Our birthday boy has a scraped up face. It happened yesterday afternoon when he was playing outside and fell on some rocks in our yard. He has scrapes on the side of his face and above his eye, and a cut and scrape under his eye.
Lukas is without a doubt the accident-prone child in our family. In his six years of life he has had stitches in his head, two hospitalizations for illness, and countless scrapes, bruises, cuts, and bee-stings. I'm amazed he hasn't had any broken bones yet. In fact, when he did this yesterday, he said to me, "I'm always the one who gets hurt!"
The problem is, I can only do so much to protect my children. I can make sure they wear their bike helmets, sunscreen and bug spray. I can insist they wear shoes when they ride their bikes and lifejackets when they go in the water. I can teach them to watch for cars before they cross the street and take them to swimming lessons. But I can't prevent them from tripping and falling or keep the bee from stinging. I can't keep illness at bay or stop another kid at school from saying something hurtful. I can't control what happens to them, and I can't let my fears keep them from having a normal childhood.
I suppose I could keep them inside and instruct them to play quietly with stuffed animals. No bike riding, swimming, playing on the swingset, or running around, because they could hurt themselves. I could shelter them and baby them and prohibit any kind of activity I thought might lead to an injury. But really, how fulfilling would their lives be? Would I want that miserable existence for them? And even then, I could not possibly protect them from everything.
I realize that as my children grow, there will be bruises, scrapes, and plenty of tears along the way. But there will also be a greater appreciation for the smiles, laughter, and joy when the healing has taken place. And hopefully, their experiences will teach them to make wise decisions and help them avoid making painful mistakes in the future.
It occurs to me that God must feel the same way about us. As our loving Father, He does not want us to be hurt. And although He does have the power to protect us from all the pain and sorrow that define our world, He chooses to allow us to experience life to its fullest - trials and triumph alike.
I don't know why a devoted Christ-follower would have to suffer through the loss of a child, or why missionaries committed to sharing the gospel in unreached countries would be forced to endure extreme persecution - except that we live in a world where there is sin, and as a result bad things happen. People suffer.
The good news is, God will not abandon us through those times! When one of my children is hurt, what do I do? I run to them! I pull them into my arms and do whatever I can to comfort them. How much more, then, does God draw us unto Himself when we are hurting or grieving? We have the choice to run from Him and try to nurse our wounds on our own, or to rely on His strength and allow the healing to begin. And hopefully, when we come out on the other side, we will be wiser, more refined, and closer to our Father.
I cling to the promise of Heaven, where there will be no more pain, sorrow, or death. And I anxiously await the opportunity to fall at my Father's feet in worship!
"And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, 'Now the dwelling of God is with men, and He will live with them. They will be His people and God Himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away'" (Rev. 21:3-4).
Monday, May 26, 2008
Saturday, May 24, 2008
This Week's List (May 24)
How I Would Spend The Money If I Won The Lottery:
- Paying off our mortgage
- College funds for the boys
- Provision for our parents
- I would share some with our siblings, since none of them are independently wealthy!
- An underground sprinkler system with new grass. If you add up all the time I spent moving sprinklers around last year, I bet it was a staggering amount!
- Finishing the basement with a full rec room & home theater (Now we're getting to the fun stuff.)
- A large deck on the back of our house
- A whole new wardrobe for all of us!
- A summer cottage on Mackinac Island
- Trips & Vacations. Maybe that will be another week's list.
- Funding for Youth Haven
- Our boys' weddings (Lukas already has a few potential brides lined up!)
- Inheritances for both boys
Friday, May 23, 2008
Grandparents
Grandparents are one of life's greatest blessings, and I grew up with some of the best. So bear with me here as I reminisce a little bit.
Because we lived close to my Grandma and Grandpa Kirkland when we were kids, most of my memories revolve around them. Spending the night at their house was one of our favorite things to do. They had a sleeper sofa they would pull out, and Gram (as we always called her) had a dresser drawer upstairs that was full of sheets. We would get to choose our sheets and she would make up the bed. We usually wore one of my grandpa's or Aunt Denise's t-shirts to bed. Gram and Denise always prayed with us, and I remember many nights with them kneeling by the sofa bed in prayer.
Then, in the morning, we always had a special breakfast. Gramp would either make us animal-shaped pancakes (usually bunnies), or he would run to the IGA and get jelly-filled doughnuts. To this day I love jelly-filled doughnuts because they remind me of him. In those days you could watch about three hours of Bugs Bunny cartoons on Saturday mornings.
Gram and Gramp often joined us partway through our summer vacations. I will never forget the excitement when they would pull into our campsite in their little Ford Escort. It was a hatchback, so they would fold the back seats down and turn it into a bed at night. We would sit around the campfire at night and tell jokes and stories, belly laughing so loud I know we must have been quite an annoyance to the campers around us!
My sister and I loved horses and used to have a collection of model horses that we used with our Barbie dolls. One year for Christmas, Gramp built us a horse corral. Looking back, I realize what a special gift that was - that he would take the time to build us something like that.
Music was also a huge part of our family get-togethers. Gramp and Dad would play their guitars and harmonicas, and we would dance around the living room to bluegrass and old country hymns. When my great grandma was alive, she would play her harmonica, too. Gram had thyroid surgery when she was younger and it damaged her singing voice, but she would still sing, and to me it was the most beautiful sound in the world.
My grandma and grandpa loved and were devoted to each other. When Gramp was diagnosed with brain cancer later in his life, Gram lovingly cared for him as his health declined. When we would visit, he would squeeze our hands but couldn't say anything. People would comment on how hard it must be for my grandma to take care of him, but she never saw it as a hardship. She told me it was a privilege for her to care for him, and she was grateful that he was able to remain at home. Theirs was an incredible example of love that I am truly blessed to have witnessed all through my life.
Most importantly, my grandparents loved and were devoted to the Lord. Gram still is, although Gramp passed away in 1999. My boys never had the privilege of knowing him, but they love and pray for their great grandma every day. (Here's a picture of them with her, my dad and me last month.)
My grandma is one of those people you can't help but love the moment you meet her. And I know it's because of her heart for the Lord. Growing up, we would sometimes say negative things about people. You know, we all do it. But not Gram. She would say, "The Lord loves that person," or "That might be a lost soul." We used to tease her about it, but how right she was! And her attitude is still the same.
In the past couple of years, Gram has had a quadruple heart bypass and a stroke that severely limited the use of one arm and leg. She spent several weeks in the hospital and then a rehabilitation center, and she still has physical therapy regularly. And do you know what? She cried when she left the hospital because she had grown to love her nurses and therapists so much.
My grandma is an inspiration to me because I know that, like me, she is a worrier. But I have seen in her an amazing determination and ability to make it through the tough times. Not because she is strong and takes things in stride, but because she depends on God. And she sees every trial as an opportunity to be His witness to the people around her. Through her example alone, she has helped me take another step in my spiritual journey without even knowing she was doing it. I hope to be that kind of grandma someday.
Because we lived close to my Grandma and Grandpa Kirkland when we were kids, most of my memories revolve around them. Spending the night at their house was one of our favorite things to do. They had a sleeper sofa they would pull out, and Gram (as we always called her) had a dresser drawer upstairs that was full of sheets. We would get to choose our sheets and she would make up the bed. We usually wore one of my grandpa's or Aunt Denise's t-shirts to bed. Gram and Denise always prayed with us, and I remember many nights with them kneeling by the sofa bed in prayer.
Then, in the morning, we always had a special breakfast. Gramp would either make us animal-shaped pancakes (usually bunnies), or he would run to the IGA and get jelly-filled doughnuts. To this day I love jelly-filled doughnuts because they remind me of him. In those days you could watch about three hours of Bugs Bunny cartoons on Saturday mornings.
Gram and Gramp often joined us partway through our summer vacations. I will never forget the excitement when they would pull into our campsite in their little Ford Escort. It was a hatchback, so they would fold the back seats down and turn it into a bed at night. We would sit around the campfire at night and tell jokes and stories, belly laughing so loud I know we must have been quite an annoyance to the campers around us!
My sister and I loved horses and used to have a collection of model horses that we used with our Barbie dolls. One year for Christmas, Gramp built us a horse corral. Looking back, I realize what a special gift that was - that he would take the time to build us something like that.
Music was also a huge part of our family get-togethers. Gramp and Dad would play their guitars and harmonicas, and we would dance around the living room to bluegrass and old country hymns. When my great grandma was alive, she would play her harmonica, too. Gram had thyroid surgery when she was younger and it damaged her singing voice, but she would still sing, and to me it was the most beautiful sound in the world.
My grandma and grandpa loved and were devoted to each other. When Gramp was diagnosed with brain cancer later in his life, Gram lovingly cared for him as his health declined. When we would visit, he would squeeze our hands but couldn't say anything. People would comment on how hard it must be for my grandma to take care of him, but she never saw it as a hardship. She told me it was a privilege for her to care for him, and she was grateful that he was able to remain at home. Theirs was an incredible example of love that I am truly blessed to have witnessed all through my life.
Most importantly, my grandparents loved and were devoted to the Lord. Gram still is, although Gramp passed away in 1999. My boys never had the privilege of knowing him, but they love and pray for their great grandma every day. (Here's a picture of them with her, my dad and me last month.) My grandma is one of those people you can't help but love the moment you meet her. And I know it's because of her heart for the Lord. Growing up, we would sometimes say negative things about people. You know, we all do it. But not Gram. She would say, "The Lord loves that person," or "That might be a lost soul." We used to tease her about it, but how right she was! And her attitude is still the same.
In the past couple of years, Gram has had a quadruple heart bypass and a stroke that severely limited the use of one arm and leg. She spent several weeks in the hospital and then a rehabilitation center, and she still has physical therapy regularly. And do you know what? She cried when she left the hospital because she had grown to love her nurses and therapists so much.
My grandma is an inspiration to me because I know that, like me, she is a worrier. But I have seen in her an amazing determination and ability to make it through the tough times. Not because she is strong and takes things in stride, but because she depends on God. And she sees every trial as an opportunity to be His witness to the people around her. Through her example alone, she has helped me take another step in my spiritual journey without even knowing she was doing it. I hope to be that kind of grandma someday.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Light
Yesterday I went on a 2nd grade field trip with Stefan's class to Impression 5 Science Museum. When we first arrived and the kids were released to visit the different hands-on stations, it was mass chaos: fifty eight-year-olds launching tennis balls, blowing giant bubbles, digging for dinosaur bones, and launching toy boats down a miniature version of the Soo Locks.
After an hour and a half of running back and forth trying to keep track of the three boys who had been assigned to me, it was finally time for the "light" workshop. Whew! At least for half an hour they would be contained in one place!
And then something amazing happened. The workshop teacher handed out these little cardboard-framed glasses to everyone - including the adults. They look silly, yes, but when you put them on, you can see every color present in the light spectrum. What appears to us as an ordinary lightbulb completely transforms into a kaleidoscope of brilliant colors when seen through those special lenses.
Then the teacher explained to the children that the human eye doesn't naturally see every color in the spectrum because if it did, we would see so much color that we wouldn't be able to distinguish the objects around us. So when we look at a lightbulb it just appears yellowish or white.
That got me thinking. First of all, how awesome is our God to have created such an amazing display of color! And how small are we, that our human eyes aren't even capable of seeing it? Yet, knowing our human inability to function in an environment where His glorious colors are on full display, He created us in such a way that our minds could interpret the world around us.
Second, I thought of the rainbow, and it became more precious to me. When you see a rainbow, it is because the water particles in the air act as prisms and diffuse the light of the sun, allowing the naked eye to see the colors in the light spectrum. What a precious gift from God - not only a blessed promise given to Noah after the flood, but a glimpse of His glory for the generations to come! From now on, whenever I see a rainbow in the sky, I will think of it as God showing me His amazing colors through nature, and I will remember how powerful He is!
I am grateful that I serve a God who is not only powerful enough to speak light into existence, but also creative enough to give it such brilliant colors!
After an hour and a half of running back and forth trying to keep track of the three boys who had been assigned to me, it was finally time for the "light" workshop. Whew! At least for half an hour they would be contained in one place!
And then something amazing happened. The workshop teacher handed out these little cardboard-framed glasses to everyone - including the adults. They look silly, yes, but when you put them on, you can see every color present in the light spectrum. What appears to us as an ordinary lightbulb completely transforms into a kaleidoscope of brilliant colors when seen through those special lenses.
Then the teacher explained to the children that the human eye doesn't naturally see every color in the spectrum because if it did, we would see so much color that we wouldn't be able to distinguish the objects around us. So when we look at a lightbulb it just appears yellowish or white.
That got me thinking. First of all, how awesome is our God to have created such an amazing display of color! And how small are we, that our human eyes aren't even capable of seeing it? Yet, knowing our human inability to function in an environment where His glorious colors are on full display, He created us in such a way that our minds could interpret the world around us.
Second, I thought of the rainbow, and it became more precious to me. When you see a rainbow, it is because the water particles in the air act as prisms and diffuse the light of the sun, allowing the naked eye to see the colors in the light spectrum. What a precious gift from God - not only a blessed promise given to Noah after the flood, but a glimpse of His glory for the generations to come! From now on, whenever I see a rainbow in the sky, I will think of it as God showing me His amazing colors through nature, and I will remember how powerful He is!
I am grateful that I serve a God who is not only powerful enough to speak light into existence, but also creative enough to give it such brilliant colors!
Saturday, May 17, 2008
This Week's List
I've decided to make Saturday "List Day." I think it will be a good way for me to share some silly details about my life. I hope you find it informative and amusing. So, here's this week's list.
Things I Have Cleaned Off the Wall This Week:
Things I Have Cleaned Off the Wall This Week:
- Chocolate Milk
- Blue Jell-O
- Dirty Handprints
- Doggie Noseprints
- Pencil Marks
- Cheetos Fingerprints
- Spaghetti Sauce
- Pee (My boys are 8 and almost 6. They sometimes have trouble aiming.)
Friday, May 16, 2008
Time with God
It's 9:17 PM and I am sitting on the couch watching "What Not To Wear" all by myself. Stefan and Lars are at Youth Haven making s'mores with a Cub Scouts troop of 2nd graders, most of whom go to Lansing Christian. Lukas is next door making s'mores with the neighbor boy and his dad. So here I sit with my popcorn watching TLC.
I have a feeling this is the direction my life is heading. Boys doing boy stuff. Mom sitting at home, the only girl. In his book "Bringing Up Boys," James Dobson talks about a time in every boy's life when he naturally separates from his connection to his mother and becomes more attached to his father. I suppose it's good when that happens. After all, I can't teach them how to be men.
Dad plays baseball. I tried throwing the baseball to them and was quickly told, "Mom, never, ever pitch underhand." Dad drives tractors. I don't even know how to turn the lawn mower on. Dad can fix just about anything. I find myself frequently saying, "I'm sorry, you'll have to wait until Dad gets home." Dad knows all about planes, trains and automobiles. I know how to drive my car, does that count?
I'm beginning to understand how Lars felt when the boys were littler and wanted Mommy all the time. They used to need me a lot more than they do now. Or at least they were more aware of their need for me then. I prepare their meals and wash their clothes. I help them with their homework and make sure their backpacks are ready for school each day. I wake them up in the morning and tuck them in at night. When it comes down to it, they do need me, after all. It's just that the activities they choose for fun don't always include me.
Hmm. Isn't that the way I am with God? There are times when I am fully aware of my complete need for Him. I depend on him to get me through every moment of every day. But when I have time to myself, do I choose to include Him? Here I am, alone in the quiet, watching a silly television show about clothes. Why didn't I pick up my Bible? I wonder if God feels abandoned. Does He wait for me to show up and grieve when I don't? It's a sobering thought. Time to turn off the TV and computer and spend some time with Him.
I have a feeling this is the direction my life is heading. Boys doing boy stuff. Mom sitting at home, the only girl. In his book "Bringing Up Boys," James Dobson talks about a time in every boy's life when he naturally separates from his connection to his mother and becomes more attached to his father. I suppose it's good when that happens. After all, I can't teach them how to be men.
Dad plays baseball. I tried throwing the baseball to them and was quickly told, "Mom, never, ever pitch underhand." Dad drives tractors. I don't even know how to turn the lawn mower on. Dad can fix just about anything. I find myself frequently saying, "I'm sorry, you'll have to wait until Dad gets home." Dad knows all about planes, trains and automobiles. I know how to drive my car, does that count?
I'm beginning to understand how Lars felt when the boys were littler and wanted Mommy all the time. They used to need me a lot more than they do now. Or at least they were more aware of their need for me then. I prepare their meals and wash their clothes. I help them with their homework and make sure their backpacks are ready for school each day. I wake them up in the morning and tuck them in at night. When it comes down to it, they do need me, after all. It's just that the activities they choose for fun don't always include me.
Hmm. Isn't that the way I am with God? There are times when I am fully aware of my complete need for Him. I depend on him to get me through every moment of every day. But when I have time to myself, do I choose to include Him? Here I am, alone in the quiet, watching a silly television show about clothes. Why didn't I pick up my Bible? I wonder if God feels abandoned. Does He wait for me to show up and grieve when I don't? It's a sobering thought. Time to turn off the TV and computer and spend some time with Him.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Quiet Down, Cobwebs!
This morning during our staff devotions, we heard an excerpt from one of Charles Swindoll's books that focused on striving for excellence in all we do. Swindoll encouraged believers to do what needs to be done, and do it thoroughly, to the best of our ability.
So... I came home from work totally motivated to thoroughly clean the mess I had left in the kitchen when I headed out the door in a hurry this morning. As soon as Lars and Stefan left for baseball practice, I started on my task.
Enter Lukas. "Mom, can we please go for a walk?" I have a hard time saying no to anyone, especially my almost-six-year-old with his big, blue eyes. So I left the dirty dishes piled in the sink and went for a walk with my son. And I realized something important in the process.
If I am going to do things thoroughly and to the best of my ability, then I have to choose carefully, because I can't do everything and do it all well. I am a wife and a mother. I also work full-time at Youth Haven and regularly serve on the worship team at church. There is always a pile of laundry, a stack of dishes, a layer of dust, a school field trip, a dentist appointment, and the list goes on. It can be overwhelming at times.
I guess I need to get a little better at saying no to the things that don't matter as much so that I have more time for those things that are truly important. I don't want to have so much to do that I can't possibly give everything my best. Right now, being a mom is more important than having a spotless house. And if I am going to be a mom with my whole heart, I might have to leave dirty dishes in the sink every now and then.
I remember seeing this poem somewhere, and I don't remember where. If I did, I would give credit to the poet, but I have no idea who wrote it. I just remember these lines:
Cleaning and scrubbing can wait till tomorrow,
'Cause children grow up, I've learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs, dust, go to sleep -
I'm rocking my baby, and babies don't keep.
So... I came home from work totally motivated to thoroughly clean the mess I had left in the kitchen when I headed out the door in a hurry this morning. As soon as Lars and Stefan left for baseball practice, I started on my task.
Enter Lukas. "Mom, can we please go for a walk?" I have a hard time saying no to anyone, especially my almost-six-year-old with his big, blue eyes. So I left the dirty dishes piled in the sink and went for a walk with my son. And I realized something important in the process.
If I am going to do things thoroughly and to the best of my ability, then I have to choose carefully, because I can't do everything and do it all well. I am a wife and a mother. I also work full-time at Youth Haven and regularly serve on the worship team at church. There is always a pile of laundry, a stack of dishes, a layer of dust, a school field trip, a dentist appointment, and the list goes on. It can be overwhelming at times.
I guess I need to get a little better at saying no to the things that don't matter as much so that I have more time for those things that are truly important. I don't want to have so much to do that I can't possibly give everything my best. Right now, being a mom is more important than having a spotless house. And if I am going to be a mom with my whole heart, I might have to leave dirty dishes in the sink every now and then.
I remember seeing this poem somewhere, and I don't remember where. If I did, I would give credit to the poet, but I have no idea who wrote it. I just remember these lines:
Cleaning and scrubbing can wait till tomorrow,
'Cause children grow up, I've learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs, dust, go to sleep -
I'm rocking my baby, and babies don't keep.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Love Story
I have an amazing husband. I met him our freshman year of high school and we became friends, then started dating our junior year. (We were 16!) We were married in December of 1995, and 12 1/2 years later he is still my best friend in the world. We work together, serve on the worship team at church together, raise our boys together. And if I had a free evening to spend with anyone of my choosing, it would be him. There's no one I'd rather be with.
I admire my husband for a lot of reasons. He's a great dad who spends time with our kids. In fact, he's helping to coach Stefan's baseball team this year. Our boys look up to him and love to be with him. He is fully committed to serving the Lord, both at Youth Haven and through his music at church. (Yes, drums are music!) He has so many gifts and skills that he could use to make more money, but I am so grateful he has followed God's call on his life. He helps me with anything I need, and we have fun together.
And, for some reason, he adores me. He sees me first thing in the morning, before the makeup and hairspray. He sees me after I work out, and trust me it's not pretty. Even then, he still wants to kiss me!
More than that, he sees beyond the physical to who I really am, and still he adores me. He has seen me through my darkest times of fear and anxiety. He is fully aware of my need to be organized that, I admit, borders on insanity. (Each dish has an assigned place in my dishwasher, I don't let my foods touch on my plate, and I eat my gummy bears by color.) He knows things about me that no one else knows, and not only does he put up with me, but he actually loves me!
This is why I think God gave us the gift of marriage as a breathtaking picture of the love between Christ and the church. Jesus, my bridegroom, knows every intimate detail of my life: every thought, every trial, every triumph, every failure. He not only accepts me as I am, he loves me for who I am - so much that he took all those failures upon himself when he gave his life for me.
Maybe you can't relate to me in all of this. Maybe you long for that kind of relationship where you are loved unconditionally. I'm not a marriage counselor and I can't offer you 10 steps to happiness in marriage. What I will do is encourage you that, if you know Jesus as your Savior, your day is coming! Jesus, who gave his life for you, is coming back for you! Now that's a love story!
I admire my husband for a lot of reasons. He's a great dad who spends time with our kids. In fact, he's helping to coach Stefan's baseball team this year. Our boys look up to him and love to be with him. He is fully committed to serving the Lord, both at Youth Haven and through his music at church. (Yes, drums are music!) He has so many gifts and skills that he could use to make more money, but I am so grateful he has followed God's call on his life. He helps me with anything I need, and we have fun together.
And, for some reason, he adores me. He sees me first thing in the morning, before the makeup and hairspray. He sees me after I work out, and trust me it's not pretty. Even then, he still wants to kiss me!
More than that, he sees beyond the physical to who I really am, and still he adores me. He has seen me through my darkest times of fear and anxiety. He is fully aware of my need to be organized that, I admit, borders on insanity. (Each dish has an assigned place in my dishwasher, I don't let my foods touch on my plate, and I eat my gummy bears by color.) He knows things about me that no one else knows, and not only does he put up with me, but he actually loves me!
This is why I think God gave us the gift of marriage as a breathtaking picture of the love between Christ and the church. Jesus, my bridegroom, knows every intimate detail of my life: every thought, every trial, every triumph, every failure. He not only accepts me as I am, he loves me for who I am - so much that he took all those failures upon himself when he gave his life for me.
Maybe you can't relate to me in all of this. Maybe you long for that kind of relationship where you are loved unconditionally. I'm not a marriage counselor and I can't offer you 10 steps to happiness in marriage. What I will do is encourage you that, if you know Jesus as your Savior, your day is coming! Jesus, who gave his life for you, is coming back for you! Now that's a love story!
Monday, May 12, 2008
Looking Back
Mother's Day. My mom and dad came over on Saturday, since Sundays are usually busy. My mom has undertaken a massive cleaning at their house, so she brought with her a bag full of things she had kept from when I was in elementary school. So I spent the afternoon of Mother's Day sitting on the couch, looking at my past.
Here are a few of the things that I lingered over:
The funny thing is, we used to listen to Family Life Radio when I was growing up, and I would hear these segments about a place called Youth Haven Ranch. Who could have imagined that one day I would marry into the Founders' family and God would call us to serve full-time at Youth Haven? Well, God, of course!
Now, I listen to my kids and they are full of ambition. Stefan wants to be an airline pilot and an astronaut. Lukas wants to be a zookeeper. (He absolutely loves animals.) Only recently Lukas informed me that God had told him he was supposed to join the military to protect our country. I told them both it doesn't matter what job they have as long as they do what God wants them to do.
I guess my point is, He knows the plans He has for us, plans to prosper us and not to harm us, plans to give us hope and a future (Jeremiah 29:11). I don't know about you, but I wouldn't have it any other way.
Here are a few of the things that I lingered over:
- My kindergarten graduation cap and diploma. Now my baby is finishing kindergarten in a few weeks! In the same package was an award for Bible memory, attentiveness, and the non-wiggler award. My kids inherited the Bible memory. They can be attentive at times, but they definitely did not inherit the non-wiggler trait!
- My 3rd and 4th grade journals. It was really interesting to read my outlook on life back in those days. It actually helped me see the world from my children's perspective. It's a lot nicer than the world I see as an adult!
- A poem I wrote for my mom in 4th grade and entered in a Mother's Day contest. It was actually published in the Saginaw News, our local newspaper! Even at the age of 10 I loved to write.
- The church bulletin from our children's cantata, "Angels Aware," when I sang my first solo in church. I still remember all the words. I also remember having to stand on my tip-toes through the entire song because the microphone was on a stand and it was too high!
The funny thing is, we used to listen to Family Life Radio when I was growing up, and I would hear these segments about a place called Youth Haven Ranch. Who could have imagined that one day I would marry into the Founders' family and God would call us to serve full-time at Youth Haven? Well, God, of course!
Now, I listen to my kids and they are full of ambition. Stefan wants to be an airline pilot and an astronaut. Lukas wants to be a zookeeper. (He absolutely loves animals.) Only recently Lukas informed me that God had told him he was supposed to join the military to protect our country. I told them both it doesn't matter what job they have as long as they do what God wants them to do.
I guess my point is, He knows the plans He has for us, plans to prosper us and not to harm us, plans to give us hope and a future (Jeremiah 29:11). I don't know about you, but I wouldn't have it any other way.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Deliverance!
Some people have more of a tendency to worry than others. My mom and my husband are alike in their ability to just trust God and leave it at that. There's no point in worrying over what we can't control anyway, so why borrow trouble? They seem to take everything in stride. Why can't it be so easy for me?
The problem is, we have a hard time understanding each other when it comes to fear and anxiety. Lars has earned a lifetime of my gratitude for sticking with me and supporting me through all of this, but he has never really been able to understand my struggle.
My dad, on the other hand, knew exactly what I was going through. He, too, has had to overcome worry. I've always been "Daddy's girl," even from the time I was a toddler, and I think it's because I am my Dad all over again, only in female form. My dad is also one of the most godly men I know, so when I decided I had to face this battle head-on, he was the first person I called.
I was actually surprised when he suggested making an appointment with my doctor to discuss the physical symptoms I was experiencing. My doctor listened to everything I had to say and then recommended two different types of medication to help: one that I took every day and one that I took only when I was having a panic attack.
I share this part of my story for two reasons. First, I did not want to resort to medication because it felt like then there must really be something wrong with me. There tends to be a negative feeling about medications that target what could be considered psychological symptoms. If you are in my shoes, do not tell yourself that lie! There is nothing wrong with taking a medication your doctor deems medically necessary, and relying on medication doesn't make you a bad person any more than taking insulin makes a diabetic a bad person.
The second reason I share this is because it was an important step in my realization that I couldn't conquer the fear and worry on my own. No, the medications did not solve all my problems. They were expensive, and they had side effects. But they did help control the physical symptoms so that I could, with a clear purpose and focus, examine what was lacking in my spiritual life and causing such irrational emotional responses.
My dad was an important part of this process, too. He insisted that I had to be spending time reading the Bible, and quite honestly I had let my daily Bible study slip. He suggested the book of Ephesians as a good starting point, and we took one section at a time. He would call me every week and we would discuss what I had read.
As I read through that book, which I had read through many times before, God opened my eyes to the truth of who I am in Jesus. I realized that I did not doubt God's sovereignty. I knew He was sovereign and in control; I had been taught that my whole life. What I doubted was His goodness. I knew God had the power to protect my children, but I wasn't sure that He would. I was afraid His will might be different from my will.
The truth I saw in the book of Ephesians was twofold:
1) He chose me before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in His sight, and He did this in love. The God who created the universe loves me enough to choose me as His child and forgive all my sins, even though it meant sending His Son to die on the cross! I didn’t want anything bad to happen to my kids because I loved them so much, and yet God was willing to sacrifice His own Son for me. If He loves me that much, how can I question His good and perfect will for my life – or for my children?
2) When I accepted Christ as my Savior, I was washed in His blood and received access to the power that raised Him from the dead. I know that in myself I do not have the strength to endure the hardships of this world. But I do not have to be strong in myself, because the power of Christ in me enables me to handle anything that comes my way. God will not allow anything to happen in my life that He will not also give me the strength for.
Once I realized that my fear and worry stemmed from a refusal to submit to God’s control in my life, I confessed that. Knowing I was in a spiritual battle, I began to pray for victory over Satan. It definitely didn’t happen overnight, but I am happy to say that God delivered me from that dark time in my life. I am no longer taking medication, and I have not experienced a panic attack in over four years. I know the reason is that I have surrendered to God’s will and rely on His strength from day to day.
I can't say that I am now 100% worry-free. But I'm not sure I want to be, because that tendency to worry is what keeps me dependent upon God. I am grateful for this experience in my life, because it has taken me to a whole new level of intimacy with my Heavenly Father!
The problem is, we have a hard time understanding each other when it comes to fear and anxiety. Lars has earned a lifetime of my gratitude for sticking with me and supporting me through all of this, but he has never really been able to understand my struggle.
My dad, on the other hand, knew exactly what I was going through. He, too, has had to overcome worry. I've always been "Daddy's girl," even from the time I was a toddler, and I think it's because I am my Dad all over again, only in female form. My dad is also one of the most godly men I know, so when I decided I had to face this battle head-on, he was the first person I called.
I was actually surprised when he suggested making an appointment with my doctor to discuss the physical symptoms I was experiencing. My doctor listened to everything I had to say and then recommended two different types of medication to help: one that I took every day and one that I took only when I was having a panic attack.
I share this part of my story for two reasons. First, I did not want to resort to medication because it felt like then there must really be something wrong with me. There tends to be a negative feeling about medications that target what could be considered psychological symptoms. If you are in my shoes, do not tell yourself that lie! There is nothing wrong with taking a medication your doctor deems medically necessary, and relying on medication doesn't make you a bad person any more than taking insulin makes a diabetic a bad person.
The second reason I share this is because it was an important step in my realization that I couldn't conquer the fear and worry on my own. No, the medications did not solve all my problems. They were expensive, and they had side effects. But they did help control the physical symptoms so that I could, with a clear purpose and focus, examine what was lacking in my spiritual life and causing such irrational emotional responses.
My dad was an important part of this process, too. He insisted that I had to be spending time reading the Bible, and quite honestly I had let my daily Bible study slip. He suggested the book of Ephesians as a good starting point, and we took one section at a time. He would call me every week and we would discuss what I had read.
As I read through that book, which I had read through many times before, God opened my eyes to the truth of who I am in Jesus. I realized that I did not doubt God's sovereignty. I knew He was sovereign and in control; I had been taught that my whole life. What I doubted was His goodness. I knew God had the power to protect my children, but I wasn't sure that He would. I was afraid His will might be different from my will.
The truth I saw in the book of Ephesians was twofold:
1) He chose me before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in His sight, and He did this in love. The God who created the universe loves me enough to choose me as His child and forgive all my sins, even though it meant sending His Son to die on the cross! I didn’t want anything bad to happen to my kids because I loved them so much, and yet God was willing to sacrifice His own Son for me. If He loves me that much, how can I question His good and perfect will for my life – or for my children?
2) When I accepted Christ as my Savior, I was washed in His blood and received access to the power that raised Him from the dead. I know that in myself I do not have the strength to endure the hardships of this world. But I do not have to be strong in myself, because the power of Christ in me enables me to handle anything that comes my way. God will not allow anything to happen in my life that He will not also give me the strength for.
Once I realized that my fear and worry stemmed from a refusal to submit to God’s control in my life, I confessed that. Knowing I was in a spiritual battle, I began to pray for victory over Satan. It definitely didn’t happen overnight, but I am happy to say that God delivered me from that dark time in my life. I am no longer taking medication, and I have not experienced a panic attack in over four years. I know the reason is that I have surrendered to God’s will and rely on His strength from day to day.
I can't say that I am now 100% worry-free. But I'm not sure I want to be, because that tendency to worry is what keeps me dependent upon God. I am grateful for this experience in my life, because it has taken me to a whole new level of intimacy with my Heavenly Father!
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Darkness
Darkness. I've always been afraid of it, of the unknown lurking out there just beyond what my eyes can see. When I was a little girl, I shared a room with my older sister for a while, and I remember night after night lying in bed and looking over at her. Watching her sleep, I would think to myself, "When I'm big like her I won't be scared anymore."
Only, growing up didn't automatically take away the fear.
I am naturally prone to worry. I don't know what it is about our genetic makeup, but that seems to be a common trait in my family. I'm at least third generation worrier. But I had no idea how fear could control a person's life until I had children of my own.
My mom thinks it stems from an experience I had as a young child, and I think she might be right. When I was four years old, my baby brother developed spinal meningitis. He spent several nights in the hospital, and he was not expected to live. Praise God, his little body was miraculously healed and today he is a healthy guy with two boys of his own. But as a four-year-old, realizing my little brother was so sick he could die was a pretty traumatic experience. And although my parents and grandparents tried to protect my sister and me from the bleakness of the situation, I think we were quite aware of what was going on.
It makes sense, then, that when I had my own children I was terrified of every little illness. It all came crashing down on me when Lukas was about five months old and Stefan was two. A stomach virus went through our family, and I completely freaked out. For months afterward my nerves were on edge. Would they get sick again? What would happen if they did?
I couldn't sleep; I would just lie there and listen for any little sound over the baby monitor. I would get up repeatedly throughout the night and go into their room, just to check and make sure they were okay. I would hover over them during the day, my heart racing at any little out-of-the-ordinary thing I might notice. Or think I noticed.
Then the panic attacks began. My heart felt like it would pound right out of my chest. I could hear the ocean in my ears, like I was holding one of those shells up to both ears, only magnified a thousand times. I would get so hot that I would actually get sweaty as though I had just been working out. And my stomach would be in knots.
The most frightening thing about a panic attack for me was the complete loss of control. As much as I told myself the boys were fine, I was completely overreacting, I could not talk myself out of what I was feeling. I could not calm myself down. There was a physical response to my emotional stress that was beyond my ability to control.
As a result of all of this, doing things and going places became frightening to me. What kind of germs would my boys come into contact with? Would it make them sick? It would have been so easy for me to lock myself up in our house and never go out again.
There were times when I did lock myself in the bathroom and sit in the bathtub, crying. I didn't even want to be with my children anymore, because by my irrational way of thinking, the only way to stop worrying about them was to get away from them. It was, without a doubt, the darkest time I have ever experienced in my life.
And then, one Sunday, our pastor spoke about those whining and complaining Israelites. They mumbled and grumbled about having no food in the desert, so God sent them manna from heaven. The strict command was to gather only what they would eat in one day, except on the sixth day. That day, they were to gather enough for the seventh day as well, so it could remain a day of rest. Well, some of them obeyed God's command, but others hoarded the manna, gathered too much and kept it until the next day. When they awoke, the manna they had kept was full of maggots.
I thought to myself, "Those stupid Israelites! God told them exactly what they needed to do. After all the miracles they had seen him do, didn't they trust that he would provide for them the next day, too?" Then it hit me, right between the eyes. I was just like they were! Here I was, passing judgment on them, when I was not able to trust God to provide, protect, and care for my family day to day - even after I had witnessed His care and provision time and time again.
It was then that I realized I was in the midst of a spiritual battle. Satan was trying to destroy my family, and at that point, he was winning. I resolved that I could no longer live in darkness and let Satan have the victory over my life and the lives of the people I loved the most.
I had no idea what to do, but at least I knew I had to do something. I was ready to run into the light and never look back!
(To be continued...)
Only, growing up didn't automatically take away the fear.
I am naturally prone to worry. I don't know what it is about our genetic makeup, but that seems to be a common trait in my family. I'm at least third generation worrier. But I had no idea how fear could control a person's life until I had children of my own.
My mom thinks it stems from an experience I had as a young child, and I think she might be right. When I was four years old, my baby brother developed spinal meningitis. He spent several nights in the hospital, and he was not expected to live. Praise God, his little body was miraculously healed and today he is a healthy guy with two boys of his own. But as a four-year-old, realizing my little brother was so sick he could die was a pretty traumatic experience. And although my parents and grandparents tried to protect my sister and me from the bleakness of the situation, I think we were quite aware of what was going on.
It makes sense, then, that when I had my own children I was terrified of every little illness. It all came crashing down on me when Lukas was about five months old and Stefan was two. A stomach virus went through our family, and I completely freaked out. For months afterward my nerves were on edge. Would they get sick again? What would happen if they did?
I couldn't sleep; I would just lie there and listen for any little sound over the baby monitor. I would get up repeatedly throughout the night and go into their room, just to check and make sure they were okay. I would hover over them during the day, my heart racing at any little out-of-the-ordinary thing I might notice. Or think I noticed.
Then the panic attacks began. My heart felt like it would pound right out of my chest. I could hear the ocean in my ears, like I was holding one of those shells up to both ears, only magnified a thousand times. I would get so hot that I would actually get sweaty as though I had just been working out. And my stomach would be in knots.
The most frightening thing about a panic attack for me was the complete loss of control. As much as I told myself the boys were fine, I was completely overreacting, I could not talk myself out of what I was feeling. I could not calm myself down. There was a physical response to my emotional stress that was beyond my ability to control.
As a result of all of this, doing things and going places became frightening to me. What kind of germs would my boys come into contact with? Would it make them sick? It would have been so easy for me to lock myself up in our house and never go out again.
There were times when I did lock myself in the bathroom and sit in the bathtub, crying. I didn't even want to be with my children anymore, because by my irrational way of thinking, the only way to stop worrying about them was to get away from them. It was, without a doubt, the darkest time I have ever experienced in my life.
And then, one Sunday, our pastor spoke about those whining and complaining Israelites. They mumbled and grumbled about having no food in the desert, so God sent them manna from heaven. The strict command was to gather only what they would eat in one day, except on the sixth day. That day, they were to gather enough for the seventh day as well, so it could remain a day of rest. Well, some of them obeyed God's command, but others hoarded the manna, gathered too much and kept it until the next day. When they awoke, the manna they had kept was full of maggots.
I thought to myself, "Those stupid Israelites! God told them exactly what they needed to do. After all the miracles they had seen him do, didn't they trust that he would provide for them the next day, too?" Then it hit me, right between the eyes. I was just like they were! Here I was, passing judgment on them, when I was not able to trust God to provide, protect, and care for my family day to day - even after I had witnessed His care and provision time and time again.
It was then that I realized I was in the midst of a spiritual battle. Satan was trying to destroy my family, and at that point, he was winning. I resolved that I could no longer live in darkness and let Satan have the victory over my life and the lives of the people I loved the most.
I had no idea what to do, but at least I knew I had to do something. I was ready to run into the light and never look back!
(To be continued...)
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Sharing My Testimony
It's not easy to share your most personal thoughts and experiences with other people. What if they think I'm weird? What if they like me less the more they discover about me? Being vulnerable is a frightening thought.
So when our pastor asked me to share my testimony in church I naturally hesitated. I felt safe sharing those things with him, but all those people? Doesn't he know I'm not good at speaking to a crowd? (I like to call that my "Moses" moment!)
Fortunately I am also not good at saying no. So one Sunday morning I stood up on the platform with a microphone in my hand, shaking like a leaf! I can sing in front of that same group of people and hardly feel a twinge of nerves. But to actually say something...
Well, I took a deep breath, shared my story, and I am so glad I did. After both services I had young moms approach me with tears in their eyes and say, "Thank you for sharing that with us. It's encouraging to know someone else has the same struggles I do."
If you don't have the tendency to worry and be fearful of things, then you cannot possibly understand what it's like. There's no logic, no rationale, just a paralyzing fear that you don't know how to overcome. It seems hopeless and you feel alone, wondering what's wrong with you and why you can't snap yourself out of it. So many times I asked, "Why can't I just be normal?"
I think sometimes as Christians we shy away from admitting our fears and worries to other Christians, because we feel like it's a spiritual failure on our part. At least that's how I felt. Somehow I was falling short as a Christian because I couldn't seem to just trust God and let go. In fact, I was so tired of people telling me to trust God, because I knew that was what I needed to do, I just didn't know how to make myself do it.
Well, the journey has been long, and it has been painful at times. I still worry about my kids and I'm still afraid of certain things. But the worry and fear does not control my life as it once did, and I am grateful for everything, because through it all I have developed a deeper intimacy with the Father than I ever knew was possible.
That's why I believe I need to share my testimony. Because although I can't say, "Do this one thing and you'll be worry free," I have experienced deliverance, and I know there is a way out of the darkness!
So when our pastor asked me to share my testimony in church I naturally hesitated. I felt safe sharing those things with him, but all those people? Doesn't he know I'm not good at speaking to a crowd? (I like to call that my "Moses" moment!)
Fortunately I am also not good at saying no. So one Sunday morning I stood up on the platform with a microphone in my hand, shaking like a leaf! I can sing in front of that same group of people and hardly feel a twinge of nerves. But to actually say something...
Well, I took a deep breath, shared my story, and I am so glad I did. After both services I had young moms approach me with tears in their eyes and say, "Thank you for sharing that with us. It's encouraging to know someone else has the same struggles I do."
If you don't have the tendency to worry and be fearful of things, then you cannot possibly understand what it's like. There's no logic, no rationale, just a paralyzing fear that you don't know how to overcome. It seems hopeless and you feel alone, wondering what's wrong with you and why you can't snap yourself out of it. So many times I asked, "Why can't I just be normal?"
I think sometimes as Christians we shy away from admitting our fears and worries to other Christians, because we feel like it's a spiritual failure on our part. At least that's how I felt. Somehow I was falling short as a Christian because I couldn't seem to just trust God and let go. In fact, I was so tired of people telling me to trust God, because I knew that was what I needed to do, I just didn't know how to make myself do it.
Well, the journey has been long, and it has been painful at times. I still worry about my kids and I'm still afraid of certain things. But the worry and fear does not control my life as it once did, and I am grateful for everything, because through it all I have developed a deeper intimacy with the Father than I ever knew was possible.
That's why I believe I need to share my testimony. Because although I can't say, "Do this one thing and you'll be worry free," I have experienced deliverance, and I know there is a way out of the darkness!
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Triumph Through the Trials
Today I took our boys in for their annual check-up with their pediatrician. Normally they breeze in and out, pick out their stickers and we head across the street to Krispy Kreme for their chocolate-covered reward. Not today.
The problem was, Lukas spent two nights in the hospital about three weeks ago. He had already missed three days of school with a low-grade fever when he started complaining of leg pain. It was severe enough that he refused to walk, and whenever he tried to stand he would start to cry. I took him in to the doctor, expecting him to say it was just a bug, let it run its course and he'll be back to normal in a few days. Instead, he said, "I think we need to observe him overnight in the hospital."
I knew I had to be strong, because Lukas was immediately terrified. I held him and said, "I promise I will not leave you." Thankfully our pediatrician was able to have him directly admitted so we didn't have to mess with the ER. We got him into a room and they started running some blood tests, then put him on IV fluids. Their concern was the potential for muscle damage. Your muscles release a certain enzyme when they are distressed. The normal level is between 0 and 200. By the second round of blood tests his level was 1800.
As it turns out, when his immune system attacked the virus he had, it went too far and started attacking the muscles. They kept a close eye on him to make sure it didn't progress to other muscles and begin to affect his heart and breathing. By the second evening, his levels still hadn't dropped and his fever had spiked to 102. The doctor suggested keeping him one more night, so we agreed. Lukas asked me, "Are you going to leave me?" Of course I wasn't! I am so grateful to my mother-in-law for staying with Stefan so that Lars and I could be at the hospital together.
By the next morning, Lukas' fever was gone and the pain in his legs had subsided. The blood test showed a dramatic drop in the enzyme level, so they released him. We were later told that if it had progressed as they had feared it might, he would have been in the ICU on a ventilator. Thank God, it never got that bad! Now you'd never know anything was ever wrong.
Fast-forward to today. In the doctor's office. He had so much blood drawn in the hospital that he was terrified they were going to do it again. Thank goodness, they called the hospital to get the results instead. But then came the immunization. A needle. The tears and the struggle. Two nurses had to hold his legs and I had to lean over him on the table and hold him down.
After it was over, with tears in my own eyes, I said, "It will protect you, honey." The nurse said, "They don't comprehend that. All they know is it hurts."
Wow. She had no idea how profound her statement was.
As hard as it was for me to watch my son crying in the hospital when they drew his blood and trembling in fear at the idea of a shot, I knew it was best for him. And I have to believe that it grieves God to see His children suffer as well. But He knows what's best for us, even when all we know is it hurts, and if it hurts we don't want it.
God has brought me a long way, and the simple fact that I was able to spend two nights on a hospital room chair and actually sleep next to my son is proof of that. Not long ago I would've been a basket case. But just as I thanked God that Lukas' condition never became more serious, I had to ask myself how I would have responded if it had. Would I have been angry at God? Would I have fallen apart? I guess you never really know how you'll respond until you're actually faced with a certain situation, but today I make this vow: to trust God's infinite wisdom and goodness in all things. Many times I have asked God, just as Lukas asked me, "Are you going to leave me?" And He has always said, "I promise I will not leave you." And so the theme verse for my life, short and to the point, is Psalm 18:1 - "I love you, O Lord my strength."
The problem was, Lukas spent two nights in the hospital about three weeks ago. He had already missed three days of school with a low-grade fever when he started complaining of leg pain. It was severe enough that he refused to walk, and whenever he tried to stand he would start to cry. I took him in to the doctor, expecting him to say it was just a bug, let it run its course and he'll be back to normal in a few days. Instead, he said, "I think we need to observe him overnight in the hospital."
I knew I had to be strong, because Lukas was immediately terrified. I held him and said, "I promise I will not leave you." Thankfully our pediatrician was able to have him directly admitted so we didn't have to mess with the ER. We got him into a room and they started running some blood tests, then put him on IV fluids. Their concern was the potential for muscle damage. Your muscles release a certain enzyme when they are distressed. The normal level is between 0 and 200. By the second round of blood tests his level was 1800.
As it turns out, when his immune system attacked the virus he had, it went too far and started attacking the muscles. They kept a close eye on him to make sure it didn't progress to other muscles and begin to affect his heart and breathing. By the second evening, his levels still hadn't dropped and his fever had spiked to 102. The doctor suggested keeping him one more night, so we agreed. Lukas asked me, "Are you going to leave me?" Of course I wasn't! I am so grateful to my mother-in-law for staying with Stefan so that Lars and I could be at the hospital together.
By the next morning, Lukas' fever was gone and the pain in his legs had subsided. The blood test showed a dramatic drop in the enzyme level, so they released him. We were later told that if it had progressed as they had feared it might, he would have been in the ICU on a ventilator. Thank God, it never got that bad! Now you'd never know anything was ever wrong.
Fast-forward to today. In the doctor's office. He had so much blood drawn in the hospital that he was terrified they were going to do it again. Thank goodness, they called the hospital to get the results instead. But then came the immunization. A needle. The tears and the struggle. Two nurses had to hold his legs and I had to lean over him on the table and hold him down.
After it was over, with tears in my own eyes, I said, "It will protect you, honey." The nurse said, "They don't comprehend that. All they know is it hurts."
Wow. She had no idea how profound her statement was.
As hard as it was for me to watch my son crying in the hospital when they drew his blood and trembling in fear at the idea of a shot, I knew it was best for him. And I have to believe that it grieves God to see His children suffer as well. But He knows what's best for us, even when all we know is it hurts, and if it hurts we don't want it.
God has brought me a long way, and the simple fact that I was able to spend two nights on a hospital room chair and actually sleep next to my son is proof of that. Not long ago I would've been a basket case. But just as I thanked God that Lukas' condition never became more serious, I had to ask myself how I would have responded if it had. Would I have been angry at God? Would I have fallen apart? I guess you never really know how you'll respond until you're actually faced with a certain situation, but today I make this vow: to trust God's infinite wisdom and goodness in all things. Many times I have asked God, just as Lukas asked me, "Are you going to leave me?" And He has always said, "I promise I will not leave you." And so the theme verse for my life, short and to the point, is Psalm 18:1 - "I love you, O Lord my strength."
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