The Shorber Show

400 Miles, a License, and a Cause

2012-01-12T17:00:00.000-08:00

A protester flashes a victory sign with his bloodied hand as other protesters throw stones at army soldiers at the cabinet near http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifTahrir Square in Cairo, Dec. 16, 2011. (REUTERS/Amr Abdallah Dalsh)

God is so good- and I mean more good than you may really know. I am so glad He continues to amaze me with his love. Have you been given something to champion? Something to finish? A cause to fight for? I have been on a long journey- one I didn't expect to take this long. I have learned so much and it has made me want to share it with you as I push forward in new territory.

Lesson #1 What Starts with Me, Shouldn't Stay with Me
The first lesson to share has been how crucial community really is in the kingdom. God may speak to you, even reveal truth in His Word, but it is meant to be shared and confirmed in the congregation of others. He is SO good (and I mean brilliant), that He somehow moves in His people at large in similar ways, repeating themes, specific words, instruction, guidance, warnings, and blessings. Most of the time, this happens in one movement or during a particular season on His timeline, directing the church as a whole. For example, the words "harvest" and "righteousness" kept coming to my mind, encouraging me to seek the Word for what He might want me to learn. Only to find later that He was giving those same words to someone close to me, yet from a different angle. As we shared, my perspective was shown to only be half of the puzzle, half of the revelation, as hers completed the other half- Thus confirming the original prompting of God independently in our lives, and completing the fullness of His guidance. The body members were simultaneously, separately, and as a whole drawing close to Him, yet moving in unison towards a goal He had in mind.

Lesson #2 Rescue is Coming...
God truly does not leave us bruised and broken. He will never let us cross the line of what we cannot handle, left abandoned. In His mercy, He knows us so entirely well. This journey to get licensed has been a bloody battle since 2003. It in no way compares to other battles I have witnessed this year alone. I have seen so many close to me battle disease, intense loss, and overwhelming stress. Yet for me, it has been a fight. Proving my worth, my competence, effort, struggling to have control over what should be mine- my life choices, my career choices. I have had to over prove myself, work more years than I should have, redo endless paperwork over and over again. Keep in mind I did this for two different states. Even in the end, I continued to fight for what at times felt pointless, the ending victory bittersweet as I walked away more weary than rewarded. I almost gave up. I doubted myself, more so doubted God, questioned His favor, my calling, and the very character He had developed in me. But when I finally neared the end, when I had nothing in me to fight or battle with... when disappointment was winning and the world had rejected me again, I went to the Lord...and rescue came. He knew my line, (in hindsight He was more merciful in His moment of rescue than He needed to be. I will remember that in the next battle. His rescue will come in His own way and not always when I call, and possibly never in the way I would expect. For it is never for my purposes for Him to rescue, only for His glory. So that I can say it was Him. That battle was never about a miracle, never about my justice, never about my finish line. In fact, the finish line will often be a passing, fleeting moment. Only the eternal satisfaction of saying it was Him will make it worthwhile.

Lesson#3 400 Miles
I was encouraged to read Acts 16 where Paul was blocked by the Spirit in every direction he attempted to go. Supernaturally he was called to Macedonia and the only route to get there was 400 miles out of the way. Keep in mind he was supernaturally called there, yet was met with beatings, flogging, and imprisonment rather than the peace-filled ministry assignment. I have learned (with the help of another) that anytime we are routed a way that is not easy, or seems like the long way around, or worse 400 miles out of the way and it feels like the Spirit has blocked every route that would get us there faster- we can be sure that although our personal goal will eventually be reached, there will be a bigger purpose, and others to save along the way. Paul's journey ultimately saved many families, if not the town itself. It is no longer about me, the help and change for others is now at stake.

Lesson #4 Sovereignty and a Cause
When Paul finally got to Macedonia, he could have avoided the beating and imprisonment all together. All he had to say was that he was a Roman, because what the people did was actually illegal. But from the beginning of his journey, he set his eyes above. God is sovereign over all things- the Professional licensing board of every state, over your job, your angry boss, your illness, over the very land he created, even over the Military assignment boards. When you keep your eyes on the Sovereign One, the journey has purpose. The battle is less bloody. Had I trusted Him, had I set my eyes on the sovereign I would have hoped, waited, and with authority given by Jesus spoken confidently over how He would have the ultimate glory in the end.

Because the way was blocked for me and didn't finish in 2007, a greater cause was opened up to me now in 2012. In 2011, the Department of Defense introduced an initiative encouraging the strengthening of military families, including professional licensing boards being challenged to make it easier for military spouses to transition their career from state to state (considering every state has different standards you end up starting over every time you move). I was able to include this cause in my efforts to get my own license, transforming what was originally about me and furthering a cause instead.

It was His plan all along, how I wish I could have at least trusted along the way that it would in fact be more than only about me. I would have felt the joy instead of the blows.

Lesson #5 It's Always about the Next Battle
Today, I am tired. Nine years for what should have taken three. He rescued me today when I had nothing left to give. The last month of waiting on the board to make a decision resulted in a rejection letter that was an error on their part. The letter requested I get more experience. This error had me fighting again while feeling the wounds of rejection and disappointment. I won in the end, proving their error, and received my license today- but the win was bittersweet. Sweet in relief, but bitter in what I had gone through and that many others who will go through the same and need a better way. The Lord's rescue came in fixing it today and not tomorrow, or worse at next month's board meeting (which I would have attended no doubt). He also sent the right person who found the right paperwork, and could be a person that could actually make the change- specific things that were prayed for this morning.
Bigger than all of that was the email response I got after I thanked the Executive Director for his swift response today, asking him to keep me in mind as the board considers how they will address future military spouses and offering clarification on this initiative from the White House.

His answer:

"I absolutely will do so. Thank you and your family for your service to our country, and stay safe."

And so a new battle with a new cause will begin.

And the Lord asks me today, "Why have you not spoken from the authority given to you? Why do you continue you to doubt my Sovereignty and my hope in you? Be a student of my Word, know how to do what that I have called you to do. Know how to use what I have given you to use!"

I have a new lesson to learn, one I have not embraced fully yet. We have authority already given to us through Jesus. He said, "ALL authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Therefore, go... and surely I am with you always." If I set my eyes on the Sovereign One, anchor and hide in my heart the truth given in His word, I can move forward by the Spirit. To be daily transformed- no matter how long the journey knowing that ultimately Jesus has given me the authority in His name, as his follower, to bring change, hope, and salvation to the broken hearted.

Since then...

2012-01-06T05:35:00.000-08:00

First, I want to thank so many people who have responded, emailed, and posted encouraging words since my last post. I must say it was extremely difficult to be so vulnerable. It is hard enough to say you are struggling, even harder to call it out for what it is and let everyone "in" on what we have felt here. Many of you replied that you were praying for us and would continue to do so. Others of you shared similar stories of living or serving within an oppressed location. I can't thank you enough! In my sharing, I was reminded of the result living in community- albeit over social media. Revealing the lies results in it's opposite- truth that we are never alone, that God works among his people and never in isolation.

I have been thinking a lot since regurgitating my plight on you. One thing I have learned is that the enemy attacks with intensity when you are isolated, tired, and hungry. Matt and I could not have been more of those things. Isolated is obvious, but continuously tired/stressed, and hungry for God to move, reveal himself, and for fellowship. No wonder we felt overtaken. Many people I have met (who reluctantly whispered that they also felt the oppression here) have asked, "so what do you do when you have to live in it?" I had never thought about living under oppression that I had not invited myself- don't we all ask "what did I do to cause this mess?" And since being honest about it here on this blog, I see things a little bit more clearly.

Matt and I were listening to Ravi Zacharias the other day and in his talk on The Problem with Pleasure, he mentioned that "any pleasurable thing that refreshes you without distracting from, diminishing, or destroying your ultimate goal is legitimate." What I first realized was that I had embraced suffering and pity in a pleasurable way. I know that sounds weird, but we can get addicted to our self-pity- thus the statue I posted in the previous blog. We either enjoy it and chase more, or we will see it as an attack and choose to fight. I had forgotten what my ultimate goal was, or maybe didn't know what it was! I had allowed my circumstances to distract me from what God wanted from us big picture wise. I had set my eyes on my present suffering instead of the goal He set for us. Of course that goal is to be more like him, but also that I would serve him no matter where he sent me and remember our calling is so much bigger than present suffering.

Part of this has been the difficulty in embracing the first move by the Army that was not our choice. Even though we didn't choose Colorado- who wouldn't want to live there? It was also my first experience of the unsettled lifestyle of the Army. It was so exciting the first time around and this time it hit me that this was really going to be every two-three years. I had to come to terms with that. I really believe it takes a toll on a lot of families, but just like the deployments, training, etc- you just have to embrace it and roll with it. Just like the deployment- you look for how you will thrive and be better when you reach your ultimate goal, not how you survived life.

I admire so many of my fellow army wives who have learned this lesson way before me, who make each new location "home" and quickly make their mark by serving the families and community wherever they are. I have a lot to learn as I sit here- Matt having left for a month. And so I begin again with new focus, truth of who I am, who we are as a family, and anchored in the truth that any suffering that we experience should remind us Christ's ultimate suffering that ours could never compare to and I am drawn to his humility, love, and outpouring of service towards me. So I'm getting up and gonna do something about this post, be a light, and serve with others who are also shining theirs. My time here is short, and so is my window of opportunity. I so long to be the anchor of our family instead of the afflicted victim.
So here is what I believe is the answer:
1. Pray daily over your home, over your family, over your mind.
2. Anchor yourself in the truth every day, and pray for awareness.
3. Be vulnerable to a community that will pray for you, be vulnerable with you, and challenge you.
4. Do something for someone else.

Thanks again to all of you who responded, we feel so loved.

Living Under Oppression

2011-12-27T07:14:00.000-08:00

The Images here are of Rodin's Evil Spirits

The question I asked when I saw it in person was, "Is this a picture of desire or violence?"

It has been so long since I have written, I forgot my username to this blog. 6 months to be exact. Last year was a year of "wins" for me. I was a winner for the Panera writing contest, I published five or six articles for an online Christian Military Magazine, and seemed to even win little pull-a-name-out-of-a-hat drawings. It was an amazing feeling for someone who never won anything. Looking back, Matt and I chuckle as we look back over our prayers at the time to give us a season of rest and blessing. At the time, reintegration was rough for us. People asked me how I survived deployment. Deployment was easy- its reintegration that gets most military marriages. Getting back on the same page after being apart for a full year is harder than the physical fatigue of parenting on your own. As we struggled through maintaining our own marriage and still carried the weight of encouraging others' we seriously found ourselves begging for blessing. What we didn't know was that we were already in a season of rest and blessing that was intended to prepare us for the season to follow.

Leaving Fort Carson has been beyond painful. We drove away from outstanding leadership and a now historic unit, friends that were more than family and showed us how the church body is supposed to exist, and nature that daily pointed us to the majestic presence of God. We did not realize what we were driving into. A hot, lonely, and difficult season of spiritual war. Living on post here is drastically different from the family-focused culture of Colorado. Fort Stewart feels to us, and is confirmed by others here as a culture that is plagued and suffering from an oppression that weighs down the soul. People are not happy here, they stay in their homes, there is little joy, and is a post currently leading the way in the Army for suicides. When you meet people, and ask hem how long they have been here, the response is usually something like, "long enough" or "we can't wait to get out of here in the spring." We feel it too. We wake up discouraged. We struggle to make time with the Lord and we muster up the energy to say a prayer of protection over our family, our marriage, and remind ourselves of our mission. Matt and I independently fight the battle of doubting our calling, the temptation to isolate, and believing the lie that we are alone. If we win the war of the day, somehow finding joy in our Creator by the end of the day and in our children (who somehow seem unaffected and protected- praise God!), we go to bed feeling connected and secure only to wake up the oppression the next morning.
We are convicted and convinced that this is a time of digging deep and strengthening the weaker areas of our faith. If we are to survive this assignment (and we know there is no other option) then we must dig deep and truly learn how to pray, intercede, depend on the Lord, and serve.
This summer, before we arrived here, I had the most disturbing dream- no doubt from the Lord. In it, I witnessed the spirit of deception at work in my life and those around me. I walked with it as he eerily took the form of something charming, attractive, and twisted. People followed him, flocked to him, followed him, listened to everything he said and believed every word. I saw that when people opened their soul, even a crack, he stuck to them and grew in influence in their life. I saw it influencing the church, what I thought were safe relationships, the culture, our cultures' children. Each time we walked up to one of these scenes and his evil influence suddenly was revealed, I felt my horror and anger hit me in the gut. At the end, I walked with him alone and asked him where he slipped into my life- at what point he stuck to my soul- in effort to find blame in myself. After all, I had believed some of these lies myself. But his answer surprised me. Not only had I entertained him in (my sin), but he slipped in way before me, generations before me.
No doubt, when I woke up, I felt the same punch to my gut- a physical reminder of what it feels like around evil- a reminder of how angry you have to be to do anything about it. I knew I had clear instruction to study, to know this spirit well, and to know how to respond.
I had no idea this was in preparation for what we would be living under. The daily fight to believe the spirit of deception- the little ways we let it in by entertaining the thought that we are alone and have nothing to offer. I have had many days where I have given in to the discouragement. Thus, my writer's block for 6 months. I could not muster the strength to even sit at the computer. Depression and discouragement can weigh you down with fatigue and steal your creativity.

What I am reminded of today is that those who walk in truth will walk in liberty.
Redeem me, O Lord, the God of truth. (Ps. 31:5) Help me to remember that nothing and no one can be redeemed without truth: the God of Truth!

Lord God, surely You desire truth in my inner parts; You teach me wisdom in the inmost place. (Ps. 51:6) Please expose to me the deeply embedded lies I've believed and replace them with permanently engraved truth.

"Sin wears a cloak of deception. Therefore, the first stage...involves the exposure of our hearts to truth and the cleansing of our hearts from lies...Once the Spirit breaks the power of deception in our lives, He can break the power of sin." Francis Frangipane, Holiness, Truth and The Presence of God
[all prayers and quote from Beth Moores' Praying God's Word}

Where have you let the spirit of deception in? Have you set a cause, something material, or worse another person on the throne reserved only for the Son of God? Have you daily accepted the "lot" handed to you by generations past? It is often lies in the form of abandonment, rejection, entitlement, and usually takes physical form in apathy. Apathy- choosing to do nothing towards reconciliation, restoration, serving others, and choosing to sit in the corner and watch others do the work. Have you confessed it? Confessing is only the first step, being actively and daily aware of its continued influence is second- which should bring you to your knees confessing again each day. Third, do you respond actively by living out the truth? Do you physically move to engage vulnerably with others in fellowship? Are you restoring relationships that lies have torn apart? Or do you just shrug your shoulders and choose apathy as if what happens between you and God is all that matters. Do you take the truth of His word and transformation in your life to to others- or more importantly changing your generational curse to blessing?

I feel like I am confessing on a daily basis. I am trying to do the above. I want to see blessing even when living in a season of unrest. And I want my children to walk in liberty without the weight of my sin set on their shoulders that already have enough to carry.

As Matt and I continue to shift our focus towards the truth of our Savior and our calling, would you consider praying for us and our family? Thank you for those who are actively doing this. We have no doubt that this is why our children seem to daily walk unscathed and why we are continuously surprised by God's voice spoken even through Aidan (whose spiritual growth is on fire). We also thank God for your prayers when we win the battle in our minds and know it was not by our own strength that day.

If you are a missionary who has felt the same living under the oppression of a culture/people would you be willing to share your story?

Mirror, Mirror.

2011-08-01T07:30:00.000-07:00

"Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says. Anyone who listens to the word but does not do what it says is like someone who looks at his face in a mirror and, after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like." - James 1.22-24

Introspection is one of those things that is very hard for us extroverts. We work out most of our stuff outloud, in front of others which makes us the life of the party, or the backseat of the sqaud car. By the time we have gotten around to the point of the matter or heart of the issue, we may have bungled our way, sloppily, through the china shop of the lives around us. It is a scenario that occurs with all-too great frequency. But it isn't without redemptive moments. Our verbal quickness and understanding of any given situation allows us to keep conversation and situations lively. We tend to enjoy engaging everyone, including introverts, and hope that we make everyone feel included and well thought of.

In fact, the insight of the previous paragraph is not stereotypically indicative of the extrovert. It's a bit of a trained skill to take a step back and look, and ask, "how am I being perceived?" One that I am (hopefully) enroute to mastering.

And so it helps to several different kinds of mirrors in my life.

I need the mirror of Jesus and others of faith found in scripture. Taking time out of most days helps me to re-align and correct my azimuth (cardinal compass direction) in order that I can reach the places I set my mind to go. If I don't have this, then I go about my life making up an image of God that falls very short of the one I should be following, if I want a divinely-successful life.

I need the mirror of my family, because they have known me the longest, and though I have changed over the decades in the course of adventures and trials, they knew my personality as it was forming. Their prayer must be that God will speak truth to my heart through their words, both encouragement and correction. It assumes that they are checking their mirrors, as well, driving down the road of life.

I need the mirror of my wife, who knows the very core of my soul. It is to her that I can crawl when the burdens of so many things have driven me to my hands and knees. She alone can hold my pained heart which has suffered the slings and arrows of discouragement and trauma. She can embolden me to walk back on the battlefield, bleeding and bruised and pale. It is to her that I have pledged my protection and provision, as a son of God, sent on His behalf.

I need the mirror of my sons, to whom I owe my life. I am molding and shaping their future with every look, gesture, word, deed and inaction. They unknowingly give me constant and consistent feedback about my fathering. If I do not pay attention, then I miss out on the wonderful dance of parenting.

And I need the mirror of whom I could be, both good and bad. I need to be around role-models who inspire me to drive on, and I need individuals in whom I see the worst of me, what I have been at times and could be.

If we resist these mirrors, we lose the check-points that God allows in our lives to re-orient our direction and keep us on path. As I find personality flaws in others that hit too close to home, I pray (am praying) that God will not only heal the afflictions in the hearts of those, but also in mine. Lest I become a mirror by which others desire to reflect the opposite.

Lord Help.

From the Insight Out

2011-07-26T07:36:00.000-07:00

“When you fully comprehend that there is more to life than just here and now…suddenly many activities, goals and even problems that seemed so important will appear trivial, petty and unworthy of your attention. The closer you live to God, the smaller everything else appears.”

- Rick Warren from The Purpose Driven Life

Wow, it has been a long time since I took the time to let my thoughts coalesce onto paper, or pixels, as it were. God, in his infinite wisdom, has seen fit to create a scenario in our lives from which it is impossible to make excuse for not spending time with Him.

Since moving to Savannah, GA we have been living off of an inlet on the coast, enjoying the multitude of sounds each night as we pass out and the little frog that greets Todd every evening when he takes his final constitutional in the yard. Little idiosyncrasies that one forgets about after living above 6000 feet for three years.

And it is out in the middle of nowhere. I mean we are a mile down a dirt road at that forks off from the end of another road. A full 40 miles on back roads to Ft. Stewart. I wake at 0445 and am on the road by 0515 to make PT formation. Showering at the Battalion HQ, I am in my office eating breakfast by 0800 each morning, with an hour and a half before work officially “starts”. And I eat lunch in the office as well, and have an hour commute home in the afternoon. Add it all up and that’s at least 4 hours each day that I can choose how I spend.

I am so out of it at 0515, I just plug in Dave Crowder and hope that some of it permeates my conscience, unconsciously, while hoping a deer doesn’t run out in the road. After PT, I feel nice and mellow and have been enjoying the first few days of The Purpose Driven Life (it was the only devotional in the office when I arrived). Having not run consistently in months, I get three days a week to pray for myself, others and myself while trying to catch up to somebody. During lunch, I “rest in the Lord.” And the ride home is a 5/60 drive. Four windows and a sunroof open and 60mph…no AC in the car. And the sweat and wind washes away most of the day.

And I am finding some guidance in the quiet.

Day Four, today, was about being eternally minded. Even with the periodic moments throughout the day to reorient myself, I don’t always do this well. Last week I had a great day, where I encouraged Corie with dreams and wisdom, things God was comforting me with, and hope for the future. And Saturday as we were finishing shopping for Jack’s party items, I yelled at her for not applying the parking brake. That’s insane. The parking brake. Sure, it’s a pet peeve, but how can the same person be edifying one day and destructive a few days later? I don’t understand myself, and hate that part of me that creeps up, and pulls the rug out from underneath me, and my marriage.

“The closer you live to God, the smaller everything else appears.”

Petty. Insignificant. Trivial. Inconsequential. Minor. Trifling. Frivolous. Marginal. Negligible.

The things that often derail me could easily be described with these words. How can a man who has seen what I have seen, walked beside people through the valley of the shadow of death, and knows, experientially, what I know, still fall prey to the simple traps of the enemy?

I thought I wouldn’t trip over these roots anymore. I thought I had a handle on my perspective.

“Let us lay aside everything that hinders and the sin which so easily entangles…”

When I grow tired during a workout, I have to concentrate harder on each lift, each footfall. I remember sprinting so hard in high school track and field that I had tunnel vision on the last 100 meters of a run and lost all awareness of everything except how bad my lungs and legs burned. I could have easily tripped over my own feet and plummeted face first onto the track. But I remember reminding myself to concentrate on my form, lest I fall. I concentrated on running tall, the rhythm of my breathing, my pace and constantly reminding myself of the distance I was closing. I was running with the end in mind, and it kept me pushing myself.

“and run the race set before us.”

I want the petty things to not matter. I don’t want pet peeves, I want the freedom of “meh.” Some of you will get that one.

In college James Corbin put out some profoundly spiritual songs. One of my favorites:

“This world is not my home, but a beautiful place that I’ve never known, I’m like a fugitive on the run and when I die, my life has just begun, when I die, my life has just begun.”

Even as the enemy whispers my failures, my God reminds me of “the glory of it all is He forgives, for the rescue of us all that we may live, O the Glory of it all, the Glory of it all. After night, comes a light, he repairs, he repairs, it’s a new day, everything will change, things will never be the same.”

If, in my failures, I can prevent yours, then truly “all things can work together for the good of those who love Him.” Set your mind on things above, not things below. Seek first His kingship and His righteousness, which he has imparted to those who will accept, and everything else will be added, and in the end we will see clearly, as He sees, how trivial so many things really were.

Update on the move to Savannah

2011-06-30T15:01:00.000-07:00

I figured it was about time to update everyone on our move. I know that the grandparents are especially curious as to the adjustment and progress of our transition. Its been a month since our house in lovely Colorado was packed up. Since then, we have lived in 11 different places. I know that sounds extreme and it wasn't planned that way originally. We actually planned to stop and see two friends on our way to Savannah making our trip just one week. However, we were ordered to Fort Stewart and the housing on post is building new homes (very similar to what we had before) and they will not be ready until the end of the summer. It will definitely be worth the wait, even though we have moments when we question that along with our sanity. If we move in now we will lose significant square footage and what we know we can expect from the newer housing.
So, during a wonderful stay in Kentucky and reconnecting with our family away from family, we went to our church home there in Lexington. It was an amazing, worship filled morning that included great music and the reminder of what God designed life giving community to do for your soul. Matt and I both felt the Lord affirm where we were going and our call to the military. When we left the church there in 2006, we felt God say it was time to GO, and so we did. We had no idea that would be our first step to saying yes to the military. His affirmation was that we are still being SENT, and to be thankful that He is still using us.
We then spent some much needed peaceful time in the mountains of North Carolina with some other fantastic friends. There we began to settle in to the civilian world again while we reconnected, another reminder that He is present in community. We have felt so loved, and served during our visits- something we didn't realize that we needed. Something God anticipated before we could.
Since our housing was no where close to being ready and Matt had a little time before signing in, we stopped in to see family and a short vacation in Hilton Head. Considering we would be in a hotel anyways, we stayed at Hilton Head for an additional week with friends who were vacationing there. After that, the vacation was over and it was time to get back into the mindset of the move.
The climate has been more than hot and the humidity is, well, smarmy to say the least. The trees are huge compared to Colorado, droopy and somewhat creepy with the moss that is so familiar to Savannah, but beautiful in its own way. I am enjoying the daily thunderstorms that seem to creep up each day, as the tall trees hide the sky.
We are staying in the on post lodging at Hunter (40 minutes from Stewart) because it has a bigger room (two separate bedrooms). It is somewhat inconvenient to commute to Stewart, but it is the best option for us currently. We have found an apartment to stay in for the summer that is out in the country that would still be the same commute, but is located over a very nice detached garage on a personal piece of property. The owners have two boys themselves and are giving us full use of their swimming pool and trampoline. Definitely a good move for us, pending no other finds, to use for the summer.
We have raced around for days registering the boys into the Ft Stewart system, updating immunizations (much to Jack's disappointment), and registered them both for school in the fall. The new neighborhood is looking great and is literally across the street from the school. And we can tell they have made improvements since 2008 when we moved into almost the same housing in Colorado. I can't tell you how excited we are to have a home again, but the amazing flexibility and resilience of the boys seem to offer no excuse for us grown ups to complain. We have pushed through many moments of frustration, fatigue, and confusion as we have been bounced all over the place trying to get things done, check boxes, and attempt clear communication. Of course, according to house-keeping- this is a special characteristic of Savannah that you never get the full story, only what you ask for- so expect to never have all the information and be redirected constantly. I'm not sure how much that is isolated just to Savannah, but it makes me feel a little better in the moment.
Lessons learned: Don't plan such a long PCS if you can help it. If you organize your receipts in a nifty organizer, make the effort to organize where the organizer will go so you don't lose it on the second day.
A few blessings, or what I like to call small gifts (similar to God's provision during the deployment) were a sweet veteran in his golf cart who drove me and the boys to our car at the Hospital after Aidan fell and skinned his knees, a patient advocate who walked me into a clinic and got the boys screened for school when I should have had to make appointments, and the sweet housekeeping lady who has worked with us by letting Todd out of his kennel when she finishes cleaning or understands when we don't need it even though the hotel wants to have it cleaned daily. I also met a great woman who in military-wife fashion has been so helpful to offer us any help we might need. It's the small things! A Fresh market down the street, much better seafood, great lifeguards at the pool, and access to the gym to feed the one thing I do have control of.
We are filling the time with swimming when possible, having food network food challenge evenings, and are looking forward to a weekend sightseeing in Savannah and celebrating the 4th on-post.
I know that's a lot, but someone out there cares, and it gives my introverted-ness a chance to recharge as I type all that out and process it out of my head. It is my hope that we are able to spend some time refocusing during our quiet moments and seek God's desire to prepare us for a new place, same calling. To humble us of our successes before, and rely on Him and His timing as we "start again". He is such a good God, and cares for us, revealing His steps in front of us, all the while reminding us that he would not want us to worry, fail, or not feel thought of or cared for. Instead, He has anticipated our every need, provides hints of our little wants, and I feel has gifted His Spirit of peace upon our children- reminding us that the calling on our life will not harm our children and is in fact part of his plan to mature their walk as well.

Father's Day

2011-06-19T08:23:00.000-07:00

So Happy Father's Day to all of you who have created little ones, want to, or have chosen to father the fatherless. Much has been written about the importance of fatherhood. As crucial as it is to have a mother, a nurturer, a caregiver, there is something about the follow through of a father that God put great expectation on. It is a facinating role designed to influence our perspective on the heavenly father. They say that little girls strive to captivate the attention of their fathers. Although I was not one to twirl in my pretty dress in front of my father, I in a tomboy sort of way did everything I could to chase after him. Of course, I really didn't have to work that hard because I believe he chased me too. What a great picture of who God is- one who pursues us without ceasing. I remember chasing after my Dad while he jogged on my bicycle until I was old enough to run myself. And then I remember him at every track and cross country meet he could get to. Holding a stop watch, helping me with time, encouraging me to attack the hills. He was present and wanted me to work hard to be my best.
I have a great earthly father. He continues to teach me and inspire me and points me to God even when he doesn't realize it. Above all, he is a good man. He fights for what he believes in, stands up for those who can't stand themselves, and works hard. He knows what his passions are and enjoys life. Even in my adulthood, he supports me, helps me when we need it by bridging the gaps between what we know and what we have yet to learn and yet with such respect.
I have an amazing husband as well. There is truth in finding a spouse that is like your father. It was not luck or by accident that I chose to say yes to Matthew. The example of integrity my Dad walked with set an example I wasn't even completely aware of at the time when I came across my husband. God knew exactly what I needed in a man and walked with me through my childhood opening my eyes to the things he wanted me to see and remember. As I am sitting here on vacation at the beach, I have a vivid picture in my mind of my father playing in the sand with me. It is a precious picture in my mind of a present, playful, and creative man. And yet, over the past month- our family has been in transition, moving across the country for our next assignment. Matt has been so amazingly present, playful, and patient with all of us during what could have been a stressful experience. It leaves me so complete to watch him build in the sand with the boys, play with them in the water and work with them to raise them to be solid, good, men. Men with integrity, men who raise up those in need, and patient with each other.
So, Happy father's day to my Dad- you do such a great job, in a role that is quite difficult at times. Thank you for all you have done and keep doing. Thank you for teaching me so much about life and myself. I take pride in seeing each day that I am more like you than I ever thought. Thank you for pursuing me and being so patient with me.
Happy Father's Day to my husband. Thank you for being so involved in parenting our boys. You bring thoughtfullness and strategy that when paired with my discernment results in making decisions that I believe are from the Lord. A perfect example of unity and a whole picture of God's justice, grace, and goodness. I love you both!

Guilty for Stealing Joy

2011-02-23T08:58:00.000-08:00

Through waves and clouds and storms, He gently clears the way
Wait because in His time, so shall this night
Soon end in joy, soon end in joy
Soon end in joy, soon end in joy.
~ Jars of Clay, God Will Lift Up Your Head

Storms don't have to be external circumstances that make you feel out of control and feel distant from God. In fact, mine tend to all be in my head. My surrounding life and family can be running smoothly, seem just fine, but my mind is full of clouds, storms of fear, anxiety, and noise that drowns out God's voice. I am self-aware enough to know that at times this calls for a physical relase of energy, one of the reasons I run about twice a week. I usually feel compelled to do it, to clear my mind, soak in Vitamin D from the sun, and fill my ears with the methodical beats of worship aligned with my shoes pounding the trail. Other times, though, running isn't enough, it is something in my gut that can only be processed through prayer, writing and reflection. It is God's way of pounding on my heart that He misses our time and I have let life take hold of my heart instead of Him.

This week I have witnessed the effect these storms can have on my attitude, my peace, and serenity. I can't pinpoint a trigger, everything on the outside seems fine, but inside my heart has been robbed of joy. The storms on the inside are far worse than those on the outside- and I have seen the result of external damage outwardly that began from one degree off in the mind. In fact, Matt and I had a conversation this week about how the enemy doesn't tempt us (me) with immediate, extreme sinful behavior, he tempts us by distracting us from our source of peace, direction, and joy- often causing me to focus on myself, my feelings, and entitlement. I then allow it to transition to a selfish attitude resulting in grey clouds of unhappiness. Where is my joy? I left it behind.

I see more clearly now the sinful nature that so easily entangles. "For in my inner being I delight in God's law; but I see another law at work in the members of my body, waging war against the law of my mind" (Rom 7:22). I am left feeling like the dry bones scattered on the floor of the valley needing only the breath of the living YAHWEH to bring flesh and life to what is dry and lifeless. I realize now more than ever that amidst the clouds and storms of my mind, there is only one thing I can be sure of, certain of, and that "Christ [can] make his home in my heart as I trust him. My roots will grow down into God's love and keep me strong. And may I have the power to understand how wide, how long, how high, and how deep his love is." That with my effort to seek him, know him, that I will be made complete with all the fullness of life and power that comes from God. Eph 3:18-19

Once you experience the love of God, embrace His son as the source of joy, and listen to the Spirit's voice, it is evident that there is no other truth. There is no job, no book, no talk, no pill, no running trail, no end to the chaos around you that can bring back your joy but Him who created it. If I never had storms, if I was never tempted away from God, I would never have reason to choose him, I would never run to him, and never have need to thank him from delivering me from myself- for that is who I have to blame in the end. And that is my sin- I allow the storms and confusion room in my heart to rob me of joy. And I am grateful to know that- because I want joy not of my own making- because I can't make it.

After Ezekiel delivers prophesy as he is told, the bones took back the form of life, but only Yahweh could breath life back into them. This was his message to his people- "I will put my Spirit in you and you will live, and I will settle you in your own land. Then you will know that I the Lord have spoken, and I have done it."

Yahweh- I beg you to breath you life into me, restore my joy, forgive me for my sinful heart- for I make myself an idol when I shift focus from you to me. Clear the way, and in your time, end this period of night with joy. Settle me in the land you have already given me, and mark my character so that I will remember that it is you who did it all, for there is no greater truth than what you have already spoken in your Word and through the power of your son.

Little Boy Dresses as Daffney: Since the other's won't say it...

2010-11-08T10:26:00.000-08:00

Since part of studying for my GRE includes writing a response essay on a random argument given, I am taking some of my study time this morning to respond to a public argument that has got me itching to write. Since several mental health professionals are not willing to risk their career responding any different than what you have seen in the media, I will take the hit. I am an avid believer on not judging the parenting of others however, I believe in the truth from scripture and science that has backed up scripture. This is not my perspective on the origin of homosexuality nor my perspective on its right or wrongness in the world. This is on the responsibility of parenting.

Ever since a single mother from Kansas let her boy dress up as Daffney from Scooby Doo for Halloween and then blogged her frustration at other parents’ responses, the media has exploded on the topic of little boys dressing as girls. This morning on the Today Show, the mother was present along with another mother featured in People’s magazine who recently wrote a children’s book titled, “My Little Princess Boy” regarding her own journey with a now five year old who “likes to dress in beautiful things.” Sitting next to these two mothers was an expert in the mental health field that when asked his expertise answered that “when children are different, it makes everyone anxious… it’s when the child grows up and decides he doesn’t want to where boy clothing anymore- that is when it becomes a significant issue worth addressing.”

To this Kansas mother’s credit, she is not encouraging her son to dress in girl’s clothes, and I have to admit that I loved her response in her blog, “I’m not concerned that your son will grow up to be a ninja, so back off!” Halloween costumes are not depictions of what we will grow up today, otherwise I would be a movie star with a huge over curled black hair and my brother would be a bag of trash. Even though my three year old will still answer today that he will be Batman when he grows up, the question now in the media has surpassed this initial issue into now a debate on accepting our children’s desire to express themselves and not force them into gender roles. The Kansas mother also stated that she is “torn between not wanting her child to be teased, and not wanting them to feel that they have to give in to what the world expects of them.” The guest mother who wrote the children’s book on her son, stated on the Today show that after seeking mental health help for her son and herself, that she was told by professionals that “the verdict is you have a happy and healthy boy who just likes to dress up.” Her response to this verdict was to write a book on how it is okay for her son to call himself a princess boy.

Christopher Nave, a doctoral candidate at the University of California, Riverside conducted a study on personality traits. In this study, they pulled data from a 1960s study of approximately 2,400 ethnically diverse schoolchildren (grades 1 – 6) in Hawaii. Researchers compared teacher personality ratings of the students with videotaped interviews of 144 of those individuals 40 years later (you can find more specifics on this link www.livescience.com/culture/children-personality-adults-100804.html). The conclusion of this study was that the same personality traits seen in first grade were accurate descriptions of their adult tendencies. Nave stated, "This speaks to the importance of understanding personality because it does follow us wherever we go across time and contexts." Although there is evidence that some of our personality can change, they reported that the change is “not an easy undertaking”. Of course this argument could go in the other direction- that children who are born with personalities that have female tendencies are just “born that way.” That is another debate to have on another blog. I am merely stating that, as other research has shown, personality sets by age five to seven. It is from our perceptions of life, people, love, and the world at this age that we move throughout the rest of our lives trying to understand and change in order to grow into mature adult thinkers and not thinking like a five year old.

What does the world expect of us? The world expects to have some clear lines between male and female- not in so much our profession as the lines have been blurred since World War II. But the world will always see the difference between the life giving ability of a woman and the protectiveness that can only come from a man. Can a man be nurturing? Absolutely! One of the necessities for children to grow up as healthy, adjusted women and men is the father’s ability to love and cherish his son or daughter. Can a woman be protective? Need I even provide an example of the mother bear instinct? You should have seen my response when a snotty little girl called my son a “dork”- let’s just say the smoke is just now dissipating from my ears. The world also expects a certain level of social conduct- appropriate dress in the work place or school as well as in public. It is about teaching a level of professionalism and social etiquette that is necessary to making it in the world, landing and keeping a job, and even staying in school.

So what do we do? If it is true that our personalities are set by as early as age five, then we must parent knowing that what we instill (note I am not saying force) in our children their self-esteem, security in their relationships, and their view of their body. It is paramount in how they will move throughout the world. Interesting to note: The ages of 5-8 are also the ages that noticing differences between the sexes increases and is seen frequently through acting out in curiosity or asking questions. This is seen in boys a leaning in towards their fathers as they are seeing that they have similar physical features and that mommy is different. This is where they are asking questions about where babies come from, I even had my son recently ask me what my bra was when he saw it in the laundry basket. I disagree strongly (yet not completely) with the guest mother on the Today show who stated that this is the time to embrace their desire to express themselves. Should I give into my three year old’s tantrum to where his entire Batman costume to school or church? No, but wearing the cape in the car and then on the way home is a healthy compromise. More importantly, if my son wants to dress up as a princess, I’m going to ask him why and then encourage him to see the difference between Mommy and Daddy and that boys grow up to be men to protect the princess and that is quite a noble responsibility.

Let me give an example. One day at school, I was watching Aidan trying to play with a group of girls. He tried to play along, but was shunned by his prancing around in attempt to befriend them. When I called him over, the girls started squealing when a bee was flying a little too close to the group. I told Aidan to try going over their like one of the superheroes he knows and show them how he can protect them from the bee. He ran over and did exactly that. Not only did the group of girls physically open up their group, but they smiled in adoration at my son. Very quickly, his face turned to pride, bravery, and his chest immediately puffed up, securing his identity and self-esteem that he was accepted, respected, and one with the group when he took his desire to be “like them” into how he could play along side of them in a way that feels right. Aidan is my sensitive one. It is my responsibility to guide him in his understanding of himself and how he is made. If I didn’t he could very quickly confuse his gift of discernment and compassion toward identifying more with the girls who are also compassionate and less with the way his compassion is also a gift meant to protect the brokenhearted.

What we do is instruct, guide, teach- not in what the “world expects” but in how their unique character traits are meant to be used in the world. The expert on the Today Show missed a great opportunity to encourage parents in the crucial role of guiding their children in what is appropriate- not meaning acceptable. There is so much research on the effect of emasculating men and in turn the effect that has had on fathering, and in turn children growing up with little example of strong male role models and damaged self esteems that feel they are not worth protecting (i.e. a study finding that superhero play results in adult maladjusted alpha male syndrome). Psychiatrist Dr. Paul Dobransky, author of “Masculinity Code” stated, “In America today, we’re seeing a lot more boys disconnected with their own sense of masculinity, due in large part due to higher divorce rates, dad’s working longer hours - the strong father figure is often not around and that’s why the ‘geek’ has become much more mainstream.” He stated that masculinity is evolving.
(www.entertainment.gaeatimes.com/2010/09/04/alpha-male-movie-star-becoming-extinct-in-hollywood-experts-164073/.) Just as there are powerful consequences to removing the gift of the masculine characteristics of our men, there are also to any disappearance of femininity.

No parent wants her child to be teased. If I wouldn’t have been there that day for Aidan, I’m sure it would have happened. It will happen, eventually. More important for us, and this Kansas mother, is how to I respond to the things that my child is likely to be teased about. If he gets teased because his nose is too big, well that is an opportunity for instilling self-esteem and courage to be confident. If he is being teased because he is wearing his baseball uniform on Halloween, then it is my opportunity to encourage his love for the sport and in his hobby. If he is being teased for dressing like a girl, well- that is my opportunity to teach him about what is the social norm and the truth about how that is different from the male character traits throughout history and in his role model- his father. If he insists- then we will have to work through the consequences of the teasing he gets and ask if it was worth it. If he is dressing continuously in girls clothes, then I need to ask myself why he is over identifying with the other gender. Why is this any different from re-directing a child who thinks hitting, especially girls, in play is okay? If I encouraged my child to express his frustration through hitting, especially towards girls would that not blow up even bigger than this?
More harmful in my eyes is this little boy being now known for the rest of his life as “the little five year old dressed as Dafney.” If this is the age that they are noticing and learning differences in sexuality, how much more confused will they feel when they are not taught the obvious differences? Regardless on your stance- our role as Christians is to not swing to the extreme that we often get labeled for- character bashing and judging. We are wrong to swing to that degree and is in no way an example of love. My job is to love my children, teach them to love themselves, understand who they are, and move out into the world loving others with a firm understanding of what it means to be them with no confusion. Scripture is clear that confusion is not from God, but peace is. Peace within ourselves and with others. I love this Kansas mother, and even the guest mother- I know they are trying to do what is right, but I do feel that the “world’s expectations” are continuing to confuse our children and even the parents away from guidance and instruction.

If we parent loosely by letting our children express themselves however they want (hitting, dressing, not dressing, lying, inappropriate sexual curiosity, etc) with no concern or guidance in appropriateness or encouragement in being successful in this world, then we are failing our children, and the next generation. Moreso- we are failing in our job to protect, nurture, discipline with loving authority, and grow our children up with the tools to survive in the declining morale of our culture.

Alone in a valley.

2010-09-04T14:41:00.000-07:00

I am growing increasing angry with Sin. I see what it does to my friends, to my soldiers, in me and my family and I am becoming terribly disgruntled with it. I used to be tolerant of this annoyingly selfish houseguest who doesn’t clean up after itself, thinking that it could be tamed, that one day it would play nicely. But I see I am wrong. As I sit across the table from someone contemplating harming the image of God, I can almost smell the stench and hear the laughter as it impishly runs off into the night, having fully confused another poor soul.

I watch what it does to my friends, the men who could conquer mountains in combat, yet who give in to the slightest tantalizing tease of its empty promises to fill that void with whatever or whomever. I watch those grown men slide down into a pit, crying for a ladder or rope.

I’m not as overtly evangelistic a chaplain as others. We all have our different style and work within the guidelines of our command. And besides, what many think of what they hear the term “evangelism” is so far from how God successfully works that its pathetic and scary all at once. One thing I do concentrate is helping others to see how worthy and loved they are, how acceptable they are and the fullness of their potential. And it is in those moments when I feel like I am the angel on the other shoulder pleading for my friend to believe me, to see and understand the truth. To quit believing the lies.

I used to imagine having a ministry called “Rod & Staff”, so-named for the Psalm:

“and though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil,
because your rod and staff comfort me.”

Comfort. Like a shelter in a storm. Like a shared cloak on a rainy day. And I think of the patron saint of military chaplains, Saint Martin of Tours. He was at the gates of the city of Amiens with his soldiers when he met a scantily dressed beggar. He impulsively cut his own military cloak in half and shared it with the beggar. That night Martin dreamed of Jesus wearing the half-cloak he had given away. He heard Jesus say to the angels: "Here is Martin, the Roman soldier who is not baptized; he has clad me."

And suddenly I think of the Black Crowes:

When you’re lost, I am found
When you slip, I hold my ground
When I fall, please take a bow
And when you’re up just remember I am down

When you feel your heart is breaking
When all your friends are faking
When it’s giving and no taking
I will be by your side

And I myself am comforted by the simplistic beauty and life-changing gracefulness of the Good News. It merely takes me getting down from the cliff into the valley. Maybe just setting up shop as a way-point. Protecting this ground I have been charged with, and fending off the soul-robbers and truth-muggers when they get close to my friends. “So Jesus,” one man asked, “who exactly is my friend?” To which the full-God, full-Man replied, “there once was a man walking through a valley…”

Our week

2010-09-03T10:18:00.000-07:00

Well, I'd say its been a rough week. It seemed like yesterday I left my practice to come to Colorado. I felt so weak in the area of grief work, I would often refer it elsewhere. We have been here two years and Matt has done about 20 memorial services, and is doing a funeral today for a retiree. Personally I have walked in the homes of many women who have lost their loves and cried with them. Even this week we lost a chaplain and sitting their with this woman whom I call a friend, and walking with her children down the street as they grieve has been a tough one. I lost my own grandmother this past week- two instances that hit a little close to home. Death and grief seem to walk along side us lately. I look at the list of families I have worked with this past year and can't help but have a special connection with them all. You can't help someone if you can't sit in their dark places. You have to be able to sit in it, get it on you, and not try to clean it up. Its tougher than you think, tougher than I thought it would be walking into it two years ago. The thought of losing my own husband, or even my children have been thoughts too heavy to carry. But I will say, I have seen incredible strength, perseverence and hope in the eyes of some who are in their darkest day. My fear of death has actually started to lose its grip as I watch others survive it, as I watch God move. I find myself challenged and strengthened as I watch others wrestle with their fear and win, as I see them putting one foot in front of the other.
I personally, am setting new challenges for myself. I find that God is refining me, refocusing my energy and gifting. I am not sure where it is leading exactly, but I am taking new risks- trying my hand at writing for example- and looking to branch out in my own ways. I am excited to see what He wants to do with me. With fall approaching I find myself in a familiar place with new energy, creativity, and the desire to run in the crisp air of Colorado. I do my best thinking during those times, when everything feels as if it is being cleaned out. Each breath of cool air feels like it cleans out my lungs, my thoughts, and wakes up life in me. The change of the season reminds me that some things come to an end, and new things begin, that even as nature begins to whither, that it is part of the cycle and a new day arrives. Another chance to live out a dream and be my best. In the midst of seeing such sadness lately, it is always an honor to be part of their sacred moments, both in my family and within the army family and I too and challenged to put one foot in front of the other.
Please consider praying for some of the military families that lost loved ones this week, and let us not forget those who have lost in the past that feel alone now that the media storm has moved on to others. Continue to pray for us, pray for Matt as he lives out his calling encouraging families and soldiers to press on, to find God as their peacemaker. Pray for our upcoming marriage retreat that we will see some immediate healing in our families, and please pray for my discernment as I seek out new opportunities to love and encourage others. Peace...

Clarification: Who I am...

2010-08-25T13:25:00.000-07:00

Oh weary soul, that you would rest in your Creator- that you would find pure joy in nothing other than His love. Broken heart- listen to the words of your God that says that He delights in you, that He made your heart to be softened by the blows of life. Fragile mind- that you would rest in the glory of the Shakina glory only found in the presence of the Almighty- that burns into the lies that bind your faith.

We are so selfish, responding to hurt with anger, entitlement, and the ability to carry every record of wrong so long as it justifies our desire to be right. How that goes against the very essence of the God-Man, Christ. We wait to be hurt, we look and anticipate hurt so that we can agree with the lies that we are worthless, all the while the Creator stands by watching his beloved whither. We carry resentment as if it feeds us, when it only feeds us to isolate more and push away everything that is good. And yet we fear all the while being alone. Being alone has always resembled death, the bottom, the opposite of God’s intentions for us. Why do we push people away? Why do we think that we actually deserve it? When has it ever been okay to lash out and expect people to not respect our wishes to leave?

PART ONE: Clarification: Who I Am
Let me let you in. I am a caregiver. I am made to provide care, to carry intense compassion for those who hurt. I have come to realize that God had a hedge of protection around me as a child, that he molded me through my parent’s divorce. Much like I see him protecting my own children from my mistakes on parenting. I used to resent that I was a caregiver. I used to think that life circumstances forced me into it. What I now see is that He knit me in my mother’s womb to be that caregiver and He would stop at nothing to bring that out of me in love. I have given care out of co-dependence many times. Loved people at the expense of myself. I have exhausted myself in caring when I wasn’t the person He wanted to use in that situation. I learned that when I feel a burning within to care, to serve, to act- that I will be filled with lifegiving joy once obedient. I have embraced my gifts. I see them as a tool that when used correctly, God heals the broken hearted. I have found joy in what he designed in me.
That being said, I have worked my whole young life at mastering my words. I choose them carefully. I am slow to speak- something for which I get made fun of a lot. When you are slow to speak, wit does not really happen. I’m okay with that, because I can think and pray and seek wisdom while listening to a couple argue in front of me. I can take a lashing personally and still carefully choose my words. I work hard to approach life with positive and encouraging words, not because I learned how in school- but because it is who I am. I relate to others respectfully in love, not treating them as case studies, but because it is the wise way to communicate in love. Who would seek care from someone who has no hope? Who would want to be around someone who sees doom in change and life’s fragile moments? I was created to have hope. I used to secretly hope my parents would get back together, and then when they didn’t- I found hope in what life would bring instead. Matt eloquently said once, “ Sometimes, life is about taking what happened and doing something with it. You bring meaning to it all. You have that choice. It is less about why, but what am I going to do with it.” That is how I approach life. I have a choice to bring purpose and meaning behind what is around me. So I take a deployment and I allow it to make me better. I take an argument and I look for how I can be better from it- not perfect- but become better.
I speak words of kindness, hope, grace, peace, and encouragement. I bet I could encourage a storm if I thought it would bring fresh rain on a thirsty land. I was knit together this way. I have loved when I have hurt. I have sat in my own confusion and turmoil and hurt, all the while praying for the person doing me harm, giving them mercy in that they may be hurt too. I have constantly sought ways in which I have wronged someone else, knowing there is always two sides to every story and have preached to masses that “we should all keep our sides of the street clean”. I have always had the free will to be mean, lash out in anger and act like a child. I could have when I was a child- and yet it went against my very nature and I couldn’t utter the words. I am amazed and yet my heart hurts when I see meanness in people. Does he not call us to turn the cheek? Does he not call us to seek forgiveness and offer forgiveness? Did he lash out when they called for Barrabas? Did He react with entitlement and command loyalty in the midst of his anguish? It was against the fiber of His being and I imagine with access to the wrath of the ages- He still could not. He handed them over to the desires of their heart and loved them.
I get angry, I call it righteous anger. Few have seen it, but it is in response to the wounding I see in the world. In response to the deliberate hurt of others. In response to myself when I emerge from hurt seeing my own selfishness. I never said I couldn’t be selfish- but it is not in me to wound. That being said, if my efforts are rejected, I will not stay in the battle. I will not allow wounding to continue when I brought no weapon. When I bring peace. I have people to live for, things I am called to do and will not stay around those who desire to fight, until the weapons are put down.

Part Two to Follow...

Time for some Vulnerability

2010-05-30T08:42:00.000-07:00

"In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. The earth was without form, and void; and darkness was on the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters. Then God said, 'Let there be light'; and there was light. And God saw the light, that it was good; and God divided the light from the darkness."

This has always been an important verse for me. There is something about the picture of God "hovering" over the waters. It has actually become a key verse for Matt and I as we have pictured God quietly "hovering" over what often feels like the chaos of our lives. Make no mistake, we have never felt out of peace for where we are, but life sometimes throws curve balls in the form of miscommunication, unmet/uncommunicated expectations, parenting, mass casualities, illness, etc. There is something so quiet about God hovering...thinking...ready-ing himself to move...smiling at knowing that the chaos is about to take order by His voicing just a one word command. Knowing that in one Word...the darkness we may feel, what feels like chaos to us... will actually have new meaning and can turn to light.

I haven't written a blog lately because there was just too much to write about and I couldn't decide. I have felt my own chaos lately as I have felt God moving me out of "self-preservation" mode from the deployment. It has been incredibly frustrating to feel God "hovering" and ready-ing me for something, but Him remaining quiet. As I look to that verse again this morning, I happened to have the message version..."First this: God created the Heavens and the Earth- all you see, all you don't see. Earth was a soup of nothingness, a bottomless emptiness, an inky blackness. God's Spirit brooded like a bird above the watery abyss." When I looked up "brooding" I smiled at the definition as it described a protective verb as a maternal action over its young, to loom by enveloping, and finally "To be deep in thought; meditate. To focus the attention on a subject persistently"

Oh what joy fills my soul in the midst of waiting on him that in His waiting on His movement in my life, He is meditating on His love for me and all of us persistently. He has not forgotten you. He has not forgotten your pain, your darkness, your suffering, your hurt. He has not forgotten about your chaos. He does not sit back and watch you try to make sense of the murky waters of your circumstances. He acutally is there, whether you feel him or not, whether you even care to recognize that He is there for you. He is waiting, meditating, protecting what will be His creation. Yes, all he has to do is speak... and that is the hardest part for us... making us crazy... knowing that if He would just command it, all order could happen. But He chooses for just the right moment to speak "Light!". Sometimes waiting on us, sometimes waiting on others, sometimes waiting on time. Why? And yet His spoken word that brings hope of purpose to our existence is the same words that describes Jesus in John 1, referring to him as the Life-Light. Again from the Message, "Everything was created through him; nothing- not one thing!- came into being without him. What came into existence was Life, and the Life was Light to live by. The Life-Light blazed out of the darkness; the darkness couldn't put it out."

If I could sum up the deployment and what I learned from it, it was that God was in every moment of it with me. As long as I looked to Him, followed Him as best as I could, listened to wisdom around me and within me, and remembered the "truth", He was part of everything I went through. He "brooded" over me as I waded through chaos at times, knowing the joy He would see in me each time He created order from it. Oh! How I am thankful to not be God! I could not sit back and watch the agony of those in the murky waters, unable to feel the brooding love of God above them. The agony I, myself, would feel knowing that they don't know that help and hope is there. My friends, you cannot miss the presence, nor his purpose for you as long as you look to Him and trust Him.

In anticipation of the deployment, I wrote about feeling my own chaos, feeling him hover over me, as if still. I look back and realize that I felt he was still, but He was not. He was moving, He was protecting, He was meditating. He was planning (and still is) to bring light into the chaos. He was preparing to use His son Jesus in my own life to bring new Life, new understanding of who he is, to birth a new me- a stronger, more faithful me. To start to believe in myself, believe in who he was regardless of how alone I felt or how tired I would become. He is not still when he is quiet my friends.

Matt and I have faced much spiritual warfare since his return. This was not unexpected. The enemy would love nothing more than to continue the feeling of separation that has been there for the past year. Confusion in our communication as if speaking different languages, trying to communicate through chaotic dailogue not knowing what each other is talking about or even how we got there in the discussion. The temptation of believing lies- "Does she still need me?" "Can he understand where I have been"- through the fatigue. The attacks have been brutal, the most I have felt... there were moments where the whispers of hurt and insecurity were shocking and I'm sure Matt felt the same. When scripture describes the enemy as that which wants to "devour"- I believe I have felt that. Honestly, the only thing that has gotten us through have been calling it out for what it is and not giving it more power than it already had. Pointing out the truth of our relationship, who God is, and His desire to bring order to what we have experienced both seperately and together. When Matt first arrived, we sat over coffee and dreamed together. I was surprised at how God had actually been moving us in the same direction, with similar vision, yet on two different paths of experience. How my faith grew in that moment. That is truth. He was working all along, brooding, meditating on how to care for us during the last year.

And so, I end with this as I prepare to drive home from my personal retreat of solitude...

Thank you friends, for your prayers and support during our first deployment. I could describe it as easy and yet the hardest thing I have ever done. Thank you for your kind words throughout. We are indeed changed from it, but only as God desired. We look forward to what we can do with it all when He desires- after all, no pain, no sorrow, no happiness or reward is complete until God uses it to reveal Himself in it all. May His amazing love brood over you, and may you feel His hands get dirty in the murky waters of your life as well.

I Didn't See THAT coming...

2010-04-03T00:22:00.000-07:00

I am convinced that there is no greater hurt that we can feel or incur, than that of disappointed expectations. I see it in my own personal life, in the lives of married soldiers and spouses that I counsel, and in my own family. Corie and I would be the first to confess that much of the woundedness within our first few years of marriage was centered on irrational or unmet expectations. The really crappy thing about it all is, is that there really is no one to blame, and we are people built on deciding guilt and innocence. So the main way that we deal with hurt, by directing our pain towards the object which hurt us, is often misunderstood and goes unfulfilled, which leaves us sitting around lost in the sauce, wondering what to do next.

Predictability. As we grow older we love it, we cling to it even though the majority of our life experiences contradicts it as a reality. Psychics feed off of this insecurity in some people, and others just choose to live less risky lives in hopes to control as many variables as possible, thereby seeming to reduce the chance that their expectations will be dashed on the rocks of dispair.

Then there is the tragedy, in whatever shape or form it comes, it always comes. It's a unexpected bill or fee, it's a disease or injury, it's a betrayal, it's a death. It sounds irrational, but even in war we are taken aback by death, surprised by it. Maybe we become complacent and we go through so much contact without casualty that we forget how quickly life can be taken or irrevocably changed, and it quickens our pulse and fills our stomach with rocks. Truthfully, I expected to return the favor at the ball this year and buy J.Breeze a shot of whiskey. Truthfully, I planned on Tyler beginning to play guitar for worship in chapel on Sundays. It took less than a week to dash those dreams and expectations. And like a shattered glass, as I stood there looking at my expectations in pieces, I was reminded how quickly things can change and how truly out of control we are over many things. Control is an illusion.

In the movie "Instinct", Anthony Hopkins places Cuba Gooding Jr. in a headlock and asks him three times what he was taken from him. Gooding scribbles on a sheet of paper the word "control"

Hopkins: Wrong, you never had control, you only thought you had it, an illusion.
And what do you control for sure, huh?
The volume on your stereo, the air conditioning in your car?
What else?
Another chance. You were nervous.
Too much pressure. Try again.
What have you lost?
What did l take?
Write it. Write it!

Gooding scribbles "Freedom"

Hopkins: Did you think you were free ?
Where were you going at today? into the gym, right?
in the morning, your wake-up call.
in the middle of the night when you wake up sweating, with your heart pounding.
What is it that has you all tied up, Juha, tied up in little knots ?
Is it ambition ?
Yeah. You're no mystery to me, boy. l used to be you.
Okay. One last chance.
You think l won't do it ?
[ Chuckles ] What's one psychiatrist less to the world ?
I'm already deep in the pit. So what can they do to me ?
Last try. Get it right.
What have you lost? What did l take from you ?
Write it.

Gooding scribbles "my Illusions."

Hopkins:
Yeah. Congratulations.
You're a student, after all.
And you've lost nothing
but your illusions...
and a little bit of skin.

And really isn't that the story of Easter, also. Here we take our expectations to God, thinking that we are in control, and that we are the masters of our fate and destiny. Even the invitation to salvation has become a means of enticing people with control over their destiny, their ability to control whether they go to Heaven or Hell. We have simplified it down to the illusion of control, our means of making an agreement with God, creating a more predictable future.

And we use tithing to sell the illusion, also. Give money, get a blessing. The greatest "if, then" lie we sell. I know people who ahve tithed religiously and died of cancer. I know people who have given their lives "metaphorically" to God and had their lives taken from them by radical pagans. The "if, then" doesn't always seem to pan out does it?

And how disappointed were the disciples on Good Friday? How much of their expecations were dashed on the rocks of dispair?

I imagine how oppresive it must have been to Christ to live his life in reactions to others' expectations of him, the gospels are riddled with stories of it.

"Be this kind of Messiah."

"Do these miracles."

"Put up with my non-belief."

"Set down your morals, or ignore what your gut tells you the right thing to do is."

"Quit making a scene and disturbing the peace."

And in the end the greatest scandal of it all is that we learned that we have absolutely not control over God whatsoever. He is in control and the greatest peace in life that we can have is accepting that. Quit rowing against the current, pull the oars inside, and open yourself up to where he wants to guide the ship.

In this Easter, as we recieve forgiveness for the awfulness which lives in us in direct rebellion to God, let us practice forgiveness towards one another for disappointing each other. I admit that I fail. I don't live up to everyone's expectations. I wish I could because nothing makes me happier than making others happy, but sometimes I get selfish, so please just forgive the sin in me.

And I will try to understand the expecations that have been put on me, and gracefully deal with them. I cannot meet them all, and some I am not required to. I find that many of the expectations I place on others to fill my needs are ones that only God was meant to fill, those I must rightly take to him. I have never promised to give peace to anyone, but I know One who has. We can rightly expect that of God which he has promised to give or be, and most times we forget that.

God rescued the world in the most unexpected manner, and that reality should shape how we view his interaction and movement in the world. He is unexpected, and rather than live in fear of the unpredictable, it should be a very comforting thought that "No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has concieved the plans" the Lord has for you and me.

Sustain me...

2010-03-05T09:39:00.001-08:00

I haven't written for a while. Honestly...I have been tired, going through the motions, only driven to do what I have to do to complete my day. I think probably the worst feeling in the world is not feeling in control of yourself. I have had so many moments during my week where I have merely survived moment to moment just to keep from losing my temper or bursting into tears. While mostly hormonal (damn those hormones) it has never been acceptable to me to lash out towards anyone that I love merely because I can't find the strength to contain it. The look in my son's eyes this morning as I snapped at him for not doing what I asked (even though I had asked him three or four times) was a look that no parent wants to see. Even though it wasn't catostrophic...In that one selfish moment, I told him that he could do something that would be responsible for me losing control of myself. I don't know exactly why I woke up the way I did this morning. Was it because I hadn't allowed myself enough time to get my coffee before the rush of demands from my children? Was it because I hadn't set my heart right with God and therefore began without purpose? Was it fatigue of the deployment? I am sure there are more reasons I could think of, but when it came down to it, I just wanted to be focused on myself.
Lately, God has not allowed me to do that. I have asked him several times to meet a need for me, to fill me when I am drained, or that I needed a word from Him, only to have his response be to "get outside myself" for someone else. I have to admit it made me pretty mad the first few times. Everytime I have wanted to feel sorry for myself, He very quickly reminds me that it is not about me and that there is far more pain in the world to think about. Even this morning, I was in tears at just how done I am with the deployment. I am so close to the finish line. Bitterness began to creep in. Where was my discipline, my peace, my drive that I began with almost a year ago? Surely I can't end on this kind of note. What happened to me getting up at 5:30am to spend time with God? Tears of frustration and shame as I looked back on my moment with Aidan. Even though I sat down with him and asked for forgiveness, claiming that his actions did not deserve my response. I had to ask forgiveness from God for treating his child so irresponsibly, so coldly. You may say it was nothing, that I should give myself a break. However, that is one thing that I cannot give myself room for. Mistakes: yes, and example of humility and conviction: yes, but I will never allow it to be okay to be an example of selfish, reactive, and misdirected emotions- left for a child to sort out what part of who they are warranted such a response.

And in my moments of self-centered, hormonal, mess- God reminded me of the several people I know who have gone through some kind of loss this week. Others who are in emotional pain, psychological pain. People who need comfort as their heart rips from their chest, wondering if God is even there. There are people who are questioning if they have what it takes to make it through their day (much like I have felt) and yet do not get relief at all regardless of a husband coming home at the end of the day, medication, or forgiveness that is available to them.

It felt good to step outside of myself. It felt good to remember that God "will never, never, never let the righteous fall." "Cast all your cares on the Lord, He will sustain you... He will sustain you." You are not forgotten, I am not forgotten, my son is not forgotten. My prayer is that his heart accepted my humility, and that God will sustain him through the day, will show him that he is more than his accomplishments, or how happy he makes his teacher today. That God will love on him despite his Dad being away to hold him. That God will move through someone else at school and affirm his character. That God will give me the words that his soul needs not just today, but each day. He is worth far more, deserves more, and is loved because he was created with purpose, compassion, and made exactly the way God wanted him to be made.

2010-02-17T05:10:00.000-08:00

What do you get when you cross a hippie and a cop? Me.

Yeah, I wish there was a better punch-line, but as I am living this life
and trying to understand "me" more, I seem caught between the Scylla and
Charybdis of mercy and justice, but not as polarized as one might think.
Maybe I'm thinking this way because I have been listening to my new
"protest playlist." A touch of Buffalo Springfield, and sprinkling of
Neil Young and Bob Dylan, simmered with James Corbin and Bob Marley.
Yeah, feeling that hippie side today.

It's been a good day, even with as incredibly tired as I am. As Austin
Powers would put it, "I am spent." I am tap-dancing in the small puddle
at the bottom of a well I have been tapping for energy and compassion. I
know it's there and it won't run dry, though. And it's the little things
that add to it, like this morning when I heard a boisterous cheer
emanate from the chapel where, unlocking the door, I found all of our
Latvian brothers cheering for their team as they struggled defiantly
against the Russian hockey giant. Awesome. And in that cross-cultural
moment, I cheered sincerely for another country, as my friends, my
brothers cheered for their compatriots. And I saw that we are all just
human, men and women who want peace, resolution and to live happy lives.
And it energized me.

And later I smiled and waved in acknowledgement of the interpreters'
call of "Mullah!" across the FOB. It is their term for their Islamic
religious leader in Afghanistan, comparable to Imam in Iraq. And I
remember how the beginning of this journey started out on OP Mustang or
at COP Keating, when they sought to have chai with me and ask me
questions of God, knowing full well that I represented Christianity, and
we smiled and laughed and talked about how marriage is very similar
throughout the world, and how we all truly believe that He wants us to
live in peace with one another. And in those memories I can relate to
the pain they feel for having radicals hijack their beliefs for their
own means and ends, and televangelists and jihadists don't look
altogether too different.

And so here I am typing away, wishing I could pour the flood of feelings
and thoughts out on to paper so that as you all wake up this morning;
you know exactly where I am at. I find myself having to distract myself
before falling asleep at night sometimes, because I can still see the
blank stares of my friends before we processed them onto the HLZ for
their last flight home. And then I think about how much I want to hold
the little hands of my boys, and cry into the nape of my wife's neck
like an infant begging for consolation, and what this Independence Day
will actually mean for me. And I wouldn't trade any of it, because I am
so changed for the better, so alive to the world, so awake to its pain
and pleasure. And for the first time in two decades of hearing Dylan's
"A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall," I understand every word, and term and
feeling. And the gospel seems palpably real and pertinent and true and
meaningful and necessary. Where hunger is ugly and the souls are
forgotten, and I'll tell it, and speak it, and think it and breathe it,
and reflect from the mountain so all souls can see, and I'll know my
song well before I start singing. And I wonder, when I look my mother
and father in the eyes, will they think, "what did you see my blue-eyed
son, and where have you been, my darling young one?"

2010-01-17T23:41:00.000-08:00

Te-na-cious: Etymology: Latin tenac-, tenax tending to hold fast, from tenēre to hold. 1 a : not easily pulled apart : cohesive. b : tending to adhere or cling especially to another substance. 2 a : persistent in maintaining, adhering to, or seeking something valued or desired.

I think as we all grow older we have these “theories of life” that we formulate, which may or may not have anything to do with fully explaining the reality of the situation, but just simply helps us to compartmentalize information. Being somewhat obsessive about semantics, I began to distinguish between a few words that are probably used enough to lose the nuance that I have come to assign to them. It began while reading the headlines of some of the latest female fitness magazines that folks have sent forward from the states. It seems like each issue had a quick, ten-step process to fixing those troubles spots and getting a “beach-ready body” in just a few weeks. I contrasted that with how men’s magazine’s present the idea of health and fitness. Not once did I notice that they purport a quick or easy fix, rather they seem to cater to the innate desire of a man to sacrifice and push himself, to enjoy the aches and pains as if some badge of intensity. Something that any one of my gym-frequenting friends can identify with.

And then I started hearing folks in the chow hall, while sitting there with plates full of French fries and hamburgers and whatnot, drinking a Dr. Pepper and finishing it off with an ice cream. They talked about how they really wanted to be in shape and even talked some of the lingo, but they really, deep-down didn’t have any sort of commitment to a lifelong lifestyle change. I call these people, “preferrers.” They prefer to be in shape, but they don’t really want it. It’s kind of like playing the game “would you rather.” Of course, if one were to nicknames these folks in the south, they’d be called “druthers.” Which oddly enough passes Microsoft’s spell check. Maybe that should be the real title. These are the kind of folks who will watch whatever they turned the TV on to because they can’t find the remote. They see other peoples’ lives and envy them, but never feel the desire to get it for themselves.

And then you have your “wanters.” They want it and so they exercise a little bit more towards whatever goal that they have. They “want” all day long and probably put forth about 70% towards the goal, but don’t get tougher when the going gets tough. They see people with desire and motivation and would rather spend time complementing them than developing it within themselves. There is always a reason why they didn’t finish. They did their best.

And then you have those who feel a deep-seated desire. Who when they look into a mirror are drawn to the intensity in their own eyes. They make themselves feel bad for ever imagining an excuse, because in their mind that is all they will be. They epitomize tenacity and drive, and love when the odds are stacked against them. The only way to push them harder than they normally push themselves is to tell them that they cannot do something. Yes, this is also their downfall in that they are not always prudent, initially, but as they develop they learn to circumvent things like pain and sleeplessness. This, to me, is the foundational substance of being a soldier.

I am in BAF attempting to get a passport, arriving at the office at 1510, only to learn that the passport office closes at 1400. Yes, I know, how can that be? The SPC who works there only does so Mon-Sat 0800-1400, a 36-hour work week. Fascinating to all of us. Sparing you the details of the tumultuous encounters, suffice to say that time and again I received a “can’t do that” attitude. I would classify her not as a soldier, but as someone wearing a uniform. The soldiers I serve with in 3-61CAV are make it happen kind of soldiers. They scrounge and scrimp and trade. They make calls and call in favors and stay up late until the mission is complete. The first part of the Warrior Creed, “the mission always comes first.” I realize that this isn’t just about making the mission happen, but it instills an attitude of “make it happen,” and “fix the problem.” You never tell a soldier HOW to do something, you just tell him TO DO something and then sit back and watch how he makes it happen. The true soldier doesn’t take “no” for an answer, but finds a way to accomplish it, and usually does it impressed by their own ingenuity.

Coach Carlisle called it “intestinal fortitude.” You reach down and find some gumption from somewhere and finish strong. You enjoy the last mile. Which brings me to Dave.

So Dave and I ran a marathon in Chicago in 2003. Great times training together even though we did that in two separate states only running one training run together in Charleston, SC. I don’t recommend running on cobblestones streets. At the last mile of the marathon, Dave became so overcome with emotion that he started sprinting, like full-out-yes-he-used-to-run-track sprinting. And I started to follow. He exhibited what coaches talk about all the time, “leaving it on the field.” I remember it because I was ejecting some gel packets from my pockets as fast as possible because they started clapping against my legs and annoying the hell outta me. Dave was so focused on the finish line, he didn’t pay attention to the pain in his legs that he pushed through in the 5 month train-up and the lack of glycogen in his body. He pushed on with sheer “desire.” And it is to those people for who the victory is sweetest. They realize that victory is not won over another opponent, but in beating your own personal best, and becoming a better person than you were the hour, the day or week you were before.

I encourage you to take a moment to gauge your contentedness in life. Are you pushing forward in something you don’t truly desire, wasting your energy on something that will not pay back in return? Are you neglecting something you tenaciously desire, treating it as a want or worse yet, a “druther.” What, at the end of this week, this month, will you have wished you poured more of yourself into? Seize each and every moment, enjoy it and savor it. You have the chance to experience victory hundreds of times each day. Why wait?

Damn It.

2010-01-11T21:57:00.000-08:00

I thought we had come a long way, baby. I thought we had been making some progress as followers of Christ. I really thought that we, soon, might be getting real with ourselves and the world and be able to put away all of the falseness and pretension that everyone so easily sees through. But I was wrong.

So I go to pick up mail Sunday morning, only to find an unsolicited box from “Inspired Media Entertainment.” Maybe it was a new movie, or something useful. To my great dismay, shock and chagrin, I found it to contain two video games (three copies each). One a seemingly harmless puzzle game which routinely recites Bible verses for you as you pass each level. And the other, a shocking testimony to how far Christians will stoop to attempt to scare or coerce people into belief in Christ. No less offensive to my spiritual sensibilities than the ever-popular “Hell-House” idea which is supposed to be a ‘positive’ replacement to harmless trick-or-treating. What’s worse, my son dressing up as Indiana Jones and eating candy, or him being conscripted by his local church to play a demon or the devil in a continual masquerade of malevolence? But I digress.

So there’s this game, right, called “Left Behind: Tribulation Forces” based on the very popular book series “Left Behind” by Tim LaHaye and Jerry B. Jenkins. If you have run in ANY Christian circle in the past decade, you no doubt are at least familiar with the existence of this multi-volume set which seems bent more towards rolling in the franchise money than actually espousing edifying theology. My wife and I listened to the audiotapes as we drove from GA to TX to attend our first year in seminary. And even back then, with only a BA in Religious Education, I could decipher some screwed up theology and see the bullshit to know that it was just a capitalization on fear, masked in an attempt to reach out lovingly to individuals who don’t know Christ. A big “hey, here’s what the world is going to look like at the end, wouldn’t you rather be ‘raptured up’ to avoid it, than have to live through it?” Side note: I actually like that Microsoft doesn’t recognize the word “raptured.”
Anyways. So I sit here, looking at the back of the video game cover, disgusted:
“The Armies of the Antichrist grow stronger! Combat the antichrist’s forces on two battle fronts – physical and spiritual warfare: Use the power of prayer and worship to resist the spiritual influences and defend against their physical attacks using modern military weapons.”

Awesome. Somebody actually wrote that as an accurate description of the game, and had absolutely no problem with everything included in it. I find it unfathomable that this is where we are as followers of Christ. This is the public image that popular Christianity is putting out. And unless you think that this is some spurious, underground media conglomerate meant to usurp the positive image from Christianity, remember that this is being sold in mainstream Christian bookstores and Focus on the Family’s Breakthrough magazine reviews it as “worth your time & money.” (review quoted on video game cover).

Tim LaHaye (no doubt profiting WELL from his eschatological franchise) believes “this could be the greatest invention of my lifetime to reach the hearts and minds of this generation.” No shit. He actually believes the veracity of that statement. I couldn’t utter it without wanting to jam a dull spoon through my ear.
I am reminded of one of my favorite songs from Jesus Christ Superstar, appropriately sung to Jesus by Judas. “Now why'd you choose such a backward time and such a strange land? If you'd come today you could have reached the whole nation, Israel in 4 BC had no mass communication”

I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that God did not intend to reach people through video games. Because he clearly outlines it in scripture that it will be through people that the world will be reached and blessed, awakened to the reality of spirituality in their lives. John details that it is through our love for one another that they will know us. And here on my desk (soon to be in the burnpit) is a copout, and not just that but something that flies directly in the face of things Jesus said! Of course, I am not going to pollute my personal computer with this game to see if it offers a “turn the other check” option. Wouldn’t be very popular with the crowd who really wants to get into using “modern military weaponry” and commanding “an all new faction – the American Militia Forces!” Which might be cool, because by looking at the pictures, you do get to target evil-looking things that have tails, and floating wraiths and minotaurs. What? WTF?!? Minotaurs? I never read about minotaurs in scripture? I am almost positive those exist in other mythologies, but not Christianity. But, I concede, in order to increase marketability, you might have to diverge from the truth just a little.

My favorite option is that you can choose which side you want to play. Yes, as a tool for reaching out to this generation’s youth, it apparently gives you the option to play under the command of Satan, in support of the rise of the antichrist. And through all of this wonderful and edifying gameplay, you “witness Angelic appearances and Demonic battles as a direct result of your choices.” Personally, I have seen demonically possessed and oppressed people. It is not something I would want my sons to see either in real life or portrayed in a video game. And I am forced to contemplate, to what end is ANY of this good for me? Is prayer and worship supposed to be used as a weapon? Wouldn’t it better if instead of playing this ridiculous game I actually WAS praying and worshipping?

Lastly, and this really really pisses me off, is that Focus on the Family endorses this game as worth your money. I hope that they get their hands on this little ditty I have composed for consideration. On their website, they have a wonderfully readable and true article about the use of operant conditioning in video games for teaching teens how to lessen their normal social reticence to kill, as detailed in Dave Grossman’s book, On Killing: the Psychological Cost of Learning to Kill in War and Society. As an army chaplain currently deployed in the some of the most hostile and austere regions of Afghanistan, I can attest to the veracity of everything that Grossman writes. Focus on the Family states, “The solution, it would appear, is obvious. But as much as parents may wish to ban violent media, it’s not going to happen. We can, however, prevent impressionable children from consuming it.” This article first appeared in the July 2006 issue of Plugged In Magazine. One short year later, this video game out, labeled expressly as content appropriate for Teens. And FoF endorses it as worth my money.

Unfortunately, I am not shocked. The church keeps decrying how destructive postmodern relativism is for society. How we all need to have standards that don’t fall or waiver. How we need to stand up for things that are right and true. It just appears that when selling “X” number of units, those rules really don’t apply.

And on top of it all, I want to make it abundantly clear that this is what makes my job so difficult. Here I am trying to mend the broken lives of people who have become so disillusioned with popular Christianity, that they have thrown the baby out with the bathwater and are rejecting God as well. I just showed the game to a very dear Atheist friend of mine, who grew up in the Bible belt. He laughed as he poured himself some coffee (that he regularly comes to talk politics and religion over) and attested that this represents why he doesn’t believe anymore. I find his argument as good as any, especially being that he succeeds well in a vocation which thrives on truth, honesty, and integrity. He, like most soldiers, can spot bullshit a mile away.

Christmas Post from Matt

2009-12-22T13:09:00.000-08:00

I am sitting here in the office enjoying my Aunt Kathy’s delicious Christmas delicacy, sausage balls. As I was walking around the FOB sharing them (because they really are a wondrous concoction of cheese, sausage and some flour-like substance holding that healthy goodness together) I was amazed how many folks had never encountered them before, and how many were pleasantly surprised at the magnificent tasty treat. Much like I may have responded with an immediate addiction to Chai the first time I sampled it in India. I won’t digress on that topic, save to say that I even correct the people at Starbucks that I “Chai Tea Latte” is really just chai, or milk chai as those who INVENTED it call it. And I also correct them on the terminology for small-medium-large, but now I am digressing.
So SGT Rackley walks into the office that we all informally share with a bundt fruitcake. Not your store-bought, shelf-preserved fruit cake. No. One that someone lovingly bought embalmed and unnaturally-colored cherries to make. I could both hug and punch him, because this is definitely going to ruin my healthy eating this week. Yes, I love fruitcake so much that I don’t have the will power to resist it and I don’t care who knows. Give me your tired, your poor…your fruitcakes. Sounds like a motto for the nut house, eh?
Sharing.
Our combat Stress doc who comes out to help our soldiers was in a medical conference in Jalalabad last week and they asked him why Americans struggle with depression when they have everything they could ever imagine. And that is a straight indictment coming from folks who live as though it was the 14th century, and hope some stray bullet or IED doesn’t take them out on the way to the market that week.
And he responded by saying that Afghans are so busy working on just keeping alive and sustaining their needs that questions of happiness usually don’t come up in their waking life. When you are just trying to survive, you don’t think about self-actualization and ask esoteric questions like “who am I” and “why am I here.” It’s a little theory espoused by a psychologist named Abraham Maslow. Life on the bottom rung of the ladder can get tedious, but it is quite simple.
Sharing.
And we just came back from Pirtle-King where we barged into all the barracks and handed out stockings filled with all the goodies that folks back home have shared with soldiers they will never know by name. And they laughed and smiled and shared the various and sundry fillings of their stockings, and traded amongst themselves when the saw their buddy pull out one of their favorite things from their stocking. And they were happy. And they poured out the contents into shared boxes in the room where everyone could come by and pick out candy or snacks whenever they wanted.
Sharing.
And today we unpacked about 70 boxes in the FreeX, the result of being overly inundated with gifts from back home, and soldiers were able to pick out their favorite deodorant and food. And they found free socks and cards and books and magazines, and soon they will be able to check DVDs out from the FreeX just like you would at Blockbuster, and spend some time laughing at Will Ferrell in Old School or Elf, or relive the awesomeness of Red Dawn, or quote along with Boondock Saints.
Sharing.
And in a few days, we will remember through ritual the manner in which God decided to share in our sufferings on this earth, and rather than stand back and remain comfortable, chose the form of a servant, stepping down from his throne without losing any of his kingly power and authority, and he walked alongside us. He was tired and experienced pain and grief and loss and death. He saw us mistreat one another and submitted himself to death based on a deep betrayal. He made friends and lost friends. He healed people who turned away and took him for granted. And yet chose to share. And from the stereo speakers I have to agree with David Crowder, Oh, how he loves us so.
Sharing.
I love that soldiers share, they share in the cold, sleepless nights of being on guard and will go keep their brothers company when it isn’t even their shift and they could be sleeping. And they all jump in to help with details like filling sandbags or cleaning something when they see their brother sweating and struggling, because there is something in them that will not let them watch their brother bear the burden alone. I wish that it were a characteristic of all humanity, it just isn’t, but that isn’t to say that it isn’t the way God intended it to be.
Sharing.
God speaks through his prophets time and again of sharing the burdens of homeless and widows and orphans and hurt and abandoned and aliens and oppressed and poor and all those people we build our gated communities to keep out. And deep in my heart I cry out, how can we continue to choose to live this way and still believe that we can identify with God, because if we live without loving all of those people there is no way he can identify with us, because that is not the life and path that he chose. And he loves us, oh how he loves us.
Finally, there’s this image of heaven and hell I heard a preacher talk about once. This guy dies and Saint Peter wants to show him what he missed out on by not going to hell, so they take an elevator ride down to hell and when the doors open, there is this huge spread of food out on the table, Beautiful, gorgeous plates of whatever food you could want. And he is shocked because he can’t imagine that something so nice would be in Hell, right? But when the people start emerging from the darkness to sit down, he notices that all of their arms are tied to boards so they cannot bend them and feed themselves, and what was once a table of decadent satisfaction becomes a torturous unreachable temptation.
And the elevator door closes and they go back up to heaven and when it reopens, he sees the same scene, exact same table, and people emerging from the clouds with boards strapped to their arms in the same restrictive manner. He looks at Saint Peter, confused. And Peter, sensing that inquisitive stare replies, “Just wait.” And the people sit down, and rather than strain unsuccessfully to feed themselves, they begin feeding one another.
That fruit cake is amazing, and helped to make my Christmas season that much better, and fulfilling. And tomorrow when we fill up some more stockings, I hope that will make some soldiers’ Christmas that much better. Because none of us is as strong as all of us. Because when we care more about one another’s needs being filled and the happiness of one another, we get out of our own skin, and perhaps we love our brother as we love ourselves, and maybe, just maybe, we finally get it.

Looking Back While Looking Forward

2009-11-03T13:11:00.000-08:00

God has been moving in me during my study of Esther. In my study individually and during the lessons, I have been challenged in my feelings towards myself, our recent change of lifestyle, and my view on God’s movement in our lives. I was first encouraged in my finding scripture in Psalms that “men may cast the lot into their laps, but every decision is from the Lord.” It taught me that God is in the little decisions and especially the major ones. Boy I had no idea that one revelation was going to unfold in my understanding of God’s design in such bigger ways. Many books of the Bible teach me about Him, history, and people groups, but this one has been more personal. I believe God is beginning to hint at answering some questions we have had for a long time and hinging our story towards a new direction, when we didn’t even notice it was happening.
Our last experience has been a lot like hurtful relationship experiences in the past. It was a hurtful experience on rejection and confusion where God was all over it, and yet, it didn’t make any sense at all. You can get stuck in experiences like that when you focus on the answers rather than the seemingly providence of God, and faith it absolutely requires from you to survive it and hope to be healthy. You find yourself questioning why you did everything right, and still it went all wrong. You wonder if there will be justice and as much as you hate it, the only thought of justice that makes sense is seeing everything fall apart for the other side, just so you can feel your worth to God, and then it would make sense that it just was something wrong with them and it needed to be fixed. Our pride creeps in as we say to ourselves, we were too good for that situation, for them. We did everything right and they should have wanted us. We walked with integrity, we represented God and hopefully His goodness- they rejected it. And yet, God does nothing, and years go by and their life continues, even blessed perhaps, and we are left still with our confusion, frustration, and agony of surely something would have happened by now- we left, shouldn’t it have fallen apart?
Esther, I am finding is brilliantly written, I am not sure why I would have second guessed the breath of God, but it is beautiful in literacy as well as timing. The characters are rich, fascinating, and so close to humanity’s struggle, I find myself written in the pages. I can’t unpack it all here, but it is full of hurt, anger, history, unanswered prayers, and God hidden throughout the timeline- with no mention of Him throughout. What I have started to discover is that my/our need for approval (be it from God or men) was so easily wrapped up in the moment that only a movement of God or justice or answers could have given us that approval. It has been so hard to see the theme that God is and has been creating in our life, the story, bringing our own life to a point of peripety- “a sudden turn of events that reverses the expected or intended outcome”. Commonly used as a literary term, we often don’t see or realize when it might be happening to us, until we are away from it long enough or start to see the scenery changing. Looking back on our marriage, it felt at times in the beginning that we were just trying to get through the month. Landing a job here or there, paying bills, trying to finish school for who knows what reason, having no clue what we could even do with it. Looking back we start to see themes, carefully orchestrated events that happened for our purpose, for kingdom purpose. A simple job waiting tables was necessary to show us that the world was looking for transparent people of God, that people were more open to wanting God when they saw a real impact daily. A wound caused by humanity in ministry was necessary to show us that we are human too, that hurt can happen so easily, so accidentally, and that healing can come in time- accountability for us to take forward, but also a preparation for seeing hurt in the future.
And yet, I believe that we have just hit our peripety. Our sudden turn of events into the military reversed what we expected, what we thought would be our intended outcome. Instead of continuing in the church, instead of someone saying, “You know, you’re right!” or “Look at this integrity, look at what can be done with this talent”, instead of seeing everything fall apart in our timing- we were instead picked up, shifted, and put on a completely different path. Although confusing, frustrating, interrupted- a reversal of destiny began to unfold in our life. The timing is so intricate and yet still unfolding. This was bigger than relationship heartbreak, it was a paradigm shift. It was, after all, not about what we expected, it was never in our spirit to see anything fall apart, but instead for there to be purpose behind even the smallest point of suffering. This, was where many things in God’s timing aligned and his purpose was to begin unfolding. We will look back on this and see where this is where our destiny started to unfold, this is where all that we thought could happen, was nothing in comparison to what God wanted to happen. It is part of our narrative. It is the structure of our story, the themes that will continue, the beauty of a life that God created starting from a little girl who felt overlooked and a little boy who was told he couldn’t run. How amazing to see that girl grow a passion for looking into others, and a boy who runs for the kingdom. How beautifully woven to see a man who perseveres with ease in his love for others paired with a woman who sees with ease into life, not crippled in fear of being useful or blind to the purpose of suffering. There is new scenery to come; there are answers that will come in time. Until then, all things are intended for good, even our confusion. The territory given will become fruitful as long as we see with kingdom perspective. It is not about us, it is about all that He intends to do. Suffering and confusion will be replaced with joyful tears in his amazing imprint on our lives. Our need for answers to “why not me?” and “what are you doing?” will become, “because of you, I did”. Finally, when we look back, we will smile at our anxiety in the moment, retell the story of His goodness, then embrace our children to say “Take heart- for the Great High Priest is indeed with us.”

Frantic

2009-10-19T05:25:00.000-07:00

My heart has felt so unsettled. Life has taken over and has taken me with it...
And I asked him... "Lord, my heart feels so frantic, it won't slow (as with the state of my days). Send your hands to still my heart, thus stilling my mind."
And I saw a picture of His hands, masculine, worked, but comforting penetrating my chest in a ghostly movement, embracing my heart.
And I heard, "Be still, for the Lord your God is one (there is no other). Peace be with you. The Lord your God is good. The Great High Priest is with you." And my heart began to slow and my breath aligned with its beating. As I focused on the hands that surrounded it I became peaceful. My heart rested in the hands of its maker...and I was home

As I studied the Word. I realized that I am common, fully loved, fully expected for greatness, but made of what is common. Clay, easily broken. Yet the darkness of my heart has been replaced with light. There is a difference when before you are unsure of who he is and then now you welcome his hands to penetrate you. "Let light shine in the darkness, made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ." 2Corinthians 4:6

Knowledge of his goodness, knowing that even I have no control over my own heart. Yet my maker always does. He commands the light to come forth and in a breath it is there, in the beginning, but instantly in my soul whenever I seek it.

"So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but what was unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal." 2 Corinthians 4:18

I will never forget watching His hands comfort me that way, it is eternal... and they will sweetly, gladly, slow me again.

From Matt

2009-10-18T06:15:00.001-07:00

"Love is the only way to grasp another human being in the innermost core
of his personality. No one can become fully aware of the very essence of
another human being unless he loves him. By his love he is enabled to
see the essential traits and feature" - Viktor Frankl
For a man who spent time in a Nazi concentration camp where he was
viewed at most as an inferior race of humanity and at least as an ethnic
problem to be solved, this struck me as quite profound. And it seems to
echo one of the greatest existential questions that continually comes up
in counseling, "do you see me?"
The Invisible Man is collecting dust on the shelf in my room, but not
for lack of desire to be read. I pulled it from the shelf of books at
one of the outlying OPs with full intention to devote a sufficient
amount of time towards saturating myself in what I vaguely know to be a
classic novel. Without speaking ignorantly of a plot I know nothing of,
I surmise that invisibility is a disease running all too rampant in the
world today. What at first seems like a luxury becomes a curse, and our
desire to know and be known overwhelms us. I imagine the wife who is
invisible in her marriage, or the husband invisible at his workplace.
The children invisible at home or school, the aged parent invisible in
the chair waiting for a last breath to relieve them of the pain of
invisible life.
Essentially, it besmirches our personal value and invalidates us, our
existence is nullified and we fall into the category of "unlovable" and
become the focus of those unmotivated souls tasked to come forth and
love us at the behest of their well-intentioned pastor. However, the
mere use of the term signifies that no matter how hard one may try,
eventually they will find they are putting forth effort towards a futile
task, if we truly are unlovable.
"Do you see me?" Because I am hiding behind the well-built exterior.
Inside I am a mess. Inside I am confused and insecure. Inside I long for
all those things that you long for. Can you see past my anger, into the
hurt which breeds contempt? Can you see past my laughter, knowing that I
only do so to keep you at arm's length for fear that you may see more
when you get closer? Is there something redemptive in me that will make
it worth your while to love me?
These are the questions that skirt the black hole of emotion that many
people are circling, as water around a drain. These are the things that
keep the wife or husband from feeling fulfilled and joyful in their
marriage. This is the existential question that Jesus answers when he
accepts the woman caught in adultery, the thief on the cross, Peter
after he disowns him, and you and I as we seek to know him. His
forgiveness of our sin and imputed righteousness answers this. It is not
merely a transactional doing away with of his wrath, or of our guilt. It
validates down to the very core of who we are. It reconnects us with who
we were always intended to be, fully human, instead of merely human.
When he reaches out and takes away our blindness, when he heals the hurt
done to us through this world, and when he takes our sin upon him, he is
screaming with joyous expression that we ARE lovable. We ARE forgivable.
That he see the "innermost core of our personality" and he likes us. And
we are inspired to love one another as we love our selves, because only
in light of His love can we begin to truly love ourselves. The enemy
would seek to remind you of your unlovableness, but the Redeemer would
reclothe you in a righteousness that makes you desirable to Himself. And
that is a very comforting thought.

Looking back on My Week

2009-10-09T12:46:00.000-07:00

Ah Sweet keyboard and empty page glowing on my screen. The house is quiet, the kids are in school and I am left to reflect for a moment on my life. So much has changed. So much of me has changed and I am so grateful. I remember conversations Matt and I used to have about how his life was blooming in front of us and how I felt so stuck. I felt like I had been the same for years, little challenge, little growth, and we agreed that soon, my time would come to bloom. During a lunch meeting yesterday a sweet older couple shared with me about their ministry to military members and families. Instead of retiring, they decided to open their home in the mountains to anyone to come for a day, weekend, or week to go fishing, hiking, four-wheeling, etc and be loved on by them free of charge. As they asked me questions about my life and especially this week, I must say I was surprised by my own answers. “How did I get here?” How did I go from a girl leading a counseling session yet having no words for a woman out of prison to this week delivering statements and answering impulsive questions in a press conference? How did I get involved in the lives of incredible heroes who fought an insanely long battle and altered the nations focus or much more -made history?
All I know is that its been a rough, but beautiful week. I have been on the phone more than I have wanted to, but wouldn’t have traded one discussion I had with those families. I have sat and held someone as they cried, I have encouraged them that there is no right way to grieve, only positive ways to move forward each moment. I have seen God move in my own life as I attempted to connect with others who needed Him through me. I have felt him calm my fears, hold back sickness like a dam holding a river. I have seen him make 20 people or more completely unavailable so He could move in someone’s life without others there. I have seen my community of friends reach out to offer me anything I needed. I have seen good people have compassion, what a joy it is to see people love others. What sweet healing comes from listening to someone tell their story and feel their tension release. What honor it is to be someone feels safe around.
I wish I had answers. I wish I understood evil, death, and life’s consequences to bad decisions. I wish I had power beyond even God’s to deliver to their soul the love he has for them and break down the lies that sweep in. But even though I am tired, sometimes feeling I have no words left, I wouldn’t trade where I am- where Matt is- for anything. The couple yesterday asked me if I fear where he is now, if my anxiety is different now that I have seen the outposts he regularly visits breached. My answer was yes. I do feel fear and at any point my mind can think terrible things, but the truth is in the peace I have had since we drove onto this post. I know he is where he should be, I know that God needed him there, and me here. I know there is a design for each of us individually that when brought back together will explode into Spirit-led, purposeful, kingdom changing opportunities- Lord willing and if we stay close to Him. He will birth life out of our struggle, life that will continue to give life and I want to be part of that.
I am humbled that he trusted us to care about magnificent people. I see now why people always say never forget. The world keeps going. We are in a culture that is so different and foreign from the “real world” that people just say to themselves, “I don’t see how they could do that- I couldn’t”. I know cause I was one of them. I still don’t understand it sometimes, what we are doing in the fight- but I know its where we are supposed to be. I was brought to tears when driving back on post from the grocery store yesterday there was an older gentleman bundled up in the cold outside our gate holding a sign that simply said, “thank you”.
I guess I can say “your welcome” now, and that feels really good to know that he gets it.

Here are some things I learned this week:
1. Green suits, uniforms, and rankings are not as intimidating as I thought.
2. Compassionate people are everywhere.
3. Some reporters don’t do their homework and show up unprepared.
4. Every decision comes from the Lord, there is nothing left for chance (proverbs 16:33)
5. Children are more resilient that I thought, and so are grown-ups.
6. Some people would rather be a voyeurs than prayer warriors.
7. You really can’t count on tomorrow, but you can live today and plan for it.
8. Laughter during grief is healthy and you always seem to laugh about something that you would never think is funny if you weren’t grieving.
9. When Aidan tries to sound out the word “Fort” and he thinks it says “fart”- it makes me laugh.
10. Jack really can use the potty if he wants to.
11. Always have a soup or casserole in your freezer, you never know when you will need to give it away.
12. Never walk to a house empty handed.
13. Friends are absolutely imperative to survival.
14. Its okay to finish a battle (real or perceived) with the mindset to just survive it.
15. Moving from one thing to the next is not denial or avoidance, its making a decision to do the next thing before you realize how tired you are.
16. Discipline in your life is necessary so that when life leaves no room for your discipline, you are disciplined enough to bring it back in.
And finally,
17. Nothing is more important than your family, your husband and your kids. When it comes down to it… hearing I love you from them is all you need to set your day right.

100 Days...

2009-09-06T06:49:00.000-07:00

They say deployment is a lot like a pregnancy, (funny- I thought the months before the deployment were like that), where there are stages, trimesters if you will. There are apparently three month, six month, and 9 month marks. There are points where you adjust and deal with the change in the first three months, and then the second three are when the newness has worn off and life becomes “normal”. There are times like today as I walked to the mailbox that I saw my neighbor’s “Welcome Home Daddy” banner and had a joint thought of “I can’t believe I am here doing this” and “that will eventually be me.” It wasn’t a thought of pity (believe me I have had those) it was a moment of wonder, a flashback of ten years thinking we never would have imagined that we would be doing this. The pity moments seem to come when you would least expect it. It’s when you did everything possible to make a moment successful with your small children, only to have it become a disaster or feeling that you could have really used the help if that person behind the counter would see through your “togetherness” to find a single mom. I highly respect all the single moms out there, the difference might be that I have the nagging thought that my help is around the corner in summer of 2010 so I never quite let go of the fact that I could use some.
As I approached this three month mark- 100 days- I started to feel my motivation leak away. I wanted that week again where I just did nothing, ate ice cream every night, and thought about nothing. My first set of goals were being completed, but the deployment was only a third done and the only thing left to do was set some new ones. So I did, nervously, as if I had never completed a goal in my life. Would I have the childcare I needed to work on them? Do I have the time? Does it fit in with the goal of being a great mom too? And just when I wondered if the “funk” was going to let up, God moved in a sweep of grace and renewed me.
Within three days (maybe it will be longer than that) I had more village-minded community than I have every experienced. I had neighbor kids not only voluntarily fixing a bike, but offering to pump tires, comforting Jack when he bumped his head (a regular occurrence),
a friend who sold me a beautiful bike, a neighborhood chaplain who gladly came out to watch Aidan on his bike and offer male encouragement. I had a couple we are friends with call me up and ask to take me and my boys fishing. When we followed them out to the pond, they had bought little boy fishing rods for them, bait, and the husband baited all the hooks, and they helped them with their rods. They volunteered afterwards to let the husband watch the boys while I went the “Y” with the wife to do a class. She had just lost a grandfather and even shared with me some of their dinner someone had dropped off. And here I thought I was to comfort her.
I wonder sometimes how to thank people for that. I wonder if it’s weird to them that tears come to my eyes when the manager from behind the Chick-fil-a counter brings my tray of food to the table. Regardless of whether or not they heard specifically from God that day, I wonder if they have any idea that they moved me. That they were part of a much bigger plan to re-new my belief in the Kingdom outside of the church walls. How could they have known that their acknowledgement of me or my children rendered me speechless, that it was exactly what I needed before I needed it. Most have no idea where I came from or the wounding that I have experienced in my life from “good people” trying so hard to be “good” that they fail to see the need standing in front of them. How do you thank someone for doing what seems so small to them, but was ordained for me?
Matt did a huge 50 page project in undergrad on fellowship, breaking down the Greek and Hebrew concept. That started a desperate desire within us to find and develop that type of organic servant style of serving. We found it in different seasons of our life so far, and even found it within a church in Kentucky. That experience renewed our faith in the church body and what it was capable of. But this… living in the world. Working apart from the church building, and watching how God moves around me, for me, through me… I just can’t explain it to those whom I have sat next to in class, those who studied under Cullinan’s teachings on impacting the world. I can’t explain it to those who have served in the church only who toil over what kind of “outreach” project to do and then sit around tables thinking it has to be a massive county wide ordeal. I am not bitter towards the church, but I realize that there was something else God wanted us to see. I just didn’t think it would have been me receiving the love. I look outside my window and see children playing with friends they just met nine months ago, and neighbors who come out to chat along the sidewalks knowing some will be already leaving next summer. Neighborhoods aren’t commonly like that. The last one I left, I still felt bad that I didn’t bring that plate of brownies to my neighbor when I was the one who moved in and was new.
My good friend here, another chaplain’s wife whose husband is out there with Matt told me that she tries to look for the blessings in every day to get through the deployment, even if its being thankful for the nine appliances keeping her house running. I see now how there are gifts given to me each day, some so small I miss them, that God hands over to remind me of his Sovereignty. He nudges me that I am not alone, that I have purpose to not only share his wealth, but am just as loved to receive it myself. He picks me up when I find myself wanting to sulk, he hands me a little boy who knows just how tight to pump a tire, or someone’s husband to take off the grill tank so I don’t blow up, a neighbor mom who just wants to join me for a glass of wine to tell me about how she feels God’s hand too, a sweet woman behind a fast food counter who gladly gives me a refill of coffee, or a friend who buys my kids fishing poles. This makes me want to jump up and yell, “oh how God is Good!” I want to beat down the doors of some of the churches and release the must from inside. Some have forgotten how true it is that serving the least really does work. That it really does feel like the actual hands of a Savior. Maybe even a Savior they have never met before, but feeling “saved” in that moment, easily makes a person realize that the intense thank you they have to offer is meant for something or someone bigger, a Creator that knows them better than anyone else.
I found a decorative plate the other day that I put up in my kitchen that carries more meaning than it would have a year ago, “Every day may not be good, but there’s something good in every day.”

Jesus Christ in the Front-Line Trenches

2009-08-17T06:13:00.000-07:00

An excerpt from Christ and the Meaning of Life by Helmut Thielicke:

When I was bombed out with my family, and on the following evening walked through the quiet, peaceful streets of the village, looking for emergency quarters, I had a curious experience. Before this I had often recovered from the sight of ruins and the heaviness of heat that came at nightfall by sending my imagination off on a journey. I thought of a peaceful village with cows coming down the roads to the barns, and people talking about the harvest and sitting around the lamp in the evening, a place that was spared the tumult of war. The people said a friendly “Good evening,” the cozy lamplight shone through the chinks in the black-out curtains, and everything was as I had imagined it to be. But the longed-for peace would not come into my heart. I felt ostracized and the idyllic scene was tormenting rather than tranquilizing.

In the next few days it drove me back to the ruined city and the people whose faces were still marked by the runes of terror. There I felt at home. They understood what I had gone through because they had suffered it themselves. The people in the peaceful village did not understand. To them I was a somewhat disquieting apparition from another, frightening world. There is nothing more comforting than to have people who understand one. This is what drove many soldiers who had been at the front, and then on the leave enjoyed a good soft bed for a few nights, back to their comrades in the Russian steppe. When a person is pressed hard by dread and terror, then home and fulfillment and the people who are fortunate and have everything – these suddenly become alien.

This also has something to do with the fact that of all people it is the poets who have become the pastors of our time, who do not hand out idylls, fulfillments, and solutions to the problems, but rather cry out their dread, their nothingness, and their despair to the world. Hopw else can we explain the fact that the people reach out for the poems of Gottfried Benn? The “Song of the Passion” says: Wounds must heal wounds. The wounded seek refuge with the wounded. There they are understood, and that by itself means a lot.

Every year around Christmastime thoughts like these come to me. People strain themselves to the utmost to give themselves and other a few hours of joy. Wishes are fulfilled; we step out of the moment, in which ordinarily we are completely absorbed, and restore connection with our own childhood. We remember our mothers in whose protecting care we once lived, the mothers who told us about the Christ Child and Father Christmas. The hardest men sing touching little songs, and in the soft light of candles our hearts leap up. We seek these hours in the same way that years ago I sought out the quiet, secure little village, in the same way that Hungarians may yearn for the shores of freedom. And then when the candles burn down, leaving only blackened stumps or nothing at all, there comes a secret feeling of uneasiness; we have to go back behind the counter again in the big store, back to our examinations, the flurry in the office, or a clattering machine. This quiet world around the candles is so different from our ordinary life that we cannot connect the two and in a short time the brightness vanishes behind us – like the lights of the station when we pass the curve.

But the intent of Christmas is something totally different. The child in the crib is not an idyl. It is only our love and often our sentimentality which have turned his story into an idyl. The child was homeless. He was shoved off into a stable. Shortly afterwards his parents went out on the road as refugees in order to escape Herod’s massacre of the children. Then came the life-long hostility of men; the Child always remained, even after he grew up, a fugitive. His heart trembled under the impact of all the temptations and fears that shake us too. And finally this life ended as it began, as he was shoved out of this world; he died on a gallows that had the form of a cross. This Man who loved infinitely, and therefore suffered infinitely as he saw men running headlong to their own destruction – they had no use for him. Crib and cross – they are both of the same wood, they are of a piece.

And I believe that all of this, with all its terror, is infinitely more comforting than the soft, sweet spirit we seek at Christmas, which afterwards leaves only a hung-over, letdown feeling as if it is the only thing there is in it. Jesus Christ did not remain at the base headquarters in heaven, receiving reports of the world’s suffering from below and shouting a few encouraging words to us from a safe distance. No, he left the headquarters and came down to us in the front-line trenches, right down to where we live and worry about what the Bolsheviks may do, where we contend with our anxieties and the feelings of emptiness and futility, where we sin and suffer guilt, and where we must finally die. There is nothing that he did not endure with us. He understands everything.

Or do we no longer sense how knowing are the features of this face, which the painters lent even the child and which later gazed upon us from the cross? He does not wear the disinterested face of the people who live in the village called “religion” far behind the mountains of the wicked world; he has the eyes of a person who knows his way about the ruins of our life. Wounds must heal wounds. He became one of the wounded because he wanted to be one of us. And therefore that Face does not vanish when the candles go out. For this Figure knows everything; of my loneliness, when I am alone or in the midst of my fellows, of the things in my life that I cannot handle, of the villain who is bedeviling me, of all my fears. For this Companion is with me in te front-line trenches. I can accept everything from his hand, for his hand knows and controls all things. And he lets down the drawbridge by which I can enter the fortress, long since forgotten, where I shall be secure.

Here is One who is waiting and looking for me.

sweet mystery

2009-08-07T04:34:00.000-07:00

Oh sweet mystery. The way he stills my voice and soul for his words. The way his Spirit calms my deepest fear and my quietest need. At His command, I sit and feel my breath slow, listening for words that come through what I see, what I sense from his creation around me. The way the world depends on provision from Him reminds me of my own need to feel alive. He wakens parts of me that only he created that have remained asleep until he deemed ready. I once lived what I thought was life, only to find out I was dead and asleep to the truth of his freedom, his joy, and my purpose.
And to think He has given me what I prayed for. A husband who loves him more deeply than I could understand, a passion for loving others in a way that changes loneliness into acceptance and self worth. He serves me, thinks of me, encourages me, challenges me, and pushes me to freedom. How else could I have seen God's creative order within me? His imprint on my soul than to see that the smallest intricacies of my being are fulfilled before I know they are there? He designed me for Matt, and designed Matt for me- a push and pull toward greatness, paired with individual desire to be closer to the mystery of God. I love hearing people comment on what I already know of Matt, his integrity and realness, his ease of living.
My Sweet Lord, you have given me life from death, joy from despair, and sweet strength when I had none to start with. You have given me purpose when there was no vision for the future, a love for my self when I could have believed the whispers. And all with your quiet presence changing me. You do not always move with great fierceness, you do not always make your immediate presence known. You mostly speak in a quiet stillness that commands my body to listen, you unfold what you have already given me- demanding that I remember your presence from the past. You bring your words to my memory, you captivate my eyes with your beauty through what you have created- the sun coming to life over the water, the storm clouds that just appear on the horizon, the colors of the mountains throughout the day. All a picture of your glory and I praise you with my breath that is yours to begin with. And yet I so often walk by it all... forgetting you are there. Whispers so easily creep into my consciousness telling me everything opposite from what you created me to believe, and yet it is so easy to listen to.
But when I choose to lift my eyes to the heavens, when I choose to listen to the stillness of where you are, I rest so easily in your grace. Where does my help come from? You are my joy.

This week...

2009-07-17T17:32:00.000-07:00

So we are two months into the deployment. I am happy to report that it has gone fast and that I am looking forward to a vacation with family in the next week. There is enough between now and then to hopefully have our departure date arrive quickly too. I have already seen this community be more of a church than I have ever seen. It is strangely wonderful to have a friend here on post text me, or a neighbor come knock on my door when they have seen that Matt is looking for me on Facebook for a chat. I have seen friends step in and care for my kids when they could tell I needed a break. I have sat around a table, breaking bread with some wonderful women as we laughed hysterically about the strange things our husbands taught us before they left. Of course any knowledge is useful, but some strange lessons come the anxiety of men when they are about to leave their family for an extended amount of time. Of course, that is only matched by our (women's) behavior as we try to appear independent enough to handle it all and yet desperate for them to stay. But the beauty behind the community is in life. People are real here. They know how to live life, and if they take it for granted, soon learn not to. The focus here is on relationships, friendships made for life. These are the people that you faced the hardest times with and had to rely on. A matter of drinking alcohol here or saying a cuss word is not career breaking issues- in fact it almost seems an initiation into acceptance. In fact, it doesn't matter if you do or don't, but be prepared to show your true colors, because that's all that's wanted.

Already, I have experienced a piece of my calling here. Just this week we painfully lost one of our own and as the Care Team Coordinator, I had to prepare to follow up behind a team of soldiers who were to tell a spouse that her husband was gone. I believe that there is nothing worse I have ever felt than the anticipation of destroying one's world, except of course if it was me. It definitely brought the war a whole lot closer to home and has made it a lot more real to all of us. On my side of the street there are at least five houses in a row (including mine) that have deployed husbands. I will never look at a post or base the same way without looking at the homes and knowing the feelings within. There are feelings of guilt associated with why this one and why not mine? And yet, a feeling of gratefulness for safety thus far. And opportunities for fear to overtake you. I have seen women cry together, serve each other, and when there was nothing to give, a grace left room for them to be human.

This has probably been the most tiring weeks for me so far, but I finish it feeling God gave me words. I can only pray the same for Matt, that even more than I that God has given him words when he had none and purpose in a time of pain.

ready to go.

2009-07-07T09:39:00.000-07:00

Are you?

There's a great verse in Hebrews 12 that sums this up: "Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us."

We have seeral ways of fortifying our fighting positions, combat out-posts (COPs) and observational posts (OPs) and one of them is very simple...something called "tanglefoot", which is exactly what it sounds like.

I remember a story Mike Blackwell told me about his time in the military when they set up fishing line, which you can't see well with night vision goggles (NVGs), and how a guy simply stumbled into it during a training exercise and they lit hit up with the machine gun (blanks of course). A great funny story to hear, especially when he demonstrates the dance moves he was doing as the overheated brass casings starting popping off down into his shirt while they were in the foxhole. Classic.

So last night, I was sleeping the night away, fully content to not be leaving COP Keating until Wednesday night, when the TOC RTO (radio dude) came running in to inform us that a Black hawk was 30 minutes out and was prepared to take PAX (people) back to Bostick. Not that I was super excited about getting up at that hour, nor about leaving because I was having quite a nice time out there, but I realized that I needed to get back, refit and regen(erate) to leave out for Lowell in order to make it to Fritsche before green illum ran out next week. Henceforth, I will always notice the cycles of the moon, but I digress...

So we packed up quite hurriedly, got full battl-rattle on and rushed out the to the helicopter landing zone (HLZ) and hopped on the UH-60 (Blackhawk) and got back here sometime around 0245 this morning. And I have been awake since, just catching up.

SO how do I tie these loose ends together? Maybe the question you need to ask yourself is, "What holds me back from rushing out the door when the call comes?" "What unfinished business are you unprepared to leave behind when you need to move on to the next thing?" "What is your tanglefoot?"

You see, we all have something we're not prepared to give up, something we feel like we can't live without, something that e wholeheartedly believe our livelihood and survival is dependent on, but maybe we don't realize how much it holds us back. I had all of 2 minutes to make a decision to stay or go, to go back to bedand catch the next bird or accept that I was needed elsewhere and that my time at Keating had been sufficient. I had to decide to move on, and in my heart I knew I was ready to go. And the easiest part of it all? I had everything laid out in an orderly fashion, prepared for the next day, so I simply had to run down the line of socks, boots, shirt, rucksack, pack. Part of being ready to go is not only being prepared to leave things behind, but being prepared for what lies ahead. Granted, we can't always know, but faith in God covers a multitude of forgotten things in the midst of a well planned life. It is written, "a man may plan his steps, but the LORD directs his path." It is a joint venture. And if we are in a moment where we feel stuck and immobile, perhaps it is time we ask, "Am I really prepared to leave it behind, and am I really prepared for what lies ahead." Jesus spoke a few times about counting the cost, and I believe he was speaking quite literally about these things.

Matthew 18:18-22
When Jesus saw the crowd around him, he gave orders to cross to the other side of the lake. Then a teacher of the law came to him and said, "Teacher, I will follow you wherever you go." Jesus replied, "Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head." Another disciple said to him, "Lord, first let me go and bury my father." But Jesus told him, "Follow me, and let the dead bury their own dead."

Is there something lifeless that you are clinging to? Is there comfort you are unwilling to step out of? Are there plans you are unwilling to give up? Who is really in charge of your life? Are you ready to go?

- Written in honor of Stuart Greene and Dave Byers, as they continually launch into the unknown with faith, fervency and followership...hey...I'm a preacher, they all had to begin with the same letter...

lots.

2009-07-05T22:56:00.000-07:00

Wow, do I have lots to blog about. I decided to divide today up into two segments, because if I don't get it outta my head, it might implode. So we'll go chronologically according to my experiences over the last week:

(1) The impact of location

Okay, so we have been out visiting red and white platoon of Black Knight troop for the past week and a half, enjoying the laughter and comraderie, even celebrating the 4th of July which takes on a whole new meaning when you are the one making the sacrifice, which truthfully is quite rewarding (as I will elaborate further on). We changed plans on the day of the flight because a soldier sustained sharpnel wounds which required medevac and surgery. A great platoon sergeant, friend and all-around good guy. We spent the first few days making our rounds and joining in with soldiers whatever they were doing, whether it was watching a movie, playing risk, making chow, seeing them off as they go on patrol or just b.s.ing in the barracks. Of course, all of this was well-seasoned with the kind of griping that only a soldier can do.

And as usual we held a service, but because of various reasons we held it down in the overflow barracks and not at the other location, where it's not a good idea to gather large groups of people. I will post some pictures of the room we met in (and where Mike and I have been sleeping), but I can describe it best as something you would see on the history channel. It is built into the ground, about 4 feet down into the ground, with large stones barely cemented together. Large wooden beams supporting the roof and a hastily done concrete floor. It was less of a basement and more of an entrance to catacombs, it seemed, with a musty smell that lingers without much air movment. And it was perfect.

The whole while that I was sitting and pondering the ensuing service, I kept thinking how alike this area must have been to a place where the first church must have met. Like them, we had significant threats from outside, and we met in a location where we could enjoy some peace and safety. Those things alone set a tone that mega-church, high definition screens cannot produce. I spoke from Jeremiah 29, about a group of ousted refugees wondering about their future and their safety and the whereabouts of their God, which in light of the previous days' events were more pertinent than one can fathom in comfortable chairs with cup holders and air conditioning. And as we sat there, some of us having not showered or shaved for three days, it became quite clear that we didn't need to conjure up any sort of emotion that would cause uncomfortability and promote change. It was quite a beautiful moment, and for someone who has come from a cushy ministerial life of trying every gimmick under the sun to make people want to trust in God, it was amazing to not have to lift a finger or strain a brain cell to do that with these men. They were living in difficulty, struggling through adversity and just trying to keep each others' spirits up in the bizzaro-world that is deployment.

And as we walked through the beginning of the letter of comfort in Jeremiah 29, it was nice to hear that in a message directed towards exiles, we could completely understand what they were going through, and we didn't have to make up some superficial environment to create a "God-moment." Which when you think about, is the main reason that many people don't trust modern Chrisitianity in the first place. We create this dichotomy between real life, and life in the sactuary/church building. We create an oasis for people, a facade of belief away from the stress, strain and disheartening reality of life and then wonder why those same people have a hard time being committed and applying scripture to their lives. It is so much more powerful when you are in "the shit" with someone, walking beside them through their troubles. If we take a good look at our lives and the lives of our friends, we will soon realize that the environment for speaking truth is perfect, and we have no need to create a superficial environment for someone to have a "God-moment."

And the second thing is this: (2) being stuck in a moment. Why do we always put off tomorrow what we can do today? Why is it so hard to fully invest in the here and now? Why are we never content with waiting on others' or other circumstances?

The main issue for my deployment is this: I only move by helicopter and for various reason (and I do mean various) I can pack everything up, wait all night (literally), only to find out that flights to my location have been cancelled. So I go unpack, sleep for a couple of hours, and begin another day. The next flight may be attempted that night, where I may repeat the previous nights' events only to have soldiers surprised to see me at chow in the morning. Or I may find out that the next scheduled flight isn't for three or four more days. And last night was just one of those nights. And so I awoke after 5 hours of sleep, I laughed my way through breakfast with our cook, SPC Hubbard (who I promised to have dessert with if I got stuck - I haven't been eating any carbs and he has been making fun of me). And here I sit in the First Aid Station, relaxing and enjoying fate. And realizing that I am definitely not in control of my movement in life, realizing that I don't always have to be in control, except for my attitude of knowing that I have complete control of how I respond to the ambiguity of life. And it's wonderful. Sometimes on the roller coaster of life, you have to let go of the bar, throw your hands up and enjoy the unpredictability of it all. And it is wonderful!

From the Mouth of Babes

2009-07-05T07:33:00.000-07:00

Call it punishment or reward, I decided yesterday since I couldn't run the 10k with my Dad I would hike with the boys. So with a kiddie backpack (intended for an infant under 30 lbs) and a jogging stroller I set out with both kids for a 4 mile hike. I knew I would eventually end up carrying/pushing both, but it was worth the challenge. At first there was a lot of whinning, "my legs are tired", scuffling of the feet, and dragging, but as we headed down the PT path, the tone began to change. Suddenly, entering the "wilderness" our imaginations began to get the best of us. There were PT obstacles to climb on, massive ant hills to learn about, and rock walls to climb on. The path (my favorite running path) gets out of the neighborhoods and into fields and behind large hills/mini-mountains. Aidan and I had the chance to talk and I told him this is where I go running and asked him to take notice of how quiet it was. I told him when I am running and its quiet it is easier for me to pray to God and listen. I told him about a large hill that you can climb at the half-way mark where you could see the whole city. And that is all it took, he let go of the whining and was determined to climb that "peak". As we got closer, we stopped at a rock wall that has some significance to me. I pass it all the time, it's man-made and it intrigues me because I have seen something similar in my dreams. It looms as a constant reminder of walls to break through and that what often stops us from reaching greatness is usually ourselves- something we have built that should be torn down. As I watched both boys climb it and conquer it in their own way, I made the mental note of how easy it was for them and the adventure and joy that cames from summiting even a wall. That wall still holds mystery for me that has not been unveiled, but I am enjoying the journey.

*Pictures are from a previous hike to the same spot in the spring*

When we got to the hill, Aidan ran to the top. It is a false peak there and I pointed to another hill, with a narrow rocky path much different than the PT path and told him that the real challenge was hiking to the very top (fully expecting him to be done after 1 1/2 miles). Surprisingly, he set off for the real climb. The stroller could only go so far, so I put Jack on my shoulders and followed Aidan. On the way up, he was quoting a Veggie Tales Movie where the character almost gave up climbing a similar wall, but chose to do it anyways. When we reached the top, Aidan had the biggest smile on his face- a feeling of accomplishment. He remarked at how beautiful it was and how much he could see. We talked about how some of the most beautiful things are reached the hard way and the only way we could have seen it was to leave the car and hike here. He asked to pray. My five year old asked to pray... He bowed his head and said, "God, thank you for all the hills and mountains to climb... and thank you for the people we can love."
Shock could be the appropriate word. I seem to be daily climbing my own mountain these days and God has definitely given that as an obvious theme in my life. Before I even got here I was told that the mountains would be a reminder that the Great High Priest was with me. They are a sign of comfort, and yet now they represent something to climb, part of a journey. I guess through the mouth of a babe I am reminded once again that the climb may be tough, but when we reach the summit, we not only feel like we made it, but gratitude is on order. Not just for the provision of strength to struggle through, but thanks to be given for the actual obstacle. Struggling through has a way of reminding you of who you are, that there is more to the day than the fight, there is purpose. I am reminded of my calling, to struggle through and be thankful for it, to praise the one who gave me the climb in the first place, and thank Him for all the people around me there is to love. May I not be tired, but stretch that self-will to reach out more.

Chaplain's Corner 2

2009-07-05T07:32:00.000-07:00

There are very few days that go by where I don’t feel like I am in bizarro-world. Maybe it is seeing the size of the spiders or hornets out here that look they feast on livestock and steroids, or maybe it’s accepting that I live right next to a very busy helicopter landing zone and very loud gun line. You could be going right along with your day, and then *blam* goes the test-fire of the cannon. And you are quickly reminded that you aren’t in Colorado anymore. And oddly enough, I kind of smile, because I have never really liked the status quo, and here it is anything but.
So my rotations around to the COPs and Ops are wonderfully rewarding. The opportunity to jump in and help dig a trash-burning pit or level some ground with a shovel, to help carry the fuel containers or watch a hillside in the middle of the night with those on guard. Those are really the moments I live for, when you feel like you are a part of this humongous system called the Army. But this past visit to OP Mustang was exceptionally interesting, because we bought a sheep.
Yeah, I know what you’re thinking, and pets aren’t allowed, but our Afghan brothers were adamant about how wonderful that sheep would go with our new, air-dropped 50 gallon drum turned into a grill. And they weren’t lying. So I woke up and stumbled up the CP to check in with SGT Tullis and make some coffee, when I was invited down to where the ASG lives for milk chai (absolutely delicious) and to pray over the sheep before we…um…prepared him for dinner. Not a normal morning by any stretch of the imagination. And as I walked down and offered my thanks, “manana,” for the chai and wished everyone a good morning through my interpreter…we moved off to the hillside to thank God for the sheep and watch him die.
There really isn’t a nice way to put that is there? For those raised in the country, you probably had little to no response about the following actions (which I won’t detail), but for you city-folk it is difficult to wrap your mind around what was almost a sacred act, at least in my estimation, as this animal gave up its life in order to sustain ours.
It was done quickly, and as painlessly as possible, before the ASG self-appointed “butcher” skinned and prepared the meat. Yet all the while, there was a recurring thought about how intentional and “messy” the job is of preparing meat. And I thought about the priests of the temple, and how what I was watching was just like what they were tasked to do on behalf of the people of God. I’m sure that back then they thought nothing of it because they couldn’t exactly run down to the commissary for some delicious, 98% lean, pre-packaged meat when they wanted some dinner. Providing for life took effort and sacrifice and messy-ness. And when I think about it, not to many people are really comfortable getting messy anymore.
We avoid our neighbors if we feel that inviting them into our lives will make it messy. We end conversations and try to walk away when we feel like we won’t be able to cleanly wrap this up in time for X, Y or Z. We want our own lives to be comfortable, predictable and uninterrupted. We place everything in a calendar and hope that it will go at least 90% according to plan, in order that things don’t get messy. And when they do, we keep telling ourselves that when this or that calms down and things aren’t messy anymore, then we will get back on track.
Unfortunately, the mess never goes away. Kids still throw up in the cars after perfectly good days. Relatives calm at inopportune times and despite the massively impressive brain-trust that is NASA, we cannot eliminate the common cold from our monthly lives. Life is just plain messy.
I left the church because they didn’t like the mess. Or maybe I was asked to leave because I wanted to work more in the messy lives of real people, rather than in the white-washed tomb lives of those who pretended they weren’t messy. All in all, I like the mess. I like getting dirty and grimy. I thrive in what is known as “the suck.” And most of these wonderful men and women who wear dusty ACUs do, too. They will gripe all day long about every aspect of the conditions of deployment, but when you ask them how they are doing, and ask them again with an emphatic, eye-to-eye realness, they still say, “outstanding.” Even when they are doing nothing but out standing.
If we are to glean anything from this life and give more than we get, we must embrace the messiness of life. We must realize that in our lives, no plan survives first contact and we will constantly have to adjust and readjust, sometimes just in order to make it through the day. On many occasions it will seem like sheer, uncomfortable survival. But there is always a reprieve. There is always a moment when the storm subsides. This, too, shall pass.
In closing, one of my favorite moments from the Bible has God playing the role of human-farmer. In the second creation story in Genesis, it seems like you could picture him digging in the dirt to form humanity out of the mud. And then at another point, he gives himself up, just like that sheep with an “if this is what it takes” attitude towards the messiness of humanity. He was willing to get messy for the sake of humanity, and I wonder what is it that makes us so reticent to get messy in order to help one another?

Chaplain's Corner 1

2009-07-05T07:30:00.000-07:00

Corie and I didn’t put Ft. Carson on our ‘wish list’ for our first assignment. Maybe it was just plain ignorance, but we had other places that were more familiar on our list. So, when we received the call last summer about our assignment, it began to make perfect sense, simply because we absolutely love the mountains. Having spent most of my college years either hiking or rock-climbing outside of class, I couldn’t imagine being in a better place. Looking up at the Peak when driving around the Springs is oddly comforting, there is something unchanging, something consistent about its presence on the horizon, something that puts a perspective on everything.
And it is comforting that I have such a similar view here in Afghanistan. We noticed it when we first landed at Manas AFB. In the distance, we saw a towering, snow-covered mountain range to the south of us with peaks that disappeared above the horizon and became visible again above the clouds, as if they were floating. Now, as SPC Mike Hyer and I have been flying around visiting all of our locations, we have gotten exposed to the heights and valleys of our Area of Operations (AO), and we’ve been amazed at the terrain.
For anyone who has completed the Incline, I can tell you that our time spent training there was well-spent. The DA could not have picked a more prepared unit for this area than the Destroyers of 3-61CAV. And as I have been mulling this over during the many hours spent on the flight line waiting for a bird, I am reminded of a similar situation in history. Now, you don’t have to be Jewish or Christian to get the point of the following story, but for those who are it may hold special meaning.
There’s a point in the history of Israel when they send out Scouts to check on the land which they are about to claim. A classic use of a ‘Cavalry Scout’. The scouts are led by a man named Caleb, who at the time is 40, and returns from the mountainous region reporting that they can indeed succeed there. Others doubt, and consequently Caleb (45 years later) is the only one from the original group that is allowed to enter into the land that they scouted.
But it is the manner in which Caleb asks for that section of land when they enter in, 45 years later, that is striking. He states that though he is 85, he is just as strong as when he was 40, and he still shows all the confidence in God that he showed four decades earlier. He is a man of staunch determination and strength of will, and he chooses the difficult ground to conquer. Someone summed this up years ago by simply paraphrasing, “Give me the mountains…because I believe we can take ‘em.”
I hope for those reading this back home that you have no less confidence in your ability to handle the many tiring issues that come up, intermingled with your missing of your soldier. Oftentimes, there is something great that awaits us on the other side of the peak, energy when we did not expect it, or the sheer determination to not give up when our mind is telling us to. We can cultivate the belief in God and ourselves that we will not simply roll over when things get difficult, but we will tighten our boot straps, fix our eyes ahead of us and laugh, knowing that we will not let adversity win. We are not masters of every aspect of our futures, but we can decide exactly who will win each battle of difficulty and challenge that we encounter during the next year. I hope that your attitude will be like many of our troopers, to look up at the skyline and simply say, “Give me the mountains…because I believe we can take ‘em.”

So, How are you Doing???

2009-06-27T14:57:00.000-07:00

Almost a month…. How can I answer the question on everyone’s mind which is, “How are you doing?” There are so many ways to answer that, and most of it depends on factors that change throughout the day. Most of it though depends on me. What a strange place to be. I really regret not being at least thoughtful of families like me who have done this, sometimes five times before I entered the Army. I realize how naïve I was about the military families and the true sacrifices that were being made. I did what I did with so many other things that I was unsure about, or had not yet decided where I stood on the issue- I just did nothing. Sure I know there were people putting their lives in harm’s way “for me” but honestly, I couldn’t fathom why they would make a choice like that when I hadn’t asked for it. That’s pretty honest right? I, and maybe our generation have been too far removed from what the fight is really about and what freedom really is.
It is hard for me to even share, because I feel so unworthy of sharing my burdens compared to those who have faced this before (with more children) or who have experienced far greater pain or discomfort. Yet, for me, this is one of the hardest things I have ever done. It won’t be the last, Life has a way of preparing you for difficult and pain. It’s more difficult than having a baby, but very much like it. There is indeed the anticipation of it, the day it arrives, and then nothing but adjusting afterwards. The boys already have routines. For the most part, that has stayed the same except for the cruel days of summer. I try to remember what summer meant to me as a kid, full of adventure, imagination, and building forts and introduce that to my kids. I don’t know if parenting comes easy to anyone, but I have to work especially hard to get back into that imagination of mine and truly play. I struggle everyday with not making the day “about me” and more about “us.”
What is required of me each day is the discipline to make each day count. You may have heard Matt saying that lately and I don’t think that is a coincidence. I believe God is revealing my true self more than he ever did when my other was in front of me. They always say that marriage is like holding a mirror up to who you really are and the friction and tension you face in marriage are what happens when you have to work through blending two personalities and all the baggage brought with them. Strangely enough, as Matt has gone, I have felt God move in, in the most appropriate way. It is different than when I was single. The unity of marriage introduces a new love from the character of God that can only be experienced as he moves through the other person. God allowed this deployment to happen, in fact, He prepared for it too. And now that it has started, God has taken up some of the space in my home to make it a little less “empty”. Yet, just like I mentioned before, the intimacy brings with it a mirror that reveals parts of myself that I had dismissed or had not seen.
I see my selfishness more that I have ever seen it. I got used to my husband coming home at 5pm to help with the kids, or be there to give me a “break”, or help me make decisions for myself. I had someone who made time for me to go for a run or go workout, and although he is still encouraging me from a distance… he can’t help me now. My worst moments are within myself as I learn to balance my life and needs, with the needs and lives of my boys. Learning to reset my expectations of myself and not be so hard on myself considering life is different. Learning to plan my day, and yet adjust my attitude when it didn’t go as planned. Learning to have certain “cards” up my sleeve for when things drag on or when the boys need a “pick-me up”. I am pretty hard on myself and try to remember that this is new and I’m figuring it all out. For instance, what do you do when you have 30 minutes by yourself and may not easily get that again in the next 24 hours? Sure I have when they go to bed, but yeesh- that’s when all goals seem to go out the window and that project I wanted to work on seems silly next to my bed and pillow. So in 30 minutes, do I run as hard as I can and get all of my anxiety and negative feelings out? Do I journal? Do I call a friend? Do I lift weights, or is that even enough time to even make a difference. Shoot- there goes 5 minutes of me just thinking about it, tick-tock, tick-tock. I know that may sound ridiculous to some of you, but that 30 minutes started out as an hour, but do to things outside of myself, it widdled away and that is what I had. So what did I end up doing? I returned a phone call, one where I thought I was needed for something and it turned out all they wanted was to ask me “how I’m doing” and remind me again with the question, “so how are the boys, a year is a LONG time.” Really????
I say that not to discourage anyone from reaching out- because Lord knows I need that. The problem was, I didn’t know what I needed. Extreme kudos to the single moms out there, I got nothing on you. But in a sense, maybe its harder when you know this is temporary with an end. Maybe there is acceptance and strength that comes when you are single and life is like this for an indefinite end.
The biggest lesson though, is that I am realizing just how much my life depends on me. Matt has always been an inspiration to me. He just has always lived in the moment and, “seized the day.” I didn’t know until recently just how lazy I can be. As an introvert, I can find any excuse in the book to “make time for myself” and if it were up to me it would be all day- not just for a morning while the kids are in care. Time to myself often made me grouchy as “it wasn’t long enough”. My, what a horrible face to see in the mirror. The whispers of my past and from the enemy himself have made me into someone who has found more “enjoyment” in isolation than in proximity to the very gifts given to me to share my life with. Yes, there is taking care of yourself, doing things for yourself that don’t involve “Mommy, mommy…” but I am talking beyond that. When I feel my anxiety climb and I just want to escape, and can’t in that moment, knowing in my heart that I am not meant to go grab that neighbor who has offered help when I need it- I know there is something powerfully life changing on the other side of working though it. It is up to me to seize the day now. Even though I have the choice to go about this deployment in lazy form (who will really know if I don’t clean my house or run that half marathon?), that is not an option. I have no choice but to make this happen, to be the one who makes it happen, to create within my soul the discipline it takes to finish it stronger, better, and with wisdom. Maybe that is why I am so hard on myself, because I see in the mirror past my selfishness and see the potential beauty that I am not willing to miss out on. I want Matt to come home to a wife who is noticeably more resilient, more flexible with life, and with a discernment that moves others towards God.
For now though, the answer to your question is, I hope that I will be better tomorrow. For today, I won some, and felt like I lost many. Sometimes, God reminds me that I did not start my day by asking him what he wanted me to do that day, and because of that, I felt like I fought the current (and Jack, ha!). Other times, I am rewarded with two boys who fell asleep that night knowing that mommy loves them, takes pride in being home with them, and can walk them through missing their mentor and warrior hero. Being bruised with tackle marks will just have to be part of my attire this year, because believe me, I regularly feel broken on the inside and restored by His mercy and purpose on the inside.
Some have asked how they can pray. Right now, its for sleep, and peace in my soul. Jack is my raging river. He is strong, stubborn and can be quite destructive towards himself. Pray that I would know how to handle him, and that I would do it with less anxiety and more confidence (i.e. he has no problem with practically trying to drown himself in the kiddie pool or jumping off whatever his brother does). Aidan is my strong oak, but is sensitive and does not openly process his feelings. My discernment needs to be sharpened towards him in knowing how to care for him and challenge him at the same time.
Praise worthy note: I have wonderful neighbors and friends who reach out, just when God wants them to. I have no doubt that they will carry me at times and that my friends and family from a distance carry me daily in their care, prayers, and support. Much love.

Wranglers

2009-05-31T20:35:00.001-07:00

WOW! What an amazing 48 hours or so. Leading up to Matt's departure- I had moments of even wondering if I had a tear to cry. The morning of, we couldn't even look at each other as we busied ourselves around the house and with the kids just so we wouldn't lose it if we caught each others' eye. He dropped off his bags at 9am and came back for some goodbye time. After sitting around trying to make the most of every second, we finally agreed he needed to go ahead and go because we couldn't stand it anymore. The boys did great. Aidan was cheering us up (not fully understanding the time line), Jack was, well...Jack. Aidan seemed to process it throughout the day and drops a comment every now and then that lets me know that he is still working it out. Jack asks about Daddy and where did he go. Not easy- but possible.
I had applied for Military Week at Trail West Young Life Camp a couple of months ago after hearing it was amazing. It is a whole week, all inclusive camp, free to those who are accepted. I had been denied for the three weeks I applied for and actually felt relieved considering I am a person that can "hole-up". Last week, though, I got a call that there was a cancellation and we could come. I was really nervous, but was willing to take the chance. Another friend of mine (another chaplain's spouse with 4 children) was coming this week too and it was our plan all along to help each other out somehow. Its almost a three hour drive into the mountains, but beautiful. I am amazed that already one day into this deployment, God is gifting me, caring for me in ways I thought only my husband would. Its weird, I feel him looking out for the small things that make me happy and making sure I see that he is asking me to take notice of his knowing what I need days before hand. We arrived to the gate with cowboys greeting us on their horses- the boys loved that of course. They even had the horse sticking his nose in our car window. Aidan at that point officially called it "Cowboy camp" and is so excited- I needed to see him like that. We drove down the road and were again greeted by about 20 people dancing a ho-down, singing, wagons, all in western wear- and helped us all out of the car, invited us to dance and take pictures while someone drove our car away ad took our luggage to our rooms. We took a ride in the back of a truck to the Lodge, had about 30 high school kids screaming us into the lodge like we were rock stars, given a quick instruction and by the time we got to our room- everything was there- including a pack n play- even though I hadn't asked for one! This is awesome- not only is my view magnificent, but my room is one of the newly remodeled and at the end of the hall, right next to the playrooms. They specifically told me to let Aidan play and it was safe for him to be in there while I unpacked. I was given a sweet woman who checked in on me I don't know how many times today and let me know that she was one of my personal helpers with the kids and would be available for anything I needed. I about cried then.
There have been skits, great food, a great reminder of who Jesus is, and they even returned our registration fee to us. They took the kids this evening for Kids Club and when the kids came back in, they had them bring us parents ice cream sundaes. The kids were exhausted- but had so much fun. And we still have fishing to do, pony rides, the swimming pool, a Jeep tour, a trail ride and ropes course for me (with babysitting provided), and all the fun they will do in Kids Club too.

What a gift. More to come...

Four Seconds...

2009-05-28T06:40:00.001-07:00

Men are creatures of phrases and quotes. Sometimes I think that’s the only reason we may watch movies, is to obtain pithy, new sayings to entertain our friends with. Adam Sandler and Will Ferrell have provided more than enough hours of conversation-filled banter simply through the use of quotes. Some of them, we use in certain circles of friends. A handful of guys will never forget Coach John Carlisle trying to motivate us at 6am by informing us its “a great day to be an Eagle.” But for all I try, I can’t remember who first told me to “leave it on the field.”

It’s a simple phrase really, but it carries so much weight for those who have heard or used it. It can be seen when you survey the sideline in the last quarter of a football game and notice everyone holding up four fingers. It’s in the thousand-yard stare of the sprinter who is already visualizing how they are going to cross the finish line victoriously. Vince Lombardi said it best, “I firmly believe that any man's finest hour, the greatest fulfillment of all that he holds dear, is the moment when he has worked his heart out in a good cause and lies exhausted on the field of battle - victorious” And there’s nothing more frustrated to have finished and realized that you had some left.

My first PT test here was that way. I ran the two miles in 14:43. Respectable, and above the standard, but not up to my standard…as I knew I had a better run time somewhere in me. My assistant was telling me that he doesn’t consider it an all-out effort if he isn’t throwing up afterwards, and that was enough of a challenge for me. Six months later, I had it down to 13:22, but I missed maxing the test (and getting the extra points from over-maxing my sit-ups and push-ups) by 4 seconds. 4 Seconds! That was infuriating, because had I known my time I definitely had it in my to sprint those last 100 meters and make up those four seconds. Next time…I own that run.

But so much of life isn’t measured in seconds. So much isn’t overtly quantified for us, so that we may gauge our successfulness. We so rarely know by just how much we may have missed greatness. And therein lies the idea of pouring oneself out…leaving it ALL on the field. Hold nothing back.

"Attack rapidly, ruthlessly, viciously, without rest, however tired and hungry you may be, the enemy will be more tire, more hungry. Keep punching." –Gen. George S. Patton.

What little voice makes you want to quit? What fears do you continually fight? What is holding you back from greatness? Ask Dave and Santiago (in a week or so) how much of running is completely mental. Ask Stuart how faint the heart of a minister can grow in the face of opposition. Ask Cleaver how much one must follow the heart and not just the head of God through the darkness of life. Ask Corie how a little girl can rewrite her narrative and become victorious. Ask Kimmy why you can’t let your past or your future dominate your life today. Ask Jennifer how much of life you really are in control.

“Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something else is more important than one's fear. The timid presume it is lack of fear that allows the brave to act when the timid do not. But to take action when one is not afraid is easy. To refrain when afraid is also easy. To take action regardless of fear is brave.” – Ambrose Redmoon

Paul knew such courage: (2 Corinthians 11)

“I have worked much harder, been in prison more frequently, been flogged more severely, and been exposed to death again and again. Five times I received from the Jews the forty lashes minus one. Three times I was beaten with rods, once I was stoned, three times I was shipwrecked, I spent a night and a day in the open sea, I have been constantly on the move. I have been in danger from rivers, in danger from bandits, in danger from my own countrymen, in danger from Gentiles; in danger in the city, in danger in the country, in danger at sea; and in danger from false brothers. I have labored and toiled and have often gone without sleep; I have known hunger and thirst and have often gone without food; I have been cold and naked. Besides everything else, I face daily the pressure of my concern for all the churches.”

I love that he finishes this litany with the phase that above all of this…he was still concerned for all the churches, not himself.

“I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself. A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough without ever having felt sorry for itself.” - David Herbert Lawrence

The battle for our lives and our greatness lies in our minds…nowhere else. Why is it that someone with a physical handicap can achieve more greatness and success in their life than someone with a completely healthy body? It is the end-of-the-newscast filler every evening. Some inspiring story about someone who shouldn’t have made it….making it big time. I am convinced that the sole reason lies in embracing adversity, facing our fears and leaving it on the field. Hoping to not offend, I call it the “midget in the ring” syndrome. We let something win against us that shouldn’t. We succumb to our fears and forget just how much power we have been given to rewrite our own narrative and not that little insignificant voice of doubt and despair win over us.

“I rejoice greatly in the Lord that at last you have renewed your concern for me. Indeed, you have been concerned, but you had no opportunity to show it. I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through him who gives me strength.” Paul in prison in Philippi (Philippians 4)

What is it going to take for you to leave it on the field? When are you going to realize that in everything, in every way you are already on the field of battle…to win the hearts and minds of your family and friends…to preserve yourself? Every moment counts and you can’t let up. I know, the prospect of it seems exhausting, but to live a life without regret, knowing that you gave it everything you had, that you chose the road less travelled by, that you chose to run the hill and not the flat ground, that you didn’t choose the easy way out, that you accepted the challenge, that you took the risk, that you made a stand for integrity and morality, for what you know in your heart is the right thing to do, to trust that God said he would never leave nor forsake us, that when you throw off that which hinders and the sin which so easily entangles…there is a prize at the end.

Just when you think about giving up, just when you think you don’t have any left, just when you feel like your fear is too strong to push through…take a breath…calm your nerves…focus your mind on finishing the race victorious…and realize that in your career, in your parenting, in your marriage, in your family, in your life…you may just be four seconds away from greatness.

10th Anniversary Video

2009-05-22T13:53:00.000-07:00

So I was surprised that Matt was able to put this together so quickly this morning. We are having a hard time uploaing it to Facebook, so until we can... here it is. Much thanks to others including Kristin Espinosa and Dave Byers for some of the awesome pictures included in the video!

Dreams

2009-05-13T07:25:00.000-07:00

Everybody fears something, rejection, abandonment, change, as well as things outside of ourselves: spiders, and I used to be afraid of hot air balloons! I don’t know if we will ever overcome fear, really, it always seems that there is something else to be anxious of. I believe with God’s help we can overcome them in the moment, but I think it is part of our nature to need God, and we have to have reasons why.
Wounded-ness creates fear, and we all have some level of that as well. One of the things that saddens me is when people move through life out of their wounded-ness. I admit that I am wounded in many ways and I fight much of the time it leaking out of me. There is a difference between moving out of growth and moving from an unresolved wound that still bleeds. I am reminded of the woman who touched the cloak of Jesus who had bled for twelve years and considered unclean. What joy overcame her when she realized that she could approach her Lord not only unclean, but as she was, and then became effective.
I also admit that my wounded-ness comes from some of our experiences of the church and people we have encountered along the way. I have learned that people can hurt whether they intend to or not, and it doesn’t matter whether you do something wrong or completely right, it doesn’t mean life will still go according to what you think is best in the moment. Grace is only guaranteed from God, and hopefully we can all learn to be merciful as we feel the promptings of God towards others. Success is amazingly subjective. What I thought success meant, has turned out to be pale in comparison to what God had in mind.
After much thought, I learned that my wound was more about what God’s love of me really looked like than it was about the church, Christian people, or the image of my success. My narrative (life story) continued my movement through life with bleeding wounds of anxiety of my image and reputation and how what I do or do not do, my acts of righteousness if you will, would get me closer to God’s will and closer to God. This also meant if I lost something- then there was something I did wrong in the journey somewhere.
Lately, my anxiety has spiked for obvious reasons. In high school, I received a “call to the ministry- not to the military”. Even though I feel completely at peace with where we are, and feel more successful at “the call” than ever, some reoccurring dreams have resurfaced. One is obvious about losing that which is permanent. But there was another that I have had for years that never made sense to me until recently. I won’t go into the details, because it wouldn’t make sense to anyone else, but let’s just say that the themes that showed up were me being lost, realizing had had been somehow neglectful in my responsibilities, and feeling the shame of facing the authority whom I had let down. Most of the time I couldn’t even find this authority and I woke up feeling awful, anxious, and a feeling of “how could I have let go and forgotten my responsibility? I can’t even face him.”
The other day, God resolved that dream in the most beautiful way. In the dream, I was given a person that showed me the way to this authority (who ended up being God himself). For the first time I had the opportunity to confronted him. I was so full of shame, and the people around were even talking about how angry he was that day, making the confrontation even more difficult. As I approached him with my head hung low, I tried not to offer any excuses, I didn’t even think I was worthy to do that. In between the heavy breaths of my sobbing, I even offered to make it up somehow if he would allow me to. I stood before him weeping, hoping he would take me back into his company…
And all the while, he said nothing. God only looked at me lovingly as if a father aching to wipe my tears and the warmest smile of anticipation I had ever seen. He offered no ability for me to make up anything. There was nothing for me to do. Approaching him was about simply showing up. It didn’t matter what I had done or not done. He needed me to know that there were no rules for approaching him, it was simple, loving, and just required me coming to him. In the place of my bitter tears, he gave me the sweetest, most decadent, guilt free pleasure of enjoying his presence. His presence was forgiving, warm, and intended for me to enjoy without fear, anxiety, or shame.
Don’t be mistaken, he was the authority, and I had to answer to him, there were rules and expectations in that story. There were things to be done, perhaps things I had left undone, or had not followed through on that he had asked of me. There somewhere was an element of succeeding at the tasks given, but the message to me, was more about approaching him. I woke up trembling and in tears. For almost five years I had struggled with that dream, and my anxiety was replaced with the sweetness of God’s love. So many of us move through life like that, I think. So many of us develop conditions for approaching Him and so much of it stems from our fears and wounding. What ends up happening, is we stay away and convince ourselves that our current distance from him is a safe distance and is all there really is. Boy was I missing out on something beautiful, we all are if we succeed at convincing ourselves to be distant. He is available in our worst moments and I think he is at his best when we draw closer when we might deserve otherwise.
What I didn’t realize in high school was that my call to the ministry was more of a call to the world, loving others with the grace and mercy that only comes from God. The joy of touching his cloak of presence and feeling the warmth of real mercy, and the source of my bleeding wounds of pain in unmet expectations of people slowly turning to scars. What a calling and challenge to then sharing the cloak of the Master with a bleeding world.

One month out.

2009-04-30T12:19:00.000-07:00

I have had such a wonderful morning. I feel like I celebrated my anniversary and Mother’s day all in one today. There was no huge surprise or anything, its just that your perspective on things change a little when you learn to take each day as it comes instead of waiting for tomorrow. I used to be really good at forgetting to enjoy the here and now and would always focus on the future. Oh, I was great at setting goals for myself, even delaying changes that I needed to make. But facing your husband and closest friend leaving for a year with minimal contact makes you re-examine what is important. I must admit that I have not loved him like I really should have or wanted too. I think sometimes I just lived out each day and took it for granted. Now that we are preparing for him to leave, I realize how much we love to be around each other, all the things I need him for. I realize that I am at my greatest (and worst) when I am beside him. We fit so well together. This morning we went to our favorite place, Panera, and had coffee… Man I’m gonna miss that. Next we went by the Double Tree to check out the conference room where we will be holding am marriage event next Wednesday for almost 200 people. How strange that not even a year ago we felt limited to administrative tasks, and now people WANT to come to our event. What a gift, I have seen recently how much God designed us to fit together. When we teach, we flow back and forth like one person and I just feel God smiling on us as if we are just now opening a Christmas present he has hidden from us for 30 years. I never realized how much more alive I am when I work with him. Nothing seems to get me through the next year more than trying to serve these families along side of him from a distance. It feels like an intimate purpose that is so brilliant and perfect. When he holds me, I try to take mental note of his warmth, his smile, and the way he hurries about the house cleaning everything before work so that my day is easier. It’s not that I didn’t notice before, its just that I didn’t hold tight to the small stuff, I just assumed he’d always be here. We are so pleased with where we are. We have struggled to get here for so long and it feels great to do this. This morning I found the biggest star jasmine plant I have seen in a long time with trellis at Home Depot. As silly as this sounds to mention, it was a plant I fell in love with the week we got engaged at Hilton Head. Every anniversary we went back I soaked in the sunshine and could smell jasmine all over the island. It’s scent takes me right back there. I had planted in our house back in Georgia and enjoyed it for one summer and didn’t think I would find it out here. Now that I have I can’t wait to enjoy it through the first part of the deployment.
On a side note, Jack has become a tyrant this week. Some kind-of boy switch went off in him and he has tried to destroy anything in his path, including himself I think. Before 9am one morning he had dumped shampoo all over the carpet and then water in Aidan’s bed. He has torn up one of my Bibles, climbed and then jumped off of anything he can think of (regardless of height) and this morning climbed out of his crib, hit the floor, gave a whine, then ran to my room laughing. I am definitely in for it. All the while shouting his new phrase, “Look at me!” actually sounding like “lookame!”
Aidan understands (for the most part) the upcoming change and has been so sweet. He helps me a lot with Jack when he tries to escape out the door or staple himself (which he tried yesterday). I decided to add some of his latest comments I like to call “Aidanisms” that keep us laughing.

“Mommy, can boys be fairies too?”
After being sent to his room with no dinner for not trying his sloppy joe, and then coming back downstairs-
“Mommy, I cried a little, then I prayed to God about trying my sloppy joe. I think I am ready to try it.” “What happened?” I ask. “Well, I prayed to God about my sloppy joe and asked him to help me tell the truth to the burger.” He tries one bite. “Hmmm. It’s pretty good! But I think I’m full, no thanks.”

After seeing Ann Curry from the Today show interview the Dalai lama, "Hey Mom, he has a Snuggie, can I have one?"

"Mommy, I really want a super baby brother". I said, "I think both you and Jack are pretty super."
He replied, "Well, I do have a baby brother, but he’s not so super, can I have another one ?"

American Decline.

2009-03-28T18:45:00.000-07:00

Ok, its time for a rant…

I’ve waited long enough, and I feel like its time to put words to the angst we are all feeling. And concurrently express why it is that America, as we know it, will continue in a state of decline unless something serious within our DNA changes. Let me begin by describing my week.

Corie and I have been making preparations for deployment, and a part of that is making some purchases that will make our lives easier and more manageable for our predicted circumstances. I am converting half of the two-car garage into a workout area for her, as I know that is a main way that she handles and prevents stress. I also bought myself a refurbished iPod Touch because I know just how much of my life will need readily available distraction, and how much I will be caught in moments of hurry-up and wait. And when you are sitting there playing the 150th game of dominos or spades it helps to have some tunes to veg out to, and the iPod Touch has a built in speaker…but I digress.

So…I went to buy some remnant carpet, shopped around on the phone and found a nice 12x14 looped Berber for under $100. Perfect. But about 3 hours after getting it home and laying it out in the garage, I received a phone call from the store asking if I could bring it back. They had forgotten they sold it to someone else earlier and didn’t know how to explain that they sold it…again? Not kidding. I called back today, because of the 36 hour BLIZZARD, and explained that my car has been parked on top of the carpet for two days and there’s an *slight* oil drip. And yet they still wanted to make me feel like it was my fault?

And I went to buy a treadmill. After a snafu with my debit card (apparently there’s a daily spending limit on it!) I waltzed out of Dick’s Sporting Goods with the understanding that I would be back to purchase it the following day, having NOT visited Best Buy beforehand. And I did return . Except this time there really were insufficient funds in my account, because despite being declined the day before, Dick’s did have a hold on a significant amount of money in my account. When I called the store to find out why, they definitely made it clear that it was in no way their fault and they couldn’t help me. I would have to call corporate (which they also made clear they wouldn’t do FOR me), who just happened to be closed because they are two hours ahead of us. Oddly enough, I called corporate and told them I was sure they didn’t want to be on the Fort Carson ‘black list’ of stores that soldiers cannot shop at (its amazing how quick stores can get on that list…). I was called back within 15 minutes. Too late. USAA was quick to explain that no hold should have been put on my account if my card had been declined.

And FedEx cannot apparently locate my iPod, despite the website showing that it has been placed on a delivery truck three days in a row for delivery. So I called last night and was assured that it would be available for pick-up at 0900 this morning. I was there at 0930 and was made to feel like a big inconvenience for giving them a purpose and role to fill, vocationally. My iPod still isn’t here and the only thing they can tell me is that it may (or may not) be available for pick-up on Monday morning…if they can locate it. They tried to call the driver today, but ended up leaving a message with him, because (and I quote)... “he’s not really good at answering his phone or returning calls.” And that was his supervisor saying that.

And at Michael’s tonight, Jack splattered Corie with a paint bottle that should not have been open, but was. So when Corie made an employee aware of it (as she was going to the bathroom to remove the paint that had splattered on her face) the employee said she would be right there to clean it up, after she took her break because (and I quote again) “they get really mad at us if we do not take our break.” The next time Corie saw her was at the cash register where Corie asked her to dispose of the paint-soaked paper towels that she (Corie) cleaned the spill up with.

You may be thinking it, but I will say it…the American worker deserves to lose.
America is in decline not just because of huge corporations, but because at some point in time, the american worker stopped giving a damn about his job. Maybe he was more interested in taking a break or making it home by 5pm, maybe he just doesn’t have a sense of what it means to be a decent employee in the first place. I cannot take this attitude any longer. We only have ourselves to blame. The auto industry has failed because they produced crappier cars than Germany and Japan. Period.

Americans quit trusting in their own worksmanship, how ludicrous is that. At some point in time we all recognized that we were performing worse, but our collective apathy kept us from doing anything besides slapping a ‘Made In USA’ tag on something…like it meant anything. We look around for someone else to blame when its our own damn fault that we let up. I believe its because we no longer saw ourselves as the underdogs and started acting like the world owes us something, like despite our wage, we deserved to live at a certain standard, drive a certain car and wear certain clothes. Now we’re in debt up to eyeballs, owing everyone from Dubai to China, not even considering what is expected. We’ve got a gambling habit with our future and we owe some loan-sharks that we can’t control.

We stopped working overtime to complete a job unless we get tons of extra money for it. Hell, some people drag their feet on jobs just to work overtime. And the worst thing of all is that we are offended that we are failing. We can’t even see that we are to blame. We’re not the steel-workers and midwestern farmers that built this nation anymore. We’re money-grubbing, snot-nosed little brats who don’t really want to work for our money. We’d rather just invest it, and watch it make money for us, always asking “when can I retire?”

The American dream was just that…a dream. When will we wake up and realize that?

Seeing is Believing

2009-03-23T09:52:00.001-07:00

I just had LASIK on Saturday. It was a most terrifying experience. For days I felt both terror and excitement. Years and years I have thought about this procedure, wondering if I could ever afford it, wondering if I would ever be free of the cage of eyeglasses and contacts. In the past year (with Jack’s pregnancy) my eyes got worse, being irritated by only 30 minutes of contacts and a three day average healing time from that 30 minutes. Up until the actual moments of the procedure, I struggled with how to pray over what I was about to do. Sure, I could pray for God to guide the hands of the talented doctors who were blessed with the technology and skill, but it was ultimately my decision to have something so invasive done to my body. Finally, as I lay there, terrified- I just prayed, “God bless my decision, and forgive my ignorance for not knowing how to pray.” Two days in and as I ran this morning (with my lovely sunglasses) I wondered- is this what the rest of the world has been seeing all along?
Before my inner healing experience, I felt the grip that fear had on my life. I felt the black hole, much like a cancer, absorbing much of life’s joy around me. I feared things that I knew were not to be feared. I “hid” from the people and opportunities that God gave me to experience his joy and fulfillment. I couldn’t tell you then exactly why I feared it, perhaps it would have been too much for me to handle, maybe it asked to much of me that I didn’t think I could keep giving, perhaps I felt I didn’t deserve it~ whatever it was, I knew I wasn’t happy. I knew there had to be more to life than living that way. I felt a wall between me and freedom, and I imagined what living in freedom might feel like. I imagined being me- myself- without care, dancing before God and men without a hint of embarrassment. I imagined speaking in confidence, I imagined being happy. Inner healing, specifically God, opened my spiritual eyes. I felt his presence in a way I had needed to and in that kind of goodness, in that thick air of, well, him- there was nothing to fear. I had never experienced something so big, so frightening, so … wonderful. There was only peace, I felt known, accepted, wonderfully made, enjoyed, and destined for purpose. And I came out of it on the other side of that wall. Is this what others having been seeing all along? Is freedom what was on the other side the whole time? It was more than a renewed confidence, it was a peace in the midst of life, peace. Even though life gives me things to fear (believe me, thoughts enter my mind every night before I sleep of all that could go wrong), even though I lay on that LASIK bed wondering if I would see my boys’ eyes again, see the mountains again, see my husband’s eyes that represent our journey together again- I realized- there is nothing else to fear. Nothing is bigger than my God, I feel him now- and his peace calms the perplexity of life.
Sometimes I don’t know what to do with this new freedom, I see people I love still behind the wall, and they think there is nothing else out there. Fear, absorbing black holes, hiding, wondering if there are answers to what life brings, complacency. I am reminded that sometimes, there is nothing else to pray except for, “I don’t know how to pray, but you Lord, know beyond my understanding, and so I pray you would look beyond my ignorance. I don’t see, because I can’t see beyond the wall, beyond the darkness, and so I ask you to move in spite of me.”

The mountains are beautiful. I see every tree. I see things I used to have to work to see. Effort is gone, time consuming worry is gone. My family is more beautiful- even if I had already seen it before- but now, I am grateful that I can see it. There is such joy on the other side. There is always more of God available, no matter what stage of the journey you are in. There is always a new wall to push through. There is always something to give up, but there is a better me on the other side, and new life-giving joy as well. He is my new obsession. Life is so much better experienced through healing and his goodness. Nothing else compares to that. Its much like my terrifying procedure. There is a risk to take, change has to happen. Surgery to the soul, removing the distortion, and perhaps discomfort. But when you open your eyes for the first time, when the fog lifts, when the world around you starts to come back into focus- seeing is believing, and life becomes more than surviving, it becomes detailed… sharp… beautiful… wonderfully made…. purposeful, and you see things you didn’t see before. After that, fear dissolves and there is only room for praise.

Ancient Acceptance

2009-03-15T08:28:00.000-07:00

I know I haven’t written for a while. Something happened over the holidays that gave me the worst writer’s block. It seemed that before then, it just flowed out of me like a channeled river. And then, there was nothing to say. What a strange place for me- not that I have to have something to talk about, but I always have something encouraging to give someone- it’s like my gift. So I sat and waited. I prayed to God asking where His presence was. I wondered- was he holding back on me? And then the question came that so many people seem to ask, “Did I do something wrong?”

On the marriage retreat that Matt and I did together, even though it was a gift to teach together- a glimpse into our future- everything else seemed to fall apart around us even though we had followed all the right steps. We prayed that weekend, “God where is your hedge of protection? What did we do? Did we not pray enough? Did we not pray the right things?”

Shortly after Matt published my blog in the Post newspaper as a way of encouraging me, I broke into tears telling him that any excitement I had of the gift was held back by the painful fear of not getting my words back. I again confessed my fear that perhaps I was not doing something, not present enough to God, that even though I had searched my heart, God was not “coming” to me. He bought the Rob Bell “The God’s Aren’t Angry” tour for me to watch. There was something I wasn’t getting. I had to watch it twice, even though I was in tears, I still wasn’t getting something very important about who God was as God. And although I haven’t captured it yet, it is sinking in to me that I can’t earn God’s love and favor. It’s not a business deal. The more I pray for something doesn’t mean I get it. The more I do- doesn’t mean I get more. And certainly, if I do less, forget to pray something, or don’t do something just right (I am a perfectionist, you know) doesn’t mean he gives me less. He told me very intimately last summer, “I AM pleased with you obedience” in a tone that meant, “Stop, Corie. Stop trying so hard. You won’t get anything more out of me than I’ve already given you. Its there, I know you love me, so just be.” Although he said a lot more to me that day, those are the words He is reminding of me daily- that my doing, praying, etc. to receive his favor in whatever form is an ancient way of living life. What he gave through his son was final; there was nothing left he expected from me other than loving Him, knowing Him, and being moved by Him.

So, that doesn’t get me off the hook, completely- it is a relationship, you know. I have been weighing all of this next to the scripture I have been meditating on lately, “If God doesn’t build the house, the builders only build shacks. If God doesn’t guard the city, the night watchmen might as well nap.” Psalms 127:1
The only expectation this implies on me is to know who really provides. What He gives is not because of what I do, it is because he chooses to give in his timing, for his ultimate purpose.
With the economy the way it is how many people are asking, “What did I do wrong? Did I not pray enough? Did I not seek him enough?” Knowing full well they did, but things were lost anyways. His grace was final with His son, and yet we find ourselves seeking Him in a primitive way. Obedience is necessary, but not part of His favor. He is God, and as I am learning, He doesn’t have to give me the mystery and weight of His presence every time I seek Him. He chooses when to give me that experience, and when to let me experience His love in other ways. There is no equation for that. Now I am not talking about sin here. Sin definitely blocks our understanding of Him, our awareness of His voice. And there are consequences to some of our choices that we have to experience when we go our way instead of His. But that still doesn’t remove us from his love, it just blinds us from the truth and the enemy gets full advantage to whisper lies of our “unworthiness”. I am talking about after you search your heart and you find yourself still with the lies that I need other people’s acceptance to feel better. More so that if I do all the right things with God, then everything will go right, or I will experience Him the way I want to more. Hence the tithing dilemma, “If I give, he will bless. If I don’t give, he will take.”

The rest of Psalms 127 continues to show that our children are not favor granted by our achievement, and neither is the product of our labor. Even He grants sleep and rest. So where was He is the last eight days of my struggle with my children and lack of sleep. I prayed, wasn’t that enough? Last night He granted me sleep. Not because of anything I did. He loved me enough to know when it was time. He heard my prayers and granted me rest when I needed it the most, when I would see His blessing the most. The big picture was that I needed it the most last night. And you know? I just might be getting my words back. Maybe I just needed to learn a lesson. I have his favor, all the time, from my first heartbeat. We all do. His love is incredible. Why do we feel like we have to keep earning his attention? And when we “feel” we don’t get it from Him, we start looking for it from others- validation, acceptance, worthiness. I love this picture of my son. I hope I can live more like that, free, silly, not caring whose watching. Maybe I'll try. We will keep spinning our wheels until we see we already have been accepted, the response we need has already been given. STOP TRYING SO HARD!!!!!

2009-03-14T12:17:00.000-07:00

So, I'm sitting here in the most picturesque condo in Keystone, CO with a fire crackling in the fireplace and only the silent sound of wind blowing across the frozen lake right outside my window and against my second-story view. I slept for 12 hours last night and woke up leisurely around 10:30, stumbled down to the pier and ate a delicious calzone with an ice-cold Coke in one of those over-sized red hard-plastic cups that seem to be at every pizzeria. On my 150 yard walk alongside the lake back to my condo, I stopped and bought a dark chocolate peanut butter cup and toffee square from Rocky Mountain Chocolate factory and have been sitting here, nibbling on them with a warm cup of Starbucks coffee.

But all I can hear is the silence of my kids' voices three hours away. And all I can think about is holding my wife. As I sat in the pizzeria, looking out across the lake at the playground, watching a family enjoy the swing set, I thought about how much a large part of me is missing when I am separated from Corie, Aidan and Jack. I don't know what stage comes after life-long companionship in a marriage, but I sense that I am there. I understand how two can become one, because I feel less than whole when she isn't near me. Last night as I dreamt, I kept having flashbacks of places that we've been and things we've been through, experiences we've shared and how much we have grown together. After a while, I think we all take those things for granted, but I can't tell where I stop and she begins anymore.

I am up here leading a single soldiers' retreat and trying to encourage them to make the right decisions on who and how to date. But how do you give someone the formula for lightening? How can you know how to plan and predict the perfect storm, where everything comes together just right and so sweetly? I look at what I feel for Corie and sense that every other expression of love pales by comparison. I want them to have what I have, but I feel as though I stumbled upon Atlantis or El Dorado without knowing exactly how I got there.

People laugh and scoff at the writings of the Romantics, as metaphors overflow from their prose with ripeness and succulence. But I imagine that for those who felt as strongly as I feel, the words barely skimmed the essence of their love. As the Chinook winds which cascade down from the Cheyennes, briskly fresh and overpowering, so also is that awakening in my heart when I deliberate on the experience of my Love. She transcends my reality and reintroduces me to love with each breath.

Corie, I love and miss you, all the stars in the sky...

The Level of Suck.

2009-02-02T18:49:00.000-08:00

Now there's something you really probably haven't calculated in your life alot. We judge our levels of sleepiness, over-worked-ness, hunger, loneliness, happiness, etc., but have you ever really took a good look at how much things suck?

It's hard to put this soldier-ism into words, usually it is just gauged with a hand gestured as to how high the actual level is. It is a fairly accurate measure of life in the field, where the baseline level of suck rises quite high, and from then on there are several factors which can affect this level: heat, cold, food-quality, food-quantity, the amount and type of precipitation and angle of it's approach, how long since the last shower or change of clothes, the quantity and quality of sleep, how many times you are woken up with mortar drills of indirect fire, how long its been since you've talked with a loved one...how many memorials you have attended lately...

On any given general day, I would guess that the average civilian has a low level of suck. In fact since being home, my level of suck has drastically fallen. But there are hundreds of volunteers who have accepted a level of suck that escapes definition. They are, in a sense, a Maslovian experiment in the hierarchy of needs, consistently testing the theory that one cannot progress towards actualization (finding ones true self) until basic needs are met.

I would propose that those who enjoy a high level of suck know themselves better than most, and have found out the real nature of tangible needs:

1. Sleep is overrated when you have a sense of purpose.
2. Food is for fuel, not for comfort.
3. When everyone's level of suck is high, the jokes are much funnier.
4. When we go through it together, we are bonded inseparably.
5. Boredom and down time is draining, stress produces energy.

I am learning a lesson in the Army that I learned early in marriage. It is within the crucible of conflict and difficulty that anything worth keeping is refined and made solid. The higher the level of suck, the more chances we have to step into greatness. Those who run from adversity, rather than embrace it, are missing the perfect opportunity for self-actualization...finding out who they really are.

I am glad to be home, and have enjoyed my family more with each passing hour. I do not have time to argue, but only to pour myself into every moment. To say "I Love You" at every opportunity, hug my wife and sons like there is no tomorrow, and to thank God for every moment. I loved my time in the field and look forward to deployment. I love my soldiers and pray that I will not have to memorialize any of them. They are the best of America, and inspire me. Our Squadron call-sign is "Yankee" because of the Black "Y" in our Crest. To my Squadron, my call-sign on the radio, I am affectionately known as "Yankee Shepherd".

Yankee Shepherd Out.

I let it go

2009-01-29T19:17:00.000-08:00

It has been a long time since I have been able to write something. Matt has been gone for almost a month and comes home is a couple days. I can't describe how much the deployment will be looming over me once he gets home. This was a practice run, and was indeed practice for all of us. I look at Aidan and dread telling him that Daddy will be gone on another trip for a length of time he can't understand. I dread helping him through the times that he won't understand.
My God is teaching me something about myself. I realized this month that I need him even more than I thought. I need consistent time with him like I need breakfast in the morning. I am desperate for his love, his attention and his strength. I am starving without him. I am ill tempered, impatient, lost, and untame without his lifeblood in me. Why do I even question whether or not sleep matters more than time with him. He asked me to get up early every morning at 5:30 and spend time with him in worship and study, then walk my kids through scripture and a lesson. I started off great. And the kids were better, the same way a dry, wilted plant reacts to water. They soaked it up and thrived. And then I got too comfortable. I slept in, I relaxed and what I got was a household of brittle, thirsty, dry souls. I needed to see that. I needed to see that there is no way I can live out my days without consistent time with him. How did I ever do it before. How did I ever live like this before. So many people just live and never thrive. Most don't even know they are not thriving. I am so sad at that. I am so changed. Its like I walked into Narnia and people are dusting the snow off of my shoulder like its dandruff and I'm wondering why they can't believe me, why they wouldn't want to see the world differently.
My favorite thing to watch is change in people. Favorite joy. Redemption, new purpose, humility, and a new picture of God that carried them through the cynicism around them. Ted Haggard on Oprah impressed me. He was broken, but boy was he beautiful.

So here I am Father, maybe I'm not broken, but my spirit is chipped, cracked. Simply because I chose myself today instead of you. Simply because I chose 30 minutes of sleep over worship with you, simply because I wasted a whole day trying to make it, myself, as good a day as only you can. I ask for forgiveness, for you to change me again.

What do you need?

2009-01-07T07:40:00.000-08:00

What do you absolutely need? What can you not live without? What do you take for granted? What have you become so comfortable living with, that you don’t even realize how precious and fleeting it really may be…

These are just a handful of the questions I have been asking myself as I prepare to leave for a month of training, and soon for a year on the other side of the globe. Up until this point there are key passages of scripture that I never really understood in their fullness. There are passages that we tend to push away as not really pertaining to us, maybe they are meant for someone else. But in the face of leaving my wife and sons, they hit all too close to home…read Luke 14:

25 Now large crowds were traveling with him; and he turned and said to them, 26 “Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple. 27 Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple. 28 For which of you, intending to build a tower, does not first sit down and estimate the cost, to see whether he has enough to complete it? 29 Otherwise, when he has laid a foundation and is not able to finish, all who see it will begin to ridicule him, 30 saying, ‘This fellow began to build and was not able to finish.’ 31 Or what king, going out to wage war against another king, will not sit down first and consider whether he is able with ten thousand to oppose the one who comes against him with twenty thousand? 32 If he cannot, then, while the other is still far away, he sends a delegation and asks for the terms of peace. 33 So therefore, none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions.

There’s a passages most of us could do without. It is easy to come to Jesus seeking forgiveness, restoration, blessing and favor…but this passage is evidence that so much more is required of us than praying a simple prayer or volunteering when we have the time. I am realizing in a way that I never thought I would, how absolutely sacrificial the life of following Christ demands that we be, now there’s a message that not even seven verses of “Just as I Am” could undo.

I have three bags for a month. Four bags for a year. Same clothes, same boots. 50% of my meals were prepared and sealed over a year ago, and nothing is predictable. And for some strange reason, I both love it and hate it. There is a blessing of joy in sacrifice that cannot be understood through sermon or lecture, through reading or imagining. It must be lived. There is a pain of sacrifice that makes me cling closer to my God than any modern-day love-ballad worship set can ever emote or evoke. You cannot make a God moment happen. You can only choose to be prepared for them when they do happen.

How many have been enticed to enter the kingdom, without ever being told the truth of the cost? We sell salvation on church-credit, and then use their volunteer service and tithe to pay the exorbitant interest that the institution has chosen to charge. Do we have actual followers of Christ or indentured servants to the church? There is a difference.

So as I pack my bags, and say my good-byes, trying to explain my impending absences to my 4-yr old son…I can only lean on scriptural references to bring meaning to my leaving. For my sons, my wife and myself. I have stumbled onto a path not of my own choosing, for God knows I would not choose this way. I realized in packing that though there are mission essential elements for physical protection, the only item I cannot do without, that I am absolutely dependent on in my life, is my God. I know what it is to be content with little or much, and that is a place where harmonious peace radiates strongly enough to drown out the noise of an unquiet and ill-content world. Wordsworth and Jesus put it eloquently:

The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;

“What does it profit a man, if he gains the whole world…and loses his Soul?”

What do you absolutely need? What can you not live without? What do you take for granted? What have you become so comfortable living with, that you don’t even realize how precious and fleeting it really may be…

CHAOS

2009-01-06T11:03:00.000-08:00

This week, I allowed chaos into my life. With the boys adjusting to the time zone after the holidays (walking up at 3:30-4:30am) and Matt preparing to leave for a month- I became tired, overwhelmed, and ineffective. I had no time for me, God, much less a positive attitude.
The word "CHAOS" came into my mind.
No Order.

My kids were running over me, my personhood, my authority.

Void.

I began to feel empty of energy, purpose, internal strength, know-how, confidence, and hope (for a month, much less a year). How was I going to do this on my own? And I decided. . . its time for a new beginning.

For whatever reason, God decided to create the heavens and the earth. There was hope in creating the earth, purpose, but it began formless, empty, dark, and deep, and chaotic. He did not start with structure as I tend to do. I always try controlling the chaos by implementing structure and it never lasts. Here I am, chaos winning, and I have doubt.
No. He hovered. He hovered over the waters. Unmoved. Still.

And his spirit hovers over my chaotic void. If I stand here long enough, still, I can feel his presence like a thick blanket, encircling me, forshadowing the good that is to come both in the creation of changes around me and in me. His presence is both peaceful and full of the purpose I lack on my own. It commands my body to be still, exhale my doubt, and be content with being still. Accepting the deafening sound of my unordered chaos. Then, it is not until I recognize that his hovering presence is louder than the screams of my dark chaotic void that change is ready for me.

And what does his Spirit do? He brings light. Truth. Himself. He did not take away my darkness, but gives me something to contrast it with. He provides time, routine, consistency, times of activity and rest- all in the introduction of the light- that which is good and that He, himself, is as consistent as the dawn.

And then, he begins to form, mold, and create, out of himself, in the light, creating good out of what is already Good.

And As I watch it all unfold. I can see order in my horizon. Once I remember what his hovering spirit feels like and letting him breathe new strength into my bones, I can begin a new routine. First, born of Him, what is already good, and grafting it into my routine, and then allowing Him to form me, mold me, as I try to mold my own children in the Light.

Remarkable

2008-12-09T18:20:00.000-08:00

You know... there are few things that invoke awe in me. I post tons of pictures hoping that it can communicate our life here or stir emotion in someone the way it may for me in real life. Usually, I know that its ompossible unless someone is right here experiencing it with me in real time. However, after downloading the pictures this week of the sunrises here, I must say they took my breath away in the same way as the day I captured them. I love that the sky changes daily here, if not hourly. I love that the world seems different, new, and full of art on a consistant basis. I didn't expect that of the mountains. I didn't expect to be so close to the clouds that I could live in them.

Take note heart. It is your God that directs the clouds, moves the air, breathes into the wind. It is your King who lights the sky, who fills it with glory and calls you to take notice. It is your Counselor who gives you comfort, who inspires awe, and rests your soul.

Take note weary soul. It is your Creator who commands the sun, who shakes the mountain, and demands praise from the rocks. Take note, for He calls you to notice. He calls you to rise, lift your voice, to lift your eyes, your chin, and your chest to exhale your praise to Him. . . for no other reason than because He is the I AM and has spoken the day into being.

Take note. Remember. Capture His presence. All of this is ours for use in getting who He is, how He moves around us, in us, for us.

I see it.
Remarkable.

Gaining Perspective

2008-12-03T08:56:00.000-08:00

Last May, Matt surprised me by renewing our vows on our 9th anniversary. Some may wonder, "Why the 9th and not the 10th anniversary?" There are a lot of reasons for that, but most importantly we were close to the church where we got married. I was so surprised to get there and find my close family and grandfather ready to witness. Matt had already written some things down to say and what surprised me the most was this part,
"In nine years, we have lived in 4 (now five) states, lived in 1 apartment, 2 town homes, 2 homes, 1 garage, 1 basement, lived in seven (now eight) cities, and in six cars, we sold one, broke one, and totalled two."

I had never counted! Have we been nomads or what? Although I look back and see God's blessing in every change in our life, it doesn't make the initial adjustments any easier. I feel like I have become an expert of sorts at the art of moving and assimilating into a new town, but it never makes it easier. For us, it takes an average of a year and half to settle in and make friends, a year to get involved in a church, and 2 weeks to unpack the boxes and make it home.

No matter where I've gone, I have found myself looking back and missing things I didn't think I would. It gives you perspective on your current place when you see it is the little things that make your environment feel like home. So here is my random list that I must get out.

I miss:
Saturday trips to Krispy Kreme
A sunday school class that teaches, loves, and lives life with you.
Runs on a cold morning through historic Lexington.
The sound of running horses right before a rain storm
The ten mile run that never seemed quite that far.
Making the decision to run the bear trail in Waco that the third time around that made it nine miles.
The sights of a college campus quad (Waco, Boiling Springs)
A good cup of coffee with a friend prior to children
A half-cold cup of coffee with a friend watching children
Fence-less backyards
Watching rabbits in my backyard in the morning
Driving to my mom's house, just to say hello
The Carousel at the Mall of GA
The Disney store
Being in the same time zone when I need to call someone
Drive-thru Starbucks one mile down either side of my house
Laughing with my cousins
Running with my Dad
Running with my husband before kids
Cramming for that test I knew I would ace
My porch swing in KY
My girl-friends who know me better than I know myself
Teaching
Loving the wounded
The best steaks (and people) I've ever seen at Diamond Back's in Waco
Coffee houses: Silver Teapot, Coffee Grounds, JT's, BB's, Solomon's Porch, Th local doughnut store in Lexington- I can't remember the name!
Playing my guitar

So to gain perspective this morning:
What makes up for it:
Always being where God wants me
Getting to travel and see so many beautiful places
The mountains
The snow that makes you feel like celebrating Christmas
A healthy church
Two girlfriends here I can call anytime
Beginning purpose here
A beautiful home, that I don't have to fix
A bigger home
Health insurance
Stable income
A security gate
New doughnut shops I just need to find?
Lots of coffee houses
Living in a place everyone wants to come see
Understanding people who want to support you
Neighbors that help each other out with everything from watching kids to moving furniture
Outdoor options year round
The opportunity to stay at home with my kids
The constantly changing skyline
A better marriage than I even could have imagined almost ten years ago.

"We have history" Its a quote from "Story of Us"- Our movie. Sometimes, in our darkest hours, that has kept us together. It is history that you make with someone that creates who you are. Of course God is the main part of it, but when I look back, Matt has been through that whole list with me- I wouldn't want it any other way. I hope that this year, you can celebrate with those around you, your history- pull out your photo album, old love letters, maybe sit and reminisce. You'd be surprised how much history pushes you forward.

The Blessing of Adversity.

2008-11-29T11:25:00.000-08:00

Matt Here -

I deal alot with soldiers who have flashbacks. Very few, if any, come back from war without some apprehension that a random vent may trigger. Sometimes it just has to be a certain setting, and they are transported back to a powerful and painful memory. The management of those memories is a life-long task, and one that will continue to form who they are.

Yesterday we took Aidan to have a simple X-Ray for some gastrointestinal issues he is having. He is quite alright right now, no worries, except for that he has AMAZING gas. It really is something to marvel at.But I underestimated the power of memory as I walked him back through the door and onto the X-Ray table. Even now as I type this and revisit that moment in my mind, I am flooded with emotion. Such a randomly simple procedure, and yet such a powerful effect.

The most vivid memories of my childhood are centered on my hip. It's more than a fairly familiar subject for most that know me. But yesterday, as I lifted him up and laid him on the table, while he was excited about "getting a picture of his bones", I all but held it together as I flashbacked to laying there myself, staring up into that square light with the crosshairs. I remembered the feel of the lead vest that they laid upon me, and the beep of the machine. I could tell you exactly how they walked me back to the X-Ray room from the exam room. I remembered hearing and feeling the film plate slide into the table beneath me, and watching them correctly size up the lens with the knobs on the side.

And yesterday, it was me on that table all over again. Clueless about what was really going on in me, and wondering why I had to be different than other kids. And praying for Aidan and Jack, hoping that they would never have to go through any of that, for any reason. It could have been an altar, instead of an X-Ray table, for as much as I was laying their future in the hands of God. And even as we walked out of the hospital, as I held Aidan (who was completely oblivious to anything, but just having fun), we walked into Healer Chapel and I led him in thanking God for a healthy body as we stood at the altar.

And I thanked God for every adversity He blessed me with.

I wonder what it would be like to not have to move my heel lift from one shoe to the next, every time I put shoes on, but I don't wish it away. There's something that happens in adversity that creates, refines and reveals character. It is hard to explain to alot of the young privates in my squadron, but you can see it in the eyes of the senior NCOs who have been tested. The thousand-yard stare that some veterans have is more like their keen awareness of the Big Picture, than it is of "checking out." And while I don't want Aidan and Jack to face adversity, I will gladly walk them through, as I was walked through it by my parents, family and friends.

The one thing that can make or break you in adversity is the presence of someone in there with you, in the midst of the difficulty, showing they believe in you. Enduring it with you. There comes a time when we are all without strength, when hope is a melting snowflake in our hearts and the weight of the burden increases with each step. And the person who has overcome adversity before will smile, and daringly take another step, and with exhiliration feel the last measure of strength slip from their body as they straighten up and defiantly glare adversity in the eyes. "For He who is in me, is greater than he who is in the world..and when I am weak, then He is Strong [and I drive on].

So when I put Aidan on my shoulders, and walked him out of the hospital yesterday, my heart defiantly looked Adversity in the eyes, and reminded him, "you can't tell me who I am."

Anticipation

2008-11-17T08:02:00.000-08:00

The last words God gave to me before we came here were this, "Corie, when darkness comes, don't lose focus or become distracted. Let the Keeper of your heart reign. Let the Sword of the Spirit, the Word of God, fill your heart. Look up, for the Lifter of your head wants your attention. Gaze at the majestic mountain tops around you, let them be a reminder of the divine authority. For the Great High Priest is with you. . ."

That " . . ." is so comforting to me. It means He has more to say to me, more to share, to encourage, and to instill hope. In the little time I have been here, I have felt various levels of distraction and loneliness. I have felt the weight of adulthood and the pressure of purpose in parenting, marriage, and loving the hurting. It is true that the newness has worn off, the bags are unpacked, and I feel that now we are waiting to see how it will begin to unfold. For my sake, it is easy to fear the upcoming deployment. I am not afraid of Matt getting hurt- they don't let chaplains go into dangerous situations. I think of just how long a year is. I think of the day the newness of my "ability to be a single mom" wears off and my energy hits an all time low. What do you do? Press on I guess, that is the only choice. My hope though, is that I will be amazed after that initial cry and I will hear another continuation of God's words to me in the silence, ". . . I am with you baby girl, I am still protecting you from the things outside of your heart. . . I see you and I will reveal my purpose for you."
There is no greater comfort than His words to me. Even now as I look back on the sweet whispers He has grafted into my soul, my heart, I feel His presence circling me once again. My "woes" are quieted by His gentle grace that sustains me, gives me hope, and brings excitement to replace fear of the unknown.
And yet, even if there is nothing. . . even if I am left continuing to weep in His presence, and he gives me no words, no guidance, and no hope in that moment. His arms are there and it is enough.
Oh what joy! What joy I have in a new understanding of Him that far exceeded anything I ever thought was possible. I thought I understood Him. I thought I had enough of Him, and yet this new door He has opened is only a beginning. Why do we wait? Why do we sit and think that when He changes us the first time that it is enough?? Why do we not remember the leap in our heart when we felt his grip of control just when we chose to let it go? And yet we settle in, get comfortable and fear change once more. Oh Lord, may I always come to you to be changed again, to see you more than I did the day before!
I see the mountains differently everyday. It is my gift from Him reminding me of His sovereign authority. My Great High Priest is there, is here, filling the voids of my life with his hovering presence, filling it with light, truth, and making all things good. In those moments, my breath is taken away, time stops, and I hear nothing around me except for the silent praise of His creation. It is just me and Him and all I hear is the beauty of ". . ."

Ministry of Pain

2008-10-30T06:52:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I had the privilege to go to the hospital and sit with a young female soldier who had a miscarriage. I, myself, have never been in that place before, but I think anyone who has ever been pregnant understands the fears. Matt got the call at 6am and after dropping the boys off for school I called Matt. Surely the woman needed another woman there, she was waiting for a DNC. Her NCO had taken her to the hospital. She had no family around, and the boyfriend was at Ft. Brag, NC. When I got there, there was one other female soldier sitting with her who was also pregnant. They called themselves the "Prego-twins". There are probably ten females in a group of about 400-500. As I visited with them, I heard both of their stories, including how lonely it seems with so many men around and family far away. For just a moment, the fear and sadness of losing a child was replaced by girly laughter and a different kind of comradery.
I couldn't stay long, I intend to go back today to check on her. Matt and I remarked, what an incredible place to be. . . sitting with people that you would usually never get the chance to sit with, much less invited in. When most people might see judgement coming perhaps from a person carrying a cross, how great it is to love on someone in pain. How remarkable it feels to leave a person with more hope than when you first met them. This is my joy, my gift, its both of ours- we love to love. We love to share that hope eventually comes from the power and forgiveness of Jesus, but most of the time, its not quite the moment to even share that. Most of the time it is sitting with them in their pain, acknowledging that every man's pain is real and that in the end, God is there in the darkness of their suffering.
Pregnancy, whether you get to carry the child to term or not is a gift. To experience your body do what it was created to do is amazing. Everything you ever tried to control in your life seems pointless when you can't even control your own body. Even seeing your body take care of itself when it senses something wrong is an amazing creation of God. And yet, that disconnect between the mind and the body makes the experience that much more confusing when it goes wrong. If I have learned anything in the past year, it is that only God can really clear away the dark clutter, clouds of confusion, and dispair and in turn fill the void with truth, bright rays of hope, and endearing intimacy with the Creator of all life, death, and purpose.
We all have had moments where we wonder where God is in something, why he won't take something away, or why he left some things unanswered. I don't have the answer either, but I know that the mysteries of God leave me clinging to him still, trusting that if he decides to not give me the answer then I can rest in the comfort of him knowing for me and responding to what is best. I know that he cries, I know that he mourns over us perhaps as much as he rejoices. He moves things, can heal things, even restores, and yet he still chooses to at times not intervene, and simply allow life to happen and hope that his whispers will be enough to sustain us, refine us through the fire, and deliver us into a new freedom with him that will change others as well. And my fear begins to rest in the wake of his mercy and sovereignty.

I Praise God for my gifts, for teaching me what they were. For showing me the difference between a skill and a gifting. For preparing me for the people he would put in my path, knowing that he would smile over me as I did exactly what he knew I would do, because he brought me to that place. I praise him for the mountains that I wake up to each day. They are different each morning and each evening, and it reminds me of just how big he is, and just who is in control.

"Satisfy us in the morning with your unfailing love, that we may sing for joy and be glad all our days. Make us glad for as many days as you have afflicted us, for as many years as we have see trouble. May your deeds be shown to your servants, your splendor to their children. May the favor of the Lord our God rest upon us; establish the work of our hands for us-
yes, establish the work of our hands."
Psalms 90:14-17

Blue

2008-10-24T08:44:00.000-07:00

So I have almost completed my first week by myself here in Colorado. No spiders, nothing breaking down- at least that is what I have heard happens. I have many other opportunities for that though I guess. I did well. I had a couple of days where my patience was thin but when it came down to it. . . we all missed daddy and there is a void without him here. That is something we all have to figure out. JAck tried to talk to his facebook profile picture yesterday. This morning, the first thing Aidan said was, " Daddy comes come today! We can go to the bagel store tomorrow with him!" I can't wait to see their reaction and its only been a week. I know that is nothing compared to what others have experienced, but you only know what you go through yourself and a week is a long time for a kid. My week was busier than I expected and that helped.
As for what I learned this week... there is no energy I can count on that compares to the sustaining peace of God. I didn't do well spending time with him like I wanted. The kids getting up before six and going to bed at 8 did not help in the area of alone time. But, I realized that his voice is in my boys eyes when I want to snap and all I see instead is a place to pour my heart, energy, and love. These latest pictures are my stop signs. What a joy to experience those looks at some of my worst moments. Whatever insecurity or inability I might have to be as perfect as I want to be starts to melt when I realize that a simple hug, tickle fest, and a stare back is all they need to feel the love my God has given me. I keep asking Aidan every night at the dinner table, "What was your favorite part of the day?" and his response all this week has been only, "Playing with you mommy." Not the hike we went on, or the store we went to, or the time I let him watch his favorite video, or game.
Since my last big experience with God when he revealed such an amazing view of my kids, I have not forgotten his guidance. With confidence I guide Jack sternly when needed and am learning to be even more sensitive to Aidan, challenging his limits of understanding when it comes to God and his desire for us. That moment with him was an opportunity to fall in love with my kids all over again and then fall in love with God for his kindness and power. I wish everyday was like that.

Bread

2008-10-14T14:11:00.001-07:00

About 6 years ago, I decided to try making bread. I had set out my "starter" for about two weeks and I was on mission to make my first loaf- of sourdough. It actually turned out beautiful. It made the house smell yummy and brought a sense of accomplishment to me and a rustic feeling to my home. It also started an obsession to master the art of baking bread that many- well, mostly my husband- have long told me to give up. I don't know why this has been so important to me- I don't even eat that much bread. I actually just like the smell of it and planned to give my loaves away as gifts- if I could ever master it. Six years I have been working. Learning to knead the right way, for just the right amount of time, learning how fragile yeast actually is and that you can kill it- learning the art of rolling the dough vs shaping it- and now, even after having a bread machine doing it for me have finally come to understand how humidity affects it all. Here in Colorado, I had to learn to not even think about making bread on a normal sunny day. So, when I see clouds- like rain clouds coming in from the mountains, I know I have enough humidity to make a couple of loaves. I think I finally figured it out. There have been so many failures, so many times when it just turned out awful, but there would always come aday when I was ready to try again. I have wondered lately where that determination comes from in me and how to have it in other areas of my life. I have definitely been challenged lately to grow up, to stop taking some things personally, and just try again. It is so easy though.
Maybe growing up is a lot like making bread. There are so many factors to master and understand before you can be who you really want to be. You have to learn that the world isn't about you (kids really teach you that), that joy is definitely worth the hard work of giving up the pain, that failure- much like humidity comes and goes, but no matter what- you can take it and use it. Being here in this new place- now that the newness is wearing off- is a challenge. It is to us relationally and spiritually. It feels like being the church where there is none sometimes. There are chrsitian women here- I ge tto worship with them every Tuesday morning, but so far you learn to get real close to your neighbors and hope that you are not seen as just the chaplain's wife- but as "normal" too.
I am learning that I can do a lot more by myself when I try and that keeping the Lord's guidance, will, and confirmation of his call on our life in front of me at all times helps me be a better wife when I feel like being selfish. I must say, Matt is doing awesome. In two months, he has already had to do a memorial service for a soldier who died during a personal hike on Pikes Peak, and yesterday we got a call that one of our soldiers has been charged with sexual assault and murder- what?? It makes you wonder where you are and what our role is. What my role is- I am still trying to figure that out. But for now, I think I am embracing that much like humidity, I will figure it out when God is ready to hand it over to me. Until then, I will be patient, serve diligently, and keep looking to him for my focus point.

Ramblings

2008-10-06T14:56:00.000-07:00

So we were looking at some cats in a pet store the other day, and Matt and Aidan were giving them names. This is a common game for us around here. Find and animal and think of a name for him. Its great for thinking skills and just using your imagination to come up with silly names. We came across an orange tabby cat and after Aidan had a hard time coming up with a name, Matt suggested "Peanut Butter". Aidan looked at Matt and said,
"No! You can't name him Peanut Butter!"
"Well, why not? Doesn't he look like the color of peanut butter" Matt said, making a lot of sense to me.
"No, you can't name him that",
"Why?" Matt asked again.
". . .because. . . he's not a peanut."
The whole store laughed.

I love this age. I love how concrete his thinking is. I love what he teaches me about God, about life, and about looking at the world. No wonder Jesus said to come to God like a child. The other day, this four year old asked me to define "hope" for him. Then last night, we were talking about prayer (after reading a book about it) and we talked about forgiveness. I told him about how grown-ups can make mistakes too and we have to ask for forgiveness and forgive others. I told him how we can go to God and ask him to forgive us for doing things that are wrong and he will always forgive us. Aidan responded with a quick prayer asking God to forgive him for "bamming" (Meaning shooting) a signal flare into the sky. Not exactly what I meant, but at least he got the idea and even though us Cullinanites know we can't ask for forgiveness in advance, just maybe Aidan is covered for wanting to shoot that signal flare into the sky (because I told him we might get in trouble here on post for something like that).

I have thought of so many things to write about here. The high speed feeling it is here on post. You are forced to go no faster than 30mph, even though for some reason your car wants to go 25 or 35. You can tell some of these soldiers here push the limits, maybe just to deal with the high speed thought life they are trained to have. You should see when some of them get their motorcycles onto the highway. Its like their daily adrenaline dose. Just being a woman/mother driver who simply doesn't want a ticket, I have often wondered if my safety conscious driving makes some of these soldiers scream some of their tension towards me, defining me as simply another "Female driver". Of course I could be wrong about it, but I personally feel tension. Being a spouse here feels like a necessary part of making this whole system work, but somehow still kinda in the way. I mean, how many times in the regular world do you hear someone mention something about women drivers, imagine being somewhere where you can't go fast, plus half of the people are trained to be invincible and untouchable.

I am learning how to choose to do things on my own when I would usually share the responsibility with Matt. Not with major things, but like calling housing to come spray for bugs at the house, or paperwork I might usually share. I guess I don't really have to right now, but I keep thinking that eventually, he will be gone for a year and there are some things I want to already know how to do, who to call. I can definitely tell you that on the days when I feel tired, ready for him to come home, I remember that soon he won't come home for a long time and I just choose to drive on.

God has been loud lately. He continues to take care of us (as if he would stop) and we try to keep our awareness of him sharp. the enemy would want nothing more than to interfere with Matt and my communication. Anything to whisper to Matt that he is neglecting home or work, and whisper to me that I have reason to be resentful or forgotten. It is looking like we will be able to work together soon to develop a Care team that would literally "care" for some of these families before the deployment so that if the team was ever needed (like a death), the would be well received. Not much different from a church. Speaking of which, Matt has his first memorial service tomorrow morning. He lost a soldier last weekend. There was another service this morning for a soldier who dies in Iraq. Strange to get invitations like that. Tomorrow will be my first military funeral.

Pearls and Motherhood

2008-10-01T08:55:00.000-07:00

September 29, 2008

Nothing like motherhood to both affirm your existence and crumble your self-view at the same time. Yesterday started out awful for me. I had what I like to call “mom-dreams” that kept me up all night. I must have woken up at least four times trying to wipe someone’s nose- I would get all the way to the bathroom before realizing there was no one around me. The worst is startling awake thinking one of your children is falling or about to get hurt. So I guess I was set up for a rough morning when as I was preparing to take Jack down stairs, he fell chasing his sippy cup and I couldn’t catch him. He’s fine of course, he merely rolled on his side- but I was a mess. We usually have a gate up, and he was waiting for me, but his legs were still tired from sleeping. My older “evangelist” son, who had just woken up telling us how much God loves him and loves to be in his heart (I still don’t know where he learned it at four years old- and when you ask him he will tell you God told him)- was comforting me telling me that everyone was alright. Once I had recovered, I accidentally knocked over my Willow tree mother statue that Matt had given me years ago, decapitating both the mother and son, shattering all over the floor- I lost it. After a good cry and Matt getting rid of the evidence before I would have to pick up the shattered pieces of what felt like symbolism of my mothering abilities. It seemed straight out of a dark comedy. Now, as I start a new day (after having only one dream last night), I am reminded of the difference between shame and guilt. I am reminded that God’s view of me is not the view I had yesterday, that things happen, and we can’t always be on top of everything. I though of all the mother’s who have had much worse happen to their children and the ways they must have gone about blaming themselves. What a horrific place to live.

After writing this, I went for a run and could not shake this unresolved feeling within me. I ran thinking it would release this tension. After it didn’t work, I fell to my floor in tears, confessing to God my need for him. I asked him to show me how to be the mother he wanted me to be. I read out loud the words he had last given me, “Corie, I am in love with how you love” “What is that? Why do I feel I don’t know how to love? And how can you be in love with that?”

I confessed and pleaded with him that he give me direction, a vision of our boys. I asked that he use the discernment I was hoping he would sharpen in my life and show me who the boys were to him and how I could play a part in helping them become who He designed them to be. He reminded me of my vision of him, rushing like the wind around us. I asked him to reveal himself through his Spirit in that way. He showed me Aidan and Jack, back to back, not only doing figure 8’s around them, but also circling them as a whole. He told me that he is protecting them and their spirit, no matter how imperfect we are, filling in the gap for what we are unable to do.

Then he showed me Aidan, becoming a mighty oak tree, with a trunk that seemed as wide and strong as a Redwood. And as he grew, his branches were strong too. His leaves were green, but fragile like leaves are, sometimes falling to the ground. He showed me that his spirit is strong in faith, yet he is sensitive and fragile in his emotions. He said to me- “I have spoken to him, he knows me and will follow me and know me by his experiences with me. Water him with my WORD and he will understand with great ability far beyond his years”. My guidance of him would be to challenge him in the WORD, being careful and sensitive to his emotions and that he would become strong.
Psalms 1:1 “Blessed is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked or stand in the way of sinners or sit in the seat of mockers. But his delight is in the law of the Lord, and on his law he meditates day and night. He is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither. Whatever he does prospers”

Jack was a rushing river, loud, and his movement strong. He told me that “he will know me but must be disciplined, guided, and channeled by my WORD. He will need a loud voice, but will hear and respect with great love and warmth. His movement will be forceful, strong, and loud in Me or without Me.” Afterwards, I was listening to SEEDS and I was praying for a scripture for the both of them. One that stood out to me was Psalms 63:1-4, “Oh God you are my God, earnestly I seek you, my soul thirsts for you, my body longs for you, in a dry and weary land where there is no water. . . “ and I thought of Jack who I hope will help bring water to a thirsty land.

The boys were back to back, extensions. . . moving outward- so different from the vision He had given of Matt and I face to face- true intimacy. I share these pearls in boldness because it is a promise that was given me and ask that those that love me will help me remember this promise as motherhood gets deeper and difficult at times. I praise God for this new chapter in my life with him- his willingness to reveal himself to me in ways that would have intimidated me before. I share in hopes that more people will still themselves and soak in the presence of their Creator.

New Blog

2008-09-26T18:38:00.000-07:00

Okay, so a massive thank you to my great friend Kristin, for puting all of this together with such artistry, passion, and ease. She is like a pumpkin candle on a cool fall day- and I just love how she takes care of me. So, if I can get the hang of this, the blog will make it easier to send updates and pictures your way. So, another post to come! Thank you Kristin, it is beautiful!