weapon for Victory, and The Pursuit of God…probably should have read them before now, but better late than never, right?

October

More gymnastics.  More walks, and some running, too.  The start of Friday school…and Elijah got to go this year – so exciting for him!  We hiked Azure Mountain together (which, though a great experience, made me feel more embarrassed by how out of shape I am than anything else ever has).  The Hallelujah Party – it’s just a given that the kids will have a blast.

November

A trip to Wisconsin for Tim’s grandma’s 90th birthday party, and a chance to see his family (and mine, on the way back through MI).

December

Cookie baking, house decorating, gift buying.  Caedmon and Bethany singing in the Christmas cantata, which I really enjoyed.  Playing my clarinet in the holiday orchestra…maybe someday I will make time the other 11 months of the year to practice.  The kids’ CFA Christmas concert.  Nathanael reading at the Christmas Eve service.  A quiet, peaceful Christmas day at home.  Elijah’s fifth birthday, and his request for Happy Meals as his birthday meal.  A fun New Year’s Eve with snacks for dinner and a family tournament of Fitivities…a new favorite “board” game that, with a little tweaking to make it slightly more competitive, was so much fun, and pretty good exercise.  Staying up past midnight with Tim, just us, talking and completely missing the turn of the hour, day, month, year.

Maybe it’s the snow outside this morning, white and clean and covering, maybe it’s an innate feeling that a new year means a clean slate, maybe it’s the reminder that came in prayer this morning…His mercies are new every morning, maybe it’s Isaiah 43…“Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by your name; You are Mine.  When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; And through the rivers, they shall not overflow you. When you walk through the fire, you shall not be burned, nor shall the flame scorch you.  For I am the Lord your God, The Holy One of Israel, your Savior…AND…Thus says the Lord, who makes a way in the sea and a path through the mighty waters,Who brings forth the chariot and horse, the army and the power (They shall lie down together, they shall not rise; They are extinguished, they are quenched like a wick):  “Do not remember the former things, nor consider the things of old.  Behold, I will do a new thing, now it shall spring forth; shall you not know it?  I will even make a road in the wilderness and rivers in the desert., or maybe it’s simply God’s mercy poured out on these blinded eyes and calloused heart today, but there’s hope and peace in my soul.  Right now, here, in this moment, I see Him.  I trust Him.  I believe He is good, and I believe He is good to me.

Lord, I know my fickle heart.  I know how quickly my gaze is brought low.  I know how easily I lose my grip on all that is right and true and good.  Thank you for drawing me back.  Thank you for being faithful when I am not.  Thank you for holding this life.  Thank you for all that You are that is ever holy, powerful, wise, gracious and good.  Lord, keep me…please.  Keep this life set apart for You.  Keep my eyes looking always for Your face.  Hold me up when I can’t stand, or won’t stand, or don’t see how to stand.  Be glorified God.  Please, somehow, be glorified in me.

To someone who has read anything I’ve written this year, I’m sure it’s obvious that 2014 hasn’t been my favorite.  The past several days, I’ve been trying to figure out what God has taught me in the midst of these months that have brought me to this turn in the calendar with little more than a weary determination to hold on.

So many aspects of God’s character that just a couple years ago were so real, so tangible, so certain to me now seem like distant, ethereal ideas that have no evidence in my life.  And it is gut-wrenching for me to say so.  I don’t have any idea how I have come so far.  I feel like I have fallen away, except I honestly can’t see where I went wrong.

Even in my worst moments, when I felt completely abandoned, I was trying to find a way to see God.  Even as I, at times, concluded that faith was pointless, I still clung to God’s Word as truth in the hope that I was just wrong.  I certainly have not been a shining example of peace in a storm, or of faith without sight, but I have kept trying.  Over and over and over.  Hoping that there would be a rescue, a revelation, a reward…something…that would finally help me understand why.

But there hasn’t been.

I mean, there have been moments.  Brief, fleeting glimpses of a God I had once felt was so near, so approachable.  I’ve tried to magnify those moments.  I’ve written about almost all of them and, honestly, written very little about the constant barrage of disappointment and discouragement and frustration that this year has brought.

Now I arrive at this last day of December completely spent.  Empty.  Done.  Humbled, and in some ways, humiliated.  It’s shameful to me to be here; embarrassing that I don’t know how to get back.  So what in the world am I supposed to be learning in all of this?

To believe when I can’t see. 

To make sure it’s God I’m seeking and not anything else.  

The meaning of sacrifice…in my praise, in my home, in my body, in my heart…and how terrible I am at it. 

In short, to choose God over every other desire or inclination of my heart and life.

I don’t know that I’ve been a very good student, though.

There’s a tug-of-war going on in my mind.  A constant wondering if doors closed and lines drawn and brick walls, and everything hard and uncertain and barren mean God’s telling us to move on, or if they mean God’s testing our mettle, wanting us to stay and fight.  We had wanted for years to move back here, because for reasons that may have partly been sound, but also partly idealistic, here is where we thought we could best serve God and best raise our children to serve Him, too.

Eventually, God worked it out so that we could come.  I say God worked it out, because the timing and circumstances of this door opening was more than we could have orchestrated.  Since coming, though?  It has been nothing short of completely disheartening on almost every level.  It has been a battle from day one, in which every dream, every hope, every idea we had of how life might look has been obliterated.  Not changed, not replaced, but just destroyed with nothing left in the void but tatters of the life we thought we could have, thought we would have.  It has been heartbreaking.

Despite all the deep disappointment, though, we have been learning and growing.  These difficult days have, in some ways, been a refining process.  There have been areas of winnowing and areas of strengthening…and lots of areas of just learning how weak and incapable we really are.  We have questioned our motives, questioned our methods, questioned our personalities, and questioned our faith over and over and over again.   We haven’t often found answers.

Now, there’s this crossroads…maybe.  In truth, there is nothing to make us stay, except perhaps for the logistical nightmare of moving and the fear of the unknown.  No ties, no connections, no responsibilities, no ministry, no anything that would suffer if we were gone.  And there’s nobody telling us they want us to stay.  Not a single person.  So, what are we supposed to think?  That coming here was just a monumental mistake, and now God is trying to make that crystal clear?  Or that, somehow, in spite of all appearances, there’s a reason to stay, to persist, to find a way?

At this point, I feel like we lose either way.

I’m sitting here, wondering what to write about Elijah, my littlest boy, on this fifth birthday of his.  And I find that words are failing me a bit.  Not that I don’t have things to say, I just don’t know how to put it all into words.  Elijah is unique in some of the best kinds of ways.  His natural bent is to wear his heart on his sleeve – he pours out love to those around him and he longs for others to pour out love to him. The vulnerability of his heart exposed means that hurts come easily, too, though, and so he’s started reserving his affection at times and putting up defenses rather than letting his heart be seen.

In all honesty, I worry sometimes that he will become jaded or cynical for lack of understanding that not everyone functions the way he does.  Many of our “disciplinary” conversations lately have been explanations about loving people regardless of whether they seem to love you back, in the hopes that he won’t let his predisposition to encourage and help and value others give way to only treating others the way he sees them treating him.  All that said, he does still give praise liberally, he does practically burst with joy and affection when he is treated with even a small measure of kindness in almost any scenario, he does want to always be a part of what anyone else is doing, just because he loves people.

As a five year old, there are obviously many other areas where there is room to grow, but there are strengths that are emerging and becoming more noticeable, too.  He is quick to forgive.  He is strong and capable at many tasks.  He is persistent and very determined when he wants to figure something out.  He notices details and asks insightful questions.  He remembers every name he hears and greets others exuberantly.  If Tim or I are going anywhere…shopping, errands, whatever…he always makes sure to hug us before we go, and is excited to see us the moment we return.

I have felt more loved by Elijah than by any of my other children, and have been more convicted and challenged by his affection, praise and encouragement than by any other person, ever.  I am so thankful for this boy of ours, who bears the image of his Maker in such clear and purposeful ways.  My prayer is that he will learn to let his heart stay vulnerable and to trust in the protection and worth that can be found only by abiding in Christ, and that God would pour His love through Elijah into this world desperate to see what love without condition really is.  And I hope that this day, as we celebrate his five years, he will know that he is so precious, and so loved, and such a special, irreplaceable part of our lives.

C’mon, God, SHOW UP!!

Sometimes, I get angry at God.  Sometimes, I think He’s nowhere to be found.  Sometimes, I yell at Him at 4:30 in the morning, while the rest of the house sleeps…except the screaming baby who doesn’t want a diaper change.  Generally, very early mornings and an almost-sleepless night don’t lend themselves to self-restraint and a hopeful attitude on my part.  And life has been pretty effectively tearing down my defenses lately, too.  I’ve been trying to not let it.  I’ve been trying to not focus on circumstances.  I’ve been trying to believe that we matter to God, here in the midst of days that seem filled with reasons to doubt.  But that morning a few days ago, I was at my end.  I threw a fit and later beat myself up about it.  Why would God want to show up for someone as faithless and irreverent as I had been?  I thought, maybe He wouldn’t.

Then I read this verse from Psalm 31…

For I said in my haste,
“I am cut off from before Your eyes”;
Nevertheless You heard the voice of my supplications
When I cried out to You.

Nevertheless, God heard.  When I am faithless, He is faithful.  When I accuse and blame and forget Who I am speaking to, and of, He doesn’t hold it against me.

Someday, I’ll learn.

there are many things that could be said

claims that might seem plainly true

hopes lie in dust, and hurt rubs raw

this life, that’s being lived for You

heartache lies and steals peace

eyes deceive by fettered sight

though here there seems to be no sun

as though day, You light the blackest night.

so, I’ll proclaim that You are good

and stand upon this Rock I’ve found

when crashing waves would overthrow

still this life won’t tumble down

I’ll lift Your Name above these trials

Your banner, wave through every war

Your faithfulness will be my shield

Your Word, my trust forevermore