The Only Thing Better Than Leaving, Is Coming Back!

My family and I just recently returned from our first vacation since moving to New York City!

We were able to spend the week in beautiful Rhode Island -and let me tell you friends, it was pure bliss!

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And here is why…

For one, we had a car!!!!!

And while I’m sure that doesn’t sound like a big deal to most of you reading, maybe it’s time you get a fresh perspective on why that hunk of metal you drive aimlessly from errand to errand, is a god-send that should have you on your knees daily thanking the Lord God Almighty for all the blessings he has bestowed upon you!

Because although I am honored ( ha! ) to ride public transportation every day (via the subway, train, and bus) it’s not that much different than taking your child on an airplane – only minus security!

Those same prayers you say to yourself as you enter the aircraft with your little one, are the exact same ones we manhattan mommy’s pray every. single. day. as we cram into an overpacked subway with some of America’s most over-worked and moody individuals!

(And I can assure you that even the most intimidating woman from Texas sitting next to you on the plane, – who rolls her eyes when your child makes even the most miniscule of sounds -has got NOTHING on nearly anyone you are going to sit by in NYC!)

That being said, the beauty of having a car while on vacation is that, not only can you let your child scream their head off without getting even the slightest look from someone else  – except for the one you and your husband will give each other when out of the corner of your eyes, and without words, you will communicate, “who’s idea was it to pro-create?”

But having a car, also means your child will be perfectly confined to their car seat, all while being entertained as they look out the window until they peacefully doze off into oblivion!

On the contrary, in the city- if it keeps your child safe, keeps them entertained , and puts them to sleep, than its probably a nanny!

When on vacation, I thought I was in Heaven when I remembered that cars also hold your luggage for you, your coffee, even your sunglasses! And thanks to the AC and heat, I never had to worry about not being the perfect temperature at any given time!

In Manhattan the only equivalent would require a salary and would be called your personal Assistant!

Bet that hunk of metal is lookin’ a little better to yah now, isn’t it?

Another thing I loved about our stay in Rhode Island, was that although we  were warned by locals how busy and hectic it would be, we found it be pleasant and slow paced compared to the intensity of NYC!

Only when Buddy from Cake Boss was in the local park giving away 10,0000 free cakes, did it look even remotely familiar to our life in the city!

During our stay,  I also came to appreciate even the smallest of things:

  • like not having to sleep with my head smashed in between two pillows- thanks to the trucks fighting it out in a honking war outside my window at 3 in the morning!
  • And not having to turn every light on when I get up in the middle of the night- for fear that a mouse is going to jump out in front of me!

(Yes, you heard right! We have mice in our apartment!

Mice. as in plural!

And for the record, I do think God is punishing me!)

  • I also enjoyed dining at half- empty restaurants with no wait
  • and leisurely walking down streets where you don’t have to dodge people with your stroller
  • I loved how people greeted each other kindly as they walked passed one another
  • and how EVERYTHING was So. Dang. Cheap!
  • I loved hearing the birds chirping, the waves crashing, and – secretly enjoyed even more – the sound of my husband calling out to my daughter in an attempt to get her to cooperate!Told yah! Sucker…

In the end though, Rhode Island proved to be nothing less than a peaceful getaway in which our family could reconnect.

I truly enjoyed our vacation! But if I’m honest, maybe too much!

Comparing my ‘real life’ to that of our vacation had me at one point, in tears in an empty parking garage, and filled with frustration! ( all of which helped me write last weeks post! )

Wishing my life in the city was easier…

slower….

more ‘normal’

Wishing to enjoy even the simplest of pleasures, like being able to roll down the windows of the car on a nice day,

Missing the convenience of putting items in the trunk of the car, and not have to lug them around myself- along with my feisty toddler!

Reminiscing back on the times where I was able to walk the aisles of Target, thumbing through the clearance rack, scoping out my next shade of nail polish. Oh, how I miss Target…

But most of all,  I missed the amount of time that I used to spend with my husband!

There were so many things about Rhode Island that made me miss some of the most mundane things that my old – more simplistic – life back in the Northwest offered!

I realized my attitude needed a check, when one night, we met a group of the darn cutest old ladies -straight out of the YaYa Sisterhood – who were out on the town and had offered to take our family’s picture in front of the river.

When they asked us where we were from, they were completely taken aback when we said New York City!

“But you guys don’t live IN the city, right?” the leader of the clan said eeying my daughter in her stroller – and probably questioning the sanity of anyone who would choose to raise a family in such madness!

“Yep!” My husband said delighted that they asked, We live on the Upper East Side of Manhattan!”

I probably rolled my eyes.

“Oh! How terribly exciting!!!!” one of the women squealed

Then turning to me, tightly gripping my arm, another one asked, Do you absolutely LOVE your life there?”

“It’s different…” I would say, as if to dismiss her intrigue.

I doubt that’s the response she was looking to get out of me, but that truly is so often how I feel!

My tune desperately needed to change! And luckily it began to,over the course of the next few days….

Like when we decided to walk the half mile, it would take to get to a localdiner for breakfast one morning!

Why not walk right? I mean we do it ALL the time!

But something was different this time… it felt like the blocks never ended! And that we’d been walking for what seemed like forever and a half!

Later, we realized we were unable to recall nearly anything that we passed along the way!

We laughed to ourselves, as we passed the syrup and attempted to name off as many places that – were not only within just half a mile of us – but were both, connected  and within a block of our apartment back home!

  • A Jewish Deli
  • Hungarian Bakery
  • Piano Bar
  • Bridal shoppe
  • Animal Hospital
  • An Italian Restaraunt
  • A paint store
  • A Mexican Bbq Restaurant
  • Laundrymat
  • Parking garage
  • A Tailor
  • Chipotle
  • McDonald’s
  • And a French restaurant

Only then did we realize how awesome it was to be surrounded by so much in NYC! Not to mention, so much variety!

I thought to myself how much more fun it is to walk in Manhattan than anywhere else!

And seriously… I have a frickin’ McDonald’s attached to my apartment! Is it even possible for life to get more uh-mazing than that?

I think not.

Rhode Island: 9       NYC: 1

Then the quietness and slow pace of Rhode Island  – which was at first so refreshing and peaceful – then began to ‘irk’ us!

We started complaining that there was less energy on a Friday night than when it’s 5 in the morning in the city! Which surprisingly, wasn’t as big of an exaggeration as it sounds!

There were also no amusing people to watch; only normal civilians and homeless people! – Which in NYC, its the people in between that are most fascinating!

Rhode Island 9      NYC:3

And then the night before we were to head back to the city, while laying in bed and scrolling through my friend’s pictures on Facebook.

I noticed my friends back in suburbia posting pictures of things like:

  • the ginormous loot of produce they brought back from the farmer’s market that day
  • the homemade butter they made
  • Their kale, blackberry, and coconut oil smoothie

My friends in the city however posted these pictures:

Awesome...

Awesome…

A ghostbuster waiting for the subway!

A ghostbuster waiting for the subway!

The parking job she watched with her own eyes!

The ‘Austin powers style’ parking job they watched with their own eyes!

Doggie fro-yo in the park

Doggie fro-yo in the park

I couldn’t help but to laugh out loud at the complete difference!

And to the farmers market phenom- please take no offense! I love the farmers market just as much as the next person!

And I am happy for you really! I mean seriously… you got 62 tomatoes, 4 watermelons, 43 peaches, and a onion for less than I could get a toothbrush in the city!

But what I realized that night, was that maybe I fit in better in the city than I sometimes give myself credit for!

That maybe I relate better to randomness, than to ‘pinterestish-ness’!

NYC: 4

And the next afternoon after we had said our farewells to Rhode Island and headed back home, It was when we neared Manhattan and were able to see the city skyline peaking out of the fog up ahead, that I was surprised to find myself getting butterflies!

Partly I am sure, because deep down I still question whether I can make it in this unruly city, but also because something undeniably inside me truly missed it!

I thought back to the fun loving old ladies and about their remark about living In the city,  and smiled to myself  knowing how truly honored I should feel –  not only to live near, or on the outskirts – but IN arguably one of the greatest cities in our country!

And upon returning to my apartment -and after double checking to make sure the mice hadn’t made babies in my couch while I was away- I indeed did feel like this was my home!

That night in honor of our homecoming, my husband and I planned a night on the town -in true NYC fashion- to go see Jay Z and Justin Timberlake in concert at Yankee Stadium.

And I attempted once again, to embrace this crazy city that God has led me to!

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And the moment the beat to Jay Z’s  “Empire State of Mind” filled the air, I sang along with the other 20,000 voices

Because I get it now..

The only thing better than leaving the city, is coming back to it!

Concrete jungle where dreams are made of

There’s nothing you can’t do

Now that you’re in New York!

these streets will make you feel brand new

Big lights will inspire you!

-Jay Z, Empire State of Mind

Krista Signature

What Will You Do With Him?

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“It’s a great read,” I said as he approached me with two quarters in hand.

“Yeah?”  He responded quietly, thumbing through pages and rubbing the cover softly with his worn hands.  “I find myself asking that question a lot lately.”  He pointed at the front of the book.  The words stared back at me boldly.

The Purpose Driven Life: What on earth am I here for? 

“I think you’ll really enjoy it!  It’ll make you think and question and so many things,” I replied, wanting to suck the words back as soon as I said them.  Here was a man searching for the meaning of his life and all I could say was a cute ‘you’ll really enjoy it’?!  I should have said “take the book!  It’s free!  Here are your two quarters back!  God promises when we seek him we’ll find him so I’ll pray that God will meet you in your search for him.  He’s been waiting for you!”  Okay, that might be kinda corny, but you know what?

It’s true.

The man bought another book and then got in his car.  I prayed as I watched him drive away and wondered what would become of his search.  For a moment I wondered if this garage sale was solely so this man could buy a book and begin his journey to find the truth.

I found out last week that my grandma, who will be 88 in a couple months, has a valve in her heart that is getting stuck.  The doctors want to operate and she is now talking about dying.  Through her broken yet beautiful English, I could detect an uneasiness in her tone.  She’s never talked about dying before.  She always talks about how strong and healthy she is for her age, how she can still drive on freeways and how she weighs the same as when she got married; how she doesn’t overeat and how long she walks every day.  But now she is realizing that she, too, has to acknowledge that it will happen one day.  I wondered as we chatted if she thinks, “what on earth am I here for?

I wanted to interrupt our conversation and ask if she knew Jesus.  Not some random higher power, not Buddha, not did she have faith.  What will she do with Jesus?  I wondered if this broken valve might be what may really save her life.

What will we do with Jesus?

At our lifegroup a couple weeks ago we discussed this question and why his name causes cringing.  Why is it that the words faith, god, spirit(ual), higher power, Lord or father don’t elicit this kind of response?

What will you do with Jesus?

No matter what you believe, you must do something with him.  He claimed to be the son of God, the savior of the world, the way, the truth, and the life.  He said the only way to the father is through himWhat will you do with him?

I love the question my sister-in-law asked my baby sister when she started dating.  “Does he love Jesus?”  She didn’t ask if he had faith, if he believed in a god or if spirituality was important to him.  Essentially the question begged what this young man would do with him.  With Jesus.

If you’ve never dealt with Jesus before, let me warn you.  There is undeserved grace.  Second chances.  Redemption.  Restoration.  Peace, clarity, power, healing and forgiveness.  He provides a way out of discontentment, destruction and despair and gives a way in to hope, satisfaction and fulfillment.  He overwhelms with love where condemnation should make its home and covers a multitude of sins (1 Peter 4:8) because he IS love (1 John 4:16).

But he isn’t content just being one of the important spiritual higher powers that live in the clouds of our minds.  He wants to be Lord of All (Acts 10:36) and the one and only through which we are made right (Romans 5:17).  This may be offensive to many, causing cringing by going against our culture of ‘tolerance’ and ‘diversity’.  But this man who claimed to be God claims to save us (Luke 19:10).  What will we do with him?

What will you do with Jesus?

If you’ve never asked yourself this before, or don’t know what you think, I encourage you to seek.  Ask questions.  Read books (the book of John in the bible is a good place to start!).  Talk to people– people who believe in him and people who don’t.  Pray, even if you’re unsure what to say or who you’re talking to.  When it’s all said and done– do something with him.  The man claims to save the sins of the world– he’s either crazy, a complete liar, or speaking the truth.  What will you do with him?

13 When Jesus came to the region of Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples, “Who do people say the Son of Man is?”

14 They replied, “Some say John the Baptist; others say Elijah; and still others, Jeremiah or one of the prophets.”

15 “But what about you?” he asked. “Who do you say I am?” ~Matthew 16:13-15

Thanks for joining me this morning!  I’m always available  whether by email, facebook or the contact form on the blog, and I know Krista is too.  Thanks for reading.

Rachel Signature

The Lord Hast Made Me, And He Dost Know

image It seems like ages ago, when as an acne faced 18 year old girl, I stood before my graduating class in heels that had me wobbling up to the stage, to open up our Baccalaureate ceremony.

“Well, here we are…” I said nervously, pausing just long enough to question why I’d volunteered to speak infront of so many of my peers in the first place.

I continued, “Most of us have spent countless times sitting next to each other, either as good friends or fellow classmates. While others of us are sitting next to each other for the very first time. But together, there is one thing we have in common- we have all shared many memories over the years.

Maybe you remember Elementary school, where your popularity was determined not by your social status or amazing good looks and charm, but by whether you got to sit in the back of the bus and by which boy you had chasing you around at recess pulling your hair… We know who you are! “I said eyeing the culprits who were sitting among us.

“Luckily in Middle School, the boys came up with a less excrusciatingly painful way of showing their affection. How could we forget the ‘Do you like me? check yes or no’ love letters that were usually thrown at our heads in the form of paper airplanes!

Yet before we knew it, we were walking the crowded halls of high school, where it’s not unlikely that some of the wisest things you learned were things you read scribbled on the bathroom stall.

These were the years where we made the grade, broke a record, found love -or were just lucky enough to find a prom date!”

I spoke with certainty as I closed, “But as the day gets closer to graduation, who knows what memories we have yet to experience in this next stage of our lives? In Jeremiah 29:11 the Lord says, For I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. 

We have been given a future in Christ, and by following the will of God we are not only going to hit the target, but the bulls eye!

(I’m sure when I said that last sentence, I thought it sounded waaaaaay cooler than it actually did!)

So as your fellow classmate and friend, I would like to encourage you to remember this… God is there for you and always will be no matter what the future holds!
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I look back on that speech often, and smile to myself as I picture an awkward girl standing before her peers, firmly believing what She thought God’s plan’s was for her – when in reality, she had no idea!

I was going to go to bible college in Florida for a year, and then transfer to a university in Washington State to get a master’s degree in teaching.

I wasn’t going to get married until I was in my late twenties…

and as a lifelong pastors kid, my only major requirement was that he NOT be a pastor!

(haha… it’s humorous, really!)

Once the marriage license was signed at age 20, and I found myself hitched to a man who was equally as passionate about me as he was being a pastor someday, the plans I had for my life evolved once again…

I wanted 3 kids all by the time I was 30 and no more than two years a part.

I wanted a Red Porsche SUV,

and a kitchen table that could fit 8 people comfortably for a dinner party.

Its laughable, because look at me now: Married young, and to a flippin’ pastor!

Master degree-less,

and no doubt, in over my head with only one kid!

And thanks to my new life in Crazy town USA -aka Manhattan- I am without a car, and with little room for even the smallest of gatherings in the 650 sq feet apartment my family calls home!

It’s obvious really…

I need to stop telling God what to do!

Just like in the Story of the Two Monks:

“I need oil,” said an ancient monk, so he planted an olive sapling.

“Lord,” he prayed, “it needs rain that its tender roots may drink and swell. Send gentle showers.” And the Lord sent gentle showers.

“Lord,” prayed the monk, “my tree needs sun. Send sun, I pray thee.” And the sun shone, gilding the dripping clouds.

“Now frost, my Lord, to brace its tissues,” cried the monk. And behold, the little tree stood sparkling with frost, but at evening it died.

Then the monk sought the cell of a brother monk, and told his strange experience.

“I, too, planted a little tree,” he said, “and see! It thrives well!  But I entrust my tree to its God. He who made it knows better what it needs than a man like me.

I laid no condition. I fixed not ways or means. ‘Lord, send what it needs,’ I prayed, ‘storm or sunshine, wind, rain, or frost. Thou hast made it and Thou dost know.’ “

~Calm My Anxious Heart by Linda Dillow~

So often our prayers consist of us telling God what we need – pleading with him even- like we know better than He does!

I have experienced a lot of this during my last 5 months in New York City- where in a moment of overwhelming emotion, I cry out in a panic,

“No!! don’t let THAT happen God!”

“Haven’t I sacrificed enough?”

“Why can’t My life be more like so-and-so’s?”

“This is not how my life was supposed to turn out!”

And the truth is, as an 18 year old girl, this wasn’t how I envisioned my life turning out!

Not even in the slightest.

But in Proverbs 3:5-6 it says,

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart; do not depend on your own understanding.
Seek His will in all you do, and He will show you which path to take.”

I need to be reminded that all seasons of life -the storms, sunshine, wind, rain, and frost- all serve a unique purpose.

And that if I seek the Lord above all else, and still find the path leading me in an entirely different direction than what I had originally planned, its not only ok -but it’s divine!

Even more, maybe it’s what I needed to thrive!

We need to be less interested in getting our way, and more interested in fulfilling the Lord’s will for our life!

And while I don’t know exactly where my place is, in this brutally large city that He has led me to…

Or why he chose a person like me, who admittedly was perfectly content living a comfortable life in suburbia.

I do know I need to entrust each and every day of my life to it’s maker! And to pray less for merely just what I want, and more for what only He could possibly know that I need!

The Lord hast made me, and He dost know!

Father if you are willing, take this cup from me.

Yet not my will, but yours be done.
-Jesus

Krista Signature

 

To Serve or Be Served…

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My mama just left a couple of days ago after visiting for two and a half weeks.  I miss her terribly already.  Seriously, I really do.  I want to move back to California.

I am enjoying New Jersey, I honestly am.  But Krista and I promised to be honest in this space when we started the blog, so I’m being real with y’all.

Starting over is hard.

Gratefully, we are beginning to connect with people here.  We joined a community group with our church and absolutely. love. them.  We have group tonight and I’m bringing dinner.  I love to cook for people.  And these people are slowly becoming our new family here, so I’m hoping they’ll be as forgiving if my pasta dish doesn’t turn out (I have a recipe though!  Follow your recipes, people!  Every time I actually follow a recipe I tell myself I need to do it more often, the food tastes soooooo much better ha!).

Over the last five years, David and I have moved three times.  Each time, finding a community/life group at our church has been critical in meeting new friends, feeling “at home” in our new surroundings, and getting involved at church.  The first life group we joined is where I met Krista!

But first things first.  You can only begin to join a community/life group when you know where you’re going to church.

Let me tell you, for David and me, finding the right church for us has been everything from excruciating to seamless and everything in-between.  I married a man who is very intense, serious yet genuine in his approach to finding a church.  He enjoys theology and knowing the doctrine behind the pulpit.  I am a bit less enthused by this sort of thing.  I read the “what we believe” section on the website and that’s enough theology for me!  But that’s just the beginning of the differences in experience and preference we’ve had growing up in church.  For the second year of our marriage we fought about these things.  About church.  What the bible said.  What it didn’t say.  Why we didn’t know these things about each other when we got married.  A bible may or may not have been thrown during one of our arguments!  We were immature and selfish and maybe a little self righteous.  We were both speaking two different dialects of christianese (insert puke face here) and couldn’t understand each other.

So where do two people with two similar, yet somewhat completely different religious backgrounds converge and find a place where both are comfortable and even happy, dare I say, connecting with the purpose, people and programs at a church?

Seek to serve, not to be served.

It’s as true today as it was four years ago when we were tantruming and feeling misunderstood and drowning in self pity.

We both had to get off our high horses.  We both had to submit.  We both had to stop speaking christianese and just start talking.  We had to learn to serve each other without expecting to be served.

By God’s amazing grace, we walked through the doors of a church in an odd building off the freeway next to an auto parts store.  We were late.  Very late.  And the next thing we knew we were welcomed and offered coffee and invited over and asked to come to such and such and we left feeling oddly cared about from these people we had just met.  If we’d never dared to serve without expecting the other to serve us back we never would have stepped through those doors.  Our lives are changed because of it. 

With each move, we’d had to start over in looking for a church.  Thankfully we’ve learned from the past and no longer throw bibles. 🙂  We’ve slowed down enough to talk and understand rather than stammer with our Christian-babble-jibber-jabber.  And now that we have a little girl added to our family, we know more than ever that being served always comes after serving.

I constantly have to remind myself of this.  Moving is tough.  It’s not easy on a marriage.  Moving creates conflict, and conflict can breed dissention and strife if not carefully managed.  All too often, I find myself seeking to be served.  And every time (and I mean every. single. time) when I serve without expectation, I am left with unspeakable gifts.  An unsolicited kiss from my baby girl; a surprise lunch visit from my man.  Whatever wall conflict is trying to build, service speaks love and love chips away even the most callous of hearts (mine).

28 just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many. ~Matthew 20:28

Safe to be Real

06262014 safetobereal

I promise to be honest here in this space.

I know it’s a public, online community where anyone can read these thoughts.  But we promised when we started the blog to be real.  Not inappropriately airing dirty laundry, not gossipy or show-offy, but authentic.  Vulnerable, real women who want not just to live, but to THRIVE.  And nobody be thrivin’ on fakeness, people.

I know it’s tempting to make myself sound better or more spiritual or less annoying; to embellish or exaggerate feelings or events.  It’s easier to post pictures of my two year old holding her lip gloss exclaiming “I’m beautiful!” rather than the permanent marker she decided to grace her lips (and therefore her teeth) with.  I’d rather show you the perfect dinner I plated “food network style” than the disgusting homemade “sauce” I whipped up, or the flowers my husband brought than the argument we had regarding whipped cream.

I know it’s easy to get carried away with trying to look smart or cool and ‘real’.  Just look at Facebook; everybody’s doing it.

It’s also tempting to just write about all the stuff I want to complain about, and not share the celebration or joy that I experience each day too.  That’s not fair either, and hardly a true picture of my real life.  I’d rather not dance between the two– boasting or complaining.

I will just be me, hopefully.

It’s hard to be real, the real raw, vulnerable real that makes a deep friendship.  I grew up in a community that seemed to prefer to see you at your best– nobody’s parents fought, everyone bought MAC makeup and we were all going to grow up and live the dream, whatever that was at the time.  Then in college I realized that’s not real life.  The people I thought were perfect had affairs or quit their awesome spiritual jobs or got divorced or married or both or went down a path I’d never expect.

And it begged the question of me…

Am I safe to be real with?

Can my friend open her heart and tell me her deep pain, unafraid of judgement or shock or disappointment?  Can that same friend share her exuberant joy and excitement without fear of jealousy, downplay or hidden contempt?

I want to be safe to be real with.

And reality is that sometimes I will judge, sometimes I will be jealous, sometimes I will be shocked but I will not hide behind the facade that everything’s perfect (insert smile and head tilt here).

I want to be safe to be real with.

So now I pose the question to you.

Are you safe to be real with?

Can your child tell you they were tempted to try something you’d curse?  Can your spouse tell you he/she feels alone?  Can a friend give you deep news without a judgmental stare?

Let’s be safe to be real with.  We all crave it, want it, need it.

It doesn’t mean it’s open game for gossip, complaining, rolling of eyes or even revealing all the details of private matters.  It simply means we share each other’s burdens, and rejoice with those who rejoice.  We let someone mourn with us, really mourn with us when mourning is appropriate and share joy when joy abounds.  It isn’t covering up the mourning with fake joy or downplaying the joy with a standard “it’s okay.”

Let’s be safe to be real with.

So what do you say?  Are you in?

Rachel Signature

 

When God Prepares You For The Unimaginable

I can remember, closing my eyes as I listened to my husband’s heart beat the night before I was to drop him off at camp. I would keep myself up late that night in an attempt to savor every last moment with him.

Grabbing his bags out of the back of the car, I can recall how strangely hard it was for us to say goodbye that day. I remember struggling to make eye contact with him for fear that he might see my uncertainty.

The sun was to be my clock that night, and I knew very well that I needed to get through the desert valley before it got dark. I knew I should’ve headed out awhile ago, but it had been difficult to leave my husband’s side. He would stall also, finding silly excuses to tell me one more thing, and to sneak in one last hug.

It was only seconds after we had said our goodbyes, and after I had made him pinky-promise that he would be safe, that I made my way down the gravel road to head out on my 3 hour journey back home.

I will forever remember the last thing I saw as I left the campsite – over 100 counselors collectively gathered together in an open barn under the stars, arms outstretched to the heavens, singing praises to our Lord!

I took a deep breath as almost to reassure myself that God’s presence, was so obviously with them. I had nothing to fear.

Even still, I cried the whole way home. My heart was terribly troubled and I couldn’t understand why.

It was only after I came upon one of the most captivating back drops along my drive, that I’d at last, be able to calm my restless thoughts.

Not more than an hour into my journey and just as I neared a mountain up ahead, the sun began to set picturesquely beside it in a way that illuminated it’s peak in the most stunning shades of blue that I had ever seen!

And as far as I could see, I was the only one driving through the expanse of the valley that night.

The setting was all for me, it seemed.

I smiled to myself, upon hearing the chorus of a song playing softly in the background…

“Savior you can move the mountains,

My God is mighty to save,

He is mighty to save.”

“That’s cute, God…” I thought to myself, and of the mountain-themed coincidence.

And yet, as I hummed the lyrics that I had no doubt sang hundreds of times before, the words began to come alive to me in an entirely different way that night.

Because as I looked up at the greatness of the mountain ahead of me, there was no denying how truly massive it was!

It felt as if the Lord was intentionally illuminating the entire mountain – all the way to it’s utmost peak- as if to allow me to fully grasp how incredibly enormous of a mountain it really was!

So that He then could declare, that this mountain in it’s entirety -and any other mountain for that matter- were never too large for Him to move.

He was mighty and able to save!

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He spoke this so clearly to me that night, that I took this picture to remind me of my moment alone with the Lord in the desert.

But I could never have known when I casually snapped this picture, what the Lord was ultimately preparing me for.

Only He who knew the magnitude of the mountain we’d be up against , when just a day later, we would face unimaginable tragedy in our youth group.

Only He would be able to foresee the very same counselors, that I had last seen lifting their hands and voices in worship, hours later,  falling to their knees at the foot of the cross in complete anguish.

And yet, my God did not cower in fear at the sight of the mountain ahead of us!  (-the way I so badly wanted to-)

The promise He made remained; ” I am mighty to save”

I am eternally grateful that God prepared my heart that night.

Because just a day later, I would get a phone call from my husband in a voice of hysteria I could barely recognize. The words he spoke, would be so awful and unbearable, that I can recall having to repeat them back to him in an attempt to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.

It felt as if my mind was refusing to recognize what he was saying – refusing to believe the heartbreaking end to the days events – as truth.

…But He was mighty to save.

When Caleb’s family asked Ricky to speak at his memorial, close family friends would come to me privately, overwhelmed with a deep concern that it would be too much responsibility for someone in such a fragile, emotional state.

I would hear out their concerns, but ultimately would look back on my encounter with the mountain that night – remembering how impossibly huge it was – and how even then, the Lord never waivered.

I would choose in that moment, to believe that God was going to use this irreparable loss to move some miraculous-sized mountains. And that in the process, I wasn’t going to be the one to hold Him back.

And so I would choose to believe that my husband could. And for the record, Ricky proved he damn well could! 😉

I will never forget how stunned I was to hear a message of boldness and strength from a person who was no doubt, void of either at the time!

But again, just like He promised, the Lord showed up in a room of Caleb’s closest family and friends, and He indeed, was mighty to save!

Even as I observed my husband struggling to write out his deepest and most private thoughts for last weeks post – tears streaming down his face as he read it aloud to me – I would be lying if I said I didn’t question whether it was wise for me to have asked him to write from a place of such immense pain and tragedy.

And yet, 3 days later we stood in awe at the computer screen! Eyes wide in disbelief at the realization that his post was read by over 1,000 people all across the world!

People in:

The United States

Canada

Germany

Mexico

Japan

Finland

Singapore

France

Malaysia

Russia

Turkey

Mongolia

New Zealand

Australia

Togo

Spain

South Africa

Slovenia

Switzerland

1,000 people in 3 days heard of last summer’s unimaginable loss and yet, God’s unmistakeable presence in the midst of it!

Our Lord, is without a doubt, mighty to save!

And my encouragement to you, is that no matter how massive of a mountain you have found yourself up against today –  no matter how long you have stood paralyzed in fear, staring up at it wondering if this is the one, due to it’s enormity, that He can’t move on His own – I want to assure you that the very same God that met me in a desert in Oregon, will again remain faithful and true to you!

In the chaos and confusion, I know You are sovereign still.

I will trust in You, Lord.

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Obey My Voice

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Freedom does not mean the absence of constraints or moral absolutes.  Suppose a sky diver at 10,000 feet announces to the rest of the group, “I’m not using a parachute this time.  I want freedom!”

The fact is, a sky diver is constrained by a greater law– the “law of gravity.”  But when the skydiver chooses the “constraint” of the parachute, she is free to enjoy the exhilaration.

God’s moral law works the same way.  They restrain, but they are absolutely necessary to enjoy the exhilaration of real freedom.

~Colin Campbell

“Maya sweetie, please sit on your bottom,” I called to my baby girl as we were walking with the stroller through the NYC crowds.  I could see her trying to stand up like a big girl and I imagined her toppling over in the street into the hands of busy strangers and tourists.

She looked up at me and smiled, sat down on her bottom, and then stood back up again on to her feet.

“Maya, listen to mama please,” I said again.  She sat down only for a moment, only to rise to her feet again beaming.

“Listen to mama and obey my voice.”  I said it a little more sternly this time, and when she did not obey, I proceeded to strap her into the stroller.  She whined for a bit before realizing it was no use.

I’ve been saying it a lot lately.  “Listen and obey my voice.”

When I say it, I often wonder.  I wonder how many times God does the same thing to me?  How many times does He ask me to ‘sit on my bottom’ and I continually rise to my feet?  How many times must he ‘strap me in’ for my own good?

When we first moved to the pacific northwest, I was jobless.  We were newly married, celebrating our one year wedding anniversary in our new apartment.  We were excited to be on a new adventure and eager to plant roots.  We wanted to buy a house, but without a second income, we couldn’t qualify for a loan.  While David was traveling (he is a field traveler for an automaker, so his job takes him all over) during the week, I’d be online at the MLS listings and on Zillow looking at all the available homes in the area.  Sometimes I’d even go for a drive and just look for the ‘for sale’ signs in neighborhoods I liked.  I’d never owned a house before.  While David was old hat at the buying property gig, I was a complete property virgin in every sense of the HGTV show!  I was excited at the possibility and dreamt of making a house a home.

Then one day I saw it.  In a cute little neighborhood called “Columbia Heights” I found the house.

I went online and quickly realized it was a short sale, but it was nearing the end of that crazy process.  I knew from doing a little research that short sales are usually a nightmare.  While I didn’t know exactly when it would turn over to a foreclosed home– therefore making it a simpler process to go through to buy, I was excited.  I remember being so excited about this house.  We prayed that at the right time, God would lead us to the right home to buy.  And I secretly hoped it would be this house. 🙂

But I still didn’t have a job.  Without a job, no loan… Without a loan, no house.  I prayed all the time that God would lead me to the right job.  That the timing would be His, not mine.  I was dying of boredom sitting at home with no friends, family, church, etc…  And one day, a small company in Lake Oswego, Oregon called me in for an interview.

Let’s just say it was purely divine that I got this job.  This company was (is, I should say) run by a Christian businessman who is of the utmost integrity and runs the business in such a way.  While not perfect, and while not everyone employed shares the same beliefs, the three and a half years I worked there were a gift.  Thank you Allan! 🙂

Anyway, the CRAZY TOWN part of this story is that on the very day I received a letter in hand with a job offer from this respectable company, the house I was in love with became an available foreclosed home.  We called our realtor and put in an offer immediately.

And I knew.  I knew it was from Him.  I knew He was opening the floodgates of heaven and pouring blessing on us.  I could feel it, I could see it.  And you know what?

I threw it back in His face.  I said “thanks, but no thanks.”

Okay well I didn’t really say that.  But looking back, I basically could have said those words.  Because a few days later, we pulled the offer and made another offer on a HUGE beautiful house in a better zip code that was more expensive, more house than we could ever need and you know what?  It was a short sale.  I know.  What were we thinking?!

Let’s just say that we never got the big beautiful short sale home.  After six months of waiting for it, we had to walk away because the bank said there was a huge investigation on the banks involved and paperwork was lost and it could be years before things would resolve.

Listen and obey my voice.

That was definitely a time God had to ‘strap me in’.  When I reflect on that time, I can’t believe myself.  We prayed for the right job, the right home, the right timing.  He gave us exactly what we asked for when the timing was perfect.  And I said no?!  Can you believe I said no?!  I get irritated with myself when I think about it!

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But God’s grace is sufficient; it’s perfect actually.  We began looking for homes closer to my job in Lake Oswego and found an adorable home just three miles from my office.  It was only five miles from the church we would become involved in and love.  It became a place of movie nights, bible studies, baby showers, wine parties… People.  It was my office for the time when I would work from home a few hours a day when Maya was a newborn.  It was where I learned to paint kitchen cabinets and install hardwood flooring!   It was where I found out I was expecting Maya.  It was an incredibly joy and we both loved that house so much.  We miss it.  God’s grace covers.  It covered us completely.  I threw a house in His face and He blessed me anyway.  I shake my head because I just can’t understand this God who loves me so radically.

Listen and obey my voice.

Our house story has been an Ebenezer rock in our marriage.  We look back and want to be more aware of obeying.  Of listening to His voice.  Of being connected to Him through His word and prayer so that we know when he is telling us to sit on our bottom!  Undeservedly, we’ve experienced the grace of being ‘strapped in’ but know He desires for us to listen and then obey.

Just like the skydiver, I want to use God’s parachute to experience ultimate joy and freedom.  I know God can graciously allow the skydiver (me) to land on a perfect pillow of softness, or to suspend the law of gravity for a moment while I come to my senses, or to miraculously cause me to gently land on my feet.  But how much better is obedience?

But Samuel replied: “Does the LORD delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices as much as in obeying the LORD? To obey is better than sacrifice, and to heed is better than the fat of rams. ~I Samuel 15:22 (emphasis added)

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