my cup runneth over... and all over the floor

NEW BLOG- HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME

2011-06-26T11:07:00.001-07:00

For my birthday present, S. wrapped up my existing computer. When I "opened" the wrapping paper around my screen I discovered that he created a new blog on word press for me. I now get to look professional so I better get my act together! The site is:

www.mycuprunnethallover.com

We are still working to move everyone listed as followers over and getting the details figured out but feel free to hop over there- I'll post at that site from now on.
Happy Birthday to me!

Hudson at Five

2011-06-20T14:16:00.000-07:00

Last month I was making dinner and Hudson was drawing at the table. Completely out of the blue he looked up and said, "Mom, I want to ask Jesus in my heart."

Surprised and wondering what brought this on, I asked, "Why, Hudson?"

With a sudden burst of intensity he answered, "I just love Him SO MUCH!"

I clarified, "So you want Him to forgive your sins and you want Him to be your best friend? You know that means you serve Him instead of just doing things you want to do? You want to honor Him and obey Him first?

Yes, Yes, Yes.

We prayed.

We had been having some problems with Hudson telling the truth whenever he felt backed into a corner. That next week I came into the garage and S. told me about a neighbor boy who dumped out fertilizer and made a mess on the side of the house. One look at Hudson's face told me the neighbor was not the only boy at fault.

"Hudson, tell me about what you did on the side of the house."

He looked at me, wheels spinning, and I knew what he was considering.

I interrupted his thoughts urgently: "Hudson! Right now there is a battle in your thoughts. Part of you really wants to lie so you don't get in trouble. Remember you asked Jesus in your heart. He can give you strength to tell the truth right now. Stop and ask Him to help you. I'm going to go in the house and pray. You stay here and tell Dad the truth."

I walked out. After concentrating a long time in silence, he told the truth and dove into S.'s arms.

That night when tucking him in I said, "Hudson, I can see Jesus in your life. I am so excited that He helped you tell the truth and I am so excited that you listened."

Very seriously he said, "Mom, it was really, really hard." Then he grinned relief and hugged me tight.

Hudson at five wants to know how everything works. I hope this never changes about him. He recently asked, "Are cars battery powered? How does the car use the gas? Why does a car need an engine and a battery?"

Then we pulled into a gas station and as I got out he began crying. Hard. "Mom! I never got to see how you pump the gas! I don't know how it gets in the car."

Soon the three older kids were all unbuckled and standing next to me watching the magic of the gas pump: "Here's where my card goes in. I unscrew this cap...never, ever, ever unscrew this cap until you are sixteen..."

Satisfied, they all piled back in and I waved an apology to the car behind me waiting for my demonstration to be over.

One aspect of Hudson that has been remarkable this year is his role as a brother. He is a peacemaker. In fact, we have had to intervene from the other kids taking advantage of his generosity. There is, however, a line that can be crossed. When someone has pushed too far we see gritted teeth, balled fists, and a reddening face. We're all smart to back off and let him cool.

He has surprised me in his relationship with Little Girly.

Darla was the one to talk, plan, and make room for a baby sister. Hudson has been the one to stick with it. This morning as I got ready, Hudson played cars next to Little Girly. She scoots and inevitably can't reach her toys. He would play, and patiently give a toy back to her. He'd play more, then make his way over to give her a pacifier. On and on it went. When he walks in a room she lights up and kicks her legs. He sings her all of her favorite songs, takes her dirty diapers out, and kisses her until she can't take it anymore.

My "little" boy has already lost six teeth.

Many have been knocked out and appropriately, Hudson is passionate about hockey. He has been practicing on roller blades to keep up with our Canadian neighbors who play hockey in front of the house. He is by far the youngest but with how hard working he is, I don't doubt he'll learn to keep up.

Hudson took swimming lessons this year and swallowed half the pool- I mean... learned how to float a little.

He loves legos, riding his bike, working in the garage (with real tools), and using the weed eater or hedge trimmer by himself (with a cautious dad "spotting" from behind). He even likes playing polly pockets with his sister...as long as his doll can climb up "dinosaur mountain" to conquer all the meat eaters (yes, this was a real scene from this week's playtime).

In the fall Hudson will start kindergarten. I'm planning on homeschooling him for this year and am looking forward to the ways it will grow him and expand our relationship.

My prayer for him this year is that his heart will not only be sensitive to the Lord but that he will begin to know God's voice. I pray that as he begins school he would develop confidence and love for learning. I ask for protection over his sensitive heart.

As S. has begun working out at home recently, Hudson has been putting on his own workout shorts and shoes. We saw him out in the backyard doing push ups and he regularly takes out workout equipment to "do my exercise". He attempts to do yoga poses in the living room and when he caught me giggling at his concentration during chair dips, he sternly looked over and said, "I'm getting strong and healthy."

Ahh...he is. And I am very much looking forward to what being five entails for my strong and healthy boy.

She thinks his tiller's sexy

2011-06-11T16:29:00.000-07:00

At first I thought I found my husband attractive because he was handling a machine and smelling like man...

Then I realized even more than that it was because he was doing it all for the health of our family (can't wait to plant extra carrots, beans, and squash to puree for Little Girly), and for his wife who despite selling the house- really, really still wanted a garden. Not only that but I didn't even ask or beg, he voluntarily spent his Saturday afternoon doing this. And that my friends- is a turn on.

A Decade of Dutch

2011-06-06T12:49:00.000-07:00

S. and I just realized that we passed the 10 yr. mark living in our little Northwest corner of the country this month. What began as a summer of work turned into a decade and- behold! I believe that foreign feeling might be roots! Alas...they might be attaching to the ground!

When my dad threw out the idea of moving to Lynden I was getting ready for my senior year of high school. "Just for fun" we came up to visit the small Dutch farming community. I found it quaint, endearing, and beautiful but knew enough to not take my dad seriously the first time around.

The seriousness grew quickly, however. That summer, as I drove my '89 Ford Tempo north following a line of U-Hauls and vehicles, I was almost laughing. Are we really doing this? I unpacked my room and enrolled in a new school mere days before my senior year began.

Being Dutch myself, I had never spent time with people other than my family who shared our heritage. It was a strange adjustment. We weren't the blondest, tallest, cleanest, or the most frugal anymore! I liked Lynden but had no plans to stay as college was coming quickly.

After three years of college and a year of marriage nowhere felt settled but I was accustomed to that because we moved often as I grew up. I was hoping S. might take a job in Southern CA, we were looking at grad schools on the east coast. But... we ran out of money. I evaluated our checkbook and told S., "we can pay one more month of rent or we can pay for a U-Haul. If you don't have a job by Wednesday then I say we call U-Haul."

We did.

My parents assured us that they could park a trailer in their driveway and connect us with some summer work in town. S. bar tended at the town's resort and I worked in the raspberries. By the end of the summer I began considering finishing school online so we could stay. We found a tiny house on Main Street with a window seat and a whopping 840 square feet. That's all it took for us. We made an offer and began to unpack some boxes.

By fall we visited a new church in town and on our first visit the worship director approached us. "I'm so glad you guys are here. You want to help us start a youth ministry?"

S. wasn't so sure. I was very sure. We said yes...

and one summer turned into another... and another... and another.

I went to our town's Farmer Day Parade Saturday and was reminded of the many reasons I love this town. I love that every year we see the Parade with the tractors, berry pickers, and children dressed in traditional Dutch clothes.

I love that in every hard season of the past decade I have experienced huge support from other families in town- financially, emotionally, prayerfully. I love living in a place that has a rich heritage of trusting the Lord. I love the smell of raspberries, the excitement of harvest, the big deal we made about the two lane road growing to four lanes.

I love that the lady from craigslist called for directions and actually guessed what neighborhood we live in because the pictures of our van showed familiar trees in the background. I love that the high schoolers who roll their eyes that there's nothing to do in this town, move away and then come home realizing that having a community of people to BBQ and play soft pitch with might be a little more lasting (and less expensive) than clubbing or going to events in a bigger city.

When I was at my sister's house on Thursday I realized my boys were on a tractor with a strange man. When I went out to retrieve them I realized it was that older gentleman that calls me "Tadema" (my maiden name) with a Dutch accent because he knew my grandfather 40 years ago. Love that.

We may get uprooted again someday. We are open to where the Lord leads. But on a recent drive with Mt. Baker in view

I told S., "I know I'll be fine with what the future holds and wherever we go. But if the Lord sees fit to keep us planted here... that is just fine with me."

Words

2011-06-04T21:10:00.000-07:00

It came as no surprise after reading Gary Chapman's book The Five Love Languages over a decade ago that I am "words of affirmation". The premise of the book is that there are primarily five ways that we feel and express love: physical touch, quality time, gifts, acts of service, and words of affirmation. Like everyone, I need all five of these things but words resonate with me. In high school I kept a shoebox filled with notes of encouragement and affirmation. My poor mother and sister are not "words of affirmation" so I watch them put forth much effort (initially like fish out of water) to "speak my language". My poor husband often will tell me he appreciates me and I answer with "why?" hoping to hear a little more. I know...pathetic.

It makes sense then that as I'm raising a family, we talk much about our words. If one of my kids says something thoughtless or hurtful, they get an opportunity to make it right. They sit down with the person they hurt and share two things they love and appreciate about that person.

If there is a silly squabble over a toy my kids will be seen holding hands and repeating, "You are more important than toys. You are my best friend."

Yes, they repeat it after me but yes, truth is also being ingrained. If nothing else, they roll their eyes at me and then giggle together about their silly mom. I'll take it.

There are days that I feel like I am correcting and instructing every word uttered: "You need to ask him with a kind voice this time." "If the neighbor boy talks about your sister that way then what is your job as a manly brother who fights for his sister and her honor? That's right- you tell him he can leave if he has mean things to say. Do not ever join in with them again." "No, he is not a 'meanie'. That choice wasn't kind but speak something truthful about him now."

Then the clouds part. The sun's rays shine through. And I experience a moment where all the training comes together and I get to bask in beautiful words being said in my home. Darla is a very natural artist, brimming with creativity the rest of us only wish we could muster. It is then so meaningful to hear her build up her brothers: "Oh, wow Hudson. I didn't think about drawing a spaceship like that. Mom, did you see his cool spaceship?" "Everett- I can tell that's a person! Good job with his eyes, Everett!"

It helps having an oldest child who shows love through expressive words. When I was going to be gone for a day last month she said, "Oh, Mom I just don't want you to leave. Whenever you are gone nothing feels quite right...oh, I just love you and I want you by me all the time." Sheesh- how am I supposed to leave after that?!

My favorite is the random affirmations throughout the day. Hudson squeezes Darla and says to me, "Darla is the best. EVER. You my best friend, Darla." She lights up.

Everett told me, "Bruthy give me this motorcycle. Him a good bruthy."

I was laughing with S. about how we've trained the kids when he came home this week and told me my butt looked great in my jeans and I said, "You're the third person that's told me that today."

"What?! Who else is telling you that?"

"Actually Darla and Hudson."

The sweetest result of our words has been my older three kids talking to Little Girly. Daily I hear them speaking truths to her and I get to watch her five month old self soak it up. "Baby- you are so pretty! Look how cute you are today. You're the best baby ever. Oh, we LOVE you. Good job holding your head up! I hope, I hope, I hope you stay here forever. You're so cheerful. Mom- she really is the best, isn't she? You are so fun for us Little Bear."

Equally as beautiful is watching Little Girl receive it. She grins and kicks. How powerful is Truth spoken. When we speak blessings and God's love over her, she is focused and intent on our faces.

Particularly, Hudson melts me as he tells her how beautiful she is as I get her ready in the mornings. He has heard me telling her how God has made her, how she is a blessing to our family, how God has a plan for her life- and I've heard Hudson using some of my words when he's talking to her.

Little Girly had her first experience with baby food this week and S. and I were laughing at our three little cheerleaders: "Good job! Good job with that squash,

Little Girly! You are so big. You're a big girl now. Wow- you are a good little eater. Mom, did I eat as good as her when I was a baby?"

I finally had to tell them to give some space and quiet down because Little Girly would grin at the encouragement

and the squash would dribble right back out. Oh well, I suppose valuable things are being taught and instilled... perhaps as important as the skill of eating.

Horn of Plenty

2011-05-27T15:24:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking about plastic fruit after reading an article by business expert and author, Tim Sanders. He tells about the horn of plenty that sat in the middle of his grandma's table. When he inquired about it as a young boy, she informed him, "It's not just a decoration. It's a declaration of abundance."

She then explained to Tim, "When I was much younger, there was a terrible Depression in this country. Those were times when everybody talked like sad sacks and counted the days until they lost everything. Spend time with them, and soon you'd catch the fear too. Even though Dad's farms were producing crops and our gas station was busy, he caught a case of it. The talk at the dinner table was always about the economy and who was going broke."

"One day my mother, your granny Hattie, came home from the Five-and-Dime with this horn of plenty. It represented prosperity, something all of us needed to think about..."

"Your granny Hattie gave a speech that night that changed our family forever. She said that the talk around the table was holding us back and keeping our noses to the grindstone. She pointed out how much land we owned and how healthy we were. Then she stood up and announced that as of that moment, for our family, the Depression was over. She made the decision that we needed to move the conversation forward and get on with our lives."

Tim asked, "Was the Depression really over?"

"For us, yes, it was, because from that day forward, we never talked about misery or lack at the dinner table again," she said. "Instead, we started every meal with a discussion of the day's progress. For the rest of the 1930's we found opportunity right and left." (Taken from Chick-fil-* leadership conference, Leadercast journal)

I realize that it may be over-simplifying to say that if we change the way we talk it will completely change our economics. But truth rang with the clang of conviction as I read. In part, because as a country we are living in a season of economic hardship. But still- as the richest nation we whine like the poorest.

Even more piercing was truth I heard from the Holy Spirit concerning my own perspective and situation. As I mulled it over this week, the Lord has been opening my eyes to His creativity in providing for us. It has been tempting to worry about the inconsistency of our paychecks right now. It's easy to hold up my idea of what would make me feel secure and believe anything short of that is lacking. I was reminded that even with fluctuating income, we have been able to do a few Costco trips due to generous friends. Our lights are on, our house is warm, and we are still richer than at least 95% of the world.

I've always dreamed of having a suburban (or 12 passenger van...don't judge me!) to have room for nieces and nephews along with my own kids. We were blessed to find an older suburban in great shape and I smile whenever I fire it up- here I am driving the vehicle I hoped for, in a time that I thought I'd have to "make do". We don't have a predictable check on predictable days but it has made God's provision so much more obvious. Even as we short sale our house, we have a great roof over our heads and some potential roofs when the season here is over.

My convictions were challenged this week when we lost a donor who gave a substantial amount to our ministry, due to economic hardship. We cringe as we feel like we are treading water, but then simultaneously God shows us His abundance.

This week His abundance showed up in the form of a '94 truck. S. has been looking for months for a truck that he can make into a stage truck for concerts, speaking engagements, and for some things BIG OAK is doing at the fair this summer.. Originally a friend at a dealership was trying to find a trade in for it. Now in a time crunch, he instead generously offered to donate toward one we find. Initially it looked like an uphill battle to raise the difference and do the leg work.

But, wow. In the past week we have had a handful of people donate toward the truck S. found that exactly fit his vision. It didn't stop there. The people who happened to sell it to him also happen to attend our church and support what BIG OAK does. Then they happened to volunteer to do the stage conversion and happened to connect us with another business who generously donated a flatbed that they had just happened to obtain the previous day. S.'s co-worker and close friend just happened to learn pin striping this year and is going to be able to do the design work on the truck. Another generous man is volunteering his time to complete the interior.

Today we are marveling at God's creativity. We thought provision would entail a big check. Never did we imagine it would involve an entire team of people catching the same vision. Now many people get to participate using their own gifts and BIG OAK gets a sweet truck that will get much use as S. shares Christ with students.

Isn't it easy to always feel like we are lacking? Yes, we might own a home but until that mortgage is paid down, we can't rest. Yes, I might have a savings account but until it is 5 times my monthly income I won't feel "safe". Yes, I might start a retirement fund but I'm plagued by the fear that I might have to pay for a nursing home and it won't be enough. The what-ifs, the fears, the constant measuring against what other people have destroys me. It puts the responsibility for abundance on my own head instead of doing the work God puts in front of me and understanding that God is a God of abundance.

Often in this season S. and I have been reminded of the Israelites in the desert. When God gave them manna and quail, it was enough for the day. They complained that they couldn't save it (just in case God didn't come through) and complained about the lack of variety. What an insult to God who was each morning filling their need before they were even awake to collect it. How quickly we stop stepping out of our tent to say, "WHOA! The manna is here AGAIN!" "Can you believe this?! The quail is BACK... what are we going on- forty years of provision here? What a God we serve! Woo-hoo!"

How quickly we pout and whine, "Only enough for today? Why can't I ever get ahead? Manna and quail again?! When is my tent going to be a four bedroom house?"

Oops.

So I step back. I stop worrying about what our current short sale is going to do to our credit. Instead of focusing on the fact that we started a non-profit ministry in the midst of a flailing economy, I recognize God is meeting our needs each morning before we wake. I will get excited every time I start the suburban. I will praise God that right when Hudson needed new clothes, a friend gave me a huge bag of her son's hand-me-downs that happened to be the perfect size. I will celebrate the doctor visits covered by insurance and the groceries in my cupboard. I will use whatever it takes (but please Lord, don't let it be tacky plastic fruit on my table...) to declare to myself and to my family that God provides....ABUNDANTLY.

33

2011-05-16T14:16:00.000-07:00

"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. This people I have formed for Myself; they shall declare My praise." Isaiah 43:19,21

Last year when S. turned 32 I struggled with how to celebrate. I could see the workings of the Spirit but S. had gone through low lows and I had watched him self-destruct in front of me. It was a hard year to kick up our heels and celebrate.

Ahh...but this year is so sweet to commemorate. Coming to the end of himself and his own ability to succeed- even in ministry- was what ultimately brought him to "deny himself, take up his cross" and follow Christ. When Jesus says "whoever desires to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for My sake will find it" (Matthew 16:25 ) He doesn't just mean to become "Christian". S. was a believer for years but only in the past year and a half was brought to such a deep place of surrender. He lost everything that felt 'secure' in his world. Instead of throwing in the towel or making things happen on his own, S. got on his knees and waited for God to begin building life into him.

And now...I could write for hours and kick up my heels. As S. has responded to the Lord, I have seen God focus him, teach him discipline, and feed Truth into him. For the first time since we've been married S. committed to do a Bible Study this past year where he didn't teach or lead. He studied for his own relationship with God and God met him there.

S. has sought wise counsel and it has refreshed both of us to build friendships with people smarter and wiser than we are. He has slowed down to fall in love with our family. Not only is he intentional with our own kids, he has allowed God to break his heart wide open to love Little Girly as his own. It didn't happen automatically. He prayed that God would put him in the right place as he was tempted to have his guard up, not knowing if she will become a Taylor. He believed God was telling him that in this season he is Little Girly's dad and chose to take on that role without inhibition. His love for her is evidenced by the way that she grins, squeals, and throws her arms in the air when he walks in the room.

I have seen the Lord take a man brimming with creativity and ideas and I have watched Him chisel away to give clear direction and specific vision. S. started BIG OAK with about fifty possible directions to take it. God gave us a fantastic board of directors and the right connections to move in the best direction in this season.

A week and a half ago I had the privilege of working the BIG OAK booth at a leadership conference. We got to share about a;life and give mini-presentations to people about how it will work to have this devotional tool online. Watching the vision catch, hearing people from churches and Y*uth for Christ say, "This is a need! How can we get our hands on something like this?" fueled my excitement for what we do.

I am excited about a;life and how the Lord has pulled pieces together for it. Even more so, I am excited to have a husband listening to the Lord. Watching him at the conference, I was excited about his ability to communicate vision and his growing passion to get students grounded in Scripture.

My prayers continue for my husband. I pray this year that God would continue to quicken S.'s ears to His voice, to continue renewing his mind and transforming his spirit. But mostly, this is my year of thanksgiving. It is my year to step back and praise God that the prayers I prayed for a decade are being answered in gracious ways.

This morning at 3am I sat on the couch with Little Girly and her stuffy nose, which was preventing her from sleep. S. stumbled out with some great bed head and said we might as well be up together. As we watched a sitcom and rocked Little Girly, I marveled at the irony: somehow as S. and I are at our poorest (materially) we are experiencing the richest of all seasons. That can't be anything but the work of the Lord. May we get to experience more of God's richness this coming year- Happy Birthday Sean!

3 years for Everett

2011-05-15T14:48:00.000-07:00

Last week our family landed at our favorite local coffee shop for sandwiches and coffee while we had a house showing. It was dangerously close to nap time so I was extra diligent in helping our kids remember manners in the otherwise quiet shop. A beautiful elderly couple sat in chairs near us, enamored with our kids but mostly with Everett.

The woman told him, "Your smile is bright as sunshine!"

He smiled again to prove it.

The gentleman had a strong Dutch brogue and chuckled at the amount of activity happening at our table.

The kids ate. Everett tried to sneak under the table. The kids talked. Everett tried some tricky stunt on the bench he was supposed to be sitting on. The kids helped clean up. Everett saw something in the display case that he thought needed his grubby hands all over.

S. took care of three kids. It took all of me to keep Everett going in the right direction. He was amiable, funny, and mischievous.

We were packing up to leave and the kind woman watching said with a knowing wink, "I see you have an alpha male there."

I laughed. "Yes. That's one way to put it."

She leaned closer to impart her grandmotherly (great-grandmother, I learned later) wisdom. "Those are the best kind. They may take the most work to raise but it's worth it. It's the 'sheep' I worry about. That one that you have...he's definitely not a sheep."

I laughed again. "True. True."

Then I had to leave abruptly because while the other children were waiting for me, I realized Everett was already exploring the parking lot.

I am learning with Everett that sometimes when I think he must need more intervention, what he really needs is more independence. For example, we have struggled with Everett regressing in potty training. My instinct was to hover, to remind him too often, to decide for him when to go. Then one day I heard the toilet flush, the sink go on and off, and a very satisfied Everett emerged. Apparently he needed to do it all himself.

Everett is quite social like his dad (I have yet to have an introverted child...). Right now he is intent on learning social cues. If he does something funny he will continue to test it until it is no longer funny (and then still try again just to make sure the moment has passed). He also has been observing faces. We were at the Y and Everett was intently studying a woman while she watched her kids swim. I had wondered a couple weeks earlier if this particular woman was tired or had endured a sad season of life.

Apparently Everett was wondering the same thing because he pointed from across the room and said, "Why that lady so sad?" (Fortunately it sounded like "I dat lady do dad?" and she didn't pick up on it.)

Yesterday at the bakery he saw a man walk through and inquired, "Mom? Why that man have a mad face?"

"I don't think he's mad, Everett. He's just in a hurry and doesn't seem to have a very cheerful resting face."

It's very difficult cuddling with Everett...because it takes all the restraint in the world to not bite his little cheeks. Something in the combination of his charisma and impish little grin calls to be munched on. He is affectionate and feisty at the same time, reminding me very much of the Tadema boys on my side of the family. The other night after wrestling him to bed by tickling, tossing, and giggling he insisted on giving me three kisses and an equal amounts of hugs. I knew he was procrastinating, knowing all this would keep me there longer.

Then as I was insisting "Last one," he patted my back and said,

"You a great mom."

"and you are a delightful son."

My prayer for Everett this year is that he would be excited about Jesus. When Everett is excited about something, there is no stopping his zeal. I pray that God would capture all that passion and enthusiasm to use for His glory. I also pray for protection over him physically because he doesn't have a lot of fear and can be impulsive in his bravery. He is a little warrior; dreaming about conquering bad guys and confident he could proficiently shoot squirrels with S.'s air soft gun. I pray that God would even now be preparing him for spiritual battle; equipping him to know the Word and to love prayer.

Today, Everett requested spiderman on his cupcake. Done. In fact, the spiderman figurine we have is able to hold 2 of the candles as fire torches. We'll see how that goes.

Happy third birthday, Everett Clifford!

The Hand That Rocks The Cradle

2011-05-09T13:54:00.000-07:00

I had a post Mother's Day glow this morning. My sweet children painted little flower pots for me and each said what they appreciated about me (affirming Darla said, "I'm so glad you don't go work and you decide to stay with us instead.")

I hoped the glow wouldn't rub off as I was homeschooling (which meant shouting out word definitions) while I changed a wet diaper and warned my 2yr. old to stay on the toilet until I had a chance to make sure the wiping was adequate. Within minutes of starting school there were whines about spelling words, a multitude of army men spread on the carpet waiting to poke my feet as I walked through (holding a baby), and two preschool boys with a significant volume control problem. Instead of pulling my hair out in chunks...I recalled my favorite poem and share it with you now in (late) celebration of Mothers Day.

The Hand That Rocks The Cradle Is The Hand That Rules The World

by William Ross Wallace

Blessings on the hand of women!

Angels guard its strength and grace,

In the palace, cottage, hovel,

Oh no matter where the place;

Would that never storms assailed it,

Rainbows ever gently curled;

For the hand that rocks the cradle

Is the hand that rules the world.

Infancy's the tender fountain,

Power may with beauty flow,

Mother's first to guide the streamlets,

From them souls unresting grow--

Grow on for the good or evil,

Sunshine streamed or evil hurled;

For the hand that rocks the cradle

Is the hand that rules the world.

Woman, how divine your mission

Here upon our natal sod!

Keep, oh, keep the young heart open

Always to the breath of God!

All true trophies of the ages

Are from mother-love impearled;

For the hand that rocks the cradle

Is the hand that rules the world.

Blessings on the hand of women!

Fathers, sons, and daughters cry,

And the sacred song is mingled

With worship in the sky--

Mingles where no tempest darkens,

Rainbows evermore are hurled;

For the hand that rocks the cradle

Is the hand that rules the world.

All in a Day's Play

2011-05-04T18:49:00.000-07:00

I recently read a blog that listed ways we stifle our children's creativity. It's true. We are a generation of parents who easily succumb to immediate gratification, keeping our kids quiet with TV, video games, or "learning" toys. We have beautiful homes on tiny lots and we have been taught to hover: instructing our kids to not climb so high, not to walk to the neighbors independently, having over-supervised play dates.

How irritated I would get as a child when I told my mom "I'm bored" and her response was, "Oh good! I have plenty for you to do." I was irritated then but as I say the same irritating words to my own kids- I'm thankful she did it. With a mom who required some personal responsibility, who didn't hand us entertainment in our listlessness, and a house full of siblings, we managed to get creative in our play. My own kids are blessed to have the same opportunities and even in a ridiculously wet Northwest spring, are finding inventive ways to play.

Spontaneously one morning Darla set to work on masks. Her cousins were going to be coming by and she thought if they were going to be Belle, Tinkerbell, and Silvermist- they should look the parts. She found paper plates and set to work. No one fed her a single idea, I simply tied a string on the back when the masks were completed. (I missed the picture of the boys' batman and spiderman masks.)

The next day Hudson had a wooden spoon and bowl out, pretending to cook for us. I went to feed Little Girly and put laundry away, amazed at how happy and quiet the other three were for an extended time. Upon entering the kitchen I was overwhelmed with the smell of cinnamon. Apparently invisible food didn't cut it so they created "Cinnamon Shake" (ingredients: water, cinnamon, sprinkles). I came in as the milk was being poured... into wine glasses. Our house smelled of cinnamon goodness for two days and I discovered in the back of the fridge that they saved some in a glass jar. Mmm mmm.
As they were cleaning up the kitchen mess, they found the paper plates and cups again. They immediately set to work making "phone systems". I was impressed that they thought to use the hole punch and string...and even more impressed that they knew what a rotary phone is.
(Yes, that is left over cinnamon still on Everett's face.)
One of the things on the list of creative children was to let children use furniture and toys for things other than their intended purpose. They accomplished that later in the afternoon when they tipped all our kitchen chairs on their backs to create a train (at least the steering wheel was a plastic plate). Kids and stuffed animals alike choo-chooed down the hall.

There is still cut up cardboard in my kitchen because they thought a great idea would be to make a sign to hang from our suburban's antennae that reads, "Taylor Car".

I thought that was enough for a day but when I was making dinner Darla came in the door with folded papers. "I've been asking the neighbors for help and money."

"WHAT?!"

"For our zoo."

"Our what?"

"We want to make a zoo in our yard. We might borrow some people's animals. For sure we'll have Taryn (5 yr. old neighbor boy) get bugs. He's practically a bug scientist."

"What is it you'll need money for?"

"Um....um... huh. I guess we don't. I guess I'll just give these invitations to the neighbors so they can come to the zoo."

"Sounds great. But it's dinner time so let's wait on the zoo."

Phew.

The highlight of creativity came at the end of the week. Our neighborhood has an annual clean up day. Our kids decided with the neighbor kids that as a "reward" for everyone who cleans up, they would have a play to conclude the day. They found all the chairs they could and lined them on our sport court.
They enlisted the help of an older neighbor girl to build a 'fort' out of branches, which then became the castle.

Quite unfortunately, in their role casting and set design, they neglected to bother with lines, plot, a narrator, or anything else that might help the play be...well, a play. We watched them "play" for some time and they were proud of their performance.
Here is neighbor boy "King Kierian" with sword in what could loosely be described as an action scene:
Later Darla and I learned about narrators, plot conflict, and the essential aspect of letting your audience know what they are watching. She is excited to write the next script and let S. be narrator (so she can still play the leading lady role, naturally).
Our house is listed to sell and everything in me wants to keep it spotless so when we get last minute calls to show it, I can retain my sanity. When cinnamon fills the air, when paints and crayons and slivers of paper cover the floor, when I realize my lilac bush is naked because "the wild bunnies needed salad", I am tempted to hand over the video games. Ah, but there is more to learn than what a spotless house and clean children can teach... (I said with a nervous laugh.)

A Thirsty Soul

2011-04-21T14:49:00.000-07:00

"O God you are my God; early will I seek You; my soul thirsts for You; my flesh longs for You in a dry and thirsty land where there is no water." Psalm63:1

I have had nearly the same conversation three times with three people this past week. Whenever that happens I start to think I should blog about it...so here I am.

A couple years ago I made an observation. Most of the time when asking a follower of Christ, "What is God teaching you?" Or "What is God speaking to you about?" the person pauses.

Then, the answer almost always along the lines of "I need to have more quiet time." "I'm not reading the Bible enough." "Um... I missed a couple days of devotions because my kids were sick..."

At first I thought people were saying, "I'm not slowing down enough to hear the voice of God." But then I noticed something else. It seemed to be that guilt was blocking any ability to hear the voice of God.

I noticed even friends who are involved in Bible Studies, know Scripture, and do have time with God (to some extent) answer the same way- with guilt and obligation. I've noticed a tendency to put God on a list along with "workout, wash windows, pick up prescription". We put in our chapter of Bible reading a day to alleviate our conscience until the next requirement pops up.

In having this discussion with a group of women, I felt heartbroken for us and for God that we reduce our relationship with Him in this way. I believe it's a trap to think of time with Jesus like I think of other to-dos in my day, or to think that the Creator could be restricted to half an hour in the morning.

I suppose the closest thing I could liken it to (flawed as it is) is marriage. It would not be constructive to S. and my relationship if I looked at my to-do list, sighed, and thought, "Well...I guess I should spend half an hour with my husband. I am married, after all. Hard as it is, I better put my time in."

No way! I can't wait for S. to get home from work so we can share about our days. I love breakfast together in the morning, taking our little family for a walk after dinner, road tripping, planning our future. And I'm not even talking about a perfect, all-knowing, Almighty God...I'm talking about my well-intentioned husband (who every once in a great while might fall a little short of "completing" me).

When S. and I are busy and aren't connecting, we miss each other. Not because we are obligated to, but because our relationship is life giving and we like each other. We might not be spending focused time together but we call each other to tell a quick story, we stay up later than we should so we can be uninterrupted, I send suggestive (er...I mean... loving...) e mails to remind him I'm his.

Then when we do have focused time or a weekend away- I soak it up. I don't spend the whole time feeling guilty that it doesn't happen every weekend. I don't worry that he will be angry when I have a day where we aren't talking as frequently.

How quickly we forget that Jesus died, rose, and forgives us so that we have a relationship with Him. I have yet to hear a pastor say "Surrender to Jesus so you can add Him to your checklist."

How much more in my relationship with Jesus should I be squeezing in every moment of intimacy? If I do this with S. then certainly wouldn't I do this with the Lord who won't fail me, knows me more deeply, who is faithful and holds all the answers?

As I've been reflecting I asked the Lord why (in His grace) I have escaped the mentality of checking Him off the list. Some days I hear His voice loudly and constantly. Other days my quiet time is interrupted by busy children; my down time filled with tasks. I resort to worship music while we clean, a Bible story from the Children's Bible after dinner, and distracted prayers as I fall to sleep. I know His love for me isn't based on my day, and regardless of my schedule...I crave Him.

I then realized that I haven't had the leisure of keeping God a small part of my life. By His grace He has allowed circumstances in my life that have stretched me, broken me, caused me to continually land on my face before Him. I don't spend time with Him because I know I should. I don't read my Bible to alleviate my conscience. I have a relationship with Christ because I need Him.

I talk to Him constantly because there is no other way for me to get from minute one to minute two without it. Without His voice I am inspiration-less, lifeless, irrational, and truthfully- a boring person. Without His Word I am rudderless, shallow, and in a constant state of confusion. Without His Spirit I lack boldness, direction, and discernment.

There is no compartmentalizing possible for me. I am unable to leave Jesus at my quiet time chair. He speaks to me in the shower (and I will continue to use that excuse for my ridiculously long showers). Today I silently cried out to Him as I sat with my oldest son waiting for him to correct a lie with truth. He goes before me as I take a deep breath and sit down to pay bills. He is in every conversation I have (even with the checker at Target when Darla wants to share about buying baby things for the orphanage in Honduras). There is nothing in my life separate from Him.

"I will meditate on Your precepts, and contemplate your ways. I will delight myself in Your statutes; I will not forget your word." Psalm 119:15-16

I love how excited David gets about God's Word in the Psalms. It's beautiful that he found so much life in God's law and promises...and this was before God made the ultimate sacrifice of His Son! David was pumped about God even when he didn't understand the extent of God's grace, goodness, and love to the degree that we can read about every single day.

I should be so grateful!

"Oh how I love your law! It is my meditation all the day." Psalm 119:97

"Trust in Him at all times, you people; pour out your heart before Him; God is a refuge for us." Psalm 62:8

Don't get me wrong. Sometimes (like David) I don't want to hear what God has to say. Whether it is my guilt, selfishness, or fear, I have at times cowered and not wanted to come before the Lord. But...I do. Thankfully He continues to compel me, in spite of myself, to come back to Him.

"He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty." Psalm 91:1

Ahhh...what a place to rest. Free of condemnation, misunderstandings, insecurities, and fear.

In this season of life I am thankful that I can delight in the Lord with my messy, inconsistent life. (Here a picture of the messiness that occurs when I'm in the next room enjoying "quiet":)

In another season of life I anticipate days that look like this:

But for now I will enjoy that the Lord speaks to me through this:

Good Grief

2011-04-05T20:36:00.000-07:00

When a loved one has had a severe loss or is immersed in grief, how often are we paralyzed by our own insecurities? What compels us to think we need to have the right answers or should be responsible to "cheer them up"? Why are we pursuing the tidy sitcom ending and shying away from what may be messy? Why do we get so ridiculously wrapped up in our own lack of comfort that we drop the ball?

I was reading in Job tonight and found myself cheering Job on for reprimanding his friends. After Job loses everything, his friends arrive to do their best at what they perceive their job to be. They guess at why God would allow tragedy, they give tips...they leave Job feeling more beat up than he was before they opened their mouths. Job's response is,

"I have heard many such things; miserable comforters are you all! Shall words of wind have an end? Or what provokes you that you answer? I also could speak as you do, if your soul were in my soul's place. I could heap up words against you, and shake my

head at you; but I would strengthen you with my mouth, and the comfort of my lips would relieve your grief." Job 16:2-5

This passage resonated with me because I have a handful of people I am grieving with. It's hard.

I am thankful to my parents who taught me something about getting down into a mud puddle with a loved one. When I was in fifth grade my little brother's friend was killed by a bus. Within hours my parents packed us all up to go over and hug the family. I felt insecure, ridiculous, at a loss. What do I say? How do I handle the tears and chaos? I didn't have a thing to offer. But it wasn't up to me so off we went...just to hug, share some tears, and go back home.

It wasn't the only time I was drug along to uncomfortable situations. As hard as it was, it taught me that the most empathetic thing I can do is pull up a patch of mud and join the puddle. Not to drag out misery- but to acknowledge the loss and then bring a friend to the feet of Jesus. When you are entrenched in tragedy, you don't know how to pray for yourself and it is essential to have friends to intercede on your behalf.

In the book A Grace Disguised by Jerry Sittser, Dr. Sittser talks about entering grief after his mother, wife, and daughter were all killed in a car accident. He explains the temptation to run toward the sun as it is setting in the west, to avoid being overcome by darkness. But in actuality, we need to turn to the east into the darkness with the Hope and expectation that there the sun will rise. If we endlessly run west we will never truly rest and we will never watch the sun rise in our circumstance.

I thought of Dr. Sittser's illustration twice this week; once when talking with someone about dealing with and surrendering years of marital hurts, another when e mailing a close friend who recently lost a child.

It is sometimes tempting to encourage the ones we love to run fruitlessly west. It is scary to watch someone plunge into a pool of grief. We worry they might not cling to Christ, we worry that things will never be the same. (Which they won't. I'm learning that that's okay.) We selfishly think of our own comfort and how it might be awkward to have relationship with a muddy person in process.

So we resort to well meaning words that minimize the loss. We think it will help if we supply endless small talk without addressing the elephant in the room. We offer answers.

When Isaiah speaks of Christ he says, "He is despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief." Isaiah 53:3a

Jesus knew the outcome. He knew that He wins. He knew the purpose, He knew His Father, He knew that everything He did was good and would be redeemed. Yet he was acquainted with grief. Even with eternal perspective, Jesus still deeply felt His losses.

Being spiritual does not mean that we skip over grief. It doesn't mean we say, "You'll see your baby in heaven and I'm sure you'll have more." We don't smile and answer tritely, "Well, I'm sure it will all work out." We don't talk someone out of going to God with their questions and pain because our theology feels threatened. We can understand God's sovereignty and still have a good cry.

Jesus, as one acquainted with grief, is also the one who came to "give them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they may be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that He may be glorified." Isaiah 61:3

In the midst of grieving with friends and family right now; over lost babies, tumultuous marriages, depression, loss of ideals and dreams... I am still confident that Jesus is in the business of redemption...of our souls and our circumstances. I believe it's a privilege as a friend to walk the highs and lows, to pray on my knees for them...

and to sit with them when the sun rises again.

March Madness

2011-03-26T20:31:00.000-07:00

I just glanced at the calendar on my way through the kitchen and realized that we still have a few days before the end of March. At first I thought, "I can't believe it's nearly April." Then I thought, "How have we fit so much into March?!"

It has been three and a half weeks since we got Little Girly home. This was obviously the biggest life change and we are all still wiggling around in our new roles to try to make them more comfortable.

Because it happened so fast, we have been fully immersed in getting to know Little Girly while also doing 'life as usual'. Darla finished up a season doing dance/cheer, which she loved. We tried a little homeschooling in the cracks but for the most part March has been a bit of extended Spring Break.
We got to go down to Mount Vernon to celebrate with my brother, Elijah, a long awaited cd release of his band, Into Light.
At the concert, Elijah's 4 day old son Harrison Rits made his debut. That's right- once again in less than a month the Tadema family added more than one baby.
My nephew Gage got to experience his first birthday at the age of five. It was a huge celebration with all the cousins.
Of all the Taylors, Everett has had the most 'adjustment'- as anticipated. He has displayed this by completely reverting in potty training. All our work in the past year has temporarily gone out the window.
In case you needed a visual... the cousin count is now at 14 children ages 6 and under:
We got to visit with long-time friend Steve when he came up to support Elijah's cd release. (This is us attempting a sing-a-long with 14 children underfoot. Fail.)
As though a new baby, getting the hang of the foster care responsibilities, backward potty-training, regular life, and special events weren't enough...our family came down with the stomach flu last week. (I'll spare you a picture- although S.'s face while stripping beds and using an entire bottle of carpet Spot Shot was thoroughly amusing...if I hadn't been gagging.)

Thankfully, we got healthy the day before Hudson went in for surgery. He had ear tubes re-inserted and his adenoids removed. As our most resilient child, he toughed it out and we all had a beautiful family day filled with popsicles, ice cream, smoothies, and a middle of the day movie. Surgery in style.

The next day S. packed up to go speak at a middle school weekend retreat, where he will be until tomorrow. (We joked about who would get more sleep- the one with 4 small children or the one with 100 middle schoolers.)

So here I am with one baby hiccuping beside me, one toddler going through many pairs of underwear, one pre-schooler who hears well and is adenoid free, and one kindergartener (oh, shoot! Kindergarten! Back to that on Monday.)

With a twinkle in his eye, S. has been reminding me of my favorite quote by William Ross Wallace, "The hand that rocks the cradle rules the world."

Look out...we are out for some serious world dominance, people.

Percentage Chance

2011-03-22T14:57:00.000-07:00

My dad is a visionary. He likes to dream big and his favorite conversations are about what could be. Growing up it was sometimes hard to gauge if the things we discussed around the dinner table were probable, likely, or just fun to dream about.

I discovered a way to determine what type of intentions were behind our dreaming by asking, "What's the percentage chance, Dad?"

He would laugh and then throw out a percentage that would give me a slight indication. When I asked the percentage chance we'd move into the house that looked like a castle in Redding, CA and he said, "25%" I knew I should get comfortable where I was. When we first toured Lynden, WA in 1997 I asked, "What's the percentage chance we'll move there?" he replied, "87%". I knew it was safe to start imagining. Then in following weeks when it changed to "93%" I knew it was time to break out the moving boxes.

My need to know the percentage chance has become a family joke. My dad thinks he's quite clever to turn the tables...when I was choosing colleges, when we were debating about moving to Mount Vernon, whenever a big decision is on the horizon he gets a gleam in his eye and has to ask.

Last month when we were praying for Little Girly, working on some potential projects for BIG OAK, weighing options for our house...I got antsy. S. was cleaning breakfast dishes and I was hovering- asking every question as though he held the answers.

"What do you think about how this is playing out with Little Girly? Do you have a feeling either way about it? Do you think it's going to happen? I mean...when you pray...do you feel like you know anything?" On and on I processed.

Teasingly, S. said, "Are you looking for a percentage chance here?"

"I guess. Yes! A percentage chance of SOMETHING!"

Then quite seriously he said, "Every time I pray about any of our current circumstances I feel like the Lord points me to Moses wandering the desert with the Israelites. He's shown me that in that season, all they were required to do was to be obedient daily." It wasn't for them to set goals as to when they would enter the Promised Land. It wasn't for them to store up manna or anything else that the Lord provided. Each day with the dawn came provision, a call to obedience, and God building a relationship with His people. S. pointed out to me that "every time the Israelites got caught up in their percentage chances, or lost the focus of being obedient and present in that day alone- they were swept up into idolatry, immorality, and self indulgence."

I frowned and cringed. It didn't solve that antsy feeling but I knew by the level at which his words resonated that it is true. I would love to store up manna, would love to set goals and move in a direction that I confidently feel God's blessing over. Ah, but it doesn't seem to be an option for us right now.

Perhaps a day will come where foresight is more than by the hour, but what a reminder right now is to the way the Lord calls me to live. Perhaps not as contentedly as my husband, but I am fully present in what today is.

I don't know if Little Girly will be ours forever. I don't know how many days I have with any of my kids, for that matter. Two of my dear friends lost babies this week- one in the first trimester and one at 23 weeks. I was reminded that no matter what we think we know, what we try to control, these things are not really in our hands even to begin with.

We are moving forward with selling our house...percentage chance that it will sell before foreclosure? Percentage chance that our income will meet our monthly "goals" for ourselves on a regular basis? Percentage that Little Girly will become a Taylor?

No idea.

Percentage chance I will rest in the Lord tonight? Getting close to 100%.

Percentage chance that all four children will be tucked in and quiet by 9pm tonight? Significantly less than 100%.

My Not-So-Quiet Time Chair

2011-03-16T14:43:00.000-07:00

This morning in my "quiet time" chair, I got the giggles. I got the giggles because sitting in my chair was anything but quiet.

Our Little Girly is adjusting to our family beautifully. Darla summed up how we all feel when she said, "Mom- I don't feel like things are really that different with her here. But if she has to leave...that would feel really different. I wouldn't like that at ALL."

During nap times, Darla has Little Girly in the crib in her room. She takes great pride in being the one to get Little Girly to sleep for her afternoon nap. Darla stands by the crib giving a pacifier, singing, and talking until eyes are heavy and both girls settle in for a rest. Their beds are no more than three feet apart, but even that feels too far for Darla. So instead of napping in her own bed, she sets up blankets on the floor and lays against the crib- as close to Little Girly as possible.

The sweet moments are many and my mind is quickly trying to snapshot it all and file it away. Which is why I chose to laugh this morning in my quiet time chair instead of letting exasperation sneak in. As it is when adding any new member to the family, adjustments are made. As I expected, Everett takes the brunt of the adjusting. It is so good for him to not be the youngest. With a strong will and a natural inclination to feel entitled, it is a blessing for him to have someone to protect and nurture. It's also good for me to have no time to give in to a power struggle!

As I did with my other kids, I make an effort to include Everett and affirm his new role as big brother and I also make sure we have some time to read while I give Little Girly a bottle, or to rock before naps while Hudson plays with Little Girly.

I'm finding that Everett isn't extra clingy or whiny... but his mischievousness is at work when I am preoccupied. This morning while I was sitting in the quiet time chair feeding Little Girly, Everett barreled in. Somehow he managed to narrowly miss my coffee on the end table but with his elbow caught a potted plant and sent it flying. He picked up what he could and I assured him I'd help him take care of the rest when I was done. Darla and Hudson were running in and out and getting ready for the day. As they ran back down the hall, Everett decided to peek-a-boo behind my chair. Instead, he knocked into a floor lamp and broke the lightbulb. Then as he popped back out, managed to pop Little Girly on the head with his own head sending her to tears.

After "Sorry baby! Sorry baby!" I suggested he find something to do with Hudson. They were quiet for a couple minutes and then emerged ready to fix my lightbulb. They were wearing hard hats, working goggles, and a utility belt. In their arms were all the lightbulbs from the hall closet. Mercy! Hudson's idea was that Little Girly and I scoot forward on the chair so he could stand on the back to reach the lamp.

At this point I laughed my way to the bathroom where S. was getting ready. After explaining the situation to him, he good naturedly joined the boys and after a group effort (how many Taylor men does it take....) they changed the light bulb.

This is a fifteen minute snippet into what my days are currently like. This morning was a drastic improvement from yesterday when I took Everett to the doctor for allergies and swollen glands only to have him fully throw up in the doctor's waiting room. He has never thrown up in his life and thankfully was fine afterwards. (I spent a nervous few hours mapping out how I would handle the stomach flu with four little ones.) Throw up in public was a parenting first for me.

Every time the chaos bubbles over and I'm up to my ears, I grab my phone. You see- when I had just turned six, my siblings were four and two, and my parents adopted a baby. Ironically, my children are the exact same ages. My mom understands like no one else and has a beautiful perspective now that all four of her children have stopped (for the most part) keeping her up at night. So we laugh, commiserate, and strategize. Then I hang up ready for what the next fifteen minutes might hold.

A Most Productive Un-Productive Week

2011-03-11T14:42:00.000-08:00

Oh yes, now I remember what it's like to have a baby. I remember what it's like after a string of interruptions to say, "What was I just going to do? Oh yeah, I had to go to the bathroom... was that really an hour ago?" I remember what it's like to wake up at 5am and realize, "Hooray! She's sleeping through the night!" and then be too excited to go back to sleep.

Each day I have my list of to-dos and each night my jaw drops at how little I was able to accomplish. In fact, one morning this week S. was about to shower when he realized he didn't even have one pair of clean underwear. Never in 10 years have I let that happen!

It has taken immense discipline for me to slow down, block out the messes, unanswered e mails, and lists to focus in on our new Little Girly. It is quite different than having my other three kids as infants because Little Girly came with an empty love tank. I have determined to comfort her often. I'm pretty sure the only way she was comforted was with a bottle so it's taking much effort to teach her to be comforted by touch, singing, and cuddling- not to mention the resulting eating habits that need correcting.

Our CPS social worker came over to check on Little Girly and find out how our first week went. When the social worker began speaking to her, Little Girly grinned and cooed back. The social worker in surprise told me, "The foster family who had her the night before I brought her here said they couldn't get a smile or much eye contact from her. I found the same thing the day I had her."

After a few more minutes of debriefing, she shook her head and said, "I can't believe the difference a week has already made in her."

This morning when I walked in the room Little Girly gave me an enthusiastic reception complete with grins and leg kicks. Just a few days ago I would have to say her name repeatedly to get her to focus in on me.

S. came in while I was giving her a bath and I pointed out how she doesn't seem scared of the bath anymore- she actually got a few splashes in!

As he walked out of the bathroom he said, "See? Look at what a hugely productive week you've had."

I'm so glad he feels that way...because I'm not sure how much clean underwear is left.

Yes- this picture is a repeat but it works so well here, too.

2011-03-07T14:26:00.000-08:00

"Oh, I could never be a foster parent. I couldn't handle the heartbreak of getting attached to a child and then have them taken away."

How many times I have heard someone say that in my lifetime. In fact, at one time I said that myself. Initially when we decided to adopt, I resisted the option to foster-to-adopt for that very reason. Oh, the risk! The potential to be hurt!

Then the Lord began showing me that His will isn't for me to insulate myself from heartbreak. His will isn't that I build up safeguards around me so that I ensure a risk-free life. He began showing me people who pour out their lives for others...even as their own hearts are vulnerable. I don't think Mother Teresa began serving the poor because she could handle it or "it doesn't really affect me. I don't get attached so I'm the one for the job."

On the contrary, I believe she was the one for the job because she was compelled by Christ to love, to the point of her own discomfort (and even depression).

"For the love of Christ compels us, because we judge thus; that if One died for all, then all died; and He died for all, that those who live should live no longer for themselves, but for Him who died for them and rose again." 2 Corinthians 5:14,15

If Christ is my example then it is quite clear that remaining detached and safe is not the game plan. The intensity of His love, the rejection and heartbreak He experienced, the physical pain, the whole "coming down and becoming human" part... there is not another example of One who never holds loved ones at arms length. He has decided it is always worth the fight.

I don't believe everyone is called to foster care but I do believe if we profess Christ as our Savior, we are then to trust Him with our heart- not our own judgment. I have had my heart broken in various ways and as much as I wish I would never again experience that trampled on feeling, I know that the Lord is near to those who have broken hearts. I know He has a beautiful way to redeem the pain eternally and it causes me to be a deeper, more empathetic person in the meantime.

All that being said- I have to remind myself hourly of these beliefs I hold. Every time I scoop up our Little Girly, every time I'm trying to get her to drink a bottle but she's too busy cooing at me- I realize that if I don't get to be her Mom forever I might break.

I suppose I should be holding all of my kids this way: realizing their lives are in the hand of God and not my own, believing that His best is better than my best, and loving them with everything in me for the days that I do have them. Oh...but it's much more real when waiting to hear from CPS if we will get to move forward with adopting.

Regardless of how many days we get to love on Little Girly, I am already amazed at how God has orchestrated her arrival. For months Darla has been drawing pictures of our family and including "the sister we adopt". One picture had a name written above it. I remarked that it was a cute name for a little sister and remembered it because it was the only time Darla put a name on the mysterious "adopted sister". She had read it from a book or something.

When the placement coordinator first called a month ago and described the situation and Little Girly, I told her we would like to have her placed with us.

As I was ready to hang up, the placement coordinator said, "By the way- her name is ___." I hung up feeling miffed and somewhat delighted. It was the same name Darla put on her picture weeks before.

We prayed for her without ceasing, as a family, for the past month. When I took Little Girly to the doctor on Friday he marveled at how well she is doing. He was quite surprised that this was the same Girly that came out of such an unhealthy situation because there are no indicators of her previous situation. It has built our faith knowing how miraculously the Lord protected her.

Speaking of miracles...she just had the best nap yet but is now telling me expressively that it is time to eat!

A Midnight Gift

2011-03-03T19:58:00.000-08:00

At 1am this morning we got to see how God answered our prayers for the little one we've had on our hearts for a month now. In fact, this little girly has been smothered with kisses, held, rocked, had six hands fighting over who gets to hold the bottle...all day today.

I would love to pour out the miracles; beautiful moments orchestrated by God that we are seeing. At the same time, foster care has heavy responsibilities in confidentiality and privacy during this stage. So many stories yet to come.

We probably won't know for awhile if we'll get to adopt Little Girly but I can tell you it took all of one minute to decide that we'd like to! At this stage her social worker will be exploring what the best permanent solution for her will be. We would love for you to join us in praying for God's best. There seems to be quite a battle going on and we believe that God has a beautiful redemptive story to write with her life. Please pray that nothing would hinder the best and that she would be protected in her body and soul.

I was hoping to share more but I have four kiddos to tuck in to bed so it will have to wait- thank you for all your prayers and sharing in our giddiness!

The new thing

2011-02-22T14:23:00.000-08:00

Marrying someone with big vision can feel like that moment a plane takes off when you close your eyes for a moment, take a deep, calming breath, and work hard to not leave fingernail marks on the armrests.

I have had a few people ask about S.'s ventures with Big Oa k and I see their concern. I know they think after eight years of crazy paced youth ministry it's probably not wise to jump into starting a new business. We've had some ask how his anxiety must be now with the financial pressures and other strains of building a new ministry.

To that I must say...it's the strangest thing. It's strange that in the season that should be the most stressful, we've experienced the most peace. I recently told someone, "I don't know how this is going to turn out for us financially. Some months it seems doable and others it's completely overwhelming. But I do know that if at some point it all comes down, if we have to walk away from it because we can't make it work, we're going to be just fine. It wouldn't devastate us because for the first time our marriage is healthy, we have the same vision and are excited about moving in the same direction, our kids are healthy and thriving... and we are on our knees in prayer and focused on the Lord every day."

I wouldn't have been able to say that about our little family previously. Honestly, if I had my way I would have had some recoup time of stability, a nest egg, and other practical measures before venturing out into a vast unknown. But no matter how we tried, the Lord kept bringing us back around to this.

I told my sister last week, "it's amazing to me that every time I feel doubtful and discouraged- S. has a surge of faith and confidence in what God is doing. Then the days he's ready to throw in the towel, I'm determined that we are where we are supposed to be." That's something.

December & January were full of encouragement and financial support. February has been hard (it's not over yet!). For those dear worriers who wonder how I hold up under it all- I don't always (hold up) but I do have to say that the only thing I don't like about my husband's job is the not-knowing finances. I love every other aspect.

There have been some amazing developments with creating software that can put our devotional material on mobile devices for students. The details would take a separate blog to describe (and truthfully I'm not smart about how it all works...I'm the nerd that wrote the whole devotional with a pen and college ruled paper. I know- I'm old school.)

S. is partnering with a local church who sent their youth pastor on a few month sabbatical. The youth pastor had a similar crash & burn experience to S. a few years ago. Now S. has an opportunity not only to walk with his pastor friend, but also partner with the church in leader training, vision casting, and mentoring while his friend takes a needed rest.

We've had camp opportunities in abundance. One well known local camp has hired S. not only for speaking but asked Big Oak to give the camp a boost with marketing and networking.

It's also looking like Big Oak will put on a camp next fall for leaders and students in the area from multiple churches. The details are awesome (and as usual- slightly unconventional) but will also wait for a future blog.

This past weekend S. spoke at a camp at Mt. Baker. 3 nights of building relationships with a few youth pastors from WA, speaking 6 times to a group of 100 high school students, and a day of skiing...seriously?! This is work?! The kids, my sister-in-law Megan, and I went up on Sunday during free time to sled, drink hot chocolate, and meet some students and leaders.

By God's grace we are doing all of this and yet living a maintainable pace, taking time to play and rest, having time to bless others and eat meals together. We all work hard but we also turn it off and get to apply those great ideals of "margin" and "boundaries".

The verse this week that speaks to me on so many levels is Isaiah 43:18,19 "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."

Love, Love

2011-02-17T15:28:00.000-08:00

When I met S. I was anti-Valentine's Day. Maybe it was the non-conformist in me, maybe it was the overt commercialism, maybe it was the feeling of forced affection or the combination of pink and red. Regardless, I informed S. that I wasn't a fan of the love fest that is February 14.

He responded by an over-the-top romantic dinner, flowers, sparkling cider (with a custom label he made and glued on), a menu he designed with inside jokes incorporated, and lots of pink and red. He did this all on February 13 and called it an "Un-Valentine" celebration.

So...I lost that battle. As I've so obviously matured I do enjoy Valentine's but wanted to make it a family celebration instead of just a romantic night for S. and me. Last year a dear friend surprised Darla and me by sending a Valentine package- everything we needed to throw a party for the five of us. It began a fun tradition for the five of us. This year we were again surprised by a Valentine kit in the mail and set to work decorating.

Darla adores Valentine's. She loves the decorating, the creativity, the getting "fanced up" as she calls it, and mostly...the ice cream sundaes.
Loving on their valentine.

Notice that we managed one shot with nice smiles... except for S. looking tough...
When we say "smile for the camera" my kids think it means "pull a funny face and try to make everyone laugh"... which they apparently get from their father.
And of course- my valentine.

Surrendered passions

2011-02-14T14:40:00.000-08:00

It seems to me that when the Lord plants a passion in a person, there isn't much way around it. All the rationalizing, predicting, and philosophizing doesn't matter.

I think of my Beppe who had a passion for Africa. There were many more reasons to not go but it still wasn't enough to keep her here. She packed her three small blonde daughters out to remote Nigeria to then birth two boys while there. In spite of near death experiences, language barriers, and malaria- she has such sweet memories from her time there.

When S. fell in love with youth ministry, there were many reasons to find something more professional in his projected field of speech communications. Reasons like- you should stop pulling all nighters when you get to a certain age, the money is typically not there, who really wants to get panicked middle of the night calls from teenagers who aren't yours?, no group of people think they know so much and really know so little... and the list goes on. The list doesn't matter to S. He may have battled anxiety, never had a normal weekend, spent nights away from home counseling students and days counseling their

parents, but the thought of youth ministry still brings an excited grin and a stream of creative ideas.

For me it's adoption. I was six when my brother was adopted so it must have started some time after that, but it feels like it was always there. Of the 45 of us cousins on my Dad's side, nearly half are adopted. I never tired of hearing the details of each story.

When I was in high school, my best friend's parents did foster care. I loved spending time at their house watching his impassioned mom love on kids and ultimately adopt a handful of them.

I've watched numerous challenges arise from families adopting but no matter what I see and hear, I can't make it deter me. It's too ingrained to be severed with reasoning.

Over a year and a half ago S. and I decided to act on it and pursue adoption. For the first time we were both on the same page (at the same time) and excited to see where the journey would lead. Then we moved, then we were pulled a thousand directions, then we moved again, changed jobs, and for much of our year had nothing to call a 'job'. At different times we stopped and started the process to get our foster license with the ultimate goal of adopting.

For most of my life I assumed of course God wants me to adopt. He tells us to care for orphans, I've seen Him work some amazing stories for so many children...surely we'll have our own story. Yet as God has given me this passion, surrounded me with an amazing church body adopting children left and right, with my own sister adopting, with resources, and a degree in education- He has also been teaching me to hold my hands open. I am understanding that even the dreams He has given me need to be surrendered to Him.

An interesting way He has been leading has been through children who we anticipate having in our home. In the course of our marriage, 4 times we have thought "maybe that's the child we'll have in our home!" Each time we have known the child's name, his or her story, and prayed fervently for God's best in their life. We've come to a place- each time- of being willing to swing the door open and add to our family. Each time we think we are swinging the door open... it swings shut instead.

In January I was able to hear an update on one of the little boys we had thought we might adopt. I learned he was adopted by a couple who loves the Lord and are unable to have biological children. Hearing about how events transpired allowed me to release all my questions about the situation. I had a great peace knowing God had called me for a season to intercede for this little guy until he could get home.

I had needed the encouragement because in September we were told we were getting a baby girl. I waited to get things ready because I know how these things go in foster care. The social worker called and said she'd have her to us within a couple hours... but then other events transpired. I tucked the car seat back into storage and trusted that for whatever reason I was again called to pray for a little one I'll never meet.

A week and a half ago we got a call. Again. We were guarded yet knew we were called to pray. Again we were told "you'll have her later today". Still not ready to get hopes up, we waited. When the social worker called and said, "I'll be on my way within the hour" I finally pulled out some blankets and pajamas to wash.

Half an hour later we found out "not tonight- hopefully tomorrow". More events transpired and it's not looking probable that she will be a Taylor either.

I don't pretend to comprehend the roller coaster of a journey we are on. I don't even pretend to know which way is up. I do know that the Lord doesn't waste these experiences. Our prayers for these kids do not go unheard. I know that even without adopting ourselves, the Lord is using our family to pray on the front lines. Listening to my kids pray for the last little girl brought me to the brink of tears multiple times last week.

We have been required (by the grace of God) to hold everything with open hands and I trust that even if our hands are never filled up the way we anticipate- our passions will still not go to waste.

In the meantime, I am thoroughly enjoying this little trio.

Superheroes and Snow Leopards

2011-02-01T14:46:00.001-08:00

Last night my boys dressed up as Spiderman and Batman. I heard Hudson (Batman) say, "Everett- say, 'send out your best soldier'"!

Everett (Spiderman) complied.

Batman responded with "I come at you in the NAME OF THE LORD!"

I came around the corner to find Batman and Spiderman facing off...with punching gloves on.

"Were you guys just quoting David and Goliath?"

Batman the plagiarizer looked up sheepishly. "Yeah, David said that. But I'm Batman."

Oh. Clearly.

This morning the superheroes were back at it. Darla was feeling left out and sulking accordingly. I suggested that she use her own dress up to be a princess superhero. Eagerly, she put on her Christmas dress.

"Mom, I kinda look like a snow leopard with the spots on my dress. Huh. I think I'll be Queen of the Snow Leopards. I'll live in the Arctic. When it gets too cold and dark then I'll migrate to the rainforest." (Can you tell what she's been learning about?)

So... running up and down the hall, up and across my bed, 3 very unique superheroes saved some snow leopards and subsequently ruled over them.

There you have it. Today's plot, courtesy of the Taylors.

Thoroughly & Completely

2011-01-24T14:09:00.001-08:00

Whenever the rain comes down hard enough to start bouncing on the pavement, I remember what it felt like to live in a flood zone; holding my breath that the pummeling rain wouldn't turn into a cresting river.

This morning as the rain poured out the side of our gutters creating a waterfall feature, I was realizing again how many life lessons and analogies I have from my time in a bizarre old farmhouse. (If you want to read more about the events of 911 Hampton Rd...read here.) One of the lessons I learned was how God thoroughly and completely answers prayer. We had prayed for Him to provide a way for us to remodel our 1936 farmhouse. He did. Thoroughly and completely. He didn't just "send a check in the mail" so we could have our dream. He used a Ford Explorer crashing through the kitchen, a flood, and fantastic insurance. He used our remodel to teach us to trust Him as our True foundation. We learned to run to Him with our fears, that our earthly dreams can be broken in a moment and only things built in Christ will last. Ultimately the things we learned in process were more valuable than if we

had been handed the keys to an end product.

But oh, it hurt! My favorite teacup shattered along with our computer and a favorite desk in the 'hit'. All the sheetrock we worked so hard on had to be ripped down along with my freshly painted rooms. For months I cringed when I heard a car driving fast next to any house. Clean up after the flood was so overwhelming that we procrastinated for months. The cost was high, but our remodel was thorough and complete. Done any other way would have only scraped the surface.

This past year God has answered my prayers in the same fashion: unexpectedly and painfully. For example, for years I prayed that S. would take wise leadership in our finances.

Hooray- God has been answering!

Argh- He's done it by bringing us to nothing and then convicting S. to prudence and leadership. In the process He hasn't forgotten what I need to learn; dependance on Him, relinquishing control, that it won't kill us to eat cheap meat for awhile.

As I whine I am reminded, "Thoroughly and completely. The Lord is answering thoroughly and completely."

Most of my prayers in the past year have been answered with a brutal "thoroughly and completely" or with a "no". I know without doubt I will look back at this season and see God's big faithful handprint on it. However, in the midst I've felt like "God's going to do what He's going to do. I don't even want to ask." Then I resort to cowering under my gold 'quiet time' chair instead of sitting, praying boldly, on it. Somewhere along the way I didn't even want to pray anymore. When I did, it was only words like "help...be gracious...mercy!" that emerged.

Last week I read Isaiah 37 and 38. They are about the king of Judah, Hezekiah, and two separate requests he makes of the Lord. Specifically, the one that spoke straight into my soul was as Hezekiah was on his death bed and begged the Lord to let him live. The Lord had already told him through Isaiah that his life was ending. The Lord answers "yes" and adds fifteen years to Hezekiah's life. He then leads Hezekiah through a process of acknowledging his own sin and inability to save himself- bringing God glory and showing to the nations that the God of Judah is the God able to save. Thoroughly and completely.

Even though I already know God answers prayer and even though I've experienced these things... I had fresh eyes after cowering in exhaustion. The relief in Hezekiah's prayer: going from desperation to the amazement that God was about to restore him somehow became my relief. It is my relief that God does answer thoroughly and completely. It is my relief that God "has heard my prayer and seen my tears" (Isaiah 38:5). It energizes me to know that He has changed course because of the prayers of His own.

I've been expectantly waiting for the Lord to bring me to this place. Foolishly I thought He would accomplish a turning in my heart by turning my circumstances. Instead, He used His Word- piercing me in a way that words, unfortunately, can't do justice. You'd think my thick head would wrap around the fact that He doesn't merely work in circumstances or skim the surface...He works thoroughly and completely.

A Little Disturbing

2011-01-21T15:02:00.001-08:00

From what I know about explorer Francis Drake, I would have disagreed with him on at least 2 counts: I have nothing against Spain and I like Catholics. However… I stumbled on a prayer he wrote as he ventured out to the west coast of South America and it resonated deeply with me:

Prayer of Francis Drake, 1577

Disturb us, Lord, when
We are too well pleased with ourselves,
When our dreams have come true
Because we have dreamed too little,
When we arrived safely
Because we sailed too close to the shore.
Disturb us, Lord, when with the abundance of things we possess
We have lost our thirst for the waters of life;
Having fallen in love with life,
We have ceased to dream of eternity
And in our efforts to build a new earth,
We have allowed our vision Of the new Heaven to dim.
Disturb us, Lord, to dare more boldly,
To venture on wider seas
Where storms will show your mastery;
Where losing sight of land,
We shall find the stars.
We ask You to push back
The horizons of our hopes;
And to push into the future
In strength, courage, hope, and love.
I have been disturbed. It is uncomfortable. It keeps me up at night, contemplating what He calls me to. It sacrifices my comfort. It involves a level of breaking, loss, and empathy that I would never choose for myself.

Yet, if I were comfortable, complacent, self-satisfied, or in love with my life...well, that alternative is much, much more frightening.

Martin Luther King, Jr. Day

2011-01-17T13:13:00.000-08:00

At the library this week I dug up three children's books pertaining to Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. One paralleled Martin Luther King Jr. with Abraham Joshua Heschel, a Jewish man who came to the United States shortly before his family was killed during Hitler's invasion of Poland. One book is the story of Rosa Parks, and I was especially glad to find an easy reader book from Ruby Bridges' point of view telling about being the first black girl in an all-white school.

My kids have never known that some people are discriminated against. With an armful of books and new concepts... we began reading. Then we stopped reading. Repeatedly. Because they fired questions at me in bewilderment. "Hitler really killed people because they were Jews? Did he know them?" "Where is the drinking fountain for brown skin people? What do they DO if they can't use a white bathroom?" "Why did Ruby need U.S. Marshals to go to school with her? Who would hurt her?"

They were appalled and confused. Later that night we began to connect it to our world- if we lived separately from people of other colors, what would that be like? They named their friends in Sunday School who have different colored skin- each time making mention that they would miss them if they couldn't share a classroom with them.

"What if Gage and Jude couldn't go to McDonalds with us?" This was the closest to home example. Darla particularly couldn't imagine anyone not loving her cousins just because they have brown skin. "Don't people know that Ethiopians can even teach us a new language?!"

I am very thankful that my kids are learning that all people are created by God in His image. I am thankful that it comes as a surprise that not all people believe the same. I am thankful that they are learning now that some things are worth fighting for (or...participating in peaceful activism for...) Their response sobered me. The history I shared with them is familiar to me but triggered fresh passion and 'fight' in me for those that are passed over, looked down on, or persecuted.

With a completely different tone- my boys were delighted to get some toys of different color for Christmas this year. Hudson tells me this is Gage and him:

And, if you can see the resemblance, the following is clearly Jude and Everett:

I'm sure the super heros are just preparing for a peaceful protest...

Tuck-ins

2011-01-14T20:44:00.000-08:00

One of our daily routines is "tuck-in time". All of us Taylors sit on the floor and take turns praying. Then the little Taylors crawl in bed, and S. and I make the rounds kissing and talking with each kid.

Most of the time as all five of us take turns praying there is also reprimanding as kids elbow, nudge, or pull at each other. "Quit kicking the wall. Making faces is not respectful! Shhhh, Darla is praying!" and other such instruction becomes essential. Often the kids rattle off their 'regular' prayer without reflection and S. and I nearly catapult them to beds in attempt to start our own quiet evening.

Then, on occasion, the heavens part and we see something deeper. Tonight was one of those, and unfortunately S. is speaking at a middle school retreat and missed it! I was the only one to witness three small children with eyes closed, hands folded, quiet. Actually quiet.

Hudson started off with "Dear Jesus, thank you for bats, iguanas, and scarlet macaws, and strawberries, and blueberries, and all those things you make. Keep helping it to rain so everything you make stays alive. Help be with ALL the people. Amen."

Darla was next: "Jesus, help Dad as he talks to students- help him say what you want him to say and help them listen. Also help the person that needs the ambulance we saw. Comfort them and talk to them. Provide for them and put on them your love. And help me not to have bad dreams. Amen."

The ball was rolling and Everett was up: "Jesus, Thank you Diego, Mommy, Daddy, Bruthy, Darla, and Mom let me watch Diego. Amen."

My prayers included a huge thank you for the blessing of my kids.

Then I gave kisses and tucked them in. Then I went back to bring them water. Then I fetched a cough drop. At some point Hudson needed a band aid. Then Everett snuck down the hall with an excuse that I don't believe was even in English.

...and now, in this moment, my prayers include a thank you for sleeping kids.

Fruitful Fields

2011-01-13T15:49:00.000-08:00

I've been camping in Isaiah 32-34. I landed there because it's required for my Bible Study. I stayed there because it's the encouragement and hope as an ugly year ends and new one starts fresh. In Isaiah 32:15 Isaiah prophesies a time where the Lord will bring justice and relief: "Until the Spirit is poured upon us from on high, and the wilderness becomes a fruitful field, and the fruitful field is counted as a forest."

When you've spent time in the wilderness- the craving to see it transformed into a fruitful field becomes pretty intense. My trip through the wilderness in the past year has given me a much deeper hunger for the things that only my God can accomplish.

Isaiah goes on to say, "Then justice will dwell in the wilderness, and righteousness remain in the fruitful field. The work of righteousness will be peace, and the effect of righteousness, quietness and assurance forever. My people will dwell in a peaceful habitation, in secure dwellings, and in quiet resting places, though hail comes down on the forest, and the city is brought low in humiliation. Blessed are you who sow beside all waters..."Isaiah 32:16-20

I know that the promise of peace, quietness, and blessing that Isaiah is talking of won't completely come to pass until this world is over. Yet I am also thankful that He gives me small little pockets of this as He sustains me in this life.

A year ago we were in nasty terrain but beginning to hear the Lord in a new way. It reminds me of God allowing the Israelites to wander for 40 years so that in the desert He could teach them to hear His voice, reveal Himself, and establish them as a nation. He has definitely been doing those things in us (although I think we'll stick to just being a family and not make a nation out of it...)

I am hoping for pockets of God's rest and graciousness this year...and have been noticing some tufts of grass popping up in what has previously been desert.

One of these blessings has been a new office for BIG OAK. S. had been praying for a very cheap option as he has been working hard to be a faithful and frugal steward of the resources we've been blessed with. He discovered a beautiful office in Lynden and only pays $100 a month. I am incredibly encouraged by the doors the Lord keeps opening when S. has been obedient, prayerful, and responsible. As he is faithful with a little...it has increased. December was by far the best month financially for BIG OAK and many times I was brought to tears by the people moved to contribute.

S. has quite a few speaking opportunities within the next 2 months, including speaking to over 100 middle schoolers this weekend.

He is also working with a Bible software company as we try to make a;life a curriculum for students to use on mobile devices. There are some cool ideas floating around and this year we get to meet with people who can put feet on them.

I am constantly astounded that it's been a year since we had an official "job" "benefits" a "savings account" that was building and not draining... and yet I paid my mortgage and got groceries this month. We've scraped the bottom of the barrel but even though we are down to one car and one less bank account, the Lord has given us wisdom in what we do have. By His grace (and some generous family members) we even had an abundance of Christmas gifts! To me that was an unexpected oasis.

After 4 months of being sick I made it to the gym last week. I certainly never knew that an upper body workout could make me emotional! I'm still on my third round of antibiotics and I still do have coughing fits but I am able to sleep solid nights and my energy level is improving. I'll take what I can get.

S. took this following picture one morning as he pulled out of our neighborhood. You can see that in no way are we in a literal desert!

I know the deepest longings of my heart will only be satisfied in my relationship with Christ and only completely when all the filth of this world is wiped away, but in the meantime I am enjoying these sweet glimpses of His hand.

SIX

2011-01-07T14:42:00.000-08:00

As a mom I feel like I should say, "I can't believe my baby girl is already six!" but I can. In fact, I often wonder if I missed a year because she has always seemed about a year ahead of her age. She is my kindergartner who is having no problem with her first grade curriculum. She is an avid reader; passionate about science and history. Her ability to be uninhibited in her question asking and exploration leads to quick knowledge and by the grace of God- a dose of wisdom to accompany it.

Last month she brought her brothers and a jar outside to collect sap while S. put up Christmas lights. S. said, "Darla- that sap will make a huge mess."

"But Dad, we need to collect it for animal food."

"Darla, no animals eat sap."

She raised her eyebrows and said, "Yes huh, Dad. Pygmy marmosets eat sap."

"What are pygmy marmosets?"

With an I-can't-believe-you-don't-know-this sigh she said, "The smallest monkey!"

Which was followed by S. giving me the I-can't-believe-she-knows-this-stuff look.

I returned the look when she made up a song about a butterfly hair clip in the bathroom and one of the lines had to do with "hiding from a predator- this butterfly doesn't want to be prey."

In reflecting on Darla's year and her character...I've realized that much of who she is came out in the party she planned for her sixth birthday. She decided that one of the important components of her party would be a "breakable doll party" with girls because for Christmas she received her first porcelain doll- a very big deal.

The week before the party Darla said, "We'll have it in a flower garden."

"Uh...Darla? It's January. There aren't flowers and there's no way we can sit outside in fancy clothes."

She was disappointed so we set to work making a flower garden. She was proud and I'm thinking it might be awhile before I can take it down.

The morning of her birthday, Darla chose one of her gifts to let her brothers open for her. She can be bossy but this little girl loves her brothers and can't stand it if they feel left out.
One of Darla's birthday requests was that she could have 'special time' with Beppe (my mom) to get her ears pierced. My mom took her the afternoon of her birthday and Darla sat on her lap, squeezed her hands and later told me, "I only cried for 3 seconds."
Darla loves food. We've worked hard with her this year to help her evaluate, "Do you really want a third bowl of oatmeal? What is your tummy saying?" Finally, she will stop herself in asking for seconds, cock her head as though she's listening to her stomach, and then inform us, "I think my tummy wants just a little more."

Cupcakes are standard for our birthday parties but Darla requested "chocolate cake with pink frosting and a 6 on it." She is also very affirming and told me, "Mom- it's the prettiest cake I ever saw."
Darla told her girl cousins to come to her 'breakable doll party' the morning after her everyone-inclusive McDonalds party. She said, "They can wear the fanciest dress they have at their house. They should get their hair "fanced up" and wear jewels if they want. Tell them to bring a breakable doll."

Darla's outfit of new tennis shoes with her dress perfectly depicts her personality- girly with a streak of tomboy.

After everyone left and just Darla and I were left in the house, we flopped down at the table. I said, "Wow, Darla. What a party. I'm wiped out."

She said, "I could go for more cake."

My "no-to-more-sweets" was on auto-pilot but I recanted, grabbed 2 forks, and kicked off her year with cake for lunch.

Last year I prayed that Darla's creativity would flourish, that she would not fear taking risks, and that her heart would be tender to the Lord.

I am thanking the Lord that He clearly answered all of those prayers. Her creativity has been at the forefront through her birthday celebrations. It was a risk to throw her into first grade without doing kindergarten, ballet, and a busy schedule. She's been courageous and willing. This year she asked the Lord to come in her heart and has taken her commitment very seriously.

My prayer for Darla's next year is that God would continue giving her sensitivity to Him. I pray that she will know His voice, pour out her heart to Him, and see Him working in her life.

Happy Birthday, Darla Jules!

Happy New Year

2011-01-01T15:32:00.000-08:00

In thinking about 2010, my "hymn of the year" comes to mind. Much of "How Firm a Foundation" has applied to my life in the past year, but specifically this week I was humming these verses:

"When through the deep waters I call thee to go,

The rivers of sorrow shall not overflow;

For I will be with thee thy troubles to bless

And sanctify to thee thy deepest distress.

When through fiery trials thy pathway shall lie,

My grace, all-sufficient, shall be thy supply.

The flames shall not hurt thee; I only design

Thy dross to consume and thy gold to refine."

Dross is defined as:

impurity: worthless or dangerous material that should be removed; "there were impurities in the water"

slag: the scum formed by oxidation at the surface of molten metals

This year has been defined by flames consuming "scum". As a result...we are being refined. Also as a result... I am beyond ecstatic to see 2010 come to an end. In fact, all month I had an urge to burn something. Every time someone said, "I can't believe 2010 is almost over!" I thought, "Let it burn."

So on New Year's Eve in an inspired moment I took a lighter outside with my 2010 calendar (it would cause less damage than some of the other things I considered burning).

When S. came home to find me in the backyard in a burning ceremony...no lost love for the past year...he laughed and cheered.

At midnight, we sighed relief.

Happy New Year!

My apology to "Whatcom Places"

2010-12-30T14:30:00.000-08:00

I mentioned in a previous post my long-time friend, Logan. My family became friends with Logan because he happened to move to our little town in the Northwest corner of Washington the same week that we did. It was fall of my senior year and he was a sophomore- in my sister's class. My sister, Logan, and I stuck together to try to figure out this interesting community where everything closes at 5:30pm, where we were the only ones that hadn't worked the berries in the summer (although I'm proud to say I have now!), and everyone went to church Sunday after partying Saturday.

The first time we went to Logan's house we discovered a book on his parent's coffee table called "Whatcom Places". (Whatcom is the county Lynden is in). We flipped through the pictures laughing. "These places don't exist! Who makes this stuff up?! What kind of angle is that anyway?" It became a long-lasting joke that the whole book was a farce.

I was thinking about "Whatcom Places" as I drove home after running errands this morning; a fresh blanket of snow on the Canadian mountains as well as Mt. Baker, blinding sunshine, and green grass. I thought, We were so wrong.

I have now lived here for about 8 years and I have seen most of those Whatcom Places. They are not exaggerated. They are not photo-shopped. They are real. So with a sigh, I must concede. I am sorry Whatcom Places, that I doubted you. I was wrong in my mockery.

This truly is my view as I pull out of my driveway to drive to the gym in the morning- only my view is better because the sun rises in the back and shoots out all shades of pink and yellow.

I know! This looks made up. But I confess, I drink coffee here regularly and this doesn't even show the indoor/outdoor fireplace.

Yep...it's real. I wouldn't believe it but I've walked it.

Mt. Baker. I've skied it and the view from the top is just as good.

Yes, I thought it ridiculous a town should have such high standards for lawn maintenance. But I've conformed. I love these streets.

But please, don't tell people about our little corner. I'm afraid if people knew they might come in droves... and I've actually become kind of partial to a small town.

Christmas

2010-12-27T14:43:00.000-08:00

My long-time friend Logan left a comment on one of my blogs that resonated with me:

I've personally found it helpful to embrace the whole Advent season and not just the Christmas feast. The four weeks prior to the celebration of Christ's birth are for penance--not in the sense of walking around all depressed but in the sense of annually remembering the brokenness of the world and preparing our hearts to receive him (making a straight path for the Lord by dying to self and giving mercy to those around us). If Christmas is all feast and no fast, we will miss the joyfulness of the occasion. And, as you point out, Christmas itself also looks forward (to Easter morn). And Easter itself looks forward to the day when we see the fullness of the promise come to pass.

I thought a lot about advent...and the lack of observing it in my own case. Unfortunately, I didn't begin stewing on this until mid-December. I did find a few ways to not only observe advent but also teach our kids about preparing their hearts and am planning on implementing those next year.

One topic that came up a lot this month in conversations with other parents is how to focus on Christ during Christmas and how to not get carried away in a current of materialism. We definitely have our share of presents because while S. and I get one present per kid and one pair of new pajamas...they have an abundance of grandparents, a great-grandma, a few great-aunts and uncles, as well as aunts, uncles, and cousins who can't let Christmas slip by without blessing them with new things.

We enjoy presents, but we've also been intentional to build traditions that aren't wrapped. Christmas Eve my father-in-law gets into town and we go to the Christmas Eve service with him and my sister-in-law, Megan. This year my sister Jasmine's family was asked to blow out the candles at the service after we sang "Happy Birthday Jesus".

We have Christmas Eve dinner with S.'s family and then brand-new pajamas to open. (Yes, I bought myself pajama pants and wrapped them up...only to find S. also got some and wrapped them for me.)
Christmas morning we have breakfast with S.'s family at our house. Then our kids attempt to listen and not squirm too much as S. reads. This year he read some prophecies from Isaiah,
followed by blowing the shofar (ram's horn) to symbolize Christ's coming, and then read the Christmas story.

Of course there are presents that seem to last for hours, followed by playing with those presents which lasts until lunch and nap time.

After naps all the Taylors pile into my parent's house along with my siblings and their families, other extended family, and some good friends. This year we had over 30 people... and 13 of them were ages 6 and under.
After dinner my dad reads the Christmas story and all of the kids act it out. This never ceases to be entertaining. This year 11 children between the ages of 2-6yrs. participated. There were tears over who gets to play what role, rogue wise men interrupting the angels, and lots of improvising. (For example, wise men and shepherds both got crowns because who doesn't want a cool Burger King crown? Also, the stuffed puppies who were supposed to be the shepherd's sheep doubled as gold and myrrh when we realized we were short on gifts for Jesus.)
(Gage did exceptional as Joseph considering this is all new to him!)
The Nativity re-enactment ends and the kids sing us Christmas songs (and by 'the kids' I mostly mean Darla. The angels took the stage and Darla began reciting lines that we didn't know she had memorized for the occasion. My sister Ericka raised her eyebrows and whispered, "We're going to need a bigger stage".)
The kids get to open more presents. This is them all trying to hug my grandma at the same time in a chorus of "thank you"s:
The kids' treat on Christmas is to blow out Jesus' candles and eat cupcakes after another round of "Happy Birthday Jesus".

Once the kids are settled with new toys, us adults get to have a white elephant gift exchange This is the best way to have an inclusive Christmas...no one feels left out as long as they can bring a random gift. (Yes, my grandma ended up with a fish that said "Stop looking at my bass".)
It was 9pm when we left my parent's house. Our kids were beyond exhausted for our hour drive home. As we neared our neighborhood Darla summed up our celebration well (with a yawn), "Wow. We were sooo blessed today. I didn't even KNOW that Christmas could be like this. It was the best ever."

Jesus wasn't a Dutchman

2010-12-22T16:20:00.000-08:00

My kids are growing up in a very different world than I grew up in...and I don't feel like I 'grew up' that long ago. There are obviously negative aspects to this, but there are also some amazing things about it.

For example, international travel was not even a consideration to me when I was young. Other continents seemed impossible to visit and it never crossed my mind other than in history or geography.

My kids have cousins who were born in Africa. They have had an opportunity to learn a lot about Ethiopia and love what they know about the culture. They ask Gage lots of questions (but I did have to tell them that I don't think Gage really rode a lion. I think he enjoyed the rapt attention and got carried away in his description.)

Both the white and brown-skinned cousins have a safe place to ask questions about differences, about why brown skin still has white finger tips and if your birth mom is white then is it possible to come out brown? (Hudson informed me he wishes God will give him brown skin.)

Because we are homeschooling, we get to use our own reference points as we look at other countries and cultures. We have dear friends who are missionaries in India, in Honduras, in Argentina, and more. Another good friend went to London and because we face-timed him while he was there, Hudson learned that when it is morning here, it is night there. He is constantly asking what time it is in London and how that works.

Darla wants to move to South America and live in the rainforest because she is fascinated with the animals. When we looked at Argentina on a map and I reminded her that Carissa and Emmy are missionaries there, she asked "will you e mail Emmy and ask her if she's seen any of these animals?"

Awhile back we took care of our dear little friend Halle for the day.

Hudson thought he was being a help at lunch saying, "Look, Halle- dabo!" I wasn't sure what he was doing so didn't pay attention. But then later on a walk he said, "Halle- makina! Makina! Car, Halle."

Then I realized that my son was speaking Ahmaric because Halle has brown skin. Darla realized it at the same time and said, "Hudson! Halle was born in TEXAS."

I burst out laughing. We showed Hudson where Texas is on a map and explained that it's not quite the same as Ethiopia.

Last week Darla overheard me telling my mom on the phone about a Native American baby who needs foster placement. She interrupted with, "Mom! Can we take him? It would be so fun to learn another language!"

More explanation given; more learning about Native Americans.

When the kids were coloring some nativity sheets this month Hudson said, "Darla, did you color their skin brown?"

"Kind of. Jesus wasn't white like we're white, Hudson."

True.

One part of homeschooling that Darla and I love is each week we read about a tribe or people group that doesn't have the Bible in their own language. We pray for them and talk about defining points of their culture. Darla is thinking she might like to go bring some Bibles to some people.

Although, she also has a hankering to do some digging in the Valley of the Kings in Egypt... once she found out all that was found in King Tut's tomb. Thank you internet- when she was interested in the assigned King Tut book we were able to go online and find all sorts of pictures and information to teach us more.

Hudson told me in the car today that for Christmas we should go the Himalayan mountains because "Mom, the snow never melts!"

Darla added, "Plus we could see some snow leopards."

I never had an urge to go to the Himalayans. I never cared to push around sand in Egypt and unless it's to zipline, the animals of the rainforest actually make me a little nervous. But suddenly it all sounds fun to do with these curious little sponges I live with.

The topper for me was Hudson a few weeks ago: "Darla, are you going to marry a boy with brown skin or white skin?"

"I don't know yet Hudson because I haven't decided who I'm going to marry."

Hudson got a shy little smile and said, "I want to marry a girl with brown skin...from Ethiopia."

Popcorn Balls and Burnt Lips

2010-12-22T07:15:00.000-08:00

This week in my attempt to make a holiday treat that my kids could help with, I found a recipe for popcorn balls. We had a fun (messy) afternoon making and then eating them. I let Hudson stir the butter and marshmallows while Darla got the popcorn popping. We have a couple rules when helping in the kitchen. One is, "Do not touch or taste anything until you ask Mom."

Well, when butter and colored marshmallows are mixing, swirling, and melting in a big pot, it's easy to get foggy brained. Hudson's excitement was building and in a moment of weakness he pulled the wooden spoon out and gave it a good lick.

OUCH! Eyes big, lips quivering, Mom yelping "DON'T DO THAT!" Pulling ice out, running the cold water...

"Oh, Hudson. I didn't tell you to not taste it because I was being cruel. I told you that because I knew it would hurt. It is so, so hot."

(Which cued Hudson to look at me like, "Really, Mom? It's hot? Thanks- I almost forgot about this blister reminding me.")

For a moment, Hudson thought that he knew best. He forgot that there is a reason I have rules and structure- so that he doesn't burn himself. I'm not the fun-police, I simply know what is best and want to protect my son. Our popcorn making day was also a day I was stewing on what 'freedom' really means.

Isaiah 28 and 29 contains passages about people thinking they know what's best for their lives. They forget that they are only the clay and believe that the Potter doesn't know what is best. Isaiah 29:16, "You turn things upside down, as if the potter were thought to be like the clay! Shall what is formed say to him who formed it, "He did not make me"? Can the pot say to the potter, "He knows nothing"?

I have talked to many people who believe that following Christ will rob them of their "freedom". I used to roll my eyes when a student would say, "I just want a break from the God thing for awhile. Not that I don't want to be a Christian- I just want to do my own thing." My eye rolls have turned into alarm as I have heard adults say the same thing in the past year. If we are following this line of thought, we have no understanding of what a relationship with Christ is or who He is as the Potter.

"Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free."

They answered him, "We are Abraham's descendants and have never been slaves of anyone. How can you say that we shall be set free?" Jesus replied, "I tell you the truth, everyone who sins is a slave to sin. Now a slave has no permanent place in the family, but a son belongs to it forever. So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed." John 8:32-36

My little brother would tell you this from his journey fighting alcohol. What began as a 'fight for freedom' and 'doing what I want' grew into something that enslaved him. It impacted every area of his life and every relationship. He tried repeatedly to overcome it on his own to no avail. Only after he surrendered to Christ did he truly began understanding that Jesus would set him truly free. He understands that Jesus warns about drunkenness because he knows what is best for us. He isn't the fun-police, He is the Potter who knows the stubborn, self-reliant clay more than the clay is willing to admit.

When my sister Megan moved in with us nearly five years ago, she mentioned that she knew she should stop smoking. Then one day she told me she went for a drive to have a smoke. As she was driving it hit her that she was missing out on family time...just to have a cigarette. Suddenly it was clear that something had a hold on her that was robbing her of God's best. She realized that she felt guilty coming in to play with our kids while smelling like smoke, and at that moment was driving aimlessly while we were all having a great time at home. With God's help- she quit.

That wasn't just a learning moment for Megan. I saw clearly at that moment it's not just about removing something that is "bad"...it's about the good, the Truth, God's better plans, that go in place of what we are enslaved to.

The beautiful thing was that God didn't just want Megan to 'stop smoking' because it's a rule. He had intended something wonderful to replace what was monopolizing her time. He replaced it with rich relationships, and time with her niece and nephews (which has turned into one of the most important relationships in my kids' lives).

"What benefit did you reap at that time from the things you are now ashamed of? Those things result in death! But now that you have been set free from sin and have become slaves to God the benefit you reap leads to holiness, and the result is eternal life. For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord." Romans 6:21-23

Reflections from time in a gold chair

2010-12-17T12:45:00.001-08:00

One of my favorite things about December is the early mornings, before anyone is awake. Okay, early morning quiet times are always a favorite part of the day, but I crave it even more when there are Christmas lights and the smell of pine to accompany me, my journal, my Bible, and a hot cup of coffee. My kids even call our gold upright chair "Mom's quiet time chair".

The other morning I had my hands wrapped tight around my Christmas mug to warm up while I contemplated this year's Christmas. As I was praying, a wave of discouragement washed over as I remembered last Christmas. We have come so far in a year's time but "memory triggers" have a way of transporting you back to memories and emotions that forget progress.

Last year was lousy as my husband was plagued with anxiety and depression. Each fun event of this December reminds me how lonely and exhausting the last one was. Even though we had dealt with anxiety for a couple years, S. hit an all time low and I hit a wall after trying too long to hold our lives together. It was the lowest point in S.'s life and though I trusted the Lord and believed that transformation was coming...there wasn't yet a light on the horizon and I wondered if my hope was in vain.

As I sat in my gold chair, I was frustrated with myself. I should be celebrating that anxiety lost it's hold on S. last February. I should be rejoicing that we are actually enjoying Christmas without frantically planning church services, answering emergencies, and planning events during everyone else's break. This is the first year S. can Christmas carol with us and our neighborhood because we don't have to do ministry two nights a week.

I told the Lord that I didn't like having mixed feelings, or having the true meaning of Christmas tainted because of painful memories. As I prayed, I thought about many people who struggle through holidays. I thought about S.'s family who are cruelly reminded every Christmas of so many family members who have passed away. Losing loved ones makes Christmas feel foreign and unfamiliar. I thought of friends who are lonely as missionaries in foreign countries, aching for comfort and familiarity of home. I thought of people who have endured tragedy, or have broken relationships that strain celebrations.

"Argh! Lord, these hurts put such a damper on celebrating your Son on earth! It stinks that people's pain, memories, and losses are accentuated during this season when we should be focused on what your Son came here for."

Then clear as day: Wait. Isn't this exactly what the 'Christmas message' is about? What do you think the Son came here for?

"Blessed is the Lord God of Israel, for He has visited and redeemed His people, and has raised up a horn of salvation for us in the house of His servant David. To give knowledge of salvation to His people by the remission of their sins, through the tender mercy of our God, with which the Dayspring from on high has visited us; to give light to those who sit in the darkness and the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace." Luke 1:69, 77-79

In that moment I felt renewed awe for Jesus' sacrifice- that He would bring His holiness and perfection and put it in the center of smelly (literally in the case of the manger), filthy, sinful misery. Ugliness doesn't taint Christmas. Christmas is about God coming to the center of ugliness with a Master plan for redemption.

Those who know grief, loss, and brokenness are the ones who can rejoice most at Christmas time. Those who know that left to our own, we mess things up and then wallow in self-pity. Those who know the emptiness in a season where we crave being filled. We have a need for a Savior. Not a need for warm fuzzies around the Christmas tree, for the perfect pie, for our kids to be home for the holidays- but a need for a real, in-the-flesh God who came to wipe our tears, to be a "Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace" (Isaiah 9:6).

Often Christmas is a reminder that the story isn't complete. Yes, Jesus has come and we can receive forgiveness and restoration in Him. But many promises are yet to come. Affliction on earth still exists and we still wait for our 'happy ending'.

"He will swallow up death forever, and the Lord God will wipe tears from all faces, the rebuke of His people He will take away from all the earth; For the Lord has spoken." Isaiah 25:8

Now THAT will be the perfect Christmas. Death swallowed up, relationships restored, wrongs made right.

As much as I wish Christmas only had rosy connotations, our failure and shortcomings are bringing me to understand (and desperately grab for) God's grace. I understand more that the Nativity I picture in my head- sweet, smiling shepherds and observant cows... falls short. Jesus came into a world filled with groaning, unrest, doubt, and pride.

I am certain now that nothing can ruin Christmas because the Lord always fulfills His promises and has said,

"He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Highest; and the Lord God will give Him the throne of his father David. And He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of His kingdom there will be no end." Luke 1:32, 33

Ahh... to celebrate what has come and what is yet to come, I'm going to grab a candy cane and hot chocolate and resume my spot next to the tree.

"Bruthies"

2010-12-13T14:07:00.000-08:00

One of my big hopes in homeschooling Darla this year was that my boys would have bonding time. Hudson has been dependent on Darla for his entire life and I wanted to intentionally push him toward Everett.

Success!

The first month was rough; Hudson missing his sister, Everett wanting to spend school time on my lap with my face in his hands so he could focus my eyes on himself.

As we start week 11 of school I have noticed a huge shift. This morning I was reading to the 'school girls' and could hear my boys laughing and playing pretend. (I was only interrupted each time they had to tell on each other for using bathroom humor.) An hour went by and I realized they had played peacefully together the entire time.

Everett has become Hudson's little mimic. When Hudson is talking, Everett is quietly mumbling- repeating every word Hudson says. He still calls Hudson "bruthy" but gets mad if anyone else calls Hudson "bruthy". Occasionally he'll say "Brother" but never says "Hudson" even though he is more than able to.
Last night it was quiet in the boys' room. Then Everett came out, dragging his blanket, into the living room. With concern in his eyes he said, "Bruthy not coming."

"What do you mean?"

"Bruthy not coming."

"Good. He knows he's supposed to stay in bed. Now you stay in bed, too. Good night."

Reluctantly, Everett went back to their room.

Curious, I followed. When he sat in bed he was on the verge of tears. "Bruthy not coming a my room!"

"Bruthy's not coming to your room?"

I looked up on the top bunk to what Everett couldn't see from the bottom- Hudson sprawled out and sound asleep.

Ah-ha.

"Everett, do you think Bruthy's not coming because you don't hear him when you talk to him?"

"Yeah." (Lip quivering)

"Everett, Hudson is asleep. He's not talking because he is asleep. Look. Now you go to sleep, too and please stop talking to him when he's sleeping."

Satisified, Everett promptly fell to sleep.

Radical (and Steve Carell)

2010-12-06T14:39:00.000-08:00

"Taking back your faith from the American Dream" is the tagline of the book Radical by David Platt. I recently read it because- well, because it was free. My dad preached a series to go along with the book and somehow a copy ended up on my counter.

I had a lot to stew on as I went through the book. Specifically I was reading what Platt had to say about God creating us. He cites the verse "God blessed them and said to them, 'Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it.'" Gen. 1:28

Platt says, "God gave his people his image for a reason- so that they might multiply his image throughout the world. he created human beings, not only to enjoy his grace in a relationship with him, but also to extend his glory to the ends of the earth."

I was nodding and skimming at this point- yes, yes, I know that God loves us and his purpose is that we glorify Him. It was a few pages later during Platt's application that I stopped in self-examination. Bear with me as I quote:

"If you were to ask the average Christian sitting in a worship service on Sunday morning to summarize the message of Christianity, you would most likely hear something along the lines of "The message of Christianity is that God loves me." ... "The message of Christianity is that God loves me enough to send his Son, Jesus, to die for me." ... "God loves me" is not the essence of biblical Christianity. Because if "God loves me" is the message of Christianity, then who is the object of Christianity?

God loves me.

Me.

Christianity's object is me.

Therefore when I look for a church, I look for the music that best fits me and the programs that best cater to me and my family. When I make plans for my life and career, it is about what works best of me and my family... This is the version of Christianity that largely prevails in our culture.

But it is not biblical Christianity.

...The message of biblical Christianity is "God loves me so that I might make him- his ways, his salvation, his glory, and his greatness- known among nations." Now God is the object of our faith, and Christianity centers around him. We are not the end of the gospel; God is.

There is more explanation (including emphasis that God does love us deeply, unquestionably) but I'll let you pick up the book if you want more than the gist.

How often do I remember that I'm designed to be a little mirror walking around this corner of the world- not looking good so people say, "Man, Shilo sure looks good" but with the purpose of reflecting the image of my Maker?

I am looking with fresh eyes at ways that I- and my culture- attempt to "Christianize" the American Dream.

To emphasize these thoughts, S. and I were channel flipping the other night and watched part of the movie "Evan Almighty." (Now, I'm a Steve Carell fan but I don't typically go to him for spiritual insight.) There is a part in the movie where God is calling him to build an ark and in the process everyone thinks he's gone crazy. He's suspended from his job in Congress and his wife can't handle it. She essentially says, "You really think God would have us move here, have you lose your job, have our "stuff" threatened and lose our reputations?!" She's indignant that God would do any such thing.

S. was gracious as I began spouting off over top of the movie dialogue. "Isn't that true!? Don't we question that God would make us do something that would threaten the American Dream? Surely God won't make me give my stuff up?! God won't let me move down the corporate ladder. God loves me! If God loves me then certainly that only leads to blessing, to healing, to respect. He wants me to overwork, too- He knows that I need a nest egg. He wants me to have the things I enjoy."

I suppose if it's about me then that is where it ends. Yet if it truly ends with God and the revelation of His glory...it might not always look the way we imagine. Often it does lead to healing, to blessing, to respect. But I don't think Steve Carell's wife (I call her Lorelai Gilmore- seriously...have I resorted to getting my insights from the Gilmore girl?) recalled that Jesus called the disciples to abandon their jobs. They looked crazy for the duration of their lives to onlookers. Noah did not have respect. Following Christ does not necessarily line up with our American ideals.

S. had a conversation with a student awhile back. She was discouraged, feeling like God was not talking to her. It became apparent that she was living for herself; making self-indulgent choices, spending time with people who are incapable of encouraging her faith, and trying to "get hers". Then when her life became a mess, as it inevitably does when lived with "me" at the center, she would quickly read a few verses and resort to frustration that God wasn't answering, rescuing her, and giving her what she wants.

Am I making subconscious "lists" for Santa Claus...I mean, God... expecting Him to be my personal helper in achieving my dreams and my ideas? When He gives me what will best glorify Him...do I glorify Him? Do I reflect His glory whether that means getting a job or losing a job? Do I reflect His glory whether that means healing or remaining sick? Do I avoid true sacrifice because I assume that He wants my comfort above His glory?

May I not stop at receiving God's love and grace. May His abundant love and grace in my life demonstrate His worthiness.

Thankful to be a Taylor

2010-11-29T11:53:00.000-08:00

I strongly believe that part of marriage is "marrying" a spouse's family. As strange as it was to start calling my father-in-law "Dad" at first, I did it because I knew I was now an important part of the Taylor family. (It's very easy to call him "Dad" now, by the way.)

When I was marrying S. I thought a lot about what my role would be in my new family. I had a unique situation because a year prior to S. and my first date (to the day) his mom had passed away. I walked into a family that had lost a wife and mother and the grief was fresh. I asked God to break my heart for my new family, asked Him to give me eyes to see them clearly and insight to encourage them.

He did. And I was very blessed by having my father-in-law and sister-in-law added to my life (not to mention that S. has some awesome aunts and uncles who I adore).

After some years of praying and asking God to bring Megan to Himself... He did. Not only did she choose to follow Christ, she chose to live under our roof while undergoing a huge transformation. She became one of my best friends, one of the few I trust the kids with, and now a huge encourager to me. My father-in-law checks up on me, stocks his cupboard with the best coffee when I'm coming to visit, and spoils my kids constantly.

This past week when we were all sick and then the snow and ice started... I was extremely disappointed that we might miss Thanksgiving with S.'s family.

I remember the first Thanksgiving I spent with S.'s family. It was my first time meeting them. I had known S. for less than 3 months (but he had already declared that he would be marrying me). It was a strange experience because this small, well-mannered family used real dishes for Thanksgiving. They all sat quietly around one table and passed things around for seconds. We watched some football and shared in the same conversation.

I grew up very differently. My family always ate buffet style with paper plates. There were at least 50 of us. In fact, one year we had Thanksgiving in a church so we'd have room... then one of my cousins pulled the fire alarm... it was a far cry from a "quiet" Thanksgiving (and the firemen were not excited). Having Korean relatives meant that in addition to turkey we had bulgogi and kim chi. In the morning all the boys would play football. If you wanted quality conversation, there was time to sneak a favorite cousin away for a walk. It was loud, messy, and lasted for days. Before eating, my Pake would have everyone go around the circle and share what they were thankful to God for that year. Relatives shared about struggles, about growing faith, and about what they needed prayer for. I remember wiggling, so hungry, wondering why this always had to take the good part of an hour.

One of my contributions to the Taylor family was to start the "thanks" tradition as we start the meal, going around the table to share. (I wasn't about to make them eat off paper plates- I'm all about the real wine glasses and silverware!)

I thought that it would be painfully hard to miss my own family's traditions but I realized this year how much I love the new traditions that have come over the years.
For Thanksgiving we pile in our car (this time Megan rode with us- party!) and drive to Long Beach, WA to stay with S.'s dad for the long weekend.
Grandad has quite the set up- a stocked fridge for us, coloring and an abundance of toys for the kids. The kids love that they get a slumber party together with sleeping bags on the floor. They get Grandad's special "flat toast" for breakfast to go with their eggs and get to play with his toy pirate ship.
When I found out that the Taylor family tradition involved lemon meringue pie (which then is fought over as pieces are snuck, hidden, and devoured by S. and his dad) I balked. I had never made pie in my life! Determined to preserve a tradition for them that no other woman was around to preserve...I set to it. This year I did a darn good job- gluten free pie crust is no easy task.
The kids' favorite part about Long Beach is going down to the beach. It was a brisk 30 degrees but they didn't care. We hunt for shells (Hudson was quite proud of crab shells he discovered) and wade with rain boots on.

Then we hurry back for hot chocolate and a Christmas movie.

This Thanksgiving I was thankful to be out of my bed and able to eat food without a queasy stomach. But I was also thankful that God picked the Taylor family for me and picked me for them.

I was also thankful to have a sister as a built-in friend (and navigator) for the 6 hour drive home when everyone else was crashed in the back. (Note that I'm not taking my eyes off the road even for a picture.)

The Thanksgiving that is Not Going in the Scrapbook

2010-11-24T14:25:00.001-08:00

I was silly to let a sinus infection and bronchitis get me down this month. In actuality, that was nothing in comparison to the stomach flu that knocked me flat for the past two days. Who gets the stomach flu the week of Thanksgiving?! It's a mean trick, I tell you.

Sunday afternoon Darla wasn't feeling well. She came into the kitchen to say something and suddenly she was throwing up...everywhere. As S. grabbed a bowl and I grabbed her, our eyes met over her head in a big, silent "Uh-oh."

Monday as she perked up, S. went down. Then by 4am Wed morning it was my turn. Our plan had been to leave this morning for Long Beach, WA to spend Thanksgiving with S.'s dad and sister. Unfortunately, as I was finally able to eat a piece of toast last night, S. relapsed into another round of sick.

So here we are. I've attempted to keep the kids semi-quiet so S. can sleep. It's challenging to keep the healthy ones busy while we're in the house and experiencing "record lows" in temperature for this time of year. 20 degrees and windy isn't exactly "go outside and play" weather. It would be cozy if we weren't all trying to keep germs off each other. Everyone to their own corners! I didn't plan on having Thanksgiving at home so if we do end up staying put tomorrow I have cranberry sauce and 7up for dinner.

As I stared at my bedroom wall for hours on end yesterday I did some thinking. (At one point S. came in, took one look at me and said, "Have you had too much time to sit and think today?" I guess he knows that look on my face.)

I thought a lot about holding things loosely.

One of ironies of my life recently (there are actually many) happened when we took our house of the market. We have wanted to sell but were beginning to feel exhausted with the roller coaster that it entailed. With everything in our lives feeling up in the air, we decided that letting the listing run out would at least eliminate one unknown.

Two weeks after it was off the market I got a message from an acquaintance saying she had been interested but saw it wasn't listed anymore.

One more time! We cleaned and showed it to them.

Then we didn't hear anything.

"Okay, Lord. I get it. I need to continue being open handed about everything- even if it is a roller coaster."

Then this week a neighbor stopped by. "I have a friend who might be interested in your house but I see it's not listed anymore."

Are you kidding?!

I suppressed a smile and said, "If they want I can show it to them."

"They'll be in town in a few weeks. I might let you know."

Then another message from the first girl, "We're still interested...just still looking at some other places right now."

I have concluded that whether I want it to be or not- my life is a roller coaster. Every time I think there is something I can control to regain some sanity...I can't. I am reminded that sanity does not come from me controlling my circumstances. "O Lord, I know the way of man is not in himself; It is not in man who walks to direct his own steps." Jeremiah 10:23

As I stared at my bedroom wall I realized that our Thanksgiving is yet another example. I would much rather be driving to the beach, coffee in hand, good music on and fun conversation with S. Instead, I'm trying to plan yet another meal that is gentle on stomachs (and noses) for the "sickies" and nutritious enough for the "healthies".

At least cranberry sauce is me and Darla's favorite part of Thanksgiving dinner. Come to think of it, I do have all the fixings for S.'s favorite lemon meringue pie. And I guess I can't complain too much...how many people can say they lost weight on Thanksgiving?

The Day that Felt Like Christmas

2010-11-20T11:18:00.000-08:00

Yesterday a "crystalized moment" turned into a crystalized day. We woke up to the first snowfall of the year. It was minimal, but when you have three young children there isn't a way to wake up more excited. The kids ran out for a round of snow angels in pajamas.

We then got to experience National Adoption Day very personally. We went to the courthouse to watch Gage and Jude officially become Ellis'. Some of us were running late so the judge bumped the Ellis' to last in the group of adoptions that hour. It turned into a big blessing as we tend to cheer loud and take up the entire courtroom. There was a small prayer team of women in the front row quietly praying for each family as the papers were signed. You think of traditional celebrations; birthdays, weddings, the birth of a child... and this ranks with all of these. It was a unique, exciting time for our entire family.

That's right...our entire family. My parents, my sister and her husband with their now 5 children, my two brothers, their wives and kids, and my own family equaled 21 of us in the courtroom (11 being children between 2 and 6yrs.). Since we were the last in the courtroom, we were able to take our first ever group picture with some courtroom folks as photographers!
We attend a church that believes in taking care of orphans and backs it up with a foster/adoption support group called His Kids Our Homes. They were instrumental in making National Adoption Day a party at the courthouse. We got to enjoy treats, snacks, coloring for the kids, and an amazing "balloon man" who whipped out 11 creations for each of our kids. No one wanted to leave...and you can't often say that about a courthouse!

Since we all like a good party and any excuse to be together- we added on a birthday party for my nephews James and Cliff. All 21 of us trekked to the "Fun Zone" which is actually a warehouse full of bouncy houses. The kids got hot, sweaty, and crazy while the rest of us caught up and debriefed on our morning.

The saying "it takes a village to raise a child" is right on. In my own life I have often received counsel, encouragement, and yes- even discipline, from my aunts, uncles, grandparents, and cousins. They have shaped me significantly. Now watching my boys wrestle with their uncles, listening to Hudson very seriously suggest to my sister that all the boy cousins live at one house and all the girls live at another house, and then having Everett cry half the way home because he wanted to ride with Pake and Beppe to their house... not only makes me happy but helps me shoulder my responsibilities. Jasmine, in thanking our family for our support, shared about the realization that when she inevitably fails in her role as a mom (her words- not mine!) her kids also have grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins that can be there to make sure they are raised right.

There's one more big benefit to busy, we-have-11-small-children-in-this-family days: really good naps once we get home.

Soaking it up & letting it sink in

2010-11-17T16:04:00.000-08:00

By the time S. walked in the door the other night, my eyes were nearly crossing. It had been a day of constant intervening between children, of paperwork, homeschooling, and a paycheck postponed. The rain hadn't stopped and all I wanted for dinner was a hot cup of tea (and I'm not even a tea drinker!) It has now been two months that I've been sick, one round of antibiotics, and a month of not being able to workout without ridiculous coughing fits. Missing workouts alone is enough to put me over the edge- lost sleep and life's turbulence has not been the side dish I'd pick to go with bronchitis and sinus infections.

As soon as dinner commenced (I was able to resist serving tea and did make real food) S. disappeared into the bathroom. He scrubbed down the bath, started warm water, lit candles, sent me in and sent the kids to have 'quiet time' in their rooms while he did dishes.

I had been in a funk but the quiet gave enough room for me to begin asking the Lord questions and listening for His response. I've been realizing that I've made some silly assumptions about my life. Unconsciously I have built up my ideas of what would be indicators of maturity and progress. For example, if I learn to be financially responsible and surrender my finances to the Lord, I will see His blessing in a certain way- a savings account, a newer vehicle, a smart budget. Surely a 401k is a sign of a responsible person... surely God wants me to be this kind of responsible.

I thought spiritual maturity would feel mature. If I am growing in my faith surely I will be stable. I will probably even look like I have my act together to other people. I'll see less sin and more fruit.

As I took inventory of some unspoken expectations I realized the type of blessings I've assumed would accompany God's favor and maturity have not been the blessings I am experiencing. In every way I am less stable than ever...hardly a mature 30 year old!

When I agree with John the Baptist that "He (Jesus) must increase, but I must decrease" in John 3:30 and when I read the beatitudes in Matthew 5 that "Blessed are the poor in spirit, blessed are those who mourn, blessed are the meek, blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, blessed are the merciful, blessed are the pure in heart, the peacemakers, those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake" do I really think that becoming these things will be painless? Do I really think that becoming this way needs to involve what my culture says are marks of maturity and growth?

Never do I hunger and thirst for righteousness like I do when I am stripped; when I realize nothing else is satisfying. God has given me things to mourn, has given me opportunity to extend (and receive) mercy, and He has stripped much of my self-righteousness.

Huh... these are blessings?

This is my paradigm shift.

As my bath got cold I was reminded of a very obvious blessing. Last year at this time I would have gladly given my savings account, my comfort, and a paycheck to have a husband who would encourage me, fill a bath, and take initiative. God has not only done a huge work in S., He has used my little family to speak loudly His graces to me. It is the visible mark of God's hand in my life, of His grace and listening ear.

It has been challenging to blog, journal, or think reflectively in these NyQuil driven months because my mind has been cloudy. Much of what the Lord has been doing is exposing my silliness, my sin, my prideful expectations and replacing them with His truth. It has been the same truths knocking against my dense head. Often I think, "Wow, I should write this out." Then, "Oh, I have written about that. Wait...didn't I already learn this?" Apparently not because it's having to sink in over and over again.

I half-joked (okay, I was all the way serious) with my friends a couple weeks ago that when I knew God was going to begin a big transformation in me I was hoping it would be the kind that would include defined triceps, maybe a half marathon, a bigger house, an adoption, or some stability... so I was a little bit off on my estimation (I said while sucking on my third cough drop).

The exciting part of the beatitudes in Matthew 5 are what God gives once He's established the meekness, the mourning, the hunger and thirsting: "Theirs is the kingdom of heaven, they shall be comforted, they shall inherit the earth, they shall be filled, they shall obtain mercy, they shall see God, they shall be called sons of God." Wow. I suppose it's worth trading in my stability, my 401k, my expectations, to let God establish these promises that far surpass my limited ideas.

Again I am reminded that I have prayed for holiness, for obedience, for God's will to be established in my life. He is answering my prayers in abundance. With a few more hot baths I think that might sink in.

Bathroom Humor

2010-11-12T15:21:00.000-08:00

Apparently if you are a two year old or four year old boy, nothing is more hysterical than poop or pee. If you can make a joke with 'poop' as the punch line and then fit in a little butt-wiggle, even better.

I want to do my boys a favor. I want to teach them how to be actually funny...not to merely resort to the inappropriate for laughs. Perhaps I'm motivated by stand-up comedy and by every Adam Sandler movie resorting to gross-out humor when nothing funny is coming. (And yes, I know you all are laughing because you know my husband's propensity to "cross the line" and yes...the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.)

After a particularly un-funny poop joke made by Hudson I told my kids, "We call that bathroom humor. There's really not a reason to laugh about things that happen in the bathroom or about private parts. Those are natural ways God made us and it's "private" for a reason. We aren't going to joke about it anymore."

They understood. Okay...so they actually understood too much. At first it was working well. Until Darla said, "I have to pee."

Hudson gasped. "Mo-om! Darla said 'pee'!"

I sighed. "It's okay to say that you are going to use the bathroom. I just don't like it when you're always laughing and making jokes about what you do in the bathroom."

"Oh."

I thought the point was received but as I walked out 2 yr. old Everett said, "Mom!"

"Yes, Everett?"

"Darla say baf-room umor."

"Everett, did you just say 'bathroom humor'?"

Yep.

Now anytime someone says something that makes everyone laugh, regardless of the topic, Everett is quick to accuse, "baf-room umor!"

Hudson was at the table when Darla was the accuser. "Hudson said pee over and over!"

Innocent eyes looking up he said, "I was just saying the alphabet. L, M, N, O, P. P. Peeeee..."

Great.

Yesterday on the toilet I encouraged Everett, "Make sure you get it all out."

He grunted, closed his eyes, and made some extremely dramatic noises. He then opened his eyes a crack, grinned crooked and whispered, "Bafroom umor, Mom."

I am so losing this one.

Filled up & Cried out

2010-11-07T14:29:00.000-08:00

A few weeks ag
o
when I was at a low, my cousin wrote an e mail that deeply encouraged me; much of it was a prayer for me. At one point she said, "My prayer is for something personal and precious to Shilo". I've thought of that a couple times since, thinking I don't even know what that would look like right now.

Friday I landed at the doctor's office (finally) after being miserably sick for 6 weeks. "No wonder you haven't been sleeping" the doctor assessed, "you have a sinus infection and a bad case of bronchitis. You have got to get more rest."

Armed with antibiotics and cough drops, exhausted but excited, I headed to Big Jokes for BIG OAK- our fundraiser. A lot of anticipation came with this event because not only did we get to raise money but we had an opportunity to share the vision of this ministry with a big crowd of people. It came after a tumultuous few weeks- moments of "what are we doing?! Are we crazy? People certainly think we are" and moments of "this is exactly where we should be. Look at the prayers answered and the people who are step
ping up to support and encourage us!"

As I walked in the doors I saw two familiar faces talkin
g with my sister. It took me a second to realize that it was my closest friends from high school who now live in Vancouver, WA and Spokane. Wide-eyed I could only say, "What are you doing here?!!?"
They grinned.
I cried. And cried.
Then I sputtered a string of questions as my mind tried to comprehend what they did so that they could surprise me (and wha
t their husbands did by taking care of the home front and their kids so they could come).
Thankfully the fundraiser was an improv comedy show so at some point I had to stop crying and start laughing! S. added two rows of chairs in the back
as the show started because there were over 300 people attending. We had a fantastic night, raised a few thousand dollars, got to share about our ministry, and connected with some very dear people. Our expectations were ex
ceeded.

I got to sit in the front row to soak it up with Kristi an
d Jill who have seen me through the building of my faith when we started high school, through many moves, falling in love, choosing colleges, marriage, and having children. They knew me when I was irresponsible, impulsive and embarrassingly dramatic (and still became my friends).

In fact, they even knew to call my mom and work out details for the weekend. They informed me that the next morning they would be stealing me away for a day. The success of the fundraiser was exciting enough...but all this nearly made my head explode.

It has been a year since Jill, Kristi and I have had some time to ourselves. Needless to say, we needed our few hour coffee time to start. After lunch they told me we were going to Costco so they could load me up on groceries. If it's not enough to cry at a comedy show...here I was fighting tears in Costco...and then again in the mall where they took me to make sure I was taken care of.

The entire day I was too blessed and overwhelmed to have many cognitive thoughts. In high school 15 years ago when we were learning to drive, having slumber parties, and talking about boys, I never imagined that these two would be here holding up my arms, buying me eggs and new jeans, and still encouraging me.

As I drove home in quiet, my cousin's e mail suddenly popped into my mind. "My prayer is for something personal and precious to Shilo".
This was it!
So...
I cried.
Again.

Orphan Sunday

2010-11-07T13:05:00.000-08:00

In honor of November being National Adoption Day and today being "Orphan Sunday" I am posting a link that I hope rivets you like it does me. I hope you are able to apply what the writer is saying, not just to adoption but to whatever God asks us to do. May we not hesitate to respond or wait to feel "qualified", "prepared", or "knowledgable" before we move forward.

http://www.lauraleighparker.com/

Gage & Jude

2010-11-02T14:17:00.000-07:00

The above are pictures of my 2 yr old nephew Jude and 4 yr old Gage in their Ethiopian orphanage. Below are pictures of them now at home.

It's been three and a half months since Gage and Jude have come home. When you are in the midst of the activity that is now the Ellis household (with 5 children between the ages of 2 and 6) it's easy to get caught up in the noise, the reminders of "shoes off at the door!" and to gawk at the amount of food required for five growing bodies. This is my attempt to step back from the crazy and marvel at what the Lord is doing.

I would be remiss if I didn't acknowledge the catastrophic amount of work that goes into the meshing of a family; particularly when two members are learning new language, culture, social cues, manners, along with the everyday things that pre-schoolers learn. I remember my Pake (grandpa) always talking about how Tademas are either grafted or born into our family. Many of my cousins (and my brother) were adopted and I loved the imagery of grafting. Only later did I realize that grafting is hard work! It involves a sharp knife, inserting a branch into a foreign tree and nurturing it so that there isn't damage or cut off circulation to either the branch or the tree. It has to be intentional and guided.

Parenting isn't always a "natural" process and certainly even stranger through adoption. The bizarre yet delightful part of adopting is that you end up celebrating things a little backward. For example, with a natural born two year old, you celebrate when they eat independently and don't cry when they are dropped off at Sunday School. With an adopted two year old, you celebrate when they are willing to let go of their independent survival to be fed and when they "only want mom" during Sunday School.

The first few weeks Jude was home he would chase strangers down the sidewalk and cling to them- desperate for anyone to feed and love him, with panic when he thought he might be abandoned. This week he barreled into my house "Hi Sh-chilo!" He hugged my legs and chatted but immediately turned to Jazz when he needed help with his shoes. Celebrate!

With a natural born four year old you celebrate when they fall off their bike and are determined enough to hop back on and tough it out. With an adopted four year old you celebrate when they don't hide their tears and run to you for comfort. Gage avoided crying in front of anyone initially, even when he had a horribly painful staph infection on his head upon arriving home. His pillow would be bloody in the morning but he would only cringe. Now every bump, bruise, and scrape warrants tears, a band aid, or hugs from Jazz. Celebrate!

The adjusting is not just for Gage and Jude. Lance has to adjust to having five little mouths to feed, two of which have a lot to make up for! All of his transitioning has happened while working full time and going to school for firefighting. Jasmine is adjusting to washing a lot of sheets as all three boys have regressed in potty training, adjusting to five car seats, to letting the Holy Spirit give her love for her kids when she has nothing left to offer. Pearl is proxy-mom; often helping with sippy cups and dressing a two year old when Jasmine's hands are full. Eve would desperately love to be proxy-mom if only the boys would take her seriously! Dear little James has to divide his pile of tractors into three and has had world invaded on a different level than the others. Ironically, he seemed to be learning just as much Amharic as his brothers learned English for awhile!

I've watched my sister choose a harder route for her life because she is responsive and obedient to the Lord. I've watched her come to the end of herself...daily. Oh, it's hard for an older sister to stomach! How I want to fix it and make it easy when my siblings struggle (the burden of being the oldest!).

Simultaneously I am giddy about what I see God accomplishing. It is His grace when we realize that we are incapable of fixing, healing, or bringing about any good thing in ourselves. By His grace we can lead our children to the One who can fix, heal, and bring about good things.

The Lord has a way of stripping us, of exposing the ugly parts of ourselves that we are shocked to see, and bringing us to our knees in desperation. If only he finished the work of rebuilding us in the same day! Yet when we are forced (yes, forced. It doesn't feel voluntary when you've experienced this level of 'empty') to our knees, He begins to build in us things that have never existed. Jasmine will never say, "I was simply born a compassionate person". She will be able to say, "The Lord took me through the fire to build in me His compassion and to give me His eyes for His kids in a way I would have never known had I not done this."

Did I mention that He gets to use these two devastatingly handsome, smiley Ethiopian boys to do His work in Lance, Jazz, Pearl, Eve and James? And did I mention He is using 5 God-loving, beautiful and obedient Ellis' to demonstrate His love to Gage and Jude?

Ahhh...His grace.

The Man Who Makes Me Look Good

2010-10-31T13:59:00.000-07:00

Without my talented husband, this blog would continue to be bland, but he spoiled me by tinkering with it on his quiet Sunday afternoon so you all have something pretty to look at. Without my husband's pushing...ahem, I mean nudging, I wouldn't have even started a blog. Writing has been a part of my life since I was first learning to read but I've always kept my stories private and my journals hidden. I'm currently on journal #38 since my first one was given to me by my best friend in 8th grade. (They now consist of more than just the boys I have a crush on.) S. has strict instructions to burn them when I die.

In college I gave up writing (other than journaling) because I came across so many amazing, talented writers. I couldn't have a vocabulary that extensive even if I used a thesaurus on every word! I decided that there are enough words, books, and blogs out there. Nothing new can be said. I continued to journal what the Lord was teaching me, but I concluded that my written words didn't have anything to offer.

Then when I was a young bride I began transcribing for a ghostwriter. We began talking one day and she encouraged me to stretch myself in writing. I was put on the spot and shared my conclusions with her. She adamantly disagreed with me and told me that if God gives me a message, I should share it in writing. She encouraged me to stay in practice. I felt incompetent, had no formal training in writing, and wasn't sure if writing was something God gave for me and Him privately or if it was something to share.

Soon after, I discovered that maybe not everything had been written. As S. and I looked for curriculum or devotionals for our students in youth ministry, we found plenty of topical studies; dating, lying, your relationship with your parents. We couldn't find anything for our students who had recently committed to Christ that would teach them the basic story of Scripture, how to connect with God, and what God's character is like.

So I wrote one. Nothing fancy and not using many of my own words; just a quick introduction with questions that a leader can do while mentoring a new believer. A;life was born- an interactive study that includes video, devotional, and a year long reading plan. Much of BIG OAK is getting this study into the hands of people who might benefit from it. I felt insecure about throwing it out there to our group of students and leaders but then I had students talking about how it helped them understand God. Okay, I must still be insecure about it because I haven't picked it up to read it in 3 years.... it's so hard to have something in permanent print that I might see fifty mistakes in today! When S. decided this year that he wants to do more with a;life I decided to go back and re-write it. I have yet to get the courage to pick it up.

When S. created a blog for me, handed it over and said, "start writing" I again intended on it being a private thing. (Well, except for my mom. I knew she'd think it was great because she always thinks I'm smarter and funnier than I am. I love my mom.) Somehow people kept finding out about it. I am learning that maybe God has some messages and lessons for me that might also speak to other people.

All that being said, thank you friends for letting me know when something encourages and spurs you on. And thank you my husband for pushing me and making me look good.

More Than We Can Handle

2010-10-29T13:27:00.001-07:00

Corrie ten Boom could not sit back and watch when the Nazis invaded Holland. She became part of the Dutch underground to hide and save the lives of Jews. Corrie was a committed Christian who trusted God and refused to be apathetic to suffering. Ultimately she was captured and put into a concentration camp. She endured unspeakable humiliation, torture, hunger, and fear. Her sister Betsie died in one of the camps and Corrie watched many others die, also. She was a "lucky" survivor who had to then deal with displacement, loss of her community and family, and reconcile her experiences when the war ended.

Acts 6 & 7 tells the story of Stephen. Stephen was committed to Christ and devoted to sharing the good news with others. When he did signs and wonders there were some people who secretly "induced men to say, "We have heard him speak blasphemous words against Moses and God". And they stirred up the people, the elders, and the scribes; and they came upon him, seized him, and brought him to the council. (Acts 6:11,12)

Ultimately Stephen was falsely charged, tried and then stoned to death for his faith in Christ.

Do you know what well-meaning Christians probably never said to Corrie or Stephen? They probably never said, "God won't give you more than you can handle."

I think it's safe to say that these people underwent circumstances that were more than they could handle. I'm pretty sure that this cute little saying (that has no Scriptural grounds) is a 'twist' on the verse:

"No temptation has overtaken you except such as is common to man; but God is faithful, who will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you are able, but with the temptation will also make the way of escape, that you may be able to bear it." 2 Corinthians 10:13

Yes, God is faithful in giving us the power of the Holy Spirit to help us endure temptation. But I think it's safe to say if you die from a circumstance... it was probably more than you could handle. If you end up in an insane asylum...it was probably more than you could handle. Yet I often hear people say "God won't give you more than you can handle" as though it's a verse or a universal truth.

God does not promise in Scripture that He won't give me more than I can handle. In fact, He gives me plenty of opportunity to realize "It's more than I can handle!" so that I cling to Him instead of my own weak abilities. I am confident that there will be more than I can't handle in this life...if not now then surely whatever preludes my death.

I am confident of something else, also. Before Corrie Ten Boom's sister died she said, "Corrie, we must tell people how good God is. After the war we must go around the world telling people. No one will be able to say that they have suffered worse than us. We can tell them how wonderful God is, and how His love will fill our lives, if only we will give up our hatred and bitterness."

When I read this in high school I marveled. HOW can a person be strong enough to say this- sick, beaten, laying on a cot while bugs bite- right before death at the hands of Nazis? Now I know it is because Christ walks with us in what we can't handle. Betsie wasn't just a 'good person' who happened to be gifted in forgiving murderers. The power of the Holy Spirit gave Betsie tremendous ability to forgive and have an eternal perspective in her temporary pain.

As for Stephen, the masses "gnashed at him with their teeth. But he, being filled with the Holy Spirit, gazed into heaven and saw the glory of God, and Jesus standing at the right hand of God, and said, "Look! I see the heavens opened and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God!" Then they cried out with a aloud voice, stopped their ears, and ran at him with one accord; and they cast him out of the city and stoned him...and they stoned Stephen as he was calling on God and saying, "Lord Jesus, receive my spirit." Then he knelt down and cried out with a loud voice, "Lord, do not charge them with this sin. And when he had said this, he fell asleep." Acts 7:54-58

Being stoned was more than Stephen could handle and clearly more than Stephen's body could handle. Yet even in the face of death, the face of impossible circumstances, God shows Himself victorious and present. He walked with Stephen. He let him glimpse that the best was yet to come. He again gives the power to forgive, which is impossible apart from Christ.

When we believe silly little sayings like "God won't give you more than you can handle" we come to a crisis of faith when we do encounter things out of our control. If we acknowledge that we live in a fallen world and trust God's sovereignty even in what is unmanageable, we can trust that what He offers is so much more than a smooth ride. My aim (instead of timidly crossing my fingers that nothing will be too hard) is to expect opportunity to depend on a Mighty God's strength and expect Him to walk with me there.

"He restores my soul; He leads me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake. Yea, thought I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me." Psalm 23:3,4

Cheek mashing

2010-10-27T15:05:00.000-07:00

We are very aware that too soon these three won't think an ideal Friday night involves letting Dad and Mom kiss your cheeks, snuggle you on the couch, and wrestle you to the floor. Our time is short so we are soaking it up and sneaking in as much cheek mashing as possible!

**For the record...I still endure this from my parents and my not-so-little, little brothers. Not everyone outgrows it.

Deserts & Canyons

2010-10-25T20:22:00.000-07:00

Nearly a year and a half ago I took a trip that is still impacting my every day. I went a few hours away to a timeshare that my dad has for a weekend with my sister Jasmine and cousin Sommer. At the time we had 7 children 4 and under between us (and Sommer due with the 8th later that summer). Hoping for some uninterrupted conversation, time to pray for each other, coffee, and some sun, we trekked to Eastern WA.

Unintentionally, our weekend ended up having a theme. We talked about Moses and how he could have stayed in Egypt and been very comfortable with his life; he had wealth, royalty, and anything he could want materially. Moses could have also lived out his life in Midian; working for his father-in-law, cozy with family, a life of simplicity and rest.

Instead, Moses took a formerly enslaved group of whiners into the desert for 40 years. He dealt with pain, fear, loss of dreams and expectations, and unbearable people. He also saw miracles, he received the Law, and heard the voice of God. He watched God take a disjointed people and create a chosen nation.

“Since then there has not arisen in Israel a prophet like Moses, whom the Lord knew face to face.” (Deut. 34:10)

Sommer, Jasmine and I talked about our desires for our own life. Have health, wealth and comfort in "Egypt"? Live peace, rest, hole up with family in "Midian"? Or be willing to experience the desert, walk the valleys and expect mountaintops- to see the face of God?

We walked away from the weekend with our own ideas of how God might take us through the valleys and mountaintops to truly experience Him. (Oh, the irony that the place we stayed is called "Desert Canyon"...I'm wishing it was called "Exhilarating Mountaintop".)

Now a year and a half later we might laugh about that conversation... but more likely we would all cry.

I could list all the wild things that have happened that are beyond coincidence but describing our outward circumstances can't capture what God has been establishing in the depths of our souls.

I could share that Jasmine and Lance adopted from Ethiopia (they began that journey within a week of our girl's weekend) and that they have had a wild ride as Lance has been in school for firefighting while working full-time. You would commiserate in hearing about arriving home from Ethiopia to have 5 sick children (ages 6 and under) with vomiting, diarrhea, parasites, and fungus. But none of that can capture the way that God is using an abandoned, broken little boy to expose things to Jasmine about her own weaknesses. It wouldn't tell you how specifically God has spoken to her and how hard she's had to wrestle.

I could tell you about Jordan and Sommer's journey that ultimately brought them to the end of their rope to pack a suburban and relocate to Arizona. Jordan leaves in a few weeks to train across the country for the U.S. Marshals. It's been a year of depending fully on Christ, of uncertainty and waiting on her knees. But the circumstances are small compared to the internal surrender, the transformation in who Sommer is. She has been brought to the end of herself in more ways than she could have fathomed when we were sitting in the sun a year and a half ago.

Then there's me. I struggle even writing because there is no way to articulate the yielding, the exhaustion, the loss of dreams, the cost, and then the voice of God. It is much deeper than not having a salary, moving back to Lynden, having our own adoption continually postponed, starting over in everything from our finances to our marriage.

When I chose obedience and surrender over comfort or quiet, I admitted to Sommer and Jasmine, "I know I don't know what I'm asking for. I know I should be cringing at what might be to come."

Yes and yes.

I told my dad recently that being in the valley makes me think, "I wouldn't wish this on anyone" while simultaneously thinking, "I am so sad for anyone that hasn't had to abandon themselves and hear the voice of God so clearly."

Would I change my circumstances? Absolutely. I'd put in my order right now! However, I would not change what God has exposed in me. Some days I wish I could go back to being the girl who cried every few years or so...instead of every few hours. (It is astounding how when God allows your heart to break in one area, it begins to break for everything...even areas I was apathetic about previously.) Never have I understood so clearly what Christ did on the cross. Never have I understood that it is under his mercy that I wade through the mud so that I can know Him more. Never have I craved heaven so much.

"Restore to me the joy of your salvation, and uphold me by your generous Spirit. O Lord, open my lips, and my mouth shall show forth Your praise. For you do not desire sacrifice, or else I would give it; you do not delight in burnt offering. The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit, a broken and contrite heart- these O God, you will not despise." Psalm 51:12, 16,17

One of the biggest graces in my year has been having a sister and cousin journeying with me. To call and say, "Can you believe my crazy life!?" To spontaneously break down in tears and need no explanation, or to drop everything to help with another move. In the midst of it all we have been blessed- we now have 10 children 6 and under, after all!

Growing that Acorn

2010-10-12T14:38:00.000-07:00

As we have been trying to get Big Oak Ministries off the ground, there have been moments that I think, "I don't think this thing can really happen" (usually when attempting to pay bills, to imagine anything beyond the strange place we've been this year). Then there are moments, like at the first Big Oak board meeting last night, where I think, "This is really going to happen!"

For any of you unclear on what Big Oak is, check out www.bigoaksite.com. To catch the passion you really need to buy my husband an americano and let him tell you. Even though I'm obviously living and breathing the vision for it every day, watching his presentation at the board meeting made me excited all over again. Big Oak encompasses preaching and teaching (camps, classes for students, filling pulpits), developing a;life (a devotional/video/interactive study for a leader and student to go through together, specifically when a student commits their life to Christ), and mentoring/equipping youth pastors and leadership.

S. has already been doing all of these things in the past few months and we have seen some amazing things; he's adapted and taught curriculum on spiritual gifts to students, preached to over 1000 students, seen over 130 first time commitments to Christ, worked on a;life, mentored a handful of pastors who are getting youth ministries off the ground, and on and on.

We were extremely encouraged at the board meeting. After a lot of prayer and conversations, S. sought out six board members. They are stellar. Most are financial minded, ministry minded, and from all different churches and areas. Most are older and much more experienced so we left breathing easier- thank you God for a safety net. They won't tell us what we want to hear, they will tell us what we need to hear.

We have had some amazing surprises of people sending checks to Big Oak this week. Perhaps the most overwhelming was from a former student, a young man fresh out of high school. I am including a couple excerpts from a letter he included,

"I believe in what Big Oak is. I believe that God is in the process of redemption, the process of healing and mending and fixing what is broken, even that which we think if unfixable...For the times you feel overwhelmed, and for the times you feel like you don't know what you've gotten yourself into, I tell you this: God knows what He has gotten you into...

I whole-heartedly believe that God's promises are kept through other people, by His hand and His providence. Life is not meant to be lived alone, and the Church is proof of that. Enclosed is a gift...it isn't much but God does indeed do big things with small amounts (bread and fish, anyone?). After putting aside my own desires and trusting in God's will, it became clear to me that this life is not my own and everything I have belongs to God. So here, take what belongs to God and do His work with it."

In the envelope was $500.

S. cried.

There is nothing I can say to articulate what it is to have our own students pray for us, support us, stand behind us, and even teach us a thing or two.

For the next couple months we are doing a (gulp) fundraising push. I'm learning not to cringe at the idea. It's taken some faithful friends and former students to show me that it isn't about feeling sorry for us or obligated, it's about each person being individually obedient to what God speaks to their heart.

For those of you who are interested in any type of financial giving; once, monthly, or have any services or products that you think would be beneficial to donate, we would love to hear from you.

Our big fundraiser (Big Jokes for Big Oak!) is November 5, 7pm at Bellingham Christ the King. The Panic Squad (which is an amazing, clean, and entertaining improv group) is donating a show to Big Oak. In another fun twist, my little brother Elijah is part of the Panic Squad and will be performing in the show. Tickets are $12 ($10 for kids) and there will be a chance to give at the event, also. All proceeds go to Big Oak. There are great deals for youth groups. (Youth pastors and their families get in free!)

Thank you all for accompanying us in this journey and providing support and encouragement that is propelling us forward...

S & S

Sour Grapes

2010-10-11T14:11:00.000-07:00

"My Well-beloved has a vineyard on a very fruitful hill. He dug it up and cleared out the stones, and planted it with the choicest vine. He built a tower in its midst, and also made a winepress in it; So He expected it to bring forth good grapes, But it brought forth wild grapes." Isaiah 5:1,2.

God chose some people (The Israelites) to be His. Not because they were particularly lovely, not because they had their act together, but simply because He chose them to be His. Isaiah's song is about how God did everything right in growing them. The vineyard that He prepared should have brought forth an incredible harvest. He had set His people apart, rescued them repeatedly, given them instruction to help them succeed. He loved them. He disciplined them. He gave them the Promised Land. Their thanks? Their "thanks" fills up the previous chapters of Isaiah in the form of rebellion, oppression, self-indulgence, pride, and immorality; wild, nasty, sour grapes.

As S. and I talked about this verse I realized; how often do I expect that if I do the right thing it will always produce favorable results? And if God Himself does everything right with the people He made and still there are wild grapes (not because God is weak but because He gave the Israelites a choice) then how can I expect that my good efforts will without fail produce good grapes?

That thought was immediately followed by repenting of every time I have wondered, "Why is her son so rebellious? She must have been too permissive, too authoritative, too absent, too....something." Certainly she is flawed (we mothers know we are not a perfect God!) but perhaps she prepared a beautiful vineyard only to have her son turn his back. Who am I to judge what she must have done to cause it?

Or when I have shaken my head at a pastor who can't seem to grow his church beyond thirty people. What's his problem? That's a tiny cluster of grapes... he must not be putting in the work to have a healthy vineyard. Tsk. Tsk.

Then I thought of my own life. How many of my pity parties result from thinking I should have received good grapes...and instead have to call it a wash and start over? If I prepare the land, clear the stones, do the planting, prepare a tower... shouldn't that end up looking like a mega-church? Super fruitful! It should look like obedient, wonderful children for sure. I should be well-liked. It should mean a thriving, secure spouse. Heck, it should probably mean an easier life and certainly if I'm doing everything right there won't be conflict in my personal relationships.

Why do I expect in my frail humanity to get better results with people and situations than my perfect Lord? I'm embarrassed at my level of pride!

One thing I am learning in the brutal year of 2010 is that trusting and obeying the Lord is enough...even if it never brings about the earthly rewards I'm banking on. Even if the ones I love rebel, even if my ministries fail when no one will hear Truth, it is enough to listen to the Lord and let Him keep record of results.

This verse was brought back on another level this week. I was asking S., "What else could we be doing wrong? We're out of money. We're still sitting in the same place of waiting and no clear answers. Should we really move ahead with Big Oak?"

Here I was again in my assumptions, "IF it's from God it wouldn't be this hard. IF it's of God it wouldn't mean having to rely on other people's checkbooks. IF it's from God then everyone will agree that we should move ahead. IF it's of God I should at least have the energy to complete His will!"

S. reminded me that I am measuring results by the world's standards.

When I am reminded of the fruit of the Spirit I measure the success of this year differently. We might be in quite a predicament but I can't even articulate the way God has established long-suffering, faithfulness, love, and self-control in us. I have been like a big raw steak, beaten with a mallet in the name of "tenderizing". And it is happening. Truly, when I stop looking at my idea of results, I believe we are where the Lord wants us. Those are good grapes.

The hope, as God surveys His failed vineyard, is that He doesn't abandon the wild grapes. His discipline is brutal and His justice is real, but even that has purpose. The ugliness of disobedience can't rob the story. In fact, God uses it to tell a bigger, beautiful story of redemption. He continues His work...and will until the end.

My Best Girl

2010-10-02T21:31:00.000-07:00

We're in the swing of things now; homeschooling, ballet, bible study. I expected it to be quite a transition for my kindergartener, Darla. I did not anticipate that the Taylor to have the hardest time would be Hudson.

Darla and Hudson are the epitome of the phrase "two peas in a pod". Aside from the 17 months of Darla's life before he was born, they have been joined at the hip. They've shared a room. She has been his words when he's fumbled for a way to express himself. He's protected her when she's scared of dogs.

Now tender hearted Hudson feels like he's without his head. I've noticed ballet days are hard for him. She's busy with school, then off giggling with all the girls to go practice pirouettes and plies. He pouts. He's listless. He asks repeatedly when she'll be home.

To add to his distress, we decided to put the boys in a room with the bunk beds and give Darla her own room. It makes sense: a place for all the polly pockets and all things pink, and a place for tractors and all things blue. Hudson gets a chance to be the leader for Everett while Darla gets the alone time she needs. Hudson likes the idea of being the big kid and he loves the promotion to top bunk. He just misses his sister.

Last weekend Darla had her first slumber party. Her cousin Pearl has 2 girl cousins her age on the other side of the family. They were all having a slumber party at Pearl's Aunt Leah's house. Even though Darla is not technically their cousin, they all have ballet together and are becoming friends. When she was invited to the night of nail painting, movies, and treats I imagined myself at age five and thought, "She'll be so homesick at an unfamiliar house with a slightly familiar host. She'll surely need me to pick her up at bedtime."

Apparently I forgot that I'm not the only one contributing genes to this girl. My party animal husband is the other half and that's the half that said, "I'm going and I'm not scared!"

Eagerly she bounced off to a room of giggling girls; sleeping bag and backpack in tow.

We took the boys out for ice cream so they would have a fun night, too. Hudson could hardly enjoy anything. In the car, "Where is Darla?"

"Hudson, we've talked about it 5 times. Where is she?"

"Slumber party."

"Right."

"How long will she be there?"

"Until morning."

"When in the morning?"

We ordered ice cream and sat down. It continued. "What is Darla doing now? Does she want to come home? Does she go to sleep when I do?"

The first thing the next morning, "Is Darla still sleeping? What will she eat for breakfast? Do you think she got scared?"

When we picked her up I asked her if she got homesick. She said, "Oh, I missed you Mom. I wanted you but I didn't want to miss out on all the fun!"

Hudson responded to her the way he always does when his affection for her bubbles up. He hugged her tight and said, "Darla... you my best girl."

Molly and her big...

2010-09-29T15:52:00.001-07:00

We are in our second week of homeschooling and I am loving it. If I'm completely honest, I probably love it way more than Pearl and Darla do. My sister and I have worked it out so that I have her 1st grader and my kindergartener about 3 times a week for a couple hours. During those hours the girls get to do work together in History, Reading, Writing, and Science. My boys are learning to adjust (and I have stocked up on play-doh, built sweet train tracks, and designated them "helpers" for school time).

There are definitely moments already where I've wondered if it's worth the hassle. As I have two young boys hanging on my legs, piles of laundry undone, books strewn over the kitchen table, and soon I'm wiping a toddler on the toilet while calling out spelling words, I think there are probably better ways to hang on to my sanity.

But then there was Wednesday. The girls (and my boys) learned about carnivores and herbivores. We looked up some links that led us to videos of leopards. All the kids were fixated, firing questions away about the animals, answering my questions, and loving science.

Then the girls were snuggled up on the couch reading to each other as I reheated (for the fifth time) my cup of coffee. They read the sentence, "Molly had a big hat, but..." and for some reason they thought it said, "Molly had a big, hot butt."

I heard giggles...and giggles...and then some snorting with the giggles. Pearl is much like her mother when she giggles- if it comes on strong, sincere and out of control the whole room catches it, too.

When I asked what was so funny Darla said with big eyes, "Oh mom! This book is about butts!" I said, "Darla I think they mean, 'but, then something else'".

"Oh no Mom. It says Molly had a big hot butt!"

Pearl couldn't stand it- she was doubled over with laughter.

I explained their misread but to no avail. Finally Darla said, "Pearl, we have to go to the next page or we'll never stop laughing!"

They did.

Pearl read the page perfectly.

Then Darla added, "AND...MOLLY HAD A BIG HOT BUTT!"

We were forced to commence reading for the day.

How great is it that I get to hear this stuff firsthand instead of over the dinner table after the fact? I either truly have the best job ever or I need to let my humor mature past 5 year old level.

60 years and counting

2010-09-28T15:07:00.000-07:00

An August highlight was celebrating my grandparent's (Pake and Beppe) 60th wedding anniversary. We had all the elements of a spectacular Tadema party: lip synching, dancing, making up songs to tease....I mean, honor... Pake and Beppe.

(Here are a few of my awesome cousins in a hilarious dance/song number:)

Tadema parties also consist of food (the best if Korean family members cook!), a lot of coffee, and powerful times of prayer and stories. This particular party had beautiful hymn singing into the night.
Volleyball is also a tradition...and it's remarkable we've all stayed close with how competitive it can get.
Here are a few of the great-grandkids. There are 39 and counting so this is a tiny representation. I would've loved a good picture with all the young ones there but it's not possible to keep them in one place at one time.
And the guests of honor, my Pake and Beppe (or "Her Majesty" as he affectionately calls her).
I love my Pake and Beppe together. They give me hope for marriage. It's not because they are perfect for each other. I cringe when I think of what it must have been like in their first years of marriage. He was an immigrant from the Netherlands who had survived WWII, but not without emotional scarring. She was a farm girl determined to be a missionary. They had cultural differences, language barriers, school yet to complete. He loves theology, knowledge, and preaching the Truth (with fire!). He comes from a conservative background and is at his best when he is bringing spiritual awakening to Reformed churches. She is all heart; a masters in counseling, artistic, and compassionate. She loves praying for physical healing and witnessing miracles.
They give me hope in marriage because they didn't rely on compatibility or how happy they felt. They delved into their responsibilities and life work with passion and excitement, not because of ease but because they loved God and loved people. It took them to Nigeria with small children. It took them to various churches and communities.
It led them to adopt two boys, to start a non-profit when everyone thought it was crazy and the money wasn't there, and to serve as an army chaplain.
After the weekend of celebrating God's faith I was blessed to have Pake and Beppe come over for coffee before leaving town. It was only my sister and a cousin (and our 10 small children playing in the yard) so we were able to hog Pake and Beppe and glean some wisdom. They shared about marriage; about God meeting the needs you wish your spouse would, how looking to Christ to be the perfect love frees you to enjoy companionship of a husband. They shared about their adoption journeys, with tears, as we watched Gage and Jude meld into the yard full of blondes. Pake told me stories about starting his faith-based ministry; how the people you think will give won't and the people you never expect always do. He shared about God's faithfulness time and time again when he was having his own doubts.
Sitting on the patio with hot coffee reminded me of Moses telling the Israelites, "take heed yourself, and diligently keep yourself, lest you forget the things your eyes have seen, and lest they depart from your heart all the days of your life. And teach them to your children and your grandchildren." Deuteronomy 4:9

I am soaking it up. I realize that I am abundantly blessed to have grandparents who are not only alive but have a visible legacy of lives lived serving God. I see their 8 children, 46 grandchildren, 39+ great-grandchildren and am humbled to be part of the story. Not only do I experience their story, I get to hear from them what their eyes have seen.

And it gives me something to shoot for. If S. can keep up with me I'm aiming for at least 60 years.

Sink or Swim (Or...walk)

2010-09-28T13:49:00.001-07:00

I was folding laundry while the kids watched a movie about Jesus' Miracles. It's one of these extremely cheesy, poorly animated movies where Jesus is embarrassingly white (along with the rest of the characters).

The story narrated was of Jesus walking on water to get to the disciples' boat. Dear, faith-filled, zealous Peter says, "Lord, if it is You, command me to come to You on the water."

So He (Jesus) said, "Come." And when Peter had come down out of the boat, he walked on the water to go to Jesus.

But when he saw that the wind was boisterous, he was afraid; "Lord, save me!" And immediately Jesus stretched out His hand and caught him, and said to him, "O you of little faith, why did you doubt?" And when they got into the boat, the wind ceased. Then those who were in the boat came and worshiped Him, saying, "Truly You are the Son of God." Matthew 14:28-33

I found myself in heaps of towels and shirts fighting tears at overly-white Jesus and Peter's situation. When that storm came on and the boat was being tossed around, the disciples had already seen some crazy stuff. They had just left five thousand people on land who had just been fed using only five loaves and two fish. Jesus had been healing people. John the Baptist had been beheaded for his faith. Things were heating up and the disciples were in the thick of it.

Peter is ready for more miracles. Bring it! He wants to be with Jesus and he's ready to throw himself overboard to prove it.

Then his feet hit the water. Reality sinks in..oh, and reality is causing him to sink. He has a "What was I thinking?!" moment and yells for Jesus to save him.

I used to think it was harsh for Jesus to say "O you of little faith, why did you doubt?" After all, Peter took the jump. He gave it a shot! He just buckled momentarily.

But as I watched Peter on the video in his fuzzy bathrobe with his animated scared face, I realized he should have had big faith because he had seen big things. He knew who Jesus was, he had experience that proved Jesus is faithful and able to do amazing works. Yet he still doubted. He sunk.

I relate to Peter's passion and willingness. I have flung myself from the boat loudly proclaiming I'll do anything to be closer to Christ and to share in His work. Then I have looked at the waves of instability and financial distress. I've heard voices saying, "What are you doing?!" and I've taken my eyes off the one I jumped to. The wind is too much. My feet sink. I'm wet, miserable, cold, and it takes me too long to shout, "Lord, save me!"

And I envy Peter because he got back in the boat. Jesus pulled him out of the water, proved Himself, caused the wind to cease, and dried off.

I am in a perpetual state of sinking, walking, sinking, walking and I would love to get out of the water! A boat? Anyone?!

I have these fantastic moments where I am walking on water and my eyes are locked with Christ's. I think nothing can drag me under and I am giddy at what will happen next.

Then I hear something, see something, remember something, that pulls. Suddenly I'm frantic, exhausted, treading water. In that moment I forget that I have seen great things. I know who Christ is, I've experienced that He is faithful and able to do great works. Yet I can't recall a single thing when I'm sinking.

I am learning to say, "Lord! Save me!" He pulls me up; through His Word, through groceries, through the faith of my husband, through words He speaks to me as I go to sleep. Up I come again... looking for that boat. For whatever reason He sees fit to keep me on the water awhile longer.

There are days I think, "Forget walking on water- it'll be a miracle if I make it out of bed!" Those days are often followed by miracles, progress, excitement at what the Lord is establishing in me.

The most challenging aspect of my life today? Is to scan the horizon for the face of my Savior instead of scanning for a stable, dry boat to scramble onto. I'm certain if He isn't yet providing a boat to dry off and rest in, we must have some face-to-face work still to do here in the water.

Bloody & Bruised- Nothing Beats a Brother

2010-09-13T15:55:00.000-07:00

The crying wasn't easing up while I was trying to get things put away in the kitchen. I relented and went into the living room. I found Hudson laying flat on his stomach crying and yelling. Everett had a small stool that goes with our drum set on top of Hudson. Everett was then laying across the drum stool, successfully pinning Hudson.

I told Everett to get off- wrestling is over. Hudson looked up and with a big cry, blood started trickling out of his mouth. I could clearly see a bottom tooth (which was not loose previously) hanging crooked.

I grabbed Hudson, a towel for the blood, and we sat together for awhile. He cried. And cried. And cried. I knew it must have hurt awful because he is not a crier. After half an hour he managed to tell me that it was the drum stool that hit him square in the face. Apparently Everett knew that wrestling his big older brother wasn't a fair fight and swung that thing clear around to nail Hudson in the face. To Everett's credit, he was apologetic. He thought it would be a good move and didn't quite understand the pain he caused.

Hudson wasn't about to pull the towel out of his mouth. He wouldn't take the tylenol and he wouldn't let me slip some ice into the towel. Finally, I snuggled him in bed before he fell asleep for naps. As he was relaxing he pulled out the towel to say something. I couldn't pay attention because all I could see was a new gaping hole in the top of his mouth and two now-crooked teeth on the bottom. Good night-I have a 4 year old hockey player!

By the time naps were over he was over the injuries. In fact, he is quite proud that he looks like a hockey player and is waiting for people to mistake him for a 6 yr. old. His gums are still blue and swollen three days later. Here we are at age 4: one tooth missing from running into a wall, one tooth loose from a "head" on collision with a cousin, one tooth missing from the Drum Stool Incident of 2010, and two loose teeth also from Drum Stool Incident of 2010. I pray this boy learns coordination (and self defense) before his permanent teeth come in!

After church on Sunday Hudson came running out, smiling toothless, holding a picture he colored of two men. He said, "Mom, look! I'm pretending this guy is me and this guy is Everett!"

The picture was labeled "Cain and Abel". Oh, sheesh.

1300 square feet

2010-09-12T21:11:00.000-07:00

Our house isn't big compared to our 2100 square foot farmhouse we used to own. It's also not small compared to the 860 square foot home we bought when we first married. Because we have the perfect chunk of yard, which happens to share our private neighborhood park and also has our very own basketball court, I am able to look past bright 70's countertops and light fixtures that still exist inside.

When it is sunny I never want to be anywhere else. We take our bikes around the private loop in our quiet neighborhood. The kids climb trees, swing, slide, and shove pea gravel into their pockets for me to find in the wash machine. S. and I use the phrase "crystalized moments" when the world seems to freeze in a particular sweetness that you wish you could bottle up for a sad day. This place has filled our lives with crystalized moments.

When it rains I wish I were anywhere else. I know that our house is huge compared to what most of the world lives in and I kick myself when I'm frustrated. I know how abundantly blessed we are. However, our kids are Taylors which means they are louder than most. I have two boys who love anything having to do with weapons, jumping from high places, and pounding on the drum set. We homeschool and we spend a LOT of time at home. I love quiet. I love privacy. Neither of those are easy to come by here. I would love a salad spinner, some crafty items, and an insulated laundry room so my detergent wouldn't freeze in the winter... but I don't have space for those things.

So as the weather is turning and fall is upon us I've realized I can't keep giving baths in the kiddie pool and we will have to resume eating meals inside. I'm getting creative. I also am recognizing the benefits of living in a smaller house. Such as...

* When vacuuming, I only have to use one outlet in the living room and can reach all the rooms.

* We never needed a baby monitor or to "check to see if the baby is awake." If someone needs us- we hear them.

* My kids rarely say "I don't want to play outside". The doors open and children pour out.

* I don't keep things I'm not using. I don't even keep things I just like.

* Only people who really, really love us stay here. They don't get a guest room, a bathroom, or privacy to themselves. I miss hosting but in this season of our lives it's been healthy for us to keep to our little selves.

* It may take mere seconds to make the house a huge mess...but it also doesn't take long to clean it!

* Using the stove or oven heats up our entire living space. That's multi-tasking.

* The kids have to work out their issues. There is nowhere to hide. Heck, S. and I have to work out our issues!

* I wash my windows regularly simply because it's not hard to do when you only have 8 windows and one level.

* I've heard about people who have dining rooms or formal sitting rooms that they don't use. Our sitting room has my "office" (small desk), a "school room" (children's table and chairs), "library" (bookcases), "living room" (couches), "mudroom" (sliding door w/shoe cubbies) and an "entertainment center" (another bookcase with TV). How's that for multi-function? (The humorous part is when S. gives a tour and he actually acts like all of these places are separate rooms to show.)

In fact, I was able to write this little blog because the rain finally let up. As soon as it did my kids were pulling on shoes and beelining for fresh air. My only interruption has been to supply them with bug jars (the rain has brought out some seriously fat worms and the excitement has now attracted the neighbor kids).

***Final count: 2 tree frogs, 9 worms, and a beetle. Oh, never mind. I was just informed that one of the 4 year olds stomped on the beetle. Apparently just guts left over.

All or Nothing

2010-09-12T20:54:00.001-07:00

"We all know that Christ has, in effect, been eliminated from our lives. Of course, we build him a temple, but we live in our own houses. Christ has become a matter of the church or, rather, of the churchiness of a group, not a matter of life...

However, one thing is clear; we understand Christ only if we commit ourselves to him in a start "Either-Or." He did not go to the cross to ornament and embellish our life. If we wish to have him, then he demands the right to say something decisive about our entire life. We do not understand him if we arrange for him only a small compartment in our spiritual life. Rather, we understand our spiritual life only if we then orientate it to him alone or give him a flat, "No."... The religion of Christ is not a tidbit after one's bread; on the contrary, it is bread or it is nothing. People should at least understand and concede this if they call themselves Christian."

A Testament to Freedom: The Essential Writings of Dietrich Bonhoeffer- 1928

I've noticed that our culture has quite a strange way of compartmentalizing life. We have a family box, a work box, a church box, a school box. Then we have boxes within those boxes. In the school box we have smaller boxes that contain science, then reading, then math, then "character education" (I can't say "character education without laughing"... are we serious that we made a box for this?!)

Perhaps our ability to isolate areas of our lives, to believe that one won't bleed into the other, is what leads us to the absurd notion that we can have our houses to ourselves and keep Christ in the temple.

If Bonhoeffer's words don't speak definitively and profoundly to the heart, his life should. A professor in Germany, he had multiple chances to keep quiet in his opposition to Hitler and chances to flee the country. He refused both, believing that only if he spoke truth and suffered with his people would he have a leg to stand on when it was time to rebuild Germany and share Christ with a broken country. He was executed after serving time in a concentration camp, shortly before Hitler committed suicide.

Lord, what parts of me beg to stay silent as to not create opposition? What parts of me attempt to flee? Is my expectation for Christ to 'ornament' my life or is He my life?

Jesus is clear to those wanting to follow him, "Whoever desires to come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me." (Mark 8:34). He challenges all to not look back or be held back but to "Follow me".

Perhaps we think "God so loved the world" therefore He must be tolerant of us just taking what we want of Him. He loves us so therefore He must understand us wanting a little piece of everything...surely He knows how hard true surrender is?

Yet if I applied this idea to the weak, human example of my marriage I know it is not true. Do I say "I love S. therefore I'll take what he's willing to give and let him farm out the rest of himself where the wind blows"? Absolutely not. Because I love S. it's all or nothing. He can choose intimacy and exclusivity with me. If he wants to compartmentalize our marriage then he gets none of me. It is not a compliment if he only takes part of the deal; it defiles me and the covenant of marriage.

How much more do I defile Christ and my covenant with Him if I select what I give to Him?

If we wish to have him, then he demands the right to say something decisive about our entire life.

I began this post merely to share the passage I read today. Yet, somehow I ended up tacking on plenty of my own reflections. Enough of that...enjoy the thoughts of Bonhoeffer- a man who lived out his contemplations even to death.

Manna & a Taste of Humble Pie

2010-09-07T15:26:00.000-07:00

Early in my life I heard people say definitive things about their lives and then get "surprises" later. It caused me to try hard to not say definitive things that might cause me to eat my words later. For example, my Aunt Billie who always speaks with conviction and charisma, announced when she was young that she would not be a family woman with a station wagon. My dad always liked reminding her of her definitive words because she ended up driving not only a station wagon but later a large air-porter van to tote around her 23 children.

Recently I got a humble phone call from my "we're-definitely-done-having-kids" little brother saying he and his wife are expecting their third baby in the spring.

I tend to hold things fairly open handedly and have learned that my plans usually get rocked anyway. However, there was a moment when I said "I will never". It was a few years ago when we were visiting close friends from college. We were talking about non-profit evangelical organizations. They were asking if we would ever want to do something full-time a little unconventionally.

I answered, "We will never have a job where we have to ask friends for money or fundraise a salary." Then (gulp), "What are we? High school graduates who want to go to YWAM? We have a family to support and I don't want to be one more thing for people to feel guilted into donating to. I don't want to think every time I buy a coffee, 'is this really how I should spend Joel's money'? How awkward is that?!"

I didn't realize that I was about to get a dose of humble pie...until the friends we had that conversation with a few years ago were the first people to donate a monthly check to Big Oak.

As Big Oak has begun, we have not asked friends to donate. S. has mostly met with business people or others who have expressed interest in donating straight to the ministry. Yet voluntarily we have had dear friends send monetary support along with prayers. Big Oak's Open House was last week and I found myself in tears when I realized how many people (most of whom don't have extra money hanging around) gave something to propel the ministry. We watched a community come forward to help us network, give ideas or resources, bring cookies, and on and on. Every time I think all my pride must certainly be stripped...

S. and I have been able to do little aside from laugh when we walk into our kitchen this week. Someone wonderful made a trip to Costco for us last week and brought many of our favorite things. Two different people came with vegetables. (Looks like I'll have enough zucchini for bread until next summer!) I have nowhere to put some of this manna- and can I just say how thankful I am that this is not real manna? Really, zucchini, a Costco loaf of cheese, garden fresh onions, beef, pork... we're hardly eating drab bread every day!

My sister and I went down to Hillsboro for one day over the weekend to help our cousin pack up her house. The trip was intended to bless my cousin by working our tails off. However, she was emptying her pantry, loading us up with clothes for our 2 year old boys, and filling the back of my van with other things she didn't want to haul or store. On the way home Jasmine commented, "I think we made money on this trip. So much for being the ones going above and beyond."

I realized that in the past 2 months each of my kids has received hand-me-downs from unexpected friends. Someone snuck Safeway gift certificates into S.'s car (see...there is a good reason to leave doors unlocked!) When S. preached at MVCTK last weekend we were blessed with people praying over us, encouraging us, slipping a couple checks into S.'s pockets, and stockpiling our car with vegetables.

My Aunt Julie made a comment to me about how we as people always want to look for provision to come from the hand of man; a salary, benefits, a contract. Isn't it interesting that we believe that to be more secure than daily receiving from the hand of the Living God?

I'll chew on that...along with my zucchini and humble pie for dinner tonight.

Little nuts with dreams of growing into big trees

2010-09-02T20:33:00.000-07:00

http://bigoaksite.com/BIGOAK/About.html

This is the link to the website and video that explains a little bit about our new ministry. S. had an Open House all week at his new office to show potential donors and friends the adventures we hope to do full-time. Take a look!