Sorting Out Emotions: Looking Forward, Looking Back.

I'm sitting here, munching Gerber Baby arrowroot cookies. Technically, these were Grant's special treat... until he broke out all over his body every time I fed him wheat. So now, my baby gnaws on delicious carrots. And I get the cookies. Motherhood is a very cushy job today...

I was upstairs, packing up the remnant of our things. Four days.  That's it. Only four days until I'm a...Philly-ite? Philly-stine? And I eat Philly cheese steaks every day and buy my child Eagles paraphernalia. But as I was packing, the future Eagles' fan fell asleep at my feet and I didn't have the heart to wake him up with more hustle and bustle.

So, I decided to take a moment and breathe. Just rest. And think.

I haven't done much thinking lately. I've just been in "go mode." Survival. All while trying to remain partially sanctified as I single-parented a 7 month-old and battled down nausea from a 14 week-old (in utero). People keep asking me, "Are you excited? Are you nervous?" And I would given noncommittal, safe answers, because in all honesty, I had no idea how I felt. I was too tired, sick, and busy to feel anything.

Scott often teases me that I have "special needs emotions." They require a little extra time and patience before they actually figure out what they're doing. So I'm giving them a little more time. Right now.

Yesterday was my last day at work, and as I pulled out of the parking lot, tears were streaming down my face (yes, very safe when driving). I will miss my job. The children and adults I worked with were amazing blessings. I loved seeing parents hear "I love you" for the first time, I loved helping people re-learn how to eat. And I got payed, every day, to play games and make language fun! Some of my favorites were when parents would tell me, "She has been asking when she got to come for another 'play-date' with Miss Courtney." And there's nothing like walking into a waiting room and being pummeled with knee-high hugs. Monday morning is the best morning of your week if you greet your first patient and they practically come out of their wheelchair in excitement. That was my job! I got paid to do that (plus a lot of paperwork...). Unbelievable.

And tomorrow is my last day at Faith. I've been going to this church for 17 years. This poor congregation put up with my first (and latest) dramatic attempts. I've gone to Sunday school, taught Sunday school, gone to VBS, taught VBS... All of my closest friends and many of my greatest role models attend this church. I will miss the people, the community of believers, and the wonderful teaching. I have been hugely blessed by God's gift of this church. And I'll probably bawl my way through the entire worship service tomorrow.

So, my slow, very special emotions are telling me that I'm sad. I'm nostalgic. I'm wistful. And I'm going to feel very transplanted in my new home town...

But at the same time, they're screaming, "LOOK AT THIS! LOOK AT THAT! GOD IS WORKING IN PHILADELPHIA, TOO!"

I'm so excited about the church in Philly. Harvest Bible Chapel of Philadelphia has gone above and beyond in welcoming us and taking care of our small family. When we flew out there for Scott to candidate, they put us up in a lovely hotel, footed the bill on an amazing dinner out with all the elders, covered the cost of a mothers' day brunch, and did everything in their power to make the trip as easy as possible. And they haven't stopped... navigating new insurance, home-buying, and relocation is crazy and there have been wonderful people that have helped us every step of the way. I got a phone call yesterday letting me know about meals that are set-up for our first 4-5 days in our new house... Amazing.

Plus, there's our house...

It's a "twin home" which is the East Coast's way of saying "glorified duplex." It's a 2,600 square foot mansion (complete with amazing kitchen!) and the biggest back-yard in all of Philly (almost). I will never cease to be amazed at how God chose to provide this house. And I'm just bursting at the seams with a massive amount of home-improvement/decorating ideas. I learned this past week that we live near thrift store heaven... and I can hardly wait to start finding some hidden treasures.

Which is another reason that I'm excited: I get to stay home all day! I get to stay home every day and be a housewife. I get to cook, clean, and feed a baby during the day, not just when I'm exhausted and squeezing in necessities around work hours. I cannot believe it! I'm well aware of the daily (usually unglamorous) reality, but I'm so excited for this new way to love my husband, mother my baby, and bring glory to God (in the daily minutiae).

It's all going to be fantastically new, terrifying, exciting, and crazy.

And I can't wait to start!

Of Providence, Pregnancy, and "My" Family Plan

I would have blogged one-hundred times in the past month and a half. Easily 100. Maybe even more. My life is fairly exploding with adventure and new learning.

But wee squidgee #2 is sucking up all of my energy. Every single bit.

Yes, for those of you who may not know, I am pregnant with baby NUMBER 2!!! If you're surprised, just imagine how Scott and I felt...

This announcement is not entirely true... we are hoping that "wee squidgee" will actually join us at the end of January. But who knows... he/she is due on the 25th of January-- the cusp February, so they may decide to make Mama miserable for an additional week or two.

And yes, I have been miserable. Not horribly. Not debilitatingly. But mildly, and constantly. I'm constantly on the verge of throwing up. Never in my life has food sounded so atrocious. Groaning, I'll roll over on the couch, and grab Scott's arm, "This baby had better be good!" Just as Grant was not allowed to incur any more expense/paperwork after his adoption, this baby is not allowed to make me miserable past birth...

Ah... if only parenting worked that way!

But in all reality, if I would do it all over again for Grant, I'm sure I'll do it all over again for baby #2. I'm just a wimp.

So, because I know many people want to ask (and a few actually have), I will answer the following question: Did you adopt Grant because you thought you couldn't have any kids?

This question makes me want to cry. Just look at my baby! Look at that darling head of curly tufts, that warm brown skin, and those eyes that you can just stare into forever... I love his infectious smile, his desire to be around people, and his big-fat Buddha tummy (that I worked so hard to grow!). And although we just had an epic battle over peas (He learned how to spit today!), I would not trade this adorable bundle of grace for anything.

So in answer: No. Grant is not my back-up option. He was my first option. My dream come true. Scott and I have always wanted adoption to play a huge role in our family. And I prayed that my first baby would be adopted. When God took our first baby, I learned to be thankful for many small things... and the idea of our "first" child being adopted was one of those things. I wanted that darling little soul to know that I prayed for him, that I wanted him, that he wasn't a back-up option. He was a beautiful piece of our family, which we counted on from day one. 

I'm not insinuating that other people who adopt at the end of having biological children, or who exhaust other options prior to considering adoption, are not also thankful for their adopted children. God makes families differently. And I'm so glad. I love the creativity God displays as He uses His church to raise up the next generation. I'm simply stating that this was my prayer and plan, and God was gracious. He let me keep my plan. 

We are amazed and delighted that God would choose to bless us with another little one. Every time I stop and look at my life, my tears fill, and my heart feels as though it will explode.

And then I lay back down again, and start praying that I won't vomit.

Silent, but Not Still (part 3... the finale!)

My first thought, after hugging my newly-hired husband, was one of complete, and total panic.

It was Saturday.
We were going to fly back to Indiana Monday morning.
We will be coming back to Philly in 2 short months.

We needed to find a house.

We had (rather audaciously) set up several meetings with realtors prior to our trip out there. Granted, it was at the recommendation of the church leadership, but I still felt a little presumptuous house-shopping before we had even been offered a job.

But on Saturday afternoon, we set off, compliant baby in tow, to look at several houses.

Remember the neighborhood described on our first drive through Philly? Well.... apparently our price range put us just a few blocks over from the terrifying pit-bull fights. As I held my nose in terrifying basements, and wondered if fifteen layers of paint would ever come off the window-sill, I looked in despair at my hubby.

We had talked of living in a rougher neighborhood. And we wanted our home to be a mission. We had prayed that God would give us a house near the people we were wanting to serve. But I couldn't shake the conviction that these houses would probably cave in from mold before we even moved to Philly.

Discouraged, we re-grouped on Sunday (Mother's Day), and looked at four more houses.

They were less terrifying, but Scott was clearly nervous about the home improvement projects, and my Mid-Western heart was screaming for some green space.

We had a simple (we thought) wish-list for our new home.
1. Plenty of parking (so we could have people over).
2. Lots of bedrooms (for all the children and stray grown-ups we are planning on collecting).
3. A little bit of yard.

And then we each had our dream item: I was hoping (after my little, barely-grown-from-a-kitchenette-kitchen) for a real kitchen, and Scott was hopeful that he would find a work-space for his growing collection of tools.

Apparently, houses in Philly don't have yards, parking, or square-footage. Most of the kitchens we looked at hadn't been updated since the '70s. And there were only moldy basements for Scott's future tool bench. I didn't think I was asking a lot. In fact, I was rather proud of my severely tempered expectation. But after finding out that we couldn't afford even the most basic, vinyl mass-produced home, at least, not if we didn't want to majorly blow our budget... I was completely demoralized. Every time I thought of increasing our budget, I would begin to cry... it meant that we couldn't adopt any more babies! I didn't need a kitchen that badly.

Then, Sunday afternoon, I got another feeling. After the success of the "Joshua feeling," I decided to listen to the little internal nudge. If it was foolishness, I would take all the blame. If it was really God working, then He could get all the glory. I turned to Scott,

"Okay... Don't laugh. But... I have a feeling."
He grinned... "I thought you thought "feelings" were kooky."
"Maybe I do," I said, only mildly chagrined, "But I just can't shake this... We need to call the "parking lot house.""

"Parking Lot House" was a listing I had found on zillow.com. The only outside view of the house was of a huge parking lot, with a rather hodgepodge exterior, and an unprepossessing side door. I had fallen in love with parking lot house... its wood floors, pretty kitchen, and big windows. But Scott had called the owner a week earlier, and they had been firm on their price: it was $10,000 more than we could afford.

Scott wasn't in love with "Parking Lot House." So, with that higher price, I dropped it.

But, after my niggling, we went back to zillow.com to see if we could contact the seller. The listing was gone. I was completely undeterred. We had to see that house. I just knew it.

Scott went back through his phone, and called every single Pennsylvania number he had contacted in the past week. Several embarrassing run-ins with realtors (who we had decided not to work with) almost deterred him, but I (seeing as I was not the one making the embarrassing phone calls) was unfazed.

Multiple calls later, he got a hold of the owner! We set up a visit time, bright and early, 8:30 a.m., Monday morning, the day we were flying out.

As we pulled down the street, we saw rows of Victorian "twin homes," an East coast fascination with sharing a wall with your neighbor... Some of the houses were lovely. Some, quite dilapidated. We pulled up to "Parking Lot House" and my heart skipped a beat... it was right next to a massive parking lot, and one of the most gorgeous churches I have ever seen.

"Honey!" I whispered in awe, "Look at all that parking!"

Wish-list number one, answered.

The door was opened by a girl, about my age, who was hip-holding a precious little 12 month-old who looked like he could have been Grant's big brother. She led us through the double french-door entryway and the little, marble-tiled foyer. Although updates were needed, my heart started jumping at the potential. Two sitting rooms, tall windows... and a massive kitchen with granite counter tops and brand new cabinets. My heart probably stopped.

A huge backyard, a two car garage (i.e. future work-room), five bedrooms, an attic master suite, a front stair and back stair, newly redone hard-wood floors, a basement that didn't smell like six different fungi. My wish list with tons and tons and tons of beautiful extras!

But I tried not to fall too hard. It was still outside our budget. It was an amazing deal in Philly. But still outside our budget.

"Do you mind me asking why you took the house off the market? Do you have an offer?"

She smiled, "Well, no... it's not necessary that we move, we would just like to eventually, for my husband's dental practice... It's just..."

She paused.

"We've just been hoping that we could sell this house to people who would have a heart for the neighborhood."

My jaw hit the floor, "No way! We have been praying that we would find a neighborhood that could be a mission field!"

She grinned. "Okay, I totally thought that you guys were Christians. This is awesome! In case you hadn't noticed, the neighborhood around isn't the best. It's not terrible. But it's not the greatest. We've never had anything stolen, but we wanted to move to an area where we could share the gospel."

As we chatted our way back through the house, Scott mentioned that he was finishing seminary in Indiana.

"Where in Indiana?" She asked, "Not Lafayette, Indiana?"
"How do you know about Lafayette, Indiana?"
"Oh," she replied, "One of my best friends from college... her husband is going to seminary there... It's called "Faith Bible Seminary" or something..."

Goosebumps ran up and down my arms.

"That's our seminary!"

There are only 19 guys in the seminary class. And she knew one of them. All the way from Philadelphia. We grinned at each other in delight. I had a feeling that we should be friends. And that we should buy this house.

Because we were willing to work without a realtor, and because I just think they're amazing people who are legitimately interested in sharing the gospel... they lowered the price of the house.

We sent in our purchase agreement and first check two weeks ago.

Tears fill my eyes as I write this. He didn't have to do this. God didn't have to give me all this wonderful goodness. But He gave me my wish list and tens upon thousands of details beyond. We are going to be owning our dream house, Lord willing, by August. In Philadelphia.


Now, tell me that God didn't have a role in that...

Silent, but Not Still (part 2)

I am so excited about our new church family in Philadelphia. They showered blessing upon blessing on us during our brief weekend, and every day was full of countless courtesies that made us feel loved by these brothers and sisters in Christ that we had never met.

We arrived Friday evening.
Had a lovely dinner (with a crying baby, who fell asleep under the table, despite the horrid waiter that kept crashing plates down right above where he was sleeping).
And then Grant and I slept and lounged and dozed in the hotel room all Saturday morning while Scott interviewed.

Scott is amazing. Probably the best husband/pastor/man out there. (He's also a really good kisser, but I doubt they care about that...) So the church offered him the job. Saturday morning.

While Scott was going through the interview process, I was cuddled under a downy comforter, listening to my baby snore, and idly flipping through my Bible, wondering what I should read next...

And I got a feeling.

Now, I must be honest. I was raised by two amazing Christian people. I have gone to one of the best churches on God's good green earth for seventeen years. And through all those years of teaching, I imbibed a skepticism for the "speaking of the Spirit." I believe the Holy Spirit is living and active. I also believe that the Word of God is complete, and that God is not adding to it through direct revelation. So, rather than leave room for the possibility of the Holy Spirit nudging someone along, I, in my black-and-white mind, completely ruled out the possibility that any thought or encouragement could come from the Holy Spirit.

Then I married Scott.

In his own words, he had his "flakey" days, when he lived in the ditch opposite mine: the "open-your-Bible-and-point" and suddenly God's will is revealed. Although he didn't live there any more (and hasn't for quite a few years!), he brought a certain tolerance and "activeness" to the role of the Holy Spirit into my life.

Which is why I listened to this "feeling".... And flipped to Joshua, chapter one. 

In my head, I began to think it out... "Yes, Scott is a Joshua. He is not Moses. He was not the first leader. He did not have to tackle the wilderness of church-planting. But now, he's going in to "conquer the land." He's got lots of battles ahead of him..."

And then I read... 

I will never leave you nor forsake you. Be strong and courageous, because you will lead these people to inherit the land I swore to their ancestors to give them.

“Be strong and very courageous. Be careful to obey all the law my servant Moses gave you; do not turn from it to the right or to the left, that you may be successful wherever you go. Keep this Book of the Law always on your lips; meditate on it day and night, so that you may be careful to do everything written in it. Then you will be prosperous and successful. Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.”

Why am I strong and courageous... because the Lord will never forsake me. He will be with me wherever I go.

Even Philadelphia.

God is here. He promised. 

May his promises be my meditation.

Scott burst through the door, excited to tell me about his job offer... and I was prepared to excitedly rejoice with him. New city. New church. New people. New place... Same God. Silently working, and sometimes giving me a nudge towards the truth that I need.

(to be continued)

Silent, but Not Still (part 1)

I have a horrible, terrible, no good, very bad habit. It leaches into my soul, and sucks out all my joy and peace. Worse, it causes me to doubt my amazingly good Savior... For although He is often silent, He is never still.

I forget His protection.

I forget all the times He has circled me around, arranged minute details, and marshaled the forces of man, emotions, and circumstances to work everything in my favor. I always forget it. Always.

And so, to remind myself, I'm going to share an amazing, unbelievable, huge blessing that God lavished on us.

One month ago.

In the city of Philadelphia.

We landed in Philly after a 3 hour delay, frazzled, bedraggled, and navigating a mass of interstate in a car that refused to shift higher than third gear.

Philly drivers are not nice.

Welcome to Philly... where they have to have street signs that say, "Don't Go Until Green" so that people remember they can't go on red. No joke. 

But, in little to no time, I stooped to their level, and was honking and waving angrily with the rest of them. Scott, appalled at my complete lack of Christian charity, attempted to navigate us to smoother waters and quieter streets.

To no avail.

Philadelphia, as it turns out, has some pretty seedy areas. As we got lost (on the south side of Philly, which is like the south side of every other city I have ever driven through), we looked in Mid-West horror out our car windows at electrical wires criss-crossing the street, draped with tennis shoes and grocery bags. Random, scantily-clad women walked in front of our car, with little to no concern for whether or not they had the right-of-way. As I drove by one house (a vivid, peeling fuchsia facade), I almost came out of my skin as a little child tumbled out the door, wrestling a pit-bull for some prized possession. The whole block erupted in pandemonium, and the scantily-clad women crossed the street a little more quickly. The neighborhood, crammed tight with houses, was full of trash, debris, and lost people.

Prayer answered.

You see, Scott and I had been praying that we could go to Gary, Indiana. The inner-city, the poorest of the poor, had weighed heavily on our hearts since our introduction, through a failed adoption, to the lifestyle of people who didn't even have the hope of material comfort, let alone the hope of eternal salvation. But attempt after attempt had resulted in door after door being slammed in our faces. Gary didn't want us.

Or rather, God didn't want us in Gary.

Lucky for us, God picked us up, and moved us to another "Gary." So while some people may have seen pit-bull fights, dodgy wiring, and a terrifying car-ride as an example of God forsaking them... we were elated to see God's continued plan for our lives. In Philadelphia.

But that wasn't all He was doing...


(to be continued)

Through the Tears...May You Taste and See

My heart is breaking.

Aching sorrow, tears, and sleeplessness... 

"...weep with those who weep."

A friend is grieving. The heaviness of grief makes my breath stop. I want to wrap her in a hug that will never stop. To rage, question, sob, and mourn as she walks through this dark, terrifying, and often debilitating forest of grief. I want to be there... to make cups of tea, to take care of necessary chores, to encourage or to quiet the sobs.

But most of all, I want to hold her hand. 

And pray.

Silently.

To myself.

A painful prayer.

I will not pray this prayer out loud. I will not speak my request to her. For now, she must cry. Now she needs to mourn. "For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven...a time to weep... a time to mourn." Tears help. Tears are good. 

But I will pray.

I pray that she will see... that she will taste and see the goodness of the Lord. That the beauty and glory of this truth is not spoken from a place of safety, goodness, and blessing, but that it is shouted in a moment of fear and desperation.

This poor man cried, and the Lord heard him

    and saved him out of all his troubles...

Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good!

    Blessed is the man who takes refuge in him!

He is here. In this moment. In this trial. In this loss. I have no idea why.  But I know that he is still good. I don't see it. I don't understand. I know that this only happened because He allowed it. And I don't know why He allowed it. I can't see. I've tried. Tears streaming down my face... I've asked. I just don't know.

But he's good. You can taste it. You can see it.

"The eyes of the Lord are toward the righteous and his ears toward their cry." He weeps with our grief, and that one of the first things he will do, in a perfected world is to "wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away." Before the Hero of the universe proclaims His own glory, even before He announces that He has made "all things new," He stops to tell us, "you will not cry. I will erase this pain. I will make you whole."

But tonight, the tears come. And as my heart aches to reach across the miles with a long, never-ending hug, I cling to this promise, 

"Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good... [for] The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit."*

Oh, Lord, please.... let it be so.

*Psalm 34

Breathing Space and Pumpkin Bread

There are three loaves of pumpkin bread baking. A fan is whirring in the background, and I can hear the neighbor mowing. I just pulled a dinner of salmon and brussel sprouts off the grill. I bought the summer's first watermelon today.

This is idyllic.

And I can breathe.

It's time to tell you what has been happening. Such a crazy life, we lead! Full of sundry smallness, but still so overwhelmingly busy to us finite, weak humans.

Two weeks ago, we got a final offer on our house.

Last Thursday, we closed on our house. We had packed up our lives, our baby, and our memories in 8 short days, and moved in with my parents.

Less than twenty-four hours later, Scott Grant, and I flew out to Philadelphia. Scott was interviewing for a position at a Harvest Bible Chapel as Pastor of Ministry Development. We were blown away by the generosity of the church, the wonderful people, and the need in Philly. (More on this later.) So, when they offered him the job on Saturday, we said "yes." And we met our new church family on Sunday (which was also my first mother's day... more on that later). Then we went on a whirlwind housing expedition (and I will talk about this... later! There's just too much fun in the loving details our God showered on us). And left Philly at noon on Monday.

Now we are living at my parents... Moving back in with the parentals isn't necessarily anyone's idea of fun, but I'm so thankful for this time.

I'm thankful that Grant is getting to spend so much time with his wonderful grandparents, before we move 9 hours away. I'm so thankful that I have a loving mama and dad who would be willing to share their home. I'm so thankful that we're all "friends." And although I'm sure there will come a day when we will all be tired of each other, I'm thankful that day is a long time in coming.

So, I'm popping bread in the oven, doing laundry, and enjoying a slight return to normalcy... And I'm just so delightfully glad that we have a God who provides rest. Not just during nap time and on Sunday, but on a Thursday night, after a long day at work, and an evening with many household chores. Because I'm learning that rest is not based on the length of your "to-do" list, but rather in the recognition of peace and joy in the daily graces given by our wonderful Heavenly Father.



*****
Rustic Pumpkin Bread
1 box yellow cake mix
1 can of pumpkin pie filling.

Preheat oven to 350.

Mix together these two (very easy!) ingredients. (There will still be some lumps.) Scrape into a greased bread pan. **optional: sprinkle with raw sugar for a crusty, sugary top.**

Bake at 350 for approximately an hour. Finish time dependent on pan/oven/altitude. Bread is done when knife inserted in the center comes out clean. This is probably the yummiest smelling bread I've ever made.... My hubby requested that we not give it to the neighbors, but eat all 9 loaves ourselves.

Enjoy with chai tea, of course