The Boundary Lines

This weekend, between vomit and pink eye, Jamie and I watched the documentary film 112 Weddings.

In the movie, a wedding videographer visited eight of the couples whose weddings he had filmed years before; the longest marriage being 19 years.

Some had divorced; some were finding marriage convenient for tax and legal purposes. All noted the central theme of children being a driving factor to "make the relationship work."

But more than anything, all lacked deep abiding vision within their union.

Marriage was simply another option, the next step in life.

Void of calling, purpose or ministry. 

My heart ached for the families in limbo. Jamie and I have never hidden our marriage struggles. In fact, we share them openly for they have been and are a penetrating catalyst in Christ's pursuit of us.

In light of that, the last two weeks have been messy.

So much so we've found ourselves wondering if somehow we misheard God on this route to our ministry, to the spaces we felt we heard Him whispering to our souls to follow in faith.

I've thrown pillows against the wall and wailed, How could God be calling anyone to a lifetime of this?

As I often do, I turned on Jamie and screamed that foster care was his idea.

We cried and prayed, and as we always do, we ended in the same place, surrender from our knees.

I have to allow myself to go to that place every so often. To be real with the cost.

I don't think that's a sin. I think it's an acknowledgement of our call.

A re-commitment. A weighing of the balance.

When I stood beside my hot man on that day 13 years ago, this life was not what I pictured.

Instead I envisioned years down the road us dabbling in giving, our children going to a foundational Christian private school; maybe I would lead a Bible study and write on the side.

All in the name of Jesus.

Hear me when I say those are good things.

But when I saw those things as my safety net for the mark of Christ, I made them falsely ultimate.

These days I find myself rocking children who are knocking their heads against a wall. I'm counting pennies to make the budget work for children who come to us with nothing. I'm homeschooling our sons because our family life has them immersed in the world.

But it's our life. It's our ministry. It's our calling, and the story of redemption He has authored through us.

In college, my sweet friend Anna jotted a verse to me on a note and dropped it by my door in the dorm:

LORD, you alone are my portion and my cup. You have made my lot secure. 

The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places. Surely, I have a delightful inheritance. 

~ Psalms 16 : 5-6

Surrendering our vision, our dreams, for the path of life He lays out for us means our trading a life of temporary happiness for an eternity of inheritance.

It casts off the mediocre, the status quo, the stale bread, allowing us instead to feast on the Bread of Life.

My moments and days aren't anything I dreamed of when I stood in that white gown.

They're richly more.

We've allowed the Father to lead us to a place of walking on water, sink or swim, casting our nets in faith in order to live for the next moment.

That's being alive. 

I find myself desperately clinging to the cross morning after morning, and rejoicing in the victory of His daily mercies night after night.

Photo Source: Jeweledsteel.com

It's down right nasty sometimes.

But Friends, the Cross wasn't clean and tidy. It was splintered, bloody and smelly.

Yet, it birthed our eternal hope.

Because Jesus is Worthy ~

To the Fathers of my Heritage

Originally posted, June 2013...

Daddy,

You may have never known, but I heard you. I heard your whispered prayers outside my door each night. I felt your hand upon my head as I rested. From the top of the stairs, I watched you on your knees with your Bible open in the early mornings. I peaked into your room as I watched your hands create and paint late into the night as you scripted prayers and verses across your canvas. And the only prayer I knew to pray is that one day I would be like you. Your hands create the very creativity of God our Father, and as you see it as your passion and heart to show that to the world, I have watched you walk faithfully in hope and obedience since the moment I became your daughter. You have entered the fire time and time again, yet you have clung to the One who holds your heart. I want that faith. Every fight you have fought was to honor us, by the grace of God, and I noted every moment. Page after page of my journal begged God to one day grant me a husband who walked in faith like you. I am so humbled. Your faith has shaped me a little more into the image of my Savior. I love you so very much, and I am so proud to be called your daughter.

PawPaw Finley,

As the years pass, the memories grow hazier with step forward into the future. But you are not forgotten. When I would stay with you and Grandma, you would wake me early on Sundays while others in the house slept. We would walk the dirt road together. You sang me hymns; sometimes as you even smoked your cigarette. We would sit in the back of the church, and you would hold the blue tattered hymnal while we stood together. I felt so grown up being alone with you. I remember your smell, your small frame. The pack you kept in your front shirt pocket. The cap you always wore. The faith you had in your son - my father - when he dared to dream. I remembered the way you would tell me over and over how proud you were of Daddy. And Grandma, she loved you so deeply. I'm not sure I've ever seen love like that on this earth. I'm not sure you even knew or could understand as your health failed, but she loved you to death, and I remember thinking I wanted to be a wife like that. I think of you both often when we love these children and families who are sometimes hard to persevere with. I think of the struggles you both endured, the lives you face, the victories you shared...and it gives me the courage to love again. I remember one of my last times with you as I stroked your hand and told you stories and how much I loved you. You couldn't respond or sit up, but you silently wept. I'm so honored to be your granddaughter.

PawPaw,

There are moments when I memorize your face. I study the way you hold my sons. I watch as a little girl who has never known a safe man runs to your arms. I sometimes think I could listen to you pray every day for the rest of my life. You are a man of God, and I thank the Father every single day for the role model you are to my sons. You have been there almost every moment and event in my life, and when Jamie and I began dating, I longed for your approval. The stories you told me into the night, the books you read to me when I begged one more time...your life is woven into the tapestry of mine and my sons, and I am so incredibly grateful. You have always believed in me, listened to me, challenged me, and hoped with me. You have been a faithful picture of Jesus in my life, and that is something I carry with me each and every day. Thank you. I love you.

Jamie,

I remember sitting in Finance 302 summer session because I had failed the class twice already. I couldn't understand the teacher, and we had just become engaged. There was this moment I totally checked out and began daydreaming. I saw us, together, with a mess of kids, and as I thought of you one day being a father, I smiled and laughed out loud, to which my instructor thought I was laughing at him, and he asked me to leave.

I am in awe of who you are. I can't believe this is us. I remember the days when I didn't know if we would survive another week, the day we begged God to break us because we wanted more of Him than ourselves. He is so faithful. It is an honor to serve you, to walk with you, to follow you, to fight with you. To hear our sons say that they only want to be you when they grow up, causes me to catch my breath. To hear our foster children say that having a daddy like you is a dream come true, causes me to fall to my knees. You show me Jesus, while making me long for more of Him at the same time. Thank you for walking this life with me.

And to the One who has claimed me as His daughter and sees me robed in the righteousness of His son, I am so grateful.

Looking unto Jesus,

Seven Things I Wish I had Grasped Before Walking the Aisle {and some TMI thrown in}

It was 13 years yesterday.

As I wrapped gifts to celebrate a daughter's birthday, then lined the kitchen table with eight children's dinner plates and waited for baseball practice to end, I felt certain this was not what I had pictured holding my weeping daddy's hand as he walked me slowly down the aisle.

Maybe that's God's mercy...

Maybe that's His humor...

Maybe that's His pursuit...

Whatever it is, I realized there are a few things I wish I had grasped before those doors swung open and I saw this good-looking guy that day...

1. Marriage is not a fairytale ~ Abandon the expectations.

Coming from a couple who was told by our counselor that our Myers Briggs types have the highest percentage of divorce, the imagination of it possibly being a fairytale should have been a joke, but every woman was a little Cinderella once upon a time.

Our first year was dark, like black hole dark. So were our second and third. Jamie and I are polar opposites on every personality test in every area.

Our expectations of one another lined our coffins. There was no way for us not to hit a dead end.

But it was the dead end that saved our lives.

In honesty, it wasn't until Memorial Day 2007 when we wept from our knees beside our bed and surrendered our vision of our marriage, our family, our careers and futures to our Savior that our dance ~ the real one ~ began.

Before then, we had simply been attempting to take one another out by stomping on the others toes the hardest.

2. I'm not Wonder Woman ~ Own that.

Although my anniversary gift would suggest differently...

                  

I'm not, but I really wanted to be for Jamie. That's what you do when you love someone, right?

WRONG.

I crashed and burned early on, and to burn out on the most significant and present relationship in your life is intensely depressing.

After our dead end, we sat down, and I asked, What are the three constants you desire from me {aside from my love for Jesus}? 

Creative dinners? A clean house? A fit body? Intentional motherhood? Lots of sex? A consistent income?

Because Folks, I can't do it all.

Jamie doesn't care if we eat sandwiches every single night of the week; if I have spent my day being an intentional mother, and I'm still ready to jump him when he comes home, he's in heaven on earth.

That doesn't mean we don't ever have dinner, but it did help me prioritize what matters to Jamie and not exhaust myself trying to be all things to all people in my home.

3. Intimacy doesn't just happen ~ Pray for it.

One of my first prayers every, single morning is, God, thrill me to Jamie's touch today.

The Father longs for us to delight in one another in this area, and Satan longs for it to be screwed, twisted and stale.

It is worth fighting and planning for, and the reality is when you have a crazy life, sometimes you've got to plan...

Or at least get locks on your doors that work.

4. You really can't plan your family's growth ~ If God has another plan.

As we drove home from premarital counseling, Jamie said, I think two kids would be perfect. Maybe four or five years apart?

Me: That sounds good. Maybe we could pray about three?

Jamie: Sure, but definitely not more than that.

By the time we had been married five years, we had three sons from three different attempted forms of birth control.

I was a postpartum nightmare walking.

That dead end day, we said it...No more preventing children. We'll leave it to God totally.

I have not been pregnant since that day, and we have not attempted to stop the biological growth of our family in any way, shape or form.

You can throw all your medical books and advice at me, but when it boils down to it, God's going to accomplish His purposes as He sees fit.

And it's beautiful to abandon your dreams to that in the way He calls you to.

5. Marriage does not make your root sins disappear ~ It often accelerates them.

Marriage embodies our deepest achings and longings. It's the fulfillment of companionship, years of relational wandering...the climax of our finally belonging.

In that moment and the months that follow, a little lie implants into our new found spaces of comfort, and the battles we once forged against impurity and recognizing our beauty in Christ become backdrops.

Until the roots unknowingly dig deeper and begin to shift the convenient foundations we've come to know.

Our enemy prowls seeking whom He may devour.

He does not pounce.

He is not irrational.

He stalks and waits and weaves webs of doubt and insecurity.

If we are not sinking deep into the truths of the Word and constantly preaching the Gospel to ourselves, we will be shattered with the raw surprise of sin.

6. Determine your standard of living early on ~ And don't let it creep as your income grows.

One of the first things Jamie said to me in our premarital counseling stage was, We will determine what we need financially to live when we're young and broke, and we will not let our money control us as we grow older.

I thank God for this conversation every day.

Yes, caring for eight children is quite different than when it was just us. It requires a bit more financially.

This does not mean we don't make room to enjoy the money God provides.

It doesn't mean we're intensely frugal {because I stink at frugality}.

But, it does mean we weigh everything that comes our way.

It means we recognize we are simply stewards of God's provision to us.

It means we don't cash in on first-world luxuries because we made it a priority early in our marriage to view our money in a very different way than the culture does.

7. Marriage is not about my happiness ~ It's about Jesus.

I'm can't remember every second of these last 13 years.

I'm not sure where the days, or weeks, or months have gone.

I can guess that the difficulty to number these moments will only accelerate we grow in our married life.

The culture longs to claim these times. Satan longs to mark these moments.

Our marriage is one of the primary things the Father is using to make Jamie and me look like His son.

And we don't look a whole lot like Him right now.

So it's a slow process of chiseling, pounding, hammering...

And most days that doesn't feel good.

But every now and then, Jamie will do something, and it takes my breath away because I see straight through Him to the heart of my Savior.

I sometimes imagine what it will be like to look each other eye to eye one day in the presence of Christ, to utterly grasp that the culmination of every step in this journey we call marriage has simply laid the stepping stones for the eternity for which we were designed.

I want to taste that a little more every day.

Because of Jesus ~

What if's?

I've been working at the Empowered to Connect conference, refreshed through the insights of Dr. Karen Purvis.

The teaching has been wonderful, but more than that, it has been so renewing to my soul to spend moments with friends, acquaintances and strangers, who in sincerity know and understand a part of my soul that others may never grasp.

Almost a secret fraternity.

No words need be spoken.

We understand that when one another says, Good, in response to, How are you...

It means, Today, we are alive.

Today, the seams are still in tack.

Today, I'm not going to blubber through the morning.

We knowingly nod that the other is functioning in survival, rather than diving deep.

There are seasons for each.

I've had moments to sit still and remember.

It was exactly five years ago today that we sat in a Lifeline office on Pump House road and felt our hearts jump to say, Yes. Our child is in Uganda.

It was a brand spankin' new program. No one had traveled.

But our hearts resonated.

What if...

This story is not the one that played out in our minds in that moment.

It looks so very different.

I've allowed myself to play the what if game this weekend.

What if that red dirt Ugandan door had not been closed?

What if we had been called to lead one precious child in healing, rather than wading with tens of children and families through their griefs?

What if the stories my tale has held had never called forth these spaces of my Savior from my core?

What if?

Sometimes to own the present and embrace the future that is unfolding, you must remember what never was; acknowledge the whispered dream... in order to release it.

We cannot despair in that place or allow ourselves to become stuck, but we remember what the Father used to ignite our souls in order to celebrate the spaces of our journey He is inviting us to enter.

Every great story of faith begins with a detour.

It's okay to grieve that turn.

That's where I've been this week.

I know from the deepest wells of my soul, I was shaped for what seems to be unfolding in our future, but it is not the reason I originally said yes. So I allow myself to whisper a sober goodbye in order to celebrate the obedience of today, and tomorrow, and the next.

And right when my mind is wrestling in the goodbye, I'm given this in surprise from my precious sisters in faith Suzanne and Lori...

New mercies to say yes to new obedience each new morning.

But I adore the people who said, Yes, to that first dream so long ago.

Because God's mercy in leading us obedience to that first step, is the same mercy that has brought us through the fire time, and time, and time again so that we may look like this...

Nothing is wasted in God's economy.

All is Grace ~

10 Ways to Prioritize Marriage in the Midst of Ministry {And A Valentine's Giveaway}

Foster care saved our marriage.

Or, it was one of the tools the Father used to plant a significant detour in our paths and save us.

If you know me, have sifted through the posts of our story, or if you are Melanie and have come in our home unannounced in the middle of a knock-down fight, you know the Lumpkins are flesh and blood, and therefore, their marriage is real and raw, and we wouldn't have it any other way.

Rather than a honeymoon first year, it was more like death...our of souls.

Rather than blissful years one through five, it resembled two twenty-somethings pitching toddler tantrums on an hourly basis.

Granted, three surprise pregnancies, an incredibly sick son and an initially stressful work situation can put anyone under. Shake it up, light it on fire and set it ablaze in the time frame of three and a half years, and you think you'll never make it up for air again.

What many people don't understand, is how and why our marriage is more solid, even in the passion fights {we don't deny we're both intense people} now that we have a crazy life.

Two words...

LOVE BOLDY

To survive this merry-go-round of foster care, we've had to love counter-culturally to the world's standards, following only the example of our Savior, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross.

And, this forced us to recognize early on, that we could not own this in one area of our lives without allowing to penetrate every sphere: our careers, parenting our forever children, our friendships, and our marriage.

This new realm of ministry demanded what Christ was already calling us to,

Loving one another boldly with intentionality.

WE ARE NOT EXPERTS. {Ask Melanie.} But we have, by God's grace, developed some guidelines to help us maintain a pulse on the greatest priority in our lives apart from our Savior.

1. We own that marriage is not about us or about us being happy. Our Father's ultimate purpose it to shape us into the image of His son. Marriage is one of the tools He uses to do that. Neither of us look very much like Jesus, so all that hammering and molding doesn't always feel good. But it is beautiful.

2. We recognize that we are not finished products but beg God to allow us to see one another as the Father sees us ~ clothed in the righteousness of Christ. Jamie is not in heaven, so his sanctification is not complete, nor is mine. We have to give each other grace in that.

3. We realize that Satan's hates godly marriages and families. We are not one another's enemies. Our enemy prowls like a roaring lion, seeking whom He may devour. The moment we forget that, is the moment we allow him in the door. And when you are pouring out your lives to the calling of loving families who are crumbling to the core, Satan would delight in nothing more than to expose your own marriage and family. 

4. {Practically} We kiss. We hug. We touch. Our goal is for every.single.day. It sounds crazy that we have to plan that, but when you have eight or so kids pulling at your legs, throw up to clean up, messages to return, and lice to pick out {another reason I took two weeks off writing}, you make room to kiss.

5. {Practically} I go to my knees in prayer for Jamie every.single.morning, and I literally mean on my knees. For me, this is a physical reminder as well as a spiritual reminder that Jamie is not mine, but I am surrendering Him into the Father's hands. 

6.  {Practically} I ask the Father to show me one thing unique to celebrate in Jamie every day. I text, email, or call him at work and let him know this. For example, earlier this week, God allowed me to see that I would never had said Yes to this crazy life, if it wasn't Jamie I was married too. This is our story. Praise your man and celebrate what God is doing in your story.

7. {Practically} Flirt and play. Guys, our life is intense. Some of you get it, and some of you have no clue. The shadows are dark, the stories are heart-breaking and the crisis is constant, but it's our life. This is the mission field to which we are called. We can't wait to enjoy each other until the tide has turned. This life is a battle, and Jamie and I are called to do it together. Do miss that. Have fun in the between moments whether it's a dance party cleaning up the kitchen or a snowball fight at midnight. Have fun.

8. {Practically} Date and escape. Your children need to see this. Your foster children need to see this. The world needs to see this, and you need it. Our schedules are insane, so we don't always get out. We've reached a point where we aim for one in-house date night a month, and one out-night a month. Find what works for you and your budget. But make it happen. One friend of mine goes out monthly on their anniversary number. Super cool. We would love to go out more, but life sometimes gets the best of us. More than this, we do get away three times a year. We require a minimum of two nights each time. Sometimes we stay home and send the kids away, but we require this. It forces us to evaluate what's working and what's not, and honestly, we sleep.

9. {Practically} As my friend Stephanie says, "Get out of the yoga pants and into the sexy." So sorry if that offends. But guys, Satan wants my man's eyes, and he would love nothing better than to distract me with "good" ministry things. I pray every.single. day. for God to thrill me to Jamie's touch, and I have for 12 years. He is faithful to honor those prayers because He wants us to delight in Him as we delight in one another. 

10. {Practically} Find ways to give one another space. Jamie knows I need conferences and times with like-minded women to be renewed in this daily calling. Jamie needs his guitar and his two best friend weekends a year. We honor that for one another and fight to make it happen because we know it's important.

Those are 10 little things that keep us running. What are some tangible ways God has put on your heart to love your man? Or what are some creative ways you have found to fight and protect your marriage? Comment below and be entered for a drawing of one of my favorite books, Prayers of an Excellent Wife.

**Don't forget! Only three more weeks until my blog birthday party ends! You don't want to miss it!

And from our marriage to yours, Happy Valentine's Day!

Our Good, His Glory ~ Are we telling our children the Truth?

I rock his 40-pound, eight-year-old body back and forth as he punches my chest again and again to the melody of his desperate wails of, Why, God? Why?

He's screamed to the point of exhaustion, where he can bring himself to quiet.

So I beg God to quiet my soul for the both of us.

It was four full years ago that we said goodbye to the treatments, to the meds, to the endless appointments.

The first week after his first birthday, I watched my middle son writhe in pain as he went from a 18-pound baby, to an 11-pound shell.

It took almost a full year to adequately diagnose. 365 days of poking, prodding, and scoping to discover a rare digestive disease had crossed with a rare complex food allergy, leaving his body to fight all nutrients rather than absorb them for his benefit.

This was the space that broke us, that led us to leave all on the altar and say, Lead, Father. Whatever, Whenever, However.

For the last four years, his body's enemy has laid dormant. It buried itself into remission, only to sneak it's ghastly head once again.

In a blink every symptom is back, and my son looks at me with tears in his eyes to say, Mommy, I thought God wanted me to be happy. 

Tears spill from my eyes as I whisper, My son. Our God is so much bigger than our happiness. You are made for so much more than happiness. You are made for Jesus.

He wraps his arms around me and cries, That's not fun though.

No, it's not, Benj. Some days it's down right nasty.

Six years ago he couldn't tell me the ways his stomach writhed in pain day in and day out. He couldn't explain how it filled him with fury, never allowing him to rest.

But now he can, and this mama's heart is hurting for her son.

We journey through a world that tells us and whispers to our children that our purpose in life it to be satisfied, to be healthy, to be happy.

Even among our Christian circles, some whisper that with enough faith, the right prayers, and the exact confessions, we will attain satisfaction and fulfillment on this earth. We mask it in the word, Blessing.

But not one of those people has the courage to look into the eyes of my son and tell him, he's not praying right; his parents don't believe enough; he was made to be fully happy here, so maybe he's missed the boat.

But I take his face, cupping it into my hands and look into his eyes, Buddy, I want to take this from you with all my heart. But this is your story. God can heal you, and we will beg Him for that without stopping. But when I rubbed my belly to feel you inside of me, I prayed that God would make your body in the exact way that would bring Him glory and you good through the story He wants to write only through you.

This is your story. 

You will know Jesus in a way no one else can as we fight this fight together. And Daddy and I won't leave your side.

Maybe, just maybe, it's time for us to leave our settled dreams of happiness for our children at the altar and begin dreaming bigger, allowing them to own the story God is weaving through them already to bring Him glory and them good.

Clinging to Jesus ~

Our Prayer for Them this Year...

This row represents more heartache than the vast majority of us will know in our entire lives...

Sorrow, betrayal, shame...

Hauntings they were never meant to carry.

It's a sobering reality to recognize your home has come to be known as a place of grief for so many.

Safe, yes.

But still, a place where they grieve deeply day and night.

Each year, we select a verse to pray over our hearts, the souls of our sons, the lives of our children that spin through our home.

This year's ~

But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope:

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; His mercies never come to an end;

they are new every morning; great is YOUR faithfulness.

"The Lord is my portion," says my soul, "therefore, I will hope in Him."

~ Lamentations 3: 21-24

As they weep their bitter tears of sorrow, wondering if it is their faults, searching to see if they are forgotten, we will whisper this prayer into their spirits, begging for the Author of Mercy to make Himself known to them.

Reminding them He is faithful.

What is your verse for the year?

Because He is Worthy ~

I wish you...

Inconvenience.

In the light of a new year, a new dawn,

Photo Credit: voyporustedes.blogspot.com

Fresh moments of grace against the bitter cold,

Photo Credit: abbners98.deviantart.com

It would be appropriate to say Cheers, Good Tidings, and May you be richly blessed.

But, I want more for you. I want more for me. I want more the hands I touch day in and day out.

I want you to see with your heart, not with your eyes, laying down your list to enter the moment.

I want you to be thirsty, not for the empty fills of this world, but for the source of hope that forever fills.

I want you to hunger, not for accomplished goals, but for the Bread of Life.

In the spaces where I'm honest, my comfort and riches have never once taken me to the brinks where I truly see, deeply thirst, or ache with actual hunger.

It has been in the journeys of grief, the annoyances of inconvenience, the places I've been required to surrender the goals I seek to attain and deny myself the riches I've been blessed with that I've discovered life.

So I wish you Life.

Not in the definition we've come to know, that our world trivializes, but the Life that cannot be taken from you, the Life that is graced to you in order to be graced to another.

The Life that allows you to be threaded into His tapestry, to declare His name to the nations,

Because His is Worthy ~

2013 ~ The Year I Got a Tattoo (or Two) and Why

I'm not weeping over these final hours of 2013, just wishing them a sober goodbye.

Because this year knocked the wind from my gut.

It would be easy to say the primary antagonist was our fostering journey, but that's a scapegoat.

It was a year we spent more than 100 days bleaching the stomach bug from our home.

We repaired the places moldy drip drops broke through our ceiling...or maybe it was more like a steady stream.

We waded the waters of the unknown when my mom was sick.

We grieved with broken hope the sudden deaths of close family, dear friends, and children of dear friends.

We battled with perseverance through the joys and trials of our marriage, parenting, and ministry.

And through it all our front door continued to revolve, bringing with each turn children with shattered circumstances and families fragmented by sin.

I found myself digging deep, more so than I ever have.

I needed to know the Gospel I clung to, this Savior I cherished, was not a product of my comfortable world, but a Redeemer able to stride the chasm of poverty, hunger, shame, and betrayal.

I ached to know that I was living out a faith, a hope, that wasn't contingent on my predictable life, but instead, transferable to the lives of the desperate around me.

I felt I had one foot in each world, and I journeyed through the truth of scripture, preaching the Gospel, the real, messy, splintered, at-the-Cross-Gospel to myself.

I wanted it carved into my very being.

So...I did it. I got a tattoo.

Hope {in dictionary terms} ~ to look forward with desire and confidence. To believe, to trust, to have faith.

Hope {in my terms} ~ to know deep within my being that it is not the end of the story. To grasp the reality there is a tapestry of His glory being woven for His kingdom.

Hope {in God's terms} ~ Through Him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in the HOPE of the glory of God. More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces HOPE, and HOPE does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us. {Romans 5:2-5} 

~ For in this HOPE we were saved. Now HOPE that is seen is not HOPE. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we HOPE for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience. ~ Romans 8:24-25 

There's this moment when I'm in labor to give birth... I don't care if my hair is right or my makeup is fresh, but I have to have my toenails painted, because that's what I can see. It's my tangible reminder that the agony is only temporary.

I told Jamie, I wanted my imprint on my foot because when I am old, wrinkled and decaying, I want to be able to stick out my foot and know that HOPE is evermore as strong.

And if you happen to outlive me, Jamie has been told to give me an open casket upside down, showing my foot, so you too can remember, HOPE transcends our sin, our pain, our suffering, our world. (He says I'm a nutcase.)

But this HOPE is only reality because of the One who entered the suffering and pain of our sin and shame at the Cross.

Wrong or right, I know many believers have various view on things like marks that don't erase, but somewhere in the chaos of this year, that's what I craved, a visible sign that took me back to HOPE of my Savior, by His grace, for His glory.

Wishing you a 2014 full of true, Gospel-filled HOPE ~

To the Man of the Hour...

You're 37 today...

How did this happen?

When we walked the laps of our apartment building 12 years ago, this was not the dream you had...

Once upon a time you told me tales of tidy control and extravagant order.

We whispered our plans and prayed, God bless.

And then you jumped.

I stood on the cliff and watched the polished man I once knew fall into the arms of his Savior with nothing to catch him.

I wondered at how he never looked back except to say, Follow me. Jump.

And suddenly, I was able to gaze past your eyes into the the heart of my greatest love, the one who bled for me.

There are days we crave comfort.

Moments we long for order.

Mornings we just want to know what the plan is.

And evenings we pray for sleep.

But as you've told me before, If we're gonna be worn out on this earth, let's be worn out for the Gospel. We have Heaven to be comfortable.

I want to be like your Savior when I grow up.

I want to my sons to be like the Redeemer they see through you.

I want our daughters to taste the hope that they were designed for more through the love you faithfully give them.

The man God's grace has allowed you to become...it quiets my soul.

Thank you for allowing me to be along for the ride.

Because I love jumping with you ~

I'm Scared...Part Three

For my marriage...for the One who holds my heart...

We knew few individuals or families who fostered when we began this journey.

Of those we did know, several had walked the devastating pain of divorce, and the stress of foster care had played a critical role in the separations. 

Even in the four years we have juggled this lifestyle, a number of fostering friends' families have ended their ministry after recognizing how intensely their being poured out has strained their marriages.

The context of family and the haven of home is one of the utmost places the transformation of the Gospel is fleshed out by the mercy of Christ as we live out the dance of repentance, grace and faith. 

If this is true, would not the families of God's people be one of the foremost battlegrounds, the focused realm Satan would love to destroy as he whispers his lies of deceit, manipulation and insecurity?

The reality is Satan hates God's work. He despises the beauty of grace being displayed to a watching world through our brokenness. If we are about being the incarnation of Christ, we must expect nothing less than an onslaught of our enemy's rage.

But we know Who holds the victory.

Jamie and I are constantly asked how our marriage bears the weight of our unpredictable and dramatic lifestyle. We are challenged continuously to make time for one another.

We treasure those reminders and humbly study those who have gone before us in this sphere of marriage...

But we also remember that our marriage is not for us.

Jamie's purpose is not to make me happy; just as mine is not to make him happy.

We were never designed to fulfill one another. Grasping for that leaves us yearning at a bottomless cavern.

We were created to spur one another on to being shaped a little more into the image of our Savior...

And we don't look much like our Savior, so the chiseling and hammering leaves scars and bruises, but somewhere along the way, I'll glance into this guy's eyes...

and realize I'm looking past him, and instead, gazing into the image of my Savior.

That is beautiful.

I want to control him. I want to control us. I want to control our relationship and future...but that is such a lie.

So I trade my yearnings for abandonment to the One who knows our today, and then our tomorrow...

And I'm terrified...and in awe...to realize I am not simply discovering my husband, but embracing my amazing Savior.

Looking unto Jesus ~

Note...This week I am simply processing the places God is calling me to lay down my fears and take up renewed hope. In the near future, we'll be fleshing out how these steps of faith in the Father's mercy are practically taking shape!

I'm Scared, Part Two...

For the hearts of my sons.

What about your own kids?

It's muttered under someones breath or to my face at least once every other day.

My skin crawls; although I know 90% of the time, it's asked with good intentions.

But come closer...shhhh...I'll tell you a secret....

It's not about my boys; just like it's not about my fosters; just like it's not about me...

It's about my Savior.

I'm taking time to own some of the haunting quiet places of my soul this week.

It would be so much easier to continue meeting the demands of life, the needs, the wants, and to push my own chasms out of mind...

But increasingly I'm realizing, that unless I own my fear and brokenness, I have no need of being healed, no need of restoration.

The lives of my boys is one of my silent naggings.

We began this journey when they were so very young. Daniel doesn't remember a day without extra sisters and brothers crowding his life and style.

Through my lens, that is beautiful.

In the world's eyes, I'm serving my children an astounding disservice.

And the reality is, if you know my boys, you would know we're not at all together. There's some intense drama, disrespect, and a whole lot of this mess we call sin.

But is ministry about having it together and bringing your perfection as the answer to broken lives...

Or is ministry owning your brokenness, grasping the grace bestowed to you, and allowing this prism of redemption in your life ignite you to see and hope for what others could be with the fullness of Christ within them?

Knowing hope.

Displaying grace.

Acting as an agent of restoration.

Deep down, I acknowledge the reality that this journey messes with my boys. We've had to be intentional on so many levels. I quietly watch and wonder if our lifestyle will push them drastically to one end spiritually or another.

As homeschoolers, I'm often asked when we will let our kids taste of the "real" world, and to be honest, I laugh out loud, because my boys have already learned the realities of so many hard subjects in the context of our home. They're aware of social, criminal, relational and spiritual sins than many adults are unwilling to acknowledge, but we've been proactive in the stewardship of their hearts.

Because they are not ours. Their souls have been graced to us for a fleeting moment.

So in the sphere of this broken haven we call home, they've walked the road of hospitality, grief, sacrifice, hardships, flexibility...

They've learned early that God is not about their happiness, but about providing them joy as HIS story unfolds through their obedience for HIS glory.

I get to watch that.

Some parents wait 40 years before they ever are gifted with glimpses of these truths in their children's lives.

No, we still have a long way to go, and it's not the end of their stories by any means, but owning my fear of laying down the hearts of "my" three little Isaacs, demands I glorify His redemptive work taking place in them even now, renewing my faith once again.

Because He is Worthy ~

A Testimony...For Us All

I had the honor of sharing a small testimony of God's pursuit of us at September's Unfailing Love Retreat. After opening with Cinderella's birthday letter, I shared the true state of my heart...

Dear Cinderella,

You're four, now.

Balloons flood your hall, while pink and white streamers dance along your doorway.

And you twirl...faster...faster...faster, as if you're spinning to capture the taste, the elation...

Of peace.

And as you reach the peak of your movement, you just as quickly crash with the wails of a lover who has forgotten the very definition of love...

Because your definition of love is unreachable.

And you scream with the horror of men who stand among the bloody battle...

Because at four, you've survived your own war-scared battles...again, and again, and again.

So, I reach for you, striving with all that I am to hush away the symptoms, longing to rip away the roots of the darkness that haunts you...

But removing those roots would remove the very core of our Cinderella. Of the story you've been given.

I move towards your soul, steadily seeking you through your darting eyes,

And you roar with the anger of injustice that sees no remedy.

Pushing away the safety before you, you claw, tearing at your skin, but really...

You're shredding the scaly layers of your tale, searching to remember how you reached this point...

of sadness,

of loneliness,

of fear.

But you can't rip enough away to remove the pain of your soul, no matter how deeply you scrape.

And realizing this infuriates you, with a rage that you were never created to know...

So you turn to me, kicking, screaming, flailing against the one thing you know will cradle you when the battle is lost, when the fighting has subsided.

My taking it only makes you angrier, until you collapse. War torn and weary, you whisper,

My heart's so tired, Mommy.

And if I could, Baby, I would take the deepest cut; I would claw through the unbearable pain that haunts you in the days, and chases your dreams at night, but I can't.

I wasn't made to do that.

So I take you to the One who did it for me.

I wrap you in my arms and rock you to the whispers of, Yes, Jesus loves you. Yes, Jesus loves you.

Between your tears you cling tighter, Mommy, I'm so sorry. I just don't want to hurt anymore inside. 

Shhh...Yes, Jesus loves you...

And my heart strains to feel my Savior who is cradling me under His tender wings. My ears strive to hear the whispers of His name over my soul so that I can look into your eyes once again and tell you...

That you were never meant for this. You were made for Jesus.

~~~~~~~~~~

Isn’t Cinderella’s battle, the striving we all know on some level?

Our longing to control and secure our environment safe from pain, grief, heartache…for ourselves, our spouses, our children... because we were never intended to wade through this muck and mire, but somewhere between our screen of protection and self-preservation, we trade the beauty and glory we were designed for, for the filthy rags we believe will comfort us.

And suddenly, the good things become ultimate, and the tightness of our fists around what we will believe will provide for us allows the lies of desire to become so much louder than the melody of Yes, Jesus loves me. Yes, Jesus loves you.

I know because I did this. I wanted to adopt…it was our heart, and it was a really good and beautiful thing, but somewhere in the paperwork and the home studies, the pursuit of a child became greater than the One who was calling us into the journey of transformation. So with tired hearts from years of paper chasing, we laid it on the altar.

There is still no adopted child…yet. But there are 30 faces that line our walls. Thirty marks that show their growth along our doorways. There are mamas and daddies at our dinner tables who have conquered lifetimes of horrors, and there’s a surrender that has brought me to my knees before my Savior…hour after hour. And though the whisper of lies is still there, Yes, Catie, I love you, and you are right where I want you…is so much louder.

Be transformed…not in the end result you are longing for, which is beautiful. It is. But know, His Gospel is going forth into the darkness through your waiting with hope, your resting in grace, the cries you utter from your knees. Your the beautiful incarnation of our Redeemer to a watching world, not just because you are called to orphan care, but also because you are trading the false pillars of strength you leaned upon, for a treasured mess of weakness, that allows Him to begin.

And to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever!

~ Ephesians 3:20

I worshipped today.

Sometimes, I'm asked what it's like for me when he comes back...

Today, I went to take J to the nursery at church. ~ He visited us for the weekend.

As I began to leave, he screamed Mama.

And my heart lurched.

I scooped up the son of my soul and spent the next two hours like this...

                 

And through a sermon I heard little of, I whispered...

You are safe. You are loved. You belong to Jesus.

And every fiber of my being worshipped with all that I am,

from an altar of sacrifice with open hands.

Because He is worthy of all my praise...and surrender ~

The Birthday Bust...Or Was It?

For each child's birthday, I try to write a deep, insightful letter to their soul... that they may or may not ever read.

As I began drafting Daniel's this morning, I realized his birth had launched us into another life, a fresh ministry, an unstoppable force.

I'm often asked if we're afraid we've lost Daniel in the mix of this crazy life, more than I'm asked about any other kiddo.

Maybe because we met with Lifeline the Monday before we discovered he was growing in my belly.

Maybe because we began foster care when he was two years old.

Maybe because he's only known a life of chaos and sacrifice.

I was writing him this super deep letter explaining all of this, when he wandered downstairs, looked at the kitchen counter and saw his cupcakes for class.

Downtrodden, he turned to me and said, Mommy, you don't know me at all! Don't you know I decided last week that I don't like cupcakes anymore?

Score, Mom.

From there we flew through Daylight Doughnuts as my new six year old determined he would only accept doughnuts for birthday treats.

When your baby has been lost in the shuffle of some thirty plus kiddos for more than half his life, you have a tender spot.

We reached homeschool co-op to have my dear anonymous friend take our unwanted doughnuts off our hands because she had forgotten to bring anything for her daughter's birthday. Love you, Girl.

As I dropped Daniel off in his classroom, I counted heads to only realize every boy but one had been invited to his afternoon party, and the one happened to be Benj's best friend's little brother.

I whispered something to Daniel about it, only to have him reply, Mommy, I love you, but did you really hear me when I told you who to invite?

Score Two. Sorry, Jen.

After school we loaded six, five-year-old boys and the two little girls to head to iIJump. James swung through Chick-Fil-A on the way so that we could have a picnic outside in the parking lot. We're high class, Folks.

While eating, our sweet friend Clay continuously said, Mrs. Catie, I don't think they're open.

It's okay. They open at noon, Buddy. Never once did I notice it was 12:30.

I went to open the doors only to discover that iJump is now closed on weekdays.

I turned to face eight little faces staring at me, and Jamie laughing at me shaking his head and FLASHBACK...This past January I planned Raina and Raegan's going away carousel parties at the Galleria only to discover there was no carousel when we showed up. But at least the Galleria has escalators. That's all you need.

Score Three, Mom.

I darted my eyes around quickly to realize there were no escalators or elevators for a detour. I thought about us driving doughnuts around the parking lot.

Haha! Daniel, I love you so much I played a trick on you! We're really going to Chuck E. Cheese. I just brought us here to look at iJump.

NOOOO! Chuck E. Cheese is where people go to throw up! Our wise friend Clay screamed.

Mrs. Catie, I'm sorry, but Chuck E. Cheese is one of those inappropriate places, and my mom doesn't let me go inside inappropriate places, little gentleman Lech explained to me.

Haha. I'm joking again. We're getting in the car, and it's a surprise!

At this point, Daniel was looking at me out of the corner of his eye with that look...that, Please, Mommy, don't go your crazy self on my friends right now, look.

I smiled.

The entire drive Clay gently whispered the words throw up, and Lech murmured inappropriate.

And finally, we reached Treetop.

Laser tag was the only thing open. They rocked it.

Daniel never left this during our arcade time.

And there's my boy and me.

The big brothers

Daniel chose to take the gang to Moe's for dinner where the tribe attempted to persuade him to hit us up for ice cream.

Jamie smiled and told Daniel that he could choose to take everyone for ice cream, or choose to take us all home and get his own chocolate bar.

He picked the chocolate bar. Nice.

We came home, and I stole my little man for a walk.

And he said it...

Mommy, I love our life. 

You do?

It's really crazy and funny. And you're crazy and funny. Our life makes me love God. I'm ready to walk home, okay?

God designs families. God calls families. God is writing His story through our children, not just us.

And, it's beautiful.

We ended the night saying what we loved most about Daniel while he stood in the center...

I love that he tells God how much he loves Him when he prays. ~ Jamie

I love that he's humble. ~ Caleb

I love that Daniel always wants to play with me. ~ Benj

I love that Daniel laughs with me. ~ Peppermint Patti

I love that he's my foster brother. ~ Buster B

I love that he's my best brother. ~ Cinderella

I love that he's my special brother. ~ KBug

I that He loves Jesus so much and that he belongs to Jesus. ~ Me

Not the special day I planned for my boy, but just the day His Creator crafted for him.

Looking ever to our Savior ~

To My Warrior, Benjamin:

You're eight. Is this possible?

Your timing was perfectly designed by God, the Father of time.

Yet, from the moment you were created, your life has been an invitation for me to enter the precious dance of trust with my Father.

First, I fled. For this faith-driven dance does not come naturally to those of us who crave order, control, safe boundaries.

But His hands drew me into the pulse of His heartbeat for you, for me, for our family...rather than my own.

And your existence, your life, led me to lay down my own, surrendering to the cadence of His design.

Together we twirled, through years of sickness, needles, tests and doctors.

But you fought with the strength of a warrior...And you've never stopped fighting.

Rest, my Son.

I deeply long for your courage, your faith, your passion, your zeal...

You're marked for a purpose. Crafted for a calling. Designed to bring His glory to earth.

I am the honored one to witness your journey of discovery in the One who designed you. I'm the one gifted with the stewardship of these years; years I some days thought I would never see.

You've dared me to...

DREAM BIG.

BELIEVE BIG.

LOVE BIG.

You do nothing halfway.

You are my treasure in the moments I cradle you in my arms and whisper the God of Peace over your soul, and in the spaces where we flail, alike personalities colliding.

You hold my heart.

Thank you for drawing me to the cross of our Savior as we journey this road of family together.

I love you with all that I am.

Son, never stop...

Looking unto Jesus,

Mommy