Standing Up (When You Should Just Sit Down)

We hear it all the time, don't we--"Stand up for yourself," "Stand up for what you believe in," and "If you don't stand for something, you'll fall for anything." We see "standing up" as a show of strength and character but "sitting down" as giving up, resigning to a lesser fate. And that message of our society resonates with our sinful, selfish hearts, doesn't it? It sure does, mine. I HATE to give in! What about you?

And yet God calls us to submit--to His Word, the government, employers, church leaders, husbands, parents, and even one another. This kind of submission sometimes requires us to simply sit down. If someone's opinion crosses yours, you don't have to let them know. Really. (I'm trying to convince myself of this--I know it's hard!)

In my reflections of growing up in the church, family, school, etc., in which I did, I sometimes feel like the emphasis was much more on the externals than truly having the right heart attitude inside. However, at times I'm more inclined to think maybe they tried, and I just didn't get it. One example is the illustration I heard dozens of times from the pastor of my church; to fully appreciate it, you must imagine a hard-faced preacher with a deep southern drawl:

"The boy's father kept telling him to sit down, and finally, the boy folded his arms, set his jaw, and plunked down onto the chair. He looked up at his dad and said, 'I may be sittin' down on the outside, but I'm standin' up on the inside!'"

Is that you? So many times, that truly is me. And the saddest part is, that most times, I feel like I'm good! After all, I am sitting down on the outside, aren't I?

Tuesday night was such an example. For the past couple weeks, I've been privileged to have some freelance writing gigs to bring in some extra money. (And if you've been following my posts at all, you know that finances have been a struggle for our family, particularly this past year.) The pay isn't great, to be honest, although I hope it will improve as I prove myself and get offered higher paying jobs and as I get faster at this kind of writing. Anyhow, it's taken up a lot of my time, and my family has suffered. House work has been lacking, since I've used nap time and after bedtime hours to do my writing instead of laundry and other tasks. But with my first deadline looming over me this week, I started working in the mornings, too, holing myself in our bedroom/baby nursery/office until lunch.

Jonathan and I had decided that pushing myself for these first projects was a wise idea, but it was clearly wearing on us both. I knew he liked the living area and kitchen tidy when he got home each night, but that just wasn't happening. And my new-found coupon habit was overtaking our kitchen table, which is an area he specifically likes kept neat.

Well, Tuesday, after lunch, I put the boys down for their naps and chose that brief, just-us time of day to mention that I had another longer gig come up, if I wanted it. But I needed his help a little more, with some housework, to make it all make sense. I thought this was reasonable, and it would be unwise to say no to extra work. But he said no! I sat down on the outside, meaning that I didn't argue with him or go against his wishes, but boy, was I standing up on the inside!

I didn't talk to him again before he left, and I'm sure he knew that I was fuming! The thoughts that ran through my head, the arguments for why his choice was foolish, just begged to be let out. I didn't let them, though, and I felt proud of myself for that. I tried repenting, but God and I both knew I wasn't sorry. How could I be--I was right! I finally got calmed down enough to straighten up before Jonathan came home. Still standing up on the inside, though, and hoping for a chance to state my case.

Before I had a chance, he said,"I've been thinking more about you taking on that work, and it's fine." He looked at me, the rims around his eyes growing red. "It's just that you have to spread it out more. I miss my best friend."

My heart just melted! What love!

He went on to explain,"I love our boys, and I don't mind doing more to help out, but I want to do it with you, not to have you gone the whole time that I'm home."

Okay, I was wanting him to be reasonable, but he was reasoning with his heart. To him, this issue was about our relationship, and he missed it. Why would I resist that kind of love?

How like our Heavenly Father! When we "sit down" to his will on the outside, but insist on our own way, we are so foolish! He doesn't just want outward submission; that isn't part of a close relationship. We have to truly sit down.

(Now I have to stand up and clear off this table, though, before my hubby gets home!)

He Meets Our Needs

Did any of you grow up hearing heart-warming stories about people in financial distress who had mysterious bags of groceries arrive just as they bowed their heads to "say grace" over a meal they didn't have? Or countless tales of anonymous donors putting "just enough money" on someone's school bill to let them come back another semester?

Growing up in an upper middle class home, as I heard those stories, a part of me ached to be in such desparate straits simply so I could see God's hand provide for me that way. Well, financial difficulties aren't as exciting as I once imagined, even when God does provide. But He is faithful.

I started this blog entry last night, not knowing what God would do today, but I'll leave you in suspense on that one--for now. :)

I don't want to get awkwardly personal here, so I won't mention amounts, just portions of my husband's pre-tax weekly income, so you at least understand the significance of the amounts. But to give you somewhat of an idea, we thought money was tight when Jonathan was a pastor, but he actually made the same amount (or close to it) that he does now, while also having a home and utilities provided. Amazing!

I've mentioned previously how God provided a job for me last spring that helped us buy our minivan for cash, so I won't go into details about that, here. Those blessings are still fresh in my mind, but since we left Gillet last June, here are some of the main ups and downs we've experienced, financially:

• Jonathan found a job here in Madison within a week of looking in July.
• He was led to believe he'd get a raise, about the time Joshua was due in October, meaning about an extra week's pay, each month.
• With most apartments in Madison requiring a year's lease, we were glad to find a great sublet situation in which we got our first month's rent for free and only had to commit to a 5-month lease, starting in December. (We think God may have detoured us to Tucson just so we would wait for this apartment to come available!)
• When Jonathan's raise still hadn't gone through, we neared the end of January wondering how we could possibly make our budget (yes, we really have one and keep track of receipts!) work. We decided it was impossible and increased our energy going toward applying for jobs for him around Madison, in addition to the church search.
• We found a part-time nanny job listed on Craigslist, but that didn't turn out. We were asked to do some odd jobs for the family, though, which included clearing out a basement and removing many sallable goods. We were paid to do this and then sell the items and keep that money, too. (This amounted to an extra weeks' pay.)
• To end January, we received a surprise check from a family member for about a half week's pay.
• In February, Jonathan was able to put in some overtime, which was like getting another half week's pay.
• After many attempts at finding legitimate freelance writing jobs, I received two inquiries within two days, last week. In another week, with commitments already in place, I will have made an extra half-week's pay.
• The day after I received those jobs, we had to sign a 3-month lease extension, which would mean higher rent, starting in May (about 1/10 of a week's pay). That was discouraging, but less so with the writing jobs starting to come.
• This past Sunday, it seemed like my writing money would be used for something not-so-savory: someone smashed the window of our van, requiring about 75% of a week's pay to fix it.
• Monday we received notification in the mail that we would be receiving help for our utilities that would basically make up for the amount we paid to replace the window.
• Today (drum roll, please!) we found out that we'll be getting money back from taxes, to the tune of about 10x's a week's pay!

It doesn't make sense that we're not in debt, we're nearly making budget, and we're about to have more in the bank than we did when we left Gillett. I'm not saying that to brag on us, but to praise my God who truly does provide!

Are We Crazy, or What?

I am totally sleep-deprived, but I just have to get this out of my head! I'd love to know your thoughts, as well, so please feel free to comment on here or FB or send me a message, kay?

Those of you who know me can pretty much hear my tone of voice as I utter the term "Hickville" with apparent disdain. After all, this is the "city girl" who relished her opportunity to work downtown Chicago, travel Europe, and leap at the chance of any other such adventure. But that was in another life. Or so it seems.

Jonathan and I have pictured our lives in various parts of the country and different types of areas, throughout the year in the all-too-familiar roller coaster of hoping, fearing, thinking this church will be the one and then ending up disappointed . . . again. Well, as we've gone through all of that, we seem to have arrived at some interesting (to me, anyway) conclusions about the kind of place we'd like to live and raise our sons. Now, of course, geography isn't the #1 consideration, and we really have no offers, as yet, but that is incredibly beside the point.

Here are some of our findings:

We'd prefer a church that does not have a Christian school (You see, if he's the pastor, and the church has a school attached to it, for better or for worse, we've lost our privilege of making decisions regarding our children's education.)

We'd strongly prefer someplace in the Midwest or Northeast part of the country, particularly where there are lots of trees and a significant amount of fluctuation in temperature throughout the year. And yes, snow. (I love that pink little nose!)

We'd like to find a somewhat quiet ministry and area, not one that would have us running the rat race. I strongly believe that many public servants and, yes, people in Christian ministry, often become workaholics to the detriment of their own families. And many ministries almost require that a person do so.

That last one has been startling to me. I mean, I want my kids to have opportunities and culture and all of that. I don't want them to be "hicks." But at the same time, I don't want to miss their growing up years or our chance to truly enjoy and influence them. I've been hearing so many people say (and even write, in Christmas letters and such) things like "well, like everyone else, we're busier than we'd like to be." I even know of one mom of teenagers who said she and her husband had always wanted to take a trip to the Grand Canyon, but their kids preferred to spend that money on fine arts and sports camps. Now they're all grown, and I wonder if she regrets not doing that kind of thing.

So many of my students' families, when I taught at a Christian school I still think is one of the very best, really had little to no family life. I don't want that. The rat race will be fine if we leave it. It's been fine for a while now, while we spend most of our hours trying to live "quiet, peaceful lives" (1 Timothy 2:2).

With our current financial situation, I'm also really learning to re-evaluate my definition of "need" and what is really important. I'm learning how materialistic I am and how unimportant most of what money can buy truly is. My boys don't care about "stuff" nearly as much as they desire my attention.

Now, my undivided attention would be easier to give them, if I wasn't constantly applying for jobs--mostly for Jonathan--and finding ways to earn and save a few bucks here and there on-line, but still! (On that note, a recipe I love will be featured on "Raining Hot Coupons" tomorrow, er, uh, later today--yikes! I need to go to bed! Anyhow, "Like" them on Facebook for great deals and to see yours truly--and vote for me at the end of the month, please! If I win, I'll get a rare $20 fun money!) Some money definitely makes life easier, but I digress.

Currently, I'm surprised at my "okayness" with a prospective church in Michigan's UP. It's literally 2 hours from a town of 20,000 people--the closest Super Wal-Mart, mall, etc. Really, I am. I guess I've changed. But if they don't have high-speed internet capabilities, that might be a little too far . . .

Delusions of . . . Adequacy?

I heard that phrase a few months ago, while watching a re-run of the 90s classic sitcom "Family Matters" (on hulu, I think). The classic teen nerd, Steve Urkel, is doing what he usually does--he's trying to impress his neighbor, Laura. He's waiting in the kitchen of her house for her to come downstairs, ready for "the big game." She struts down the stairs in her pristine cheerleader uniform, just in time for him to walk up to her with a tray of milkshakes, which--you guessed it!--he drops, spilling a cold, milky mess all over Laura and her outfit! In her frustration, Laura rhetorically asks him what would make him think he could walk across the room successfully, while carrying a tray of milkshakes? You just can't help feeling bad for Steve as he hangs his head and says,"Excuse me for having delusions of adequacy."

Ever been there? Ever felt like your expectations of yourself, your life, is far from far-fetched? We're not talking "delusions of grandeur," here, just hoping what you are or have to do will be "adequate" or enough, to get by, but even that seems like a stretch? Young motherhood has been like that for me. And just when I've about convinced myself that it's like that for everyone, I read about a college friend with six children (including an infant!) who homeschools, works a part-time job, and just published her first book! (And no, I am NOT exaggerating!) I used to think of myself as a Type-A overachiever, but now I feel like if life were an academic class, I'd be far from a 4.0 student.

Maybe you're sitting there reading, thinking,"Yeah, that's me too. Thanks for reminding me," and you're ready to drown your less-than-adequate self in a pint of Ben & Jerry's about now, please keep reading! (And if it's near your birthday, you can find some ways to sign up for free ice cream--and other yummy treats--here.)

I think that when we realize we can't quite make it on our own, we're actually in a good place. Maybe not a comfy place, but a good place, nonetheless. I mean, when we think we've arrived, that's really when we're most hopeless, right? (Never mind, hard to live with!)

I feel like I'm just touching the fringes of understanding my own pride, a trait God HATES, and how ridiculous I've been at times in my thinking. I tend to be very opinionated and sure of myself, but as my world and experiences expand, my level of conviction on many topics just doesn't hold up. And that's good. It's good for me, it's pleasant for those around me, and it forces me toward humility, a character trait that endears me to my Savior. It allows me to realize that I need Him. Not just that I needed Him, once upon a time, to die for me. But I need Him every day. For every diaper, every meal, every budget category I like to think I can meet.

This is getting longer than I'd planned, and I'm kind of figuring out my own thoughts as I go along here, so bear with me. That last phrase--"I think I can meet"--reminds me of a story told by Jim Berg, one of the people I think is most gifted at the modern parable or illustration to communicate biblical truth. He tells about a little boy whose father gave him the chance to earn a quarter for washing his car. Proud of his earnings, the boy told his dad he knew what he wanted to buy--a bike! His father humored him and accompanied him to the store. The boy picked out the bike, walked it up to the cashier, and proudly plunked down his quarter on the counter. The cashier looked up at his dad, who held up his wallet and motioned her to let him go ahead. The boy walked out proudly, bike in tow.

The next week, the boy earned another quarter and figured he'd save some of his earnings, but he'd go ahead and buy a small toy for now. He went to the same store and picked out a small rubber ball. He walked up to the same cashier and plunked his quarter down proudly, just like he had the week before. "I'm sorry, but you don't have enough," she told him.

"But last week I was able to get a bike," he said, confused.

"Yes, but this time you didn't bring your Dad along," she explained.

Still gives me goosebumps. How many times are we so proud of our quarter, totally discrediting the $99.75 provided by our Heavenly Dad? And that same God that provides the $99.75 some days can provide $99.99 on others. So if you're feeling inadequate, good. Go to the One who is more than adequate, more than enough. You need Him even when you think you don't, but when you know you do, that's something more for which to thank Him.

Familiarity & Breeding Without Contempt

Home. That word encompasses so much more than a mere dwelling place. In fact, it could refer to something other than a residence, but it definitely refers to something greater. Something less tangible. Sometimes people say a place feels "homey" (that's one of my favorite compliments I've received about one of my many abodes!) or makes them feel "at home." As I looked ahead at the December page of my 2010 Susan Branch calendar to record an upcoming appointment, tears welled up in my eyes (see pics from it throughout this post). We were living with my parents at the time, just aching to again form a "home" of our own, where we could re-establish our family rhythm (my own term, but I'm sure you'll understand its meaning) as a foursome.

Funny story--when I was single, my roommate and I invited a family from church into our "home" (then, a make-shift apartment that was the second story of an old farm house--very first-place-esque). Commenting on many "found" pieces of decor, including a hand-painted pie plate made by my ceramics-loving grandmother, one of our guests said they didn't expect such pieces to be on display in our home. Why? Because we were single! As if marrying a man is what brings such touches to our tables!

By contrast, there was a man I dated some who described his taste in decor as consisting of "nothing organic." When I probed as to his meaning, he cited not liking furniture made of wood. Well, if any of you have been to my home, you know that we would have clashed royally! Can metal and glass furniture really feel as cozy and "homey" as wood? Not to me. But then, my long-time home was in the middle of a forest. (Besides, how can one build a nest without wood? Okay, that was a bad one!) That brings me to my main point, though: Home consists of the familiar. A month-and-a-half ago, we moved into this bare-walled apartment, and we have since made it "feel like home." That consists of more than stuff--it's our stuff, our favorite fragrances, our favorite foods in the refrigerator and cupboards, and our style of cooking--for better or for worse.

For worse, you ask? Sure. Can't you think of something distasteful about your home, your home town, or your home state, that makes it feel like home? I loved going to my grandmother's house, and there was a particular mixture of fragrances that accompanied those memories. I once found myself in a dreamy reverie in the storate aisle at Wal-mart, when I realized that one of those smells was that of moth balls! Admittedly not a pleasant odor, I associated it with the familiar and happy place where my now-deceased grandmother made me feel so special and loved!

For some reason, other things say "home" to me as well and just somehow resonate with my homesick heart--autumn and its colors, "Spiced Pumpkin" fragrance from Yankee Candle, the soundtrack to Anne of Green Gables by Hagwood Hardy, Susan Branch and her handwritten books with watercolor illustrations, and Jan Karon's heart-warming Mitford. So does the idyllic landscape of Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, which my husband calls home. Perhaps someday we'll retire there.

By contrast, this November, we thought God might be leading us to make Tucson, Arizona, our new "home," and I wondered if it could ever truly feel like "home"--its landscape, climate, architecture were all so foreign, resembling nothing familiar. In fact, even if one could argue the superiority of one setting over another, the lack of familiarity could easily tempt a person to choose the "inferior" place, simply because of its greater chances of feeling like home. Thankfully, this was not a choice that was ours to make.

(To be quite honest, even though the "rejection" aspect was hard, we are actually relieved that God did not ask us to move to Tucson. Each day of the week before Christmas, I gave my husband, Jonathan, and our toddler son, Caleb, a small gift to open that symbolized something we're thankful God did not ask us--as yet, anyway--to give up! These included a grow-your-own-grass kit, a board book about dogs, and white tennis balls stacked to look like a snow man!)

Some people, sadly, "feel at home" when they're mistreated and in squalor, which is sad. My responsibility--part of it, anyway--is to form a positive sense of "home" for my own family. Will my sons feel at home when they are spoken to with biting sarcasm or shoved aside when technology or other "distractions" are present? Will they sense familiarity when there is conflict and ill will, or peace and harmony? I may not be able to control how many places they learn to call home, but my attitude and emotional and spiritual stability will go far to help establish their own self-confidence and sense of security. I hope they also remember that everything matched.

Nesting, Nesting

I cannot believe it's been over three months since I last posted! I've written often in my mind, but the technology to transfer that directly to a blog has yet to be invented (as far as I know!). I'm on-line mostly one-handed on my iPhone (fun!) these days, usually while nursing. (Sorry if that's tmi!) Today, my baby Joshua is 3 months old.


The three months since he was born have been such a whirlwind, and it's finally dying down, at least for now. (In case you need catching up, after the first month, which is such a blur, we flew to Tucson for the week, where Jonathan candidated at a church. The week he became a 2-month-old cutie pie, we found out we would not be moving to Tucson and moved, instead, into our own apartment here in Madison. We're now moved in, settled, and past the holidays, so we're feeling pretty relaxed, at least for parents of two children under 2!) I have a sneaking suspicion the calm won't last long, so I'm trying to savor every minute. Sometimes savoring includes letting thoughts running around in my head spill out into the world, so here I am again.

Enough about me, on to some big ideas! Here are a few hints: "There's no place like ____," "____ is where you hang your hat," "____ SWEET ____," "____ is where the heart is." I'm sure you've guessed by now.

In the past six months of being in "limbo," not sure where our next residence will be, I have been contemplating that idea of "home." That was easy for me, not a question at all, during my growing-up years: I lived in the same house since I was 5 months old and attended the same church and church-run school from age five through high school graduation. It really "rocked my world" when the church and school changed locations my freshman year of college. When I came "home," the place where I'd spent more time than any other place (other than the house where I grew up) was no longer familiar. Then, the year I graduated college and moved to Michigan, going "home" for the holidays meant going to Wisconsin, not Illinois, for my parents had moved. Thus began my "home displacement" issues (yes, I did just make that up!).


Having grown up in Illinois and attended college in South Carolina before moving to Michigan, I had no idea how many more states would become "home" to me in the years ahead. While in Michigan, I called 5 different places "home," lived with my parents in Wisconsin and sister in Georgia between Michigan and Oregon, where I moved once I got married. From there, we moved to Pennsylvania, where we lived with Jonathan's parents for a few months between ministries. From there, we moved to Gillett, Wisconsin, where we stayed for over 2 1/2 years--a new record for me in adulthood! We really made that place feel like "home," even though we did not own it. It was a parsonage, and the church gave us the liberty to paint and make other updates that really made it feel like "ours."

After living with my parents for my last trimester and first couple months with baby Joshua (ever time we tried to move out, another strong potential would come up for moving out of state!), we moved into a 2-bedroom apartment here in Madison. It does feel like "home" with all our stuff around and all. Crazily, we hope to move sometime in 2011, hopefully to someplace we'll get to call "home" for quite some time.

So what is "home," and why is it so important to us? After 22 years in the same place . . . 11 years, 6 states, and 10 residences later . . . it's a question I've been asking myself. The next few posts will be my meanderings and fumbling answers to those questions, so check back soon!

THIS is the day!

"This is the day which the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it." --Psalm 118:24

As many times as I've heard, quoted, and sung that verse (there's a little tune to which I sing it almost every Sunday morning as I get Caleb ready to go worship), I don't think I've ever really thought about it quite as seriously (or wrestled with it quite as foolishly) as I have most days for the past week-and-a-half since my pastor's wife, Kelly Love, mentioned it at my baby shower.

(Leave it to God to find us a church for this "interim" period where the pastor and his wife went through such a time at basically the same stage in their family's life! Their oldest son, also named Caleb, was on his way when their time started, and their second son was on his way by the time they were settled again.)

Anyhow, she focussed her devotional and words of wisdom to me on the circumstances we have right now in life, and one thing she mentioned was that we're almost always at a point where we can focus on something that seems like "when life will really start," but that's really not how we ought to live. (Ladies around the room nodded in assent.)

E.B. White said it this way: "Life is always a rich and steady time when we are waiting for something to happen or hatch." (Here are some other neat pregnancy and baby quotes for you fellow mommies & scrappers out there!)

Anyhow, Kelly's words of experience and wisdom continued: "THIS is the day the Lord has made," she said, "THIS day--not just yesterday or tomorrow." I'm constantly reminding myself of that important truth I've so many times overlooked.

Sometimes it's easier to quote that verse or feel like it's true with the promise of the morning and all the hope it brings. But what about at the end of the day, when the hoped-for phone call, e-mail, or baby doesn't come? When the to-do list for the week has seen no progress? When seemingly reasonable expectations for yourself or others have clearly gone unmet?

For me, I have quite a list of things I'm waiting to "happen or hatch" right now. There's the baby, of course (due 4 days from now). And then waiting to hear from two churches with which Jonathan has had preliminary interviews 9 and 16 days ago, respectively. And there's Jonathan's current job that could possibly work into a direct-hire position within the next couple weeks; if that goes through, we're hoping it would mean a raise that could allow us to reasonably afford an apartment around here; otherwise, it will probably mean another job search starting up. Sigh.

On a much less world-rocking note, I'm also awaiting the re-release of Beauty and the Beast on DVD and the next heart-warming book by one of my favorite authors, Jan Karon (you can read the first chapter here)--both coming in October!

Even if I see no progress in those areas, will I "rejoice and be glad" in today? In THIS day? While the timing of so many things are beyond my control, the choice of gladness is mine to make. It's yours too. THIS is the day. Be glad.

Expecting or Just Plain Waiting?

I'm due to have my second son 9 days from today. Any day now, really. Tomorrow would be good. As you can imagine, I feel and look every bit of my "expectant" status. Anytime I feel the slightest bit of a muscular cramping in my abdominal area, I wonder,"Is this it?" And it very well could be. That idea of "expecting" is very real to me right now.

Expecting is different from waiting. I feel like I waited for a while (longer than a lot of girls I know, anyway) to get married . . . at age 28. And to be a mommy . . . at age 31. In fact, I feel like I was even "waiting" to become a mommy well before I met the man I married. I "hoped" someday that would be the case. However, that "waiting" was not the same as "expecting" it to happen. My convictions about sexual purity made it impossible for me to anticipate or "expect" to become a mommy without having a husband. I hoped I would someday marry, but I did not know I would; I cannot say I truly "expected" to. And even once I was married, I did not know if my body would be able to provide me with biological children or, if it didn't, whether we would be able to adopt. I was waiting, not expecting.

I think you get the picture--our idea of "hoping" and "waiting" is very different than that of "expecting." But when we read our Bibles and think about God, we need to realize that the biblical words "hope" and "wait" really have a connotation more like the word "expect." Considering that, we can look at the Scriptural commands to "wait on the Lord" and the Psalmists' and others' ideas of their "hope in the Lord" differently than maybe we have before.

As I "wait" on the Lord's guidance (which He promises!) I'm not doing it like I "waited" and "hoped" to become a mom when I was 20. It's more like I'm "expecting" my baby now--any day, and I KNOW it's going to happen. "Haven't left one in there yet!" my OB/GYN assured me!

Isn't it the same God who created this world and our bodies and the dependable seasons and day/night cycles that promises guidance, provision, et. al.? I need to remind myself of this, as it seems more imminent that I deliver our second son than that God delivers on His promises to guide us to a more stable and permanent (I realize those things are relative as long as we're here on earth!) situation where Jonathan can fulfill his life's calling.

Jonathan has had two "conversations" with churches in the past 3 weeks, but he has not heard anything after either. Since Jonathan determined the necessity to resign from his former position in April, I have prayed (and asked others to pray) fervently that we'd be at more of a place to "expect" Him to lead us to a new ministry by the time of our baby's birth. I think my understanding and commitment to believing the Truth of the words of Scripture--and their meanings--will help determine my ability to resist panic and feel true peace and joy in this time of continued unknowns.

So this was kind of a "pep talk" to myself, but maybe some of the rest of you can benefit as well. Thanks for "listening" to me as I "talk to myself" about this. :)

Evaluating Why We Cry . . . and Pray

The other day, our friendly neighbor girl popped over with a few of her cousins. I was standing outside, and my 16-month-old son, Caleb, was standing next to me. Evidently, none of these older kiddos have been around kids Caleb's age much, and they were quite curious about him.

"Can he walk yet?" one asked.

"Yes, he can walk, but he's a little unsteady, especially on steps," I replied, amused.

A few more questions followed, and I was getting a little wary of their little game, but I played along, still a little bit amused.

"Does he cry?" another asked.

"Not as much as a new baby cries, but yes he cries," I told them.

"What makes him cry?"

At least they were thinking. And I had to think before I replied. "Well, pretty much when he's tired or hungry or hurt . . . or when he doesn't get his way."

Their next comment really hit me: "So pretty much the same reasons we cry."

I laughed at their perception. "Yeah, I guess so."

Throughout the next few days, I unwittingly found myself working a little more with my little guy when he would start to cry or whine because he simply wasn't getting his way. I know he can't understand explanations like this, but I'm trying to get into the habit of giving them anyway--at least as an accountability myself to have reasons for correcting him. "It'll be easier for you later if you learn now that you don't always get your way. You just have to accept it," I found myself saying. Was I talking to him, or to myself? Hmmm . . .

In the past couple months in which I have lacked things I have generally taken for granted, I have found myself crying at the most ridiculous times. Why? Because I'm not getting my way. Same as Caleb. Whom I correct. At the same time, I've been getting frustrated that specific prayers for moving on, getting settled, etc., are not being answered the way I would like, on the timetable I would like.

James 4:3 says this: "You ask and do not receive because you ask with wrong motives, so that you may spend it on your pleasures." The previous verse connects such pleasure-seeking prayers with materialism, the following verse, with worldliness. Ouch.

I used to think I was far from being materialistic--I mean, how could I be? I prepared for and entered a service-minded career I knew would never make me rich, married a preacher (and not the mega-church kind!), and like to think of myself as selflessly hospitable in opening my home to others. I could go on. But take away my privacy, home of my own (not that we owned it--it was a parsonage), and general sense of comfort and control, and watch out! I've shed too many tears these last few months (years, decades!) simply because I'm not getting my way.

One time this really really came out was when Jonathan was digging through boxes in the garage to get out baby things and cold-weather things we were hoping we would not be unpacking here at my parents' house. My dad had re-arranged the boxes since we moved in, and some things were stacked quite precariously. When I caught a glimpse of a small box labelled "Tammy's Snow Globes--Fragile!" tottering at the top of a particularly unstable stack of boxes, I was in tears. Then Jonathan moved our dresser (a good-quality one I'd had since I was a toddler) and a drawer fell out onto the concrete floor. Before even seeing what damage had been done to the dresser or its contents, I ran into the house and sobbed for close to an hour.

It wasn't enough that we couldn't enjoy the nice things we did have, however few they were; I was convinced half of them, at least, would be broken by the time we finally moved. As I ran to the house in tears, I heard Jonathan saying, "They're just things." He was right.

I also like to think of myself as refraining from worldly behaviors. I mean, I don't do the bar thing or get immersed in entertainments of any kind. But what about the things that aren't God that bring me pleasure? I don't think I worship them until I lack them, then I spend way too much time and mental and emotional energy longing for them, analyzing how I can achieve them once again. Not long ago a friend of mine posted this question on FaceBook: "If all your prayers this week were answered, would it change the world, or just your world?" It's just so easy to get wrapped up in our own worlds, isn't it?

So let me ask you, do you cry? pray? What makes you cry and pray? What kind of heart does that reveal? I know mine needs to change--does yours?

A Lamp to My Feet

Okay, so I have a little list of things I've been learning lately, and I'm somewhat randomly choosing from my list as I post. Anyhow, I realize that the last two have been a little on the negative side, so I'm going to try to balance it out a bit.

While in some ways, the past year has held more hard times than any other year of my life, it has also held more clear direction and divine provision in such a short period of time than I have othewise enjoyed. As I write that, I am reminded that provision can be appreciated only when there is a lack, and direction when there is uncertainty. If you look back to Genesis, there is a pattern begun of a place for something and then a filling of it--land before animals, sky before the sun, water before fish. Just the same, there must be a void before fulfillment can be made. But I digress.

As far as direction goes, Proverbs says God's Word is a "lamp to our feet." How many times do we expect it to be a million candle-power shine, but that's not what He promises, is it? Let me give you one recent example. Instead of praying specifically for what I really wanted (!) I prayed instead for wisdom in deciding. It was early- to mid-August, and we had no good contacts with churches. I was convinced it would be easier to move big and preggo than with a small baby, but my husband is working through a temp agency and won't be potentially hired on directly until after the baby comes. Until then, his pay makes renting even a 2-bedroom apartment quite a stretch--or so we thought--never mind the idea of signing a lease agreement when we hope to be moving out of state before 6 or 12 months would be up.

But then I came across something on Craigslist that looked reasonable, and it could be even more reasonable if we were willing to take care of the property--no problem! Jonathan had an extra day off for Labor Day weekend, so we were hoping somehow we could move out of my parents' house by then.

I went to our church's Wednesday night prayer meeting and shared a general request for wisdom in making a decision regarding our living situation. But with the woman who prayed with me, I shared more detail. Thursday came, and I still had not received a response from the one who'd posted the apartment ad. I looked it up again, and noticed something I couldn't believe I'd overlooked before--the move-in date desired was October 1! (Our baby is due October 2, so I'm pretty sure that would not be a wise week to move.) The same day, we received a packet from a church saying they wanted it returned to them before August 31, as they would be reviewing potential candidates' information before then and making contact with their #1 pick on that day. Well, by August 31, it would be a bit late to be making a commitment to move Labor Day weekend. It seemed we had our answer. But there's more.

Even in my elation over such clear direction, I was a bit put off. Originally, we had decided Labor Day would be the last weekend we could possibly travel to visit a church before the baby is born. We were hopeful that we would be at that point, but no. Then we were hoping to move, but no. I privately asked God to give us something to anticipate that weekend, and He gave me two! We were asked to housesit for a couple in our church from Thursday through Monday (a whole house all to ourselves!), and some friends asked if we'd like to meet up with them in Madison on Labor Day--of course we would!

Other examples include the following--

• A friend's wedding being rescheduled from May to August, requiring us to change our plans to attend Family Camp from August to June--the week after God knew we'd be moving in with Mom and Dad and needing that spiritual refreshment (never mind Jonathan's not having to take off work at a new job)
• Being anonymously givin a good chunk of money last fall, which enabled us to update our technology--something that has proven invaluable in pursuing possible pastoral positions for Jonathan
• Having what was advertised as a 3-hour-per-week job turn out to be a 30-hour-per-week commitment for 4 months (something we would have never decided on my applying for if it had been made clear from the beginning), allowing us to save up the remaining amount needed to trade in our medium-sized sedan (that wouldn't fit two car seats in back with a tall Daddy and Mommy in front!) for a new-to-us minivan

All three of those things were provided before we knew we would be moving--but our God knew and provided even before we had an inkling of our need. What a mighty God we serve!