So How Do You Do It?

Recently I blogged about what it's like to have Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome and the secondary conditions (dysautonomia and Gastroparesis) it's led to. It's not always easy.

Sometimes it's downright awful. 

I'm an honest person by nature. And though I don't often parade around with these raw emotions displayed across my face, I fully admit there are days I hide, days I stay in bed, days I cry in the shower, too weak even to stand, too discouraged even to reach out. There are days I wonder why I keep going, days I can't face the fact that this is what the rest. of. my. life will be like. 

But such days are the minority. They're rare. Most of the time, you'll see me smiling, and that's no lie. It's not an act. I'm not pretending or forcing the pain aside. Most of the time, I really am joyful. My life is full, despite these health issues. I am a wife. 

I am a mother. 

I am a teacher. 

I am a friend. 

Daughter, sister, volunteer--my roles are many. People ask me often, "How do you do it?"

To answer, I have to tell a story. 

Once there were three young men. They were faithful men living in exile in a foreign land. The king of this land enacted a law that everyone had to bow down and worship a statue of the king. These three  young men remained faithful to their God and refused to worship the king of that land. The king liked these guys, and that didn't sit well with some powerful people in the kingdom. So the powerful people watched the young men and caught them in the act of disobedience to the king and turned them in. The king was bound to his word, so he had them brought in to face punishment. 

What was the punishment?

Oh, just a furnace heated so hot it instantly vaporized the guard who opened it. 

Yeah. 

These men stared down the furnace and said words that ring through my head over and over again each day. "Our God can save us. But even if he doesn't, he's still God, and we'll still serve him."

God can save us. But even if he doesn't...

The men were bound up and thrown in. The king and his guards watched through the doors and saw four men walking around inside, among the flames. 

Now you're looking up a few lines, checking something. Yep, three men. So who's the fourth? Hang on. I'll tell you in a minute. 

So the king had the doors opened, and the three men walked out, no longer bound, not a hair on their heads singed, not even the smell of smoke on their clothes. The king was aghast and said, "No other god can save in this way!"

I'm staring down my own furnace of sorts. It's hot. It intimidates those around me. Those guys were on to something. God COULD save me. He could. It's within his power to heal me. But even if he doesn't. 

But even if he doesn't. 

The king said something else when those men came out of the fire. He said, "These men were willing to lay down their lives for their God. Praise be to God! No other god can save in this way!"

Remember that fourth guy? Most scholars believe it was Jesus. Jesus didn't start at the manger. He was with God from the very beginning. He was with Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. And he's with me. And so are so very many others. I'm not in the flames alone. 

In 1 Thessalonians 5, Paul (a guy who knew a thing or two about hard times) wrote, "Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus."

I'm willing to lay down my life for my God. My life is his. God can save me. But even if he doesn't, may the world look at the way I stare down the fiery furnace and say, "Praise be to God!"

There is a Plan...

I have faith.  Sure I do.  I honestly believe God will work things out.  I just prefer he detail for me exactly how he plans to get me from Point A to Point B.  Funny thing, though: he never does.

I little over a year and a half ago, Nathan stepped out in faith and accepted the associate ministry position at Pleasant View Church of Christ, following God's call toward preaching ministry.  You can read more about that here.  That position has been a proving ground of sorts, an opportunity for Nathan to learn and grow as a minister and hopefully lead some others in growth as well.  He has been blessed to have some fantastic mentors really pour into him, teach him, lead him, admonish him, and encourage him.  He has had opportunities to preach and teach.  He has developed a website and a prayer ministry and started leading the worship team.  He has been privileged to work with some spectacular youth, some of the most talented, goofiest, most sincere kids on this planet.  And he has been humbled to serve alongside the mommies and daddies who raised such kids.  My children have been taught by some of the most creative ladies I've encountered.  My boys cheer when it's time to go to church.  They love it, and that's thanks to the love of these volunteers and staff.  I have been challenged and encouraged by generations of ladies who have taken the time to share their lives with me and allowed me to share my life with them.  We have been blessed.

But we've also been surprised.

When Nate left the Garrett church to work at Pleasant View, we really thought we were in it for the long-haul.  The church had a plan that when the senior minister retired, Nathan would move into that role.  But there was always a clause, an asterisk that said they could decide to keep him in the associate role if they felt that was best.  Al will be retiring soon, and the leadership decided it would be best for Nathan to stay in the associate role.  Their reasons are sensible and God-led.  The church, in order to move forward the way she needs to, will need more of an administrative-style minister.  Nathan is not that kind of minister.  He is relational.  He could stay in the associate role and continue working with youth, families, and worship.  But there's that call on his heart, that call that started years ago.  God called Nate to be a senior minister.  Point A, Point B.

There is a plan.  God knew how all this would work out from the beginning, long before Nate accepted the position at Pleasant View, long before the leadership announced he would not be the senior minister, even long before Nate knew he WANTED to be a senior minister.  While at Pleasant View, there have been some pieces that just haven't quite fit.  Our house didn't sell.  We thought it would.  We wondered if God was wanting us to be patient, or if he was wanting us to step out in faith and move anyway.  We waited.  We wondered why, if we were following God, he seemed to be holding us back.  Sometimes it felt a step...off.  We believed God called Nate to Pleasant View for a reason, but we also believed he had been called to senior ministry.  There was a plan.  We just didn't know what that plan was.

When the leadership at Pleasant View decided not to move Nate into the senior ministry role, he prayerfully started sending out his resume.  One church that was looking for a senior minister at the time was a small church in a small town in west-central Indiana.  Nate sent his resume on, not expecting much.  These things take time.

Practically right away, he received a call.  Then an interview.  Then another call.

The job was his if he was willing to accept it.

Pending a congregational vote in a week, Nathan will be the new senior minister at Ladoga Christian Church in Ladoga, IN, starting the first week of June.

God had a plan.  He did not tell me how he was getting me from Point A to Point B, or even what Point B would be.  But he knew.  Not once in all that time of uncertainty did we want for anything.  We had a house with more than enough space.  Cars to drive and gas to fuel them.  A babysitter who loved our kids and did housework so I didn't have to.  Friends who loved us and allow us to love them.  Income to cover our expenses.  Our needs have been met.  God has provided manna and required only that we gather for today and trust him to provide for tomorrow.  And he has.

This morning, our Sunday school class was studying the story of Joshua.  He saw the Promised Land and believed with real faith that they could take it, that God would lead them to conquer the giants so they could claim the land as God had promised.  But the people were afraid of those giants.  So they waited.  For 4 decades.

40 years.

God provided for them as they waited.  They had food.  Their shoes didn't wear out.  God was with them, day and night.  But 4 decades.

Joshua got to enter the Promised Land.  God delivered him to Point B.  The distance between was long, but God provided for Joshua and his people every step of the way.  If Joshua could wait 40 years, there's no excuse for my impatience.  God has no obligation to tell me how he'll get me from Point A to Point B.  He will.  That's enough.  And I truly believe his version of Point B is far better than any I could imagine for myself.

Nathan and I have run the numbers dozens of times, several different ways, and it looks like I'll get to be a stay at home mom after our move.  LCC has a parsonage, and with that and Nate's salary package, it looks like we won't need a full-time income from me.  I have never been a stay at home mom.  I'm sure you can imagine how I feel about this opportunity.  I love my job and believe I'm good at it.  But I have hated that I can only give my family what's left over.  My health is a real challenge, so often by the time I'm home from work, I'm far from my best self.  My family has paid the price for my career, even though I've worked because I've HAD to.  Even with our fairly modest lifestyle, we've never been able to make it on one income alone.  We have always trusted that if God orchestrated our finances in such a way that I needed to work, that he had a purpose in that.  I've seen my teaching career as my ministry.  But by the same token, when God orchestrated our finances in such a way that I no longer needed to work, we immediately saw that God was giving me the blessing of time.  Of energy.  Of health.  Of family.  This is God's will.

My friend Mitzi once explained seasons to me.  I was a new mom and really struggling with the change in my role in Nate's ministry, that I wasn't serving as a youth sponsor or dorm mom anymore.  Mitzi explained that I was in a new season, a season of motherhood, and that like all seasons, it wouldn't last forever.  She said her season of motherhood had been a tough adjustment too, but now as a mother of grown children, her season had changed and she was serving busily again, and missing those days of young motherhood.  She said this was my season and to embrace it, because the season would change soon enough.  Wise words.

Now we're entering a brand new season.  Nathan's entering senior ministry for the first time.  I'm going to be a stay at home mom for the first time and will be stepping out of my career, at least for now.  We are leaving the community we've lived in for the bulk of our  married lives.  We learned to be adults here.  Our children were born here.  Our dearest friends are here.  But God is with us, day and night.  He's providing enough for today and will again tomorrow.  We are somewhere between Point A and Point B right now, and that's OK.  God has a plan.  He had one all along.  I'm blessed and humbled to be a part of that plan.  And I'm so excited to see what's next.

A Mother's Heart

I love being a mom.

It's the hardest job I've ever had.  It requires my best, and I fail...a lot.  But I DELIGHT in my boys.  I love, love, love being their mom.

We lost a baby before having Tovi.  That pain and grief left me sensitive to those who can't have kids or have lost theirs.  And because of the damage and subsequent surgery resulting from the combination of Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome and my pregnancies, I cannot have more kids.  That has left me grateful for the opportunity to have had mine.  Each of my boys is a precious blessing.

Even when one poops his pants, or another lets the cat out, or when my patience runs drier than our recent Mid-Western draught, I am grateful.

I have these moments as a mom that fill my heart with gratitude for this opportunity to raise them.  Many of you know these moments, and as you read mine, your eyes will tear up with the recollection of your own.  Please share!  We, as parents, love bragging on our kids more than virtually anything else.  Here are a few of mine:

This morning, we were preparing to take a picnic lunch to the park, and Tovi was running in and out of the kitchen while I was fixing our lunch.  At one point he ran in, breathless, and gasped, "Mom, I don't know if I'm strong enough."  He was pretending to be one hero or another.  But in that moment, I saw both my little boy and also this vast, challenging, beautiful world he is facing.  He wasn't just a kid madly in love with all things Batman; he was a future man, a man after God's own heart, a man destined for greatness.  So I had a rare stroke of genius.

 Seriously.  This was motherhood gold.  

The boys have been memorizing Ephesians 6:10: Be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power.  So when my little boy said, "I don't know if I'm strong enough," I knelt down and said, "Tovi, what does Ephesians 6:10 say?" He quoted it to me, and I continued, "So who makes you strong?"  He thought for a moment (undoubtedly processing that Lord=God...hard concept for a 4 year old to grasp), and then his eyes lit up.  He proclaimed, "GOD!"

"Yes, my dear, God makes you strong!  So you see, you ARE strong enough because God makes you strong!"  He was bursting with this news and sprinted from the room to share this with his little brother and fight off all the invisible foes his oversized imagination could muster.

And then the icing: From his position on the stairs, I heard 2-year-old Oren say, in his adorable little voice, "Be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power!"

Yep, moment of gratitude.

Other moments aren't quite as allegorical or philosophical, but they leave me equally grateful for these precious, spirited boys.  A short while after the above account (I was still wrist-deep in the peanut butter jar), Tovi was pretending that bad guys were blowing up the house.  If you've seen the old 1960's Batman series, you know how prevalent cartoonish bombs are in those story lines.  These are the bombs Tovi was imagining.  I told him he'd need to fix our house, and he said, with all sincerity, "But Mom, I don't have any house pieces in these pockets!"

Oh, I should have thought of that.  Of course you don't have any house pieces in your pockets.  We left those in yesterday's shorts.

Tonight, I suspected that announcing, "It's bedtime!" would lead to some resistance, so instead I asked them what time they thought it was and then asked a series of silly, rhetorical questions.

"Is it breakfast time?"
"Noooo!"

"Is it clip-our-toenails time?"
"Noooo!"

"Is it wear-a-silly-hat time?"
"...Yes!"

OK, so silly hats it is! I grabbed my giant black sun hat from the peg above the entry way closet and dropped it on Oren's head, amid giggles and hiccups.

Once Oren chucked the hat to the floor, I asked, "Is it put-on-our-jammies-brush-our-teeth-and-snuggle-Mommy time?"
"Yeah, it's snuggle-Mommy time!"
Bedtime snuggles are the very, very best.

Finally, one more.  My boys are of an age where a kiss from Momma can still fix anything.  Their giant stuffed lion, whom Tovi dubbed Morris after the cat-food mascot (no matter the fact that this lion is, in fact, a lioness), suffered a fatal wound today.  Granted, the wound was imagined.  But for all intents and purposes, Morris was dead.  "Don't worry, I can fix it!" I said.  Tovi looked doubtful, but handed Morris over to me.  I asked where the wound was and planted a magic Mommy kiss on the spot, and Morris roared back to life.  Problem solved.  Oren functions under this same rule of logic.  He screams easily, and it's not a pleasant sound.  Every bump, scrape, stumble, or even hurt feeling leads to this scream, and he will sustain it until he receives his remedy: a kiss from Mommy.  And if I happen to miss the spot, even by millimeters, I must try again.  And again.  But the fact that, with the mere brush of my lips, I can solve the biggest problems in his little life, fills me with love and pleasure.  I delight in being his mom and in the magic of motherhood being enough to cure all ails.

You see, the reason my eyes fill with tears so easily when it comes to my children is that I know how fleeting these days are.  Someday my boys will face problems that can't be solved with a kiss or a snuggle.  Some  hurts will be too big for me to fix.  Someday they'll be out of my grasp, and those sweet, tender bedtime snuggles will be long behind us.  Someday they'll disappoint me.  They'll mess up.  They will suffer broken hearts, wounded pride, lessons in humility.  And I won't be able to rescue them.

They may even get sick.  Suffer.  Die.  No, I can't save them from everything, no matter how much I love them.  My dear cousin Mary's grief over her precious daughter Myah, gone too soon due to the evil that is childhood cancer, is proof of that.  No matter how much we love our children, we can't save them.

So I will cling to these moments, these brief days, and delight in the imagination, the snuggles, the kisses, the laughter, even the frustration, poopy pants, and doors left ajar.  

I will impress upon my memory the sound of little voices reciting scripture, of giggles turning to hiccups, of breakfast dishes tossed into a sink still above a toddler's head.  

I will cherish every soapy toe, sweaty brow, grubby hand.  

I will kiss each dimple and freckled nose. 

And I will spend a small fortune on rides at the zoo.  

Because I have today.  I pray I have tomorrow.  But someday...I won't.

So today, I am grateful.