Joy

The first night little T came to stay with us, I did not sleep.  I lay in bed awake for hours, my mind spinning.  My heart was so heavy for her Mom, whom I had not yet met.  But I could only imagine her angst and emptiness.  I felt so burdened with it all, the complexity of the situation.  We were excited, but at the expense of someone else.  We were stepping into a situation rife with pain and brokenness.  I finally got up out of bed, and sat on my couch thumbing through my Bible, for what I did not know.  For calm, for direction, for something that would speak to this situation.  I prayed a few psalms of comfort over her Mom.  And then I stumbled on Colossians as though I had never read it before (had I ever REALLY read it?  Sigh.  I *know* these texts, but do I KNOW them?  Oh for the humility to seek the Lord earnestly, without pretense.)

I read this.

We have not ceased to pray for you, asking that you may be filled with the knowledge of his will in all spiritual wisdom and understanding, so as to walk in a manner worthy of the Lord, fully pleasing to him, bearing fruit in every good work and increasing in the knowledge of God.  May you be strengthened with all power, according to his glorious might, for all endurance and patience with joy, giving thanks to the Father, who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of the saints in light.     Colossians 1:9-12

Oh my heart.  It spoke to this journey we were about to embark upon, and I thought, YES.  Fill me with knowledge of your will that I might walk in a manner worthy of the Lord.  Phew, isn't that the prayer?!!  Yes, Lord, Strengthen me with your power for endurance and patience with JOY.  I felt so encouraged, so empowered.

And here, months later, I find myself in a place without joy, already running low on endurance and patience.   I find myself in the trenches, in hard days and wakeful nights.  I find myself doing the hard work; tending to a needy, broken, sick child, up all night with my own three year old in her post-pacifier angst.  And I have bitterness, sadness, weariness.  But no joy.  The Lord has called us to this place, plucked us out of our comfort zone for this new complicated life, for ambivalence—I don’t know what I think, what I feel.  I feel trivial praying to the Lord for my basic needs (SLEEP, Lord, HAVE MERCY).  I feel like this is what we asked for, what He gave us, and we just have to walk it out.

The emotional toll of fostering is immensely more than I dreamed, and I find myself floundering throughout my day.  How can I have joy in a situation where the outcome is unknown, where my heart is dangerously on the line?  Where I see ugly parts of myself daily, and I respond in uglier ways?  I’m learning that I have the Holy Spirit to intercede on those days when I have nothing to offer on my own.  To show me a Bible verse on my phone while I wait in line at the pharmacy to pick up yet another prescription for little T.  To plant a worship song on my mind when I am driving to the ER.  To recruit prayer warriors on my behalf, who unknowingly reach out to me at the perfect times.  These are small things that I miss—but this is where the joy is hiding.  Joy in the fact that I get to see the depths of His grace and mercy, offering comfort when I need it most.  Joy as He meets me in the midst of my failings, even when I am not faithful to seek Him.  Joy in that we do not have to walk this out alone, and He is providing for our every step…even if we do not always feel it.

Lord keep my eyes above the waves, and let me have joy in the small moments of my day.  Help me rejoice in this chance to know you better, and strengthen me with endurance and patience with JOY as we humbly walk out this journey. 

Sanctity in the Details

I often believe the lie that life is all about big moments.  Accomplishments, changes, even tragedy.  These are the moments that we remember, that we commemorate with a picture on the wall, a celebration, or a facebook status or instagram photo.  Other people join us in these moments.  They celebrate with us, they come alongside us, or at the very least they "like" it.  We feel validated.  We reflect on who  we are, what we're doing, and where we're going.  We learn about who God is and His plans and purposes.

Trouble is, I don't know about you, but my life does not often consist of these moments.  I lead myself to believe that everyone else's life actually does, because when I scroll through Highlights of my Life Facebook, everyone else is having their best day ever!  Big accomplishment!  Or at least, something share-worthy has happened.  Not me, hum de dum.  My big accomplishment for today is that my three year old is still wearing clothes at 3:00pm.    

Part of this problem is rooted in a lie (that likely originates in middle school, like all of my other problems) that tells me that I matter less than others, I have less to offer, that I have less that is "share-worthy" or that others care to hear about.  Maybe I am exceptionally boring (could be worse).  But I think the  bigger problem is that I've missed all of the LIVING I am actually doing, by waiting for something bigger and better.  And when that "bigger and better" actually does come, it's often a let down.  It wasn't as big of a deal as all the build up made it out to be.  [Sidenote:  I am SO GLAD that the only pinterest that existed in my wedding planning days was to actually CUT and PASTE magazine pictures into notebooks.  Because I can only imagine that the reality would inevitably pale in contrast to the imagined ideal.  This is truly a tragedy! Pinterest makes it seems like our own lives, the real stuff, is not good enough, or is less than our fantasy. This is the root of all sorts of problems in our society, but this is another post, when I'm feeling more literary and full of social commentary.  (When will that be?  Is there a naptime long enough for that?!!)]  

I think what I'm missing is that, THIS IS IT.  These are the big moments.  Yes now.  When I'm sitting here having a power struggle with my computer, because my I and O keys require an inordinate amount of force, and therefore excessive editing to fill them all back in, due to an unfortunate encounter with my aforementioned naked toddler. These are the life moments, the big moments, the moments when we learn of ourselves and of God.  

I think that God has more to teach us in our day to day, mundane, minutiae than in the big events.   At my accomplishments, I see my success!  My triumph!  My ability to overcome and persevere!  This is worth celebrating.  But when I'm standing at the kitchen sink washing dishes for the 12th time that day and it's only 11 am, t's then that I can see my brokenness, my humanity.  My need for grace to survive YET ANOTHER DIRTY SIPPY CUP.  I see my impatience, my anger, my ugly heart of frustration...  my need for a savior. Didn't Christ meet us in our humanity?!!  Why do we think we need to be super-human to meet HIM?  He is ever present in our smallest, most insignificant, most human moments.

Our family is on a journey, as we are three months in with a foster child.  This is also a post for another day, and phew it's a doozy.  But suffice it to say now that living out the reality of this process is of course different than our preconceived notions.  We were all excited about what the Lord had called us to, and what it might mean for our family. Excited for our chance to partner in the gospel in such a tangible way.  What I'm learning is that, wow, it IS tangible.  In a down and dirty kind of way, full of a lot of small, ugly, hard moments.  We are showing the love of Christ not by grand gestures to the birth family, or instilling great wisdom into this foster child.  But I guess (?this is what I tell myself, Lord, I hope it's true) by feeding her, driving her to a million appointments, rocking her in the middle of the night.  It feels hard, and exhausting, and well beyond my capabilities.  I feel overwhelmed by the tasks of daily life.  By the task of loving unconditionally, regardless of the outcome.  Crazy hard.  But this is where I seek the Father.  Where the holiness, my sanctification, inevitably is happening.  In my daily moments of brokenness, failings, and simple acts of preparing and serving a meal.  And cleaning it up.  Repeat repeat repeat repeat.  

I have to believe that the Lord is with me, and working on me, in me, through me, while I do the daily routine.  Believing this is my only sanity right now.  I have to believe there is Sanctity in the Details.  

[I do not know blog rules.  I have not done any research.  I am sure there is a rule about length.  Oops.  I am wordy.  And I like punctuation, especially parentheses.  I LOVE parentheses.  And run-on sentences.  And sentence fragments.  I like them all equally. Welcome.]