Pipestone County: The Vote that can help our Foster Kids

If you live in Pipestone County, there's one selection on your ballots this year that affects our foster children. It might seem odd, that there are so many signs all over Pipestone and Edgerton for the County Attorney position. If you are interested, I'd like to tell you why it's a kind of a big deal.
The County Attorney has a lot of different roles, but one of them is very important to us. One of them is to represent the county social services agency and our foster children, most of whom have been abused or neglected by their parents. Because our children have come from different towns, we have worked with county attorneys from three different counties during our children's child protection hearings, parental rights terminations and finally adoption hearings. So, I will not speak about any other responsibilities that the county attorney has, only the one that I have the most experience with. To me, making sure a child is protected is one of the most important things they do.
Dan and I will be voting for Ben Denton for Pipestone County Attorney and I'll tell you why as briefly as I can.
We were referred to Ben when we were seeking someone to help us with our son Nathaniel's custody transfer probably 6 years ago. We already knew Ben who was active at our church. What I always remember most about our first encounters with Ben as an attorney, was how he changed my opinion of attorneys. As we were navigating a delicate custody issue to protect our son's safety he made sure to ask us questions to be sure we were doing things rightly by our child's birth mother. I remember it surprised me at first, I had gone in to an attorneys office with the expectation that an attorney I was hiring would simply look out for my best interest. But Ben explained even though the law might not always require something, he himself is accountable to God, and so in whatever he does, he always wants to be sure he is doing what is right.
Ben worked hard to help us obtain custody and later finally adopt Nathaniel, being sure to be fair and right to his birth mother at all times. He also recently helped us adopt our daughter Jadence. He has always been someone that we know we can rely on for sound legal advice that we know will always be in the best interest of everyone involved. I have always felt that Ben cared dearly about our family and especially the kids he helped us protect.

We remember receiving emails from Ben late at night or driving by his office to see the lights still on at 9 pm, and his fees were always fair. We know Ben will work very hard at this position and we know he'll always do what's right.
Last September, our daughter Jadence's little brother came to live with us just a few days old. He turned one this September and unfortunately the current county attorney, Damain Sandy, refused to file the original order for protection and in one years time has not represented him at court. I have spoken with him about this and am sad that he still stands behind his decision. It's a difficult thing when decisions about the life of your child are held in someone else's hands. When that's the case,  we need someone that will see them as children, important and precious, and do what's right for them to make sure they are protected.
Like I said earlier, I think the county attorney position has many roles, and I can't comment on who has more experience in any of those ways. I only know, when I used to hire employees at Good Samaritan Society who were responsible for taking care of vulnerable adults, it always paid off to hire someone whose heart was truly in the work. A lot of people can have experience and do a job satisfactorily. But when someone has a good heart, when they really care, then they are motivated to learn and work hard and put in the time and effort to do the job exceptionally.
I trust Ben's motivations and his heart with the decisions of my children, because I know he sees them as children and not just a case. 
I appreciate your time and your kind consideration of both candidates. Even though I don't always agree with decisions made, I still have respect for all parties and appreciate the time they have both put into serving our communities.

When I am So Focused on What I'm Giving Up, I Can't See What I'm Getting

For a while, Dan and I have been discussing moving to a larger farm. Our 5 children have filled up this house, and we don't feel "done" with foster care and adding children to our family. And outside, our cattle herd and custom tillage business has outgrown our 4 acres. But I have agonized over this. Because I LOVE our place. When we moved in, it needed new everything (the windows had duct-tape on them to keep the snow out). So over the years we spent so many hours and so much money making our house just the way we wanted it. We have lived here almost 11 years. Every time we look at another farm, there is so much the new place doesn't have the way our place does. We have the most beautiful big old trees that shade our whole yard where the kids play and landscaping that we have worked on over ten years, and so many places just aren't as pretty.

We splurged and added this huge master bathroom with dual sinks, an incredible Jacuzzi tub, and a beautiful tile double-shower and we just don't find that anywhere. And then there's our huge covered porch where we spend most of our waking summer hours.

And the quarter mile trail we cut through our grove around the property that feels like we're visiting a state park or the north woods.

I think about those things that I love so much, and I feel sick thinking about leaving them behind. I mean, who moves after putting a custom dream kitchen in their house? And then, there's the neighbors, who are THE BEST neighbors in the entire world. They bring cookies and garden produce and suppers and homemade jam, they chase in cattle that get out, help with chores, they always have a friendly wave or honk for our children when driving by, they have become dear friends.

When I think about all those things, I want to dig in my roots so deeply here and never leave. Which is why I have cried real tears each time we've considered making an offer on something new. But I know, when I am being reasonable, that we're considering the new place because it has something this place doesn't, something we are searching for. Room to grow.

When I'm not thinking about all the wonderful things I love about this place, I can see the beautiful view and the hills our cows can graze on at the new place. I can see the larger rooms for our growing family to play. I can picture my kids sledding down those hills in the winter time and I can see the ministry that we can do from that large property as a family. But most of all, I can see more children that we can invite into our home for a while or forever, with a little more space. And when I realize that; none of those other things really matter. And the more I think about it, I realize I want to get rid of all those "nice" things that make me so comfortable and that I am so attached to.
Do you remember the story of the man in the gospel who told Jesus he followed all the commandments and asked what else must he do to inherit eternal life? Jesus told him, sell whatever you have and give it to the poor and follow me. And the story goes on to tell us that "the man went away sad, for he had many possessions." Mt 19
If that story hits a nerve with us, its because we are this man. We have so much that we love. People, things, places, security, hobbies, pride, all the things that make us so comfortable and that we cling on to so desperately. And that man, and we too, are sad because we only see what we're being asked to give up. And because we only see the sacrifice, we can't see what we would get if we let go: Jesus. The man had the opportunity to walk with God, every day. To follow him from town to town, to eat meals with him, to spend every moment with him. This is truly what this man asked for to begin with: "teacher how may I inherit eternal life?" Jesus was offering him the gift early, the opportunity to be with God before heaven, but he missed it, because he could only see the sacrifice.
I believe this happens so often when couples are planning their families. When we think of children in this age, we often only see the sacrifice. The missed work, the missed sleep, the extra expense, the extra time....and when we're so busy seeing everything we'll have to give up, we miss the fact that God is sending himself to us. That every person is created in the image and likeness of God, and every person is unique, therefore every person shows us a side of God we don't yet know. And often, even though the devil has worked so hard to convince us that it's not worth the sacrifice, I think deep down, just like the man from the story, we know. We know the beauty waiting in following Christ, in inviting more children, more people into our lives. But we go away sad, because we are so comfortable, we have so many things.  It's not a coincidence that right before this story in the gospel of Matthew is where Jesus is questioned about divorce and explains the beauty God meant for marriage, that is still waiting for us if we're only willing to sacrifice. And then says "let the children come to me, for the kingdom of heaven is found in such as these." Could it be, the God we're searching for told us exactly what to do to find the happiness we seek, but we can't get over the sacrifice to get there?
That chapter ends saying : "And everyone who has given up houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or children or lands for the sake of my name will receive a hundred times more, and will inherit eternal life."
A hundred times more.
Jesus, help us stay focused on the gifts you have for us instead of the things we must give up. Point our eyes to you, that we may stay "heaven-focused", and even experience a little bit of heaven right now on earth. 


And of course, I had walked only a few steps away from the computer after finishing this post a few weeks ago when Dan called to say they had accepted our offer. And I was instantly so sad to let go of this place and wondered if I believed anything I had just written. Of course this was intentional as God was preparing my heart to be ready when Dan called. This is hard, this daily surrender of the things we love. But this week, we finalized our adoption for our newest daughter, and my heart is so full. I'll post her story soon, but I'm reminded today how we almost said no when she first came along. There were so many reasons, we were heartbroken, and tired, and Bella wasn't walking yet and Samuel was still so young too, and could we handle another heartbreak? But thank God we didn't spend much time being sad about the things we were sacrificing because I can't imagine life without this amazing little girl. More on that soon! Praying for you, that  you don't go away sad today, whatever He is asking you to give up will only lead you closer to Him! Remember, He's wanting to give you a hundred times more.


Oh, and don't freak out, we're only moving a few miles away! Now that I'm focused on what I'm getting and not what I'm giving up, I'm very excited about it. More on that soon too!

Alone is Something You’ll be Quite a Lot

"All Alone, whether you like it or not, alone is Something You’ll be Quite a Lot"

 It’s a line from Dr. Seues’s  “Oh the Places You’ll Go”, a speech he gave for a graduation and now a book gifted to graduates everywhere. I read it to my children often and it has so many pearls of good advice. But this line, like those catchy Dr. Suess phrases do, replays through my head often. Not because it’s true, but because it’s one line in the book that isn’t. 

I’ll admit when I first read it I nodded right along, thinking how absolutely right he is, recounting the many times in my life I’ve been alone. But the reality is, when I remember those times, I only FELT alone. I wasn’t actually alone.

The devil would really like us to believe we are alone, because being together is what we were created for. Together, we will thrive and help each other and withstand temptation, and pick each other up when we fall. Alone, we fall in a rut of beating ourselves up. “No one sins this badly,” we think. “No one suffers the way we do. No one else is forgotten about like we are. No one else can possibly understand.” And that guilt drives us further from God, and further from each other.

I was reminded of this a few weeks ago when I had one of those really bad mom days. The kind where the day seems already lost before 8 am. The kids all wake up to early and this has turned them into tiny monsters that look just like my children but cannot be reasoned with or even bribed with candy out of their bad moods. They’ll proceed to torture me and each other all day long. These are the days when even though they all need 3 hour naps and I REALLY need them to take a 3 hour nap, no one will nap at the same time and they’ll all be less than an hour and probably wake up crabbier than before. And the real problem is probably not that they are any more crabby than a normal day, but instead that I did not get enough sleep or am worrying about something else and instead am a monster version of myself trying to play mom of five kids who needs to be patient and understanding and instead is only reacting and not playing or engaging.  And when one of those days starts with a diaper blow out or a bowl of cereal milk splattered across the room or a tantrum about watching TV, the combination is ugly. All day long, I reached for my phone to send a message to my friend, but each time I put it down. “She doesn’t need my problems, she’s got a lot going on right now. Leave this ugliness here at our house, and let them have a good day, “ I told myself. Thankfully, kids bedtime came, moms bedtime immediately after, and the next day was a million times better. Always is. When I was happier, I texted my friend, who then proceeded to tell me what a horrible day she had the day before.

OH. So there we were both feeling alone and horrible and struggling and not wanting to bother anyone with our yuckiness, when it probably would have snapped both of us out of it to just know the other was going through the same exact thing. To hear encouragement from each other instead of the negativity we were saying to ourselves.

Alone is something you will FEEL quite a lot, but alone is rarely ever something you will actually be. Somewhere, probably somewhere incredibly close to you, someone else is struggling with the same things you are. The devil would not like you to encourage each other and lift each other up, so you’ll be tempted to stay quiet, stay home, keep your problems to yourself. But God put us together for a reason.

And God often has put people in my life who are struggling with the same things, and I know this is so we can help each other. When Dan and I were in our early years of marriage struggling with infertility and pregnancy loss, God placed two new co-workers at my work who were suffering in the same way. Of course we could have never shared those things with each other, but instead we did and found a safe place to share our struggle with people who understood. All three of us continued our journey to adoption, not a coincidence but God’s beautiful plan. Together we were able to help each other see how we could turn broken into beautiful, something it’s hard to see sometimes looking only at ourselves.

But even though there might be people out there who share our struggles, sometimes they don’t feel Has close as we’d like. Right now, I’m wondering every day if I’m going to have to say goodbye to my ten month old baby. Logic tells me that other people have probably done this, and yet it feels so impossible and none of those people are sitting around my kitchen table giving me advice for how to cope with this. Sometimes, I feel like the only person in the world that knows what it’s like to have three toddlers 6 and 9 months apart. I know people have had triplets and quadruplets and multiple sets of twins close together or others just like me have adopted so many kids in this crazy age range, but they aren’t here sticking up for me when I turn down another social outing because it’s in a public place and it would just be too hard to take everyone there myself.  

Or how many of us when we have continued to grow in our Christian faith, have then felt isolated from our old friends and family, because we have changed, and maybe they have, maybe they haven’t, but the relationship just isn’t the same?

Sometimes, we really do feel alone. But the second and really big reason Dr. Suess was wrong, is because Jesus tells us that even when there is no one else around, we are never alone:

 “I will not leave you orphaned, I am coming to you.”

“I will ask the Father and He will send you another advocate.”

“ And behold I am with you always, until the end of the age.”

Even when we feel we are the only one, He is there joining in our struggle. He is there walking beside us, hoping to encourage us, support us, give us strength and courage. The devil would really like us to feel alone because he wants us to believe that God has abandoned us, especially in our time of need.


But God is there as He promises He will be, this we know in the core of our very being.  And when we hold on to that promise, when we are confident in His presence, then there is no struggle that we cannot face. There is nothing that we cannot endure.

This is Bella tossing rocks into Lake Superior on our recent trip to Duluth. She is so tiny facing this very big lake, but she wasn't ever scared, because she always knew we were right behind her. What power comes in knowing your Father is always there. What incredible things could we do if we were always so aware of this! 

You are not alone. Not today, not on your worst day and not on your best. Let a new phrase repeat in your soul in place of Dr. Suess: “I am with you always, until the end of the age.”

 

If the Wind Keeps Blowing and the Rain Keeps Falling...

I was telling my friend the story of this plant: I bought it on clearance just a tiny stick a few inches tall. I nursed it along for at least 3 years, it never amounting to much, some years thinking it was dead altogether. Last year, it finally climbed a few feet up and put on just a few flowers. But this year, it came in completely full and beautifully and covered itself with big white flowers. It was stunning and made me happy every time I looked at it. It was rewarding to know my years of patience and care had paid off. And my friend commented how similar that plant could be to our spiritual journey, how sometimes it felt like there was hardly anything there, we were just a withering stick or just trying to keep our faith alive, but eventually our patience and care would transform our hearts into the holy souls we desire to be and our faith would spread love to the world the way those white flowers grew and covered anything they could grasp onto.
Really beautiful stuff right? Except... then it hailed. And now this is what's left of my beautiful white flowers....

And then, I had a tough time getting my garden planted this year because it was so wet, but I finally got a dry day and a tiller and planted the whole garden in a weekend. And I looked back and admired the work and was so pleased. BUT...a week later, I'm looking at the pepper plants I planted only to discover that rabbits have eaten off an entire row of them. Which led me to look closer at the rows of beans next to them that I thought hadn't come up yet, and instead realized they had come up and were just being instantly eaten when the new stems popped out of the dirt.

Last week, the WIND blew so hard. All of the plants look exhausted and beat up. All of the flowers are gone.  I watched Sam try to pedal his bike against the wind and felt so bad for his struggle. This week, it just keeps raining, the sun doesn't shine and nothing is ever dry.


We know this struggle well don't we? We limp things along, we have patience, things are finally all just falling into place, and then it hails on us. The bottom falls out. We've spent years building something up, and it's washed away in an instant. Or maybe it just seems like the wind blows against us every single day, and it's exhausting.


Do you know what gets me through the days or seasons when everything is a struggle? And I'm not talking about rabbits eating my garden or flowers that disappear, but the really hard stuff that rocks us and turns our life upside down. Like the funeral I attended last week of a 33 year old man. Like the abuse and neglect the kids I care for experience or the worst, saddest and sickest stories on the news. The secret is my license plate.


A few years ago when we bought our used van from a dealership they applied for the license and it came in the mail. When I opened it, the numbers were 666. Lots of people that know the bible well know that this number is associated with the devil, specifically its the mark of the beast given in the book of revelation. I have to admit, when I first opened it I wondered for a long time if I should pay the money to order a new one. I mean, my family already has pretty strong feelings about me, I hate to give them some solidification! Ha. Somewhat kidding, but I will say that in the work that I do and the people I see, I get a lot of comments about my license plate numbers. So why did I decide to keep them?


Because they actually give me hope. I know a lot of people aren't used to even talking about the devil anymore, even though he is mentioned so many times in scripture, especially by Jesus. But its a part of his plan to be unknown, because his existence also proves the existence of God. And I think he often leaves people alone who aren't seeking God. But to those who believe, he is not always so hidden. If the devil is working hard to discourage you, it's because he's scared of you, scared of the relationship you have with God and of the good work you are doing for Jesus. But if we can recognize his work, every time the wind is blowing or trial after trial arrive in our life, it can bring us hope instead of despair, that's how God turns all those bad things, those evil works into His good and perfect plan. The license plate was meant to intimidate me, to remind me he's against me, to make me fearful of what horrible things he might do in my life next. But when I see it, I am encouraged. I know I'm doing good work and he is afraid enough to take the time to worry about me. And most of all, I know I'm on the side that always wins.


All of our encounters with evil God can use for good. Every death God allows (remember, God created us not for death but for life, death is the devils game, the result of sin), only snaps us out of our fixation on the immediate things of this world, and reminds us to live for the future of eternity in heaven. Every death gives God the opportunity to save us, to give us new life forever, a life that never again has to be afraid of death or separation.


Every time I go to a court hearing and listen to the insanity of the way people make decisions about the life of a child, I long for heaven more than ever, for a world ruled by a God who knows what this child needs more than he himself, instead of a judge whose never met him and people who have the wrong motivations.


Every time we send another baby to heaven I remember this life is so incredibly short and we will be reunited in "just a few days in the scope of eternity" as St. Therese said.
Every horrible story on the news tears at our hearts and we know so clearly that we were made for more than this.


It's hard to go all the way to "thankful" for all the strong winds that make our journey hard, the hail that destroys our flowers or the rabbits that eat everything we plant. And it's harder yet to be grateful for the horrible thing that is death. And yet, as Christians that's exactly what we do, because without death we would never have eternal life with God. And without all of the really earth shattering things that happen in our life, we might not realize we need God at all.

I grabbed this sign at thrift store this spring, it was only $3 but I was so happy with it and it brought me a lot of joy. I really wanted to work on embracing this concept of being grateful for ALL things, the good and the bad and the boring, etc.  I put it up in the bay window, because apparently this is my first week as a parent and I thought my three toddlers would just leave it alone? I'm not sure what I was thinking. Of course you more experienced (I really mean smarter) parents know it was only there for about 10 minutes before it was broken in half.


I came in to the room to the "uh-oh" and stared at the "new" sign split in two pieces and thought to myself: "I'm really NOT grateful that this is broken!" I set it up on the kitchen counter hoping to glue it back together later. But after a few days of looking at it broken, I decided it was better this way. Because it's easy to look at that sign and think about all the good things in our life we're grateful for, but I truly did buy it because I believe in being grateful for the broken things too. All of these things, God has allowed to bring us closer to Him. It's not always easy to mean it when I'm the in the midst of hurting, but my prayer today and every day is that the Holy Spirit can help me to be grateful for all things, the wind, the rain, the hail, even the broken things, maybe even especially the broken things, because they are exactly what I need.

Don't be Afraid, Spring is Coming

Do not be afraid. That's what He keeps telling me. I keep worrying. He keeps telling me. In the song "Fear is a Liar" that keeps playing in my head. In the words of dear friends, in prayer, in the sunshine. Tonight I clicked on a video lesson on the bible, and there the speaker quoted Phil 4: "Be anxious about nothing, but in everything with prayer and thanksgiving make your requests known to God." He's trying to hard to teach me this lesson and I am so slow to learn it.
Right now there is a 7 month old baby sleeping upstairs who I have cared for as my own his entire life minus 3 days. Every time he cries at night I am there to feed him, to comfort him. Every new thing he has learned, I have watched/taught/rejoiced with him. He looks to me and reaches for me, he cries when I walk out of the room. Every day for 7 months I have never let him down, I have always been there when he needed something. In my heart he is my child, and in his heart, I am his mom. But on paper, he is a foster child, with another mother who shares his blood, and a handful of other social workers, attorneys and judges that have the right to make decisions about him, and I am simply "foster home 1". Fear reminds me of this often. Every time I watch him giggling as his brothers jump around him making silly noises to make him laugh, as the joy is about to overflow in my heart, fear wonders if their tiny hearts will have to suffer the loss of another sibling who they love as their own. Every time I see him sitting on Dan's lap looking like the happiest baby in the world, fear reminds me this may not be forever. I find myself everyday feeling so stuck in the middle of complete bliss with this incredible family I've been given, and incredible fear and despair of the inability to protect and care for our child.
I know in my head that worry and fear are born of a lack of trust. Apparently, then I still don't trust God. This was news to me as I've spent most of my life trying to follow where He's leading, and I've trusted Him quite a bit along the way. It's actually, I suppose what got me here to this messy place. But its true, that if I am so fearful, so worried, it's because I am not trusting God to take care of me and this little boy. I have once again tried to jump into the drivers seat and take control, which is pretty ridiculous since I don't have a map and have no idea where we're going.
Every time he looks into my eyes with that true love gaze that only a mother and child share, fear tries to steal that moment with the reality that this child may be taken from me. And each time that fear sneaks in, God whispers "don't be afraid." He reminds me of the other 4 children in my home, and how each one is here because we weren't "too" afraid to take a risk of getting our hearts broken. That even though some of their situations drug on for years, it was all ok even though I had so many fears.
It's been one of the longest winters many of us have ever known. It was freezing in October, cold all winter and we've had blizzard after blizzard well into April. It's been hard to believe that spring will come. But we know it will, because it does every year.  Just like I know He is right when He tells me it will all be ok. Because it is ok. It's not always the outcome that I want, but He makes it all ok.
I'm still finding my way navigating this place in between joy and fear. Some days I can live in the moment, focus on today, and those are really wonderful days. Some days, I let fear steal the joy from these moments, and take the beauty that God is giving me in the moment. But He is patient with me as I learn and re-learn and re-re-learn this lesson on trust. Why wouldn't I trust him? Its hard to answer when I look at the faces around my dining room table. He has brought me this far, I know He will do what's best in this situation too.
I spoke to a group of new foster parents last week, and I honestly felt terribly as I was asked questions about some of our experiences with foster care and especially our current situation. I was so afraid they would be scared away from doing foster care because I thought I might have run away if I had heard those things 5 years ago. But when put on the spot to give one final piece of advice to them, all I could say was "don't be afraid". I know it sounds horrible to give your heart away over and over again just to have it broken. I know it seems like you could never deal with the pain of knowing your child thinks you abandoned them because you never came for them after someone took them away. But that's fear telling you that you can't do it. That's fear that makes you want to run the other direction, away from where you're being called. That's fear that makes you imagine things that might never happen or makes you fearful you won't be able to handle things when they do happen.
I've been there, but I've also been on the other side of horrible. And it is horrible, and yet, God is there too, so I did actually survive it. "I wouldn't trade one minute" I told the foster parents that day. I wouldn't give back one minute with any of those children to save myself a heartache. God knows the joy is worth it, even if it's a short time. He knows He'll be there for us and for these children using all the good and bad to bring about His plan for all of our lives. Why am I always listening to the voice of the liar, instead of the shepherd who lays down his life for the sheep?
"For the thief comes only to steal and slaughter and destroy; I came so that they might have life and have it more abundantly." Jn 10:10 Surely I can trust the God who wants nothing but the best for me and these children. Surely I can not be afraid. Spring will come, some years slowly and steadily and some years the day after a blizzard, but it always comes.

The Best Wait

I'm not very good at waiting. I can't stand being on committees because I would much rather get things done than talk about doing them. I'm pretty impatient. When I decide what I want or where I'm being called, I want it now. I suppose this is exactly why God has called me to a life of waiting. We waited for 4 very long years before we got to hear the cries of a baby in our empty house. We wait months and years for court dates and adoption finalization's to finally breathe with relief that we can now protect our children. We wait for so many other things God has placed on our hearts that we know will happen but He isn't providing for right now.


When I left my full time job as a Human Resources Director to be a full-time mom and better care for our foster children, I was given the opportunity to take a job coordinating TEC retreats for our diocese. It was just a few hours a week, mostly from home but with some travel. It worked well for me at the time and it was a blessing to get to be a part of the good work. I have just discerned that it is time for me to leave the position. It's difficult to walk away from something that is so good, but as following God always does, the decision, although difficult, has brought me a lot of peace that I know I am right where I am supposed to be. With 5 children so little, a very little amount of sleep and it being very difficult to be gone for long periods of time, I wasn't doing the job well and I was also not giving my family the time they needed.
So even though I have considered myself a full-time stay-at-home mom in the past, now, leaving the job, I will finally be JUST a mom. No title behind my name, no other accomplishments to make me feel good, all that I am and all that I do will be defined by my role as wife and mother.
This is wonderful and also somewhat scary. It's really great work, it's the best work there is I think. And yet how many days do I just try to make it through to bed-time? And how many days have I wondered if I have completely lost myself? That I don't recognize who I am anymore and that this life of changing diapers and making meals and breaking up fights and folding load after load of laundry just doesn't always seem to be the best use of my talents. And wasn't life easier when I was a youth minister? I was really good at that job, I never yelled at those kids... Absolutely I would feel more important if there was a title behind my name, or if I felt I was contributing anything else to society, but He has called me here to wait for that.
But this wait is different.
This time, I am not merely waiting. This time I realize that the wait is probably the most important part of my life.
Earlier this week I read a reflection on the period between the ascension of Jesus and Pentecost, when the risen Jesus left the earth and told the disciples to wait for the coming of the spirit.  The author spoke about how the disciples must have been scared and even felt abandoned. They must have wanted to DO something, fill their time, even return to their former jobs, because for a long time, nothing was happening. Here are the lines I really loved:

"This is a period of blessed communal waiting in trust and obedience, a period that appears empty, a great holding of the breath, but also a period that in fact is the time of greatest divine activity within the disciples' souls, a period of radical internalization when nothing appears to be happening only because they are doing very little." Erasmo Leiva-Merikakis, The Way of the Disciple

Now, I don't mean to say that stay-at-home moms do very little. This is by far, the most exhausting job I've ever had. But we often feel we are accomplishing very little. This period of motherhood often feels like waiting, like our lives are on hold.  I was struck by this paragraph because it was so fitting for this time of motherhood. Trust and obedience. We've been asked to serve in this way, and it is often lonely, and sometimes feels empty, and in those moments there can be a temptation to run from that. To fill the empty with other things, to seek out something different when every day is the same. But as the disciples were asked to wait and they obediently did so because they trusted Jesus, we are asked to give the same trust. And if we do, this period that seems like nothing is happening, might actually be when our hearts are changed the most. I think about my last four years at home with my children, and I have not had the opportunities to worship the way I used to, I have not had the chance to be immersed in the community the way I used to, I have not had the chance to attend big seminars or long retreats, it has been the least amount of public ministry I have ever done, and yet I can see the way my heart has grown more than it ever has before.
We may feel we are doing very little professionally, very little in the community, even very little in our spiritual lives, but daily we are given the opportunity to place another before ourselves. Every minute we are asked to make a choice who we will serve. And each time I choose to let go of a little more of myself, my heart becomes more like His, and isn't that our prayer? It's quite alright, I decided, if I lose myself, if I can hardly recognize the me I used to be, as long as my heart looks more like the heart of Jesus. And here in this "wait" He is doing the greatest work on my heart that He's ever done. And here in this wait, I might find I am right where I am meant to be, right where Jesus meets me each day in tiny toddlers snuggling on my lap to read a book, in school-age children who forgive my daily failings and still love me unconditionally, in the perfect-love gaze of a six month old baby.
Maybe your wait is for a new job, a baby, a new house, the end of an illness, maybe even the end of this life. But maybe your wait isn't really a wait at all, but exactly where you are supposed to be, for the best part of your life, for the time of "greatest divine activity" in your soul.


Thank you God that I can hardly recognize myself. Please keep doing your good work on my heart until they can't see me at all, but only You.

You Didn't Get a Christmas Card from Me because My Life is a Mess

Literally, it took a while to find the computer under the heap of papers on the desk! And in a lot of other ways our life is a mess right now. I think this every time I sweep the floor and marvel at how much mess little people can make in the 20 minutes since I swept it last! And every time I look at my kitchen counters with barely an inch of space visible and cringe. But more than the physical mess, this year has been messy all around.

Don’t misunderstand, it was a good year, it was so full of blessings and I absolutely have SO much to be grateful for. It was a year when we added not one but two children (for now) to our family. In February we welcomed J who was then 17 months old but not yet crawling or standing. (She has come so far and is now running after her brothers!) And in September her brand new little brother came to live with us just 4 days old.  They are so fun, beautiful children who we are so grateful for the time we get with them. But 5 kids, Nathaniel (6), Samuel (3), Bella (2), J (2) and Tiny (3 months) brought a lot of challenges and is wonderful and hard. And foster care is wonderful and hard. And the ups and downs and worry (I know I’m not supposed to worry, I’m a work in progress) was a lot to handle. Just navigating time with the kids birth parents and answering all the kids questions and trying to help them work through it is hard. Sometimes, they just cry, because it’s a very hard thing. It’s a mess really. I know in those moments most of all, when I’m trying to explain how a mother can’t care for her child, that the world is such a mess. When my child cries himself to sleep because he misses his sister or because he’s worried about his foster sister leaving, it’s obvious we have made quite a mess out of this world. We know in the core of our being that we weren’t meant for this.

Last week I was too late catching one of the girls banging this poor angel on the table, and I couldn’t help but think it was a pretty good visual of how I’ve been feeling, and maybe how a lot of us feel around this time of year.

I even wrote a blog post that I never posted about the reason to be joyful at Christmas. But this month I was painfully reminded how little control I have over our life and how powerless I am to protect our foster children. After a phone call with the social worker I was feeling so fearful and sad and Nathaniel who didn't know what was going on was jamming to Christmas music all day. I found it so difficult to be joyful with that music playing so opposite what I was feeling in my heart. Christmas seems to be all about joy and hope and that can almost make it worse when you feel so differently. I was reminded how even though the birth of a baby is a beautiful thing, there was a lot weighing down the heart of our holy mother back then too. As I held this 3 month old precious baby boy in my arms that night and wondered what his life might be, what hardships he might face that I may not be able to protect him from, I realized Mary could have held Jesus and wondered the same. And I realized that God didn’t have to wonder, he knew (HE KNEW!!) and he handed him over still.

I think the saints mastered feeling joyful even in the absolute worst life had to offer. I know sometimes I can do this and sometimes I'm not there yet, but I know that no matter how we're feeling at Christmas time, no matter what mess our lives have become that God who is perfect, loves us enough to enter into the imperfect and the hurt with us. If being born in a barn, literally right into our manure, isn’t proof enough that there’s no where he wouldn’t go to be with us, I don’t know what is. Mary knew this, that even though she was facing something so hard, this baby was here because God hadn't forgotten about us, he came to save us from our mess.

So my life is a mess. I have more children than you can count on your fingers, and most aren’t living. One lives with her birth mom and I get to see her every few weeks on the weekend. 5 live with us, one of those has down syndrome and parenting her as a toddler has been harder than I expected, one of those refuses to use the toilet every other day, one of those is determined to break me by asking to play the iPad every 3 minutes, and two of those I have cared for as my own but I sit in the back of courtrooms while lawyers make decisions about them. I can count the number of adults I talk to in a typical week on one hand. Must-socialize-always-me, now is a hermit. I miss my church family where I used to practically live and now I visit for just an hour on Sundays.  I miss the staff and the residents at the nursing home where I used to work that I’m never able to visit anymore. I miss friends I used to have and wonder if people think I forgot about them. I haven’t, I think about you often, but that’s all I have time for between diaper changes and late night feedings,  home school lessons and meal after meal after meal (did I even leave the kitchen today?) Sometimes Dan and I dance in the kitchen, and sometimes we realize all we’ve said to each other that day is “can you pick up milk from the store? Where did you hide toys X, Y and Z? Did you pay the rural water bill (No is usually the answer, why is that so hard for me to remember!)  and my personal favorite, “Can you watch the kids, I need to walk to the mailbox. And yes, I know you already got the mail.”

But Thank You God, that you came to be with me right here in this mess. Because at supper Nathaniel was making silly faces at J and she was laughing so hard she almost fell off her chair. And because Samuel and I ran from alligators and were safe on our pretend boat and Bella loved her sled ride. Because Tiny smiles and my heart can hardly contain it. This is Emmanuel, God with us. "Whoever receives one child such as this receives me." Mt 18:5 This is how he comes to us, in these people, in these children. How silly are we to think we might find joy in any thing else? And even if we've made it a mess, even if we continue to mess it up daily (just ask my kids how many times I lose it a day), there is He is, right in our mess, right there with us.

I hope you know even though we didn't have time to send out a card this year, that we are so thankful for you and the way you bring God to us. We could never do any of this without Him and without you. Your constant outpouring of support as we follow where He's leading us on the crazy adventure is priceless to us.

Praying you find Him this Christmas season and this year in your good times and especially in your mess.

Love,

The Full's