Our Journey: The Beginning

I can't think of a different way to start this entry, so I'll cut to the chase.

Today is October 1, 2012.
On this day exactly one year ago, Paul and I decided we were ready to be parents.

A year has passed... and we are still without child.

A couple months ago, I started writing about what this process of waiting has been like for us.  I waited until now to go public for a couple of reasons.

1. Going public means we're sharing our journey to anyone and everyone... which I think we're ready for.
2. If more people know, more people can pray.
3. If and when God does give us children of our own, we want the people surrounding us to share in our joy and help give glory to God, the giver of all good gifts. 

So, here we go...

*deep breath*

*****

I can remember the summer when baby announcements outnumbered wedding announcements on my refrigerator.

My friends started having babies and I began planning baby showers.  Consequently, our fridge was looking really cute.  What's not to love about newborns wrapped in fuzzy blankets wearing knit hats and headbands adorned with oversized flowers?

That was the summer (2011) I started wondering when Paul and I would be ready to start a family.  I can remember teasing him about it at first, and then growing more accustomed to the idea.  Gradually, our giggles morphed into hmms and haws and dreams.

It certainly was a gradual process, though.

You see, I love Paul a LOT.  And the idea of sharing him with another didn't initially sit well with me.  How could I love someone as much as I love him?  The one I choose every day to share life with?  The man who doesn't complain, is not easily angered, the man I feel the most "me" with?  The man who makes me melt with spontaneous trips to Dairy Queen and Fro Yo to meet my ice cream cravings?

As I verbalized my musings aloud, I realized I sounded pretty selfish.  I think about our Julys and how challenging it is when he spends more time with fireworks and camp supplies than with me.  And the Fall Retreats in October when even though we're both at the same place at the same time, I miss our "us" time.  I questioned if there was really room in my heart for another.  To be Paul and Elizabeth plus one.

So, we both started praying.  A little here and a little there.  Asking God to quicken our hearts at the right time.

Summer hit with full force with not one, but two fireworks tents.  I, again, struggled with sharing Paul with his job and his ministry.  But we made it, and I had a powerful experience at camp, rediscovering my passions and gifts.  I wrote about feeling a distinct sense of purpose, having confidence in my position as Paul's ministry partner and camp counselor.

I also had a powerful experience during worship one night where God spoke directly to my heart.  During an extended worship time in the latter part of the week, I felt God stir in my heart the way Paul and I had asked.  I don't remember hearing exact words, but in that moment, I felt God begin to prepare me for motherhood.  Planting and confirming my desire to be a mom. 

A mom to a child of my own.  Instant joy and peace.

On our drive home from camp, physically exhausted from a draining, yet rewarding week, with the windows down and rocking our farmer's tans, Paul and I debriefed our highlights from the week.  I shared how I felt God move in my heart.

And you know what he said?

"Me too."

God spoke to Paul the very same night about being a dad, that he spoke to me about being a mom.

We laughed in disbelief, marveling at the Lord's handiwork and timing.

Preparing our hearts to love our someday-child.

We didn't start "trying" right away, but we definitely started praying more seriously.

From that moment at camp, it's as though God gave me a brand new lens to view Paul through.  I started to watch him a little more closely as he held our friend's babies, imagining him as the father of our children.  We both became more eager to hold babies.  I started seeing babies everywhere I went.  This June, we became Uncle Paul and Aunt Elizabeth for the first time and I pictured him holding children of our own.

And I melted.
Again.

Still Good.

I've been both wanting to blog and avoiding it at the same time.

My avoidance comes from home distractions (a "minor" remodel which has left my piano on the porch, couch in the garage, and cookie sheets in the laundry room), work distractions (dealing with a burst pipe at my employer's home) and family distractions (3 birthdays, one anniversary, an upcoming wedding, my brother's graduation from grad school, my dad's retirement).  And then there's the inevitable mind-wandering of unspoken desires and heartache.  Things I long to hold close and things I want to push far, far away.  Stuff that's hard to comprehend, let alone put to words.

My friend Haley, age 20, was recently diagnosed with cancer.  What began as a trip to the ER due to excruciating pain, continues as a battle with stage 2 diffused B-cell lymphoma.

First they found a tumor.
It wasn't cancerous, but the tissue around it was. (wouldn't have found the cancer without the pain from the tumor)
A near hysterectomy.
Cancer spreading.
IV chemo.
Oral chemo.
A break from chemo to replenish white blood cells.
Cancer spreading.
More chemo.

Paper chains to count down the days of chemo, milkshakes, smoothies, daffodils, and naming her uterus "Ursula" are all I can offer her to show her that she's not alone.  And dearly loved.  I am mustering up all the words I have to pray for her healing, and I come up short.  My throat closes and my eyes water.  Believing God can still heal my friend and wondering why He hasn't... yet.

But these things don't take away her present cancer reality.  The haunting fear of the unknown.  The nausea and fatigue.

I/we are choosing to believe that God is still good in the midst of her pain and suffering.  Maybe the more we cling to that these truths, the easier they will be to believe?

I still have to choose to believe God is good when I look at the ocean, since the ocean is what took my friend Karissa's life nearly 8 years ago.  She went wading during an college RA retreat and never came back.  I'm not sure I've ever been so in awe of the power and mystery of the ocean.  To this day, I stand at the water's edge, inhale the salty air and say aloud: "God, You are still good."

When Haley first told me about a girl she met in the cancer ward, I remember saying "hellooo, opportunity!" (Take a moment to read about Sheraya here.)

And now, after reading about the bittersweet ending (which is also the beginning) of that friendship, I glimpse God's obvious hand in Haley's diagnosis.  I read Haley's updated blog in my car, searching everywhere for kleenex and emergency napkins in my console.  I resorted to using my sleeve while I wept.  Tears of sadness mixed with joy flowed down my cheeks, accompanied by an unexplainable peace. (Read her account here, but not without tissues, or at least a sleeve.)

Gungor's song "Beautiful Things" began playing in my mind after I read Haley's account of her friend's "move."

Haley, God has made and IS making beautiful things out of you.  Just like He did with Sheraya's frail, leukemia-ridden body.  She finally has a home and a Father.  She's been made new and I know you'll meet again at heaven's gate when you hear "well done, good and faithful servant."

Let us stand at the ocean's edge together, drinking in the salty air, heavy-laden in our pain, proclaiming God's goodness.

Because He is still good.

Justice isn't sexy.

Justice isn't sexy.
Justice is not a fad, a thing of the past or a thing of 2012.  It will never go out of style yet it probably won't make headline news, either.
Justice is long and boring, tedious and tiresome, and it requires countless hours.
Justice is not limited to left-wing, liberals, or politics.  Nor does it excuse any of them.
Justice is an equal-opportunity employer. (Bruggeman)

Righteousness is a right relationship with God and others.  (It is not just holy living.)  Sounds a lot like justice, doesn't it?

I distinctly remember walking out of that first brothel on a cold evening nearly 5 years ago.  Disgusted by the vile images I'd seen with my own eyes.  The night the stories, second-hand accounts and documentaries came to life in the form of a very real nightmare.  The night where prostitutes and pimps became real people in my neighborhood.  The night where oppressor met the oppressed.  The night where hopelessness collided with hope.  The night injustice wore skin.

It was also the night I began my gratitude for a God of justice.

Walter Bruggeman, an elderly, animated, white-haired, can't-talk-without-his-hands gentleman outlined 5 concepts of God's vow of fidelity to Israel in Hosea 2.

1. Tenacious LOVE - a tougher, more committed, never-give-up kind of love that is more nitty gritty than "loving kindness"
2. RIGHTEOUSNESS - commitment to the shalom, or peace, of a community
3. JUSTICE - commitment to creating equality for the most vulnerable
4. MERCY - giving of one's self
5. COMPASSION - "womb-like mother love" - the kind of love God has for God's people.  Feeling in the deepest ways possible that something is not right and needs to be changed.

Several of the conference speakers challenged me to pay attention to what specific things make my blood boil.  The thing that stirs my guts and makes me sick to my stomach.  Because to be filled with the Holy Spirit is to be conscious of sin.

It's in that awareness that moves me.

"Great movements of the world come through pain of the people."

May we let those things, the injustices of our broken world, beckon us to embrace and claim a God of justice who can do more than we could ever ask for or imagine, who is calls me to take care of His sheep.

UGH.

So many gut-moving facts about the world we live in.

• 27 MILLION people are enslaved today.  They make your chocolate, bake your bricks, and are forced to star in porn videos.
• Women and children are sold for commercial sex
• 22 THOUSAND innocent people are imprisoned today due to being wrongly accused
• Joseph Kony kidnaps and forces kids to become his soldiers
• Racism, gender-based violence, homelessness, orphans, poverty, etc.

A world that is going down the tube, but a loving God who offers HOPE and LIGHT to even the bleakest situations.

Because the Lord is displeased that there is injustice. 

- Isaiah 59

The Justice Conference

My heart and soul are full.

My mind is spinning.

My daydreams are spiraling.
On the edge of my seat, ready to leap.
Yet carrying a backpack full of bricks, heavy laden for the broken, the oppressed, the voiceless.

I'm certain I just spent the best $135 dollars of my whole life. (But ohhhhhhh, the 'don't-even-have-words-for' tension I'm experiencing after spending even more than that just two days prior on my new iPhone.)

I just spent the last 2 days as a sponge.  Soaking up 28 hours in the presence of 8 friends, 4000 strangers from 40+ U.S. states and 20 countries, attending 13 sessions with as many of the 60 speakers as possible.  All under one roof at the The Justice Conference last weekend.

Here's hoping that my fingers will type what my heart is saying.

Dear Teenage Girl,

Dear Teenage Girl,

I wish you understood how much I care for you.

I have cried tears over you, sent you flowers anonymously, bought you lunch, taken you out for coffee, invited you into my home, curled your hair for prom, spent every Wednesday night with you, baked you cookies, picked you up for youth group, led Bible studies, taught you how to crochet, made breakfast for you, did dishes for you, gave up a week of my time to be your camp counselor and countless weekends to be in your cabin at retreats, cheered for you at soccer games and watched football games just so I could see you cheer.


And, I have prayed for you.

Prayed that you'd get a date to a dance.
Prayed for courage to have that hard conversation with your dad.
Prayed that your non-Christian friend would accept your invitation to youth group.
Prayed for strength to confront your friend's bad choices.
Prayed that you'd be freed from shame from what you did last summer.
Prayed that you'd be pure.
Prayed that you'd find enjoyment in reading your Bible.
Prayed that your broken heart would be mended.
Prayed that you'd find contentment in your singleness.
Prayed that Jesus Christ would be your first love.


To be honest, I don't even really like going to high school football games because I don't know any of the players. Not to mention, I hate being cold.  I definitely don't like washing dishes, and I'm usually starving by the time you finish eating breakfast because I'm so busy cooking that I don't eat until you leave.  When I'm your camp counselor, I miss kissing Paul goodnight before my head hits the pillow, like I've done almost every night since we got married.  I stress over leading Bible studies because I don't consider myself a teacher and I'm never really sure what you need to hear.  You are one of the main reasons I gave up looking for full time work because I wanted to be available to you.

I do these things because I care about you.
I'm honored when you let me into your life and you trust my ears with your words.  Thank you for letting me speak into your life.  I love being part of your "ah- ha" moments.

When you are hesitant to tell me something, it hurts.  I can't help but think it's because you don't think I'll approve.  And honestly, based on what you've told me leading up to it, I may not.  But I still want to know because what is important to you is important to me.  (And no one likes to find out via Facebook.)

I want to celebrate with you.

But more than that,
I want God's best for you.
And even more than that, I want you to want God's best for you.

It devastates me to see you make bad decisions.
To settle in relationships.
To lower your standards.
To say one thing and do the opposite.
To hide something from me.

I'm trying not to take offense when you don't take my advice or blatantly ignore Truth.  Because, as my wise husband reminds me, it's not really about me at all.  It boils down to trusting God or not.

I've told you a million times that what God has for you is so much better than anything you could come up with on your own.  But just because I tell you that doesn't mean you believe it for yourself.  Or that you'll wait for it.

But it's worth it.  Oh, it's so worth it.

Oh, how I long for you to trust God.
To make Him Lord over your love life.
To run toward Jesus with everything you've got and never give up.

I'll keep praying, but the moving is up to you.