In the Christmas season, you will hear me mention Behold the Lamb of God probably every other sentence. This incredible show has really defined Christmastime for me ever since I was first introduced to it several years ago by my boss friend John. You really must listen to it, which you can do here, in its entirety, for free! The song “Labor of Love” isn’t really my favorite song from the album, but it does contain a verse that has been more moving to me than almost any other. I cannot hear this part of the song without immediately tearing up, and it’s because of its reference to the miracle of the Incarnation that it affects me so. The song, sung each year by Jill Phillips, talks about Mary and Joseph as Mary is preparing to give birth to Jesus. It points to the hardships they faced and the miracle of what was accomplished through their plight. Here is the part that gets me every.single.time.
Noble Joseph by her side,
calloused hands and weary eyes
There were no midwives to be found
on the streets of David’s town
in the middle of the night
So he held her and he prayed,
shafts of moonlight on his face
but the baby in her womb
He was the Maker of the moon
He was the Author of the faith that could make the mountains move
I won’t go on and on about this, since I have done that in other posts, but I will say that the picture painted here of the miracle and mystery of the Incarnation just about knocks the breath out of me every time that I hear it. It is astonishing to imagine a tiny baby, not even yet born, being the maker of the moon - the author of my faith. Thanks to Andrew Peterson once again for penning these poignant and moving lyrics. Merry Christmas!
Labor of Love
It was not a silent night
There was blood on the ground
You could hear a woman cry
in the alleyway that night
on the streets of David’s town
and the stable was not clean
and the cobblestones were cold
and little Mary, full of grace,
with the tears upon her face,
had no mother’s hand to hold
It was a labor of pain
It was a cold sky above
But for the girl on the ground in the dark
every beat of her beautiful heart
was a labor of love
Noble Joseph by her side
calloused hands and weary eyes
There were no midwives to be found
on the streets of David’s town
in the middle of the night
So he held her and he prayed
shafts of moonlight on his face
But the baby in her womb
He was the Maker of the moon
He was the Author of the faith that could make the mountains move
It was a labor of pain
It was a cold sky above
But for the girl on the ground in the dark
every beat of her beautiful heart
was a labor of love
For little Mary, full of grace,
with the tears upon her face
it was a labor of love
This is a new song I just encountered this week that paints a really interesting picture of the Incarnation. It was co-written by Andy Gullahorn and Jason Gray, and is based on a short story by Walt Wangerin. I heard Andy Gullahorn perform it live this week, and I wasn’t really sure what I thought about it at the time. Quite honestly, it didn’t make sense to me. There are several metaphors running throughout the song, and that’s something you don’t encounter much. Usually a song won’t jump between metaphors without closure or connection. But in an interview about the song, Andy Gullahorn says:
"I have been playing this song most nights on this Christmas tour. Every night that I play it, at least one person finds me after the show to ask me about it. The standard comment I get is “I really like the song but can’t figure out what it means.” The funny thing is that in some ways I feel the same way about the original Wangerin story as well as the song - and that is part of why I think it is special. I mean, on one hand I can easily say what the song is about - the Incarnation. On the other hand, none of the metaphors in the story tie up neatly. It is about a battered woman - but it isn’t. It refers to Mary - but it doesn’t. All I know is that when I read the story I am deeply moved - but it isn’t a movement I can easily explain. It is like the truth in the story completely bypassed my brain and my reasoning to take up residence somewhere deeper. So although I can’t really explain it, it feels more true to me than some things that are more easily explained."
This is a great assessment of the song, because I come to the same conclusion. This song doesn’t resonate with me as much on a logical level as it does on an emotional one. I do love some of the ideas in the song, particularly when God (whose point of view narrates the song) admits that he could just break down the door and carry the woman away, but she might die from the fear. I love how this demonstrates the complete power and freedom God has to encounter his people, yet it shows that his desire is to come to us in a very specific, unique way that we wouldn’t expect and that in many ways defies logic. When you think about it, why in the WORLD God would choose to redeem his people by becoming one of us, dwelling among us, and taking our well-deserved punishment is beyond me. It certainly doesn’t seem like the most direct or simple choice of methods. But, of course, it is perfect.
Anyway, if you’d like to know more about the song, I’d encourage you to check out the rest of the interview on the Rabbit Room. And everything else on the Rabbit Room site.
Here are the lyrics, as well as a video of Andy performing the song live.
I Will Find A Way
JGray & Andrew Gullahorn
At the end of this run down tenement hall
Is the room of a girl I know
She cowers behind all the dead bolt locks
Afraid of the outside world
So how should I come to the one I love
I will find a way
Many thieves and collectors have used that door
But they only brought her shame
So she won’t even open it anymore
Still I will find a way
I could call out her name with love through the walls
But condemnation is all she hears
I could break down the door and take her into my arms
But she might die from the fear
So how should I come to the one I love
I will find a way, I will find a way
How should I come to the one I love
I will find a way
No hiding place ever kept her safe
So she hides inside herself
Now to reach her heart the only way
Is to hide in there as well
I will hide in there as well
She gave up on love waiting for a change
But a change is coming soon
Cause how could she not love the helpless babe
Who is waking in her womb
I found a way
She’ll know I am coming before I am here
When she hangs her head she’ll see me there
And then when I come she won’t turn away
All the beauty and joy will return to her face
And what of the loneliness? Now it is gone
Lost in the bond of the mother and son
Every sin that she suffered at the hands of men
Every single disgrace will be washed clean again
I will love her completely and when I am grown
I will carry her out of that tenement room
I am doing a new thing and soon you will see
I am coming among you and my name shall be
Emmanuel, Emmanuel
The Incarnation of Christ is perhaps the most moving theological concept to me. Its incomprehensible mystery and beauty often knock the breath out of me when I take the time to contemplate it. Since becoming a mother, there is now another layer of complexity and miraculousness in the Incarnation for me to consider. It is such a miracle that the Almighty Creator would be pleased to come to his people in the form of a tiny, human baby. It’s unexpected, unprecedented, and profoundly beautiful -a perfect example of God using the foolish things of this world to shame the wise (1 Cor 1:27). Even in this season of my life where I feel callous and question God’s love for me, I cannot help but be moved by the tenderness of a God who would leave the throne of Heaven to dwell among us in our broken world in weak, human form. The idea alone renews my awe and wonder of God’s wisdom and mercy.
So, in the spirit of Advent, I’m going to post songs over the next few days that particularly reflect the mystery and miracle of the Incarnation. I have always been especially touched by music, and so sharing other people’s songs is a great way for me to express myself when I feel inarticulate (which is often, regrettably). I’m so thankful that talented, thoughtful writers have put these words to music.
Today I’m posting a song that I didn’t discover until a few years ago. It’s not a conventional Christmas song, but it is one of the best songs about the Incarnation I’ve ever heard. It’s written by the brilliant Chris Rice, and I am struck by it each time I hear it. The Youtube video below is the only one I could find where Chris Rice is performing the song, although sadly it does not include the beautiful piano accompaniment I’m accustomed to on his album Deep Enough to Dream, and the video ends abruptly before the song is finished. Still, I couldn’t post another artist singing this beautiful song, since in my mind it will always belong to Chris Rice. Anyway, have a listen, and I hope you are blessed by the miracle of the Incarnation this Christmas season.
Tears are falling, hearts are breaking
How we need to hear from God
You were promised, we’ve been waiting
Welcome, Holy Child
Welcome, Holy Child
Hope that You don’t mind our manger
How I wish we would have known
But long-awaited, holy stranger,
Make Yourself at home
Please make Yourself at home
Bring Your peace into our violence
Bid our hungry souls be filled
Word now breaking Heaven’s silence
Welcome to our world
Welcome to our world
Fragile fingers sent to heal us
Tender brow prepared for thorn
Tiny heart whose blood would save us
Unto us is born
Unto us is born
So wrap our injured flesh around You
Breathe our air and walk our sod
Rob our sin and make us holy
Perfect Son of God
Perfect Son of God
Welcome to our world
I went to see the great Behold the Lamb of God concert last night, which has become somewhat of a required Christmas event. I love this show for so many reasons, and while I won’t go into them right now because that’s not the point of this post, I cannot encourage you enough to check it out. It’s an amazing piece of work.
But anyway.
One of the regulars on the Behold the Lamb tour is Jill Phillips. My very first Christian music album (WOW 2000) included a song by Jill ("I Am") which has always been very close to my heart. After seeing last night’s show, I decided to pull out some of my old Jill Phillips albums and listen to them, since they never really got much play before (no particular reason...I just liked other things more). Today I was cleaning up the downstairs while my little monkey was napping, and a song came on that made me sit down to write this post. Because I’ve been thinking about this for months, but it seems like I never find the time. So here goes.
Jill’s song, “By a Thread,” articulates a lot of my own feelings during this season of my life.
I can’t help but feel like there’s something missing
I hear the same old truth; this time it’s not convincing
All the promises are hard to swallow when
I’m hanging on by a thread
I still believe every word You said,
but I can’t get it down to my heart from my head
I remember the story of someone who needed
help with his unbelief even when he believed it
But You didn’t come to heal
the ones who never feel they’re hanging on by a thread
I still believe every word You said,
but I can’t get it down to my heart from my head
I need you to make a connection, make a connection, please
It’s foolishness to hide because You must know that
I am hanging on by a thread
I still believe every word You said
but I can’t get it down to my heart from my head
I have been wanting to write about this for a long time, because, well....there’s no better way to deal with a problem that you feel deeply troubled and ashamed by than just putting it out there for everybody to see. Talk about accountability! So here it is.
I am a Christian. I believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of the Living God, sent to reconcile a sinful people to Himself. I have acknowledged my own depravity and my desperate need of Him. By the very definition, I am a Christian. But I don’t feel like one. I haven’t FELT like one for a very, very long time. There is a serious divide between what I know to be true and what I put into practice. And Jill’s song really says what I mean here. I still believe the Gospel, and I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I NEED it each and every minute of my life. I know what is required of a life sacrificed to Christ. I yearn for fellowship and communion with the one who redeemed me from my sinful nature. But there is something missing. I don’t know what it is, but it’s like there is a physical barrier between me and God, and even if I put it there myself, I have no idea how to remove it. Or, rather, I have ideas how to move it, but I can’t seem to make it happen.
For one, I need to be immersing myself in the Word of God. But am I? No. I had no idea how being the mom of a busy toddler would affect my ability to have personal devotions. Sure, there are (usually) naptimes. But I have found that, during his naptime, the last thing I ever end up doing is sitting down to read my Bible. Instead, there are always a million things that actually need to get done around the house, or decompression time on Facebook that I (at the time) feel is absolutely necessary. To just put it out there, again, I can probably count on one hand the number of times I have sat down to read the Bible in the last 6 months. That’s fewer than five times in SIX MONTHS! That’s the first part of my problem.
Also, I can’t seem to pray. I feel like I’m talking to a wall. And I feel like my prayers are all very me-centric. Which they are. Often the only times I remember to pray are when I’m gripped by fear over the safety or wellbeing of someone I love, which has a knack for instantly driving me to God. Corrie Ten Boom once asked something along the lines of, “Is God your steering wheel, or your spare tire?” (Some of my readers are groaning - I know who you are!- but despite the triteness, it makes my point). But anyway, it seems like I only pray in times like this. So, since praying is hard and awkward and seemingly ineffective, I just avoid it. Problem number 2.
I have begged God to just supernaturally lift this divide, to rip out my heart of stone and replace it with a heart of flesh. I know my desperate depravity is a state of being, not just a laundry list of sinful actions. My own natural desire is to be an enemy of God. But there is a war within me, because there is also a will in me to seek His forgiveness and mercy. I just can’t seem to get it through to my heart that this should be the most crucial priority in my day-to-day life. But why?
My goal with writing this post is to kind of reinvent my blog, give myself a reason to write, and in some ways restore the original intention of the blog’s title (it’s called Babylon to Jerusalem because I am trying to document my sanctification and journey from this broken world toward the restoration and perfection of Heaven, inspired by the return of the Jewish remnant from Babylon to Jerusalem in the book of Ezra). I plan to write about this and other things that are on my mind and heart. This season of my life has been long and seemingly without an end in sight. I have been far from God for so long I’ve almost forgotten what real communion and fellowship with Him feels like. But I like to remind myself that this is a season, which is an appropriate metaphor. As my dear pretend-blogger-friend Katie said, seasons have good days and bad. Some days in winter are cloudy and snowy, and others are bright and beautiful, but the season itself is still there. So, in line with that, not all of my posts will be full of despondency and desperation. Some will be full of hope and promises, because I still experience those too. But I need to be honest with someone, anyone (everyone?) about what’s really happening in my heart. Because I feel like this is one way I can start healing and breaking down this longstanding divide between me and God. In another song, Jill Phillips wisely writes, “Don’t whitewash the truth about yourself because nobody’s got it all together.”
So here's the truth about me. Thanks for listening.
Until last year, I had never really wanted to have photo Christmas cards. I always enjoyed receiving them from other people, but I never really found any I liked enough to purchase for myself (I'm miserly like that). Last year I took advantage of a promotion to get some free ones, and I liked them well enough when they were free, but I knew I probably wouldn't have actually paid money for them. So, of course, I didn't plan to use photo cards this year.
Yes, I’ve been extremely bad about blogging this year. I have about a zillion posts in my head, but finding time to sit down at the computer to write them without Fox protesting has proved difficult. And we’ve been busy this fall!
We’ve been spending a lot of time outside.
Fox loves to play on our porch and in our little postage-stamp-sized yard. He especially likes to use the rake, and acorns are awesome. He counts them, collects them, throws them, you name it. We’re really enjoying the weather this week, since it’s been sunny and in the mid 60’s! Fabulous.
Here are a few pictures from our fall festival at church. Fox dressed up as Tigger and had fun putting candy in his bucket (thankfully he hasn’t figured out that candy is good to eat yet).
We have also been enjoying the new Discovery Place Kids museum that opened in Huntersville. If you haven’t been yet and you have kids, you MUST! We go several times a week and never, ever get bored.
Anyway, I promise to be better about posting things. I’ve missed blogging, and to my great surprise, many of my readers (yes! I have readers!) have told me they miss my blog too.
So here we go again!
So, Fox is teething (yes....still). My poor kid still only has one tooth that has erupted, but I can see the one above it trying very hard to push through the gum. This, of course, results in a grumpy baby. I've been giving him teething tablets every day, and that seems to do fairly well. But this week he's been waking up insanely early (between 4:30 and 5:30), and Mike and I thought that maybe a dose of acetaminophen might help him be more comfortable and therefore help him sleep longer. Since pretty much every infant Tylenol product has been recalled, I had picked up some Target-brand infant drops to have on hand in case Fox started running a fever. He's never had them before, but I assumed they'd be pretty comparable (in taste and effectiveness) to Tylenol. Not so. Apparently, the dye-free cherry flavor Up & Up infants' pain relief drops taste like death. Fox took one taste of the dropper and proceeded to throw up everything (or so I thought) that he'd had for supper. We cleaned him up and calmed him down, and I sat down to give him his bedtime bottle. He took about half of it, leaned forward, and threw up again. And again. And again. It was scary to see how much stuff came out of my little boy's belly. Poor baby! We cleaned him up and calmed him down again, called the doctor, and talked with a triage nurse who gave us protocol for what to do if he continued throwing up (which would indicate a virus). Thankfully, he didn't throw up again. He slept soundly through the night, and he has felt fine ever since.
Dear Blog,
I am so very proud of you about so many things. You are such a joy to me and your Daddy. We love playing with you, comforting you when you’re sad or hurt, giggling and acting silly with you, and we adore watching you grow and learn. You are truly, without a doubt, the best thing that has ever happened to us.
But.
5am is not an acceptable wake-up time. Maybe once in awhile, like if we’re getting up early to go to the beach or Disney World. But on regular days, it just won’t do. I must insist at the very least that you extend your sleeping time until Daddy’s alarm clock goes off at 6:00. You were doing this for a few days, but 5:00 has suddenly become your hour of choice. Please don’t get me wrong - I am thrilled that you go to sleep at 7pm most nights without a fuss and sleep through the night. This is incredible, and please - don’t stop. But, baby, I am begging you - sleep until 6am.
Also, I’d like to ask that you talk to your friend Mr. Bird and ask him to kindly adopt a similar sleeping schedule and avoid 5am wake-up times. I know you two have a lot to chat about, and since there is no tree outside YOUR window, Mr. Bird feels compelled to camp outside MY window and twitter and tweet as loudly as possible so you can hear him. But, again, this just won’t do. I would gladly plant a tree outside your window so you and Mr. Bird could socialize at ungodly hours every morning, but sadly our HOA won’t let me. So could you please talk to him? I would appreciate it. You should also know that, if Mr. Bird suddenly stops showing up in the morning, Mommy has no idea what happened to him. He probably just packed up and moved South (or North, or to some other poor, sleep-deprived mom’s bedroom window). Or maybe he went to take a nap with the fishes, since he's been getting up so early every morning and probably needs a nap.
I would appreciate it if you would take these requests under consideration. I know you have a busy agenda and need to start early every morning in order to squeeze everything in, but an extra hour or two of sleep never hurt anyone. Just consider it.
With never-waning affection,
your sleepy and slightly exasperated Mom
P.S. Pleeeease nap!
At the top of the list of “What Fox Wants for Dinner?” Goldfish. Lots and lots of goldfish. He wasn’t a bit interested in finger foods until we went to a playdate where the little boy of the house was eating goldfish. Now, all of a sudden, Fox can’t get enough of them. Literally. Heaven help me if I leave the house without remembering to pack a baggie of goldfish.
Since I can’t nourish my son exclusively with little fish-shaped cheese crackers, we are trying to branch out. Currently the list of foods that sometimes get swallowed (and about equally as often end up stuck to the back of his britches) includes:
Spaghetti-o’s
Cheerios
Avocados (okay, so apparently foods that end in “-o” are a hit)
Whole wheat toast with 100% fruit blueberry jam
Ravioli pieces
Lasagna
Yogurt
Shredded cheese
Bananas (sometimes)
Whole, peeled apples (he likes to suck on them)
Ice cream (so sue me)
Things that are currently on the “icky” list are:
Dark chocolate (hey, he begged for a piece!)
Cottage cheese
Everything else not on the list above
So, little by little, day by day, Fox is learning to eat like a grown-up. He loves to drink apple juice from his sippy cup. He is still hesitant about the whole silverware thing. Most days he still throws a fit if I try to introduce new foods. But we’re getting there.
Thank you, goldfish. Thank you.
I get anxious at night. Fearful. I don’t know why. Sometimes it’s worse than others, and thankfully, lately, it hasn’t been too bad. But for as long as I can remember, nighttime anxiety and fear have been common for me. I have some thoughts about why this happens:
1) I was afraid of the dark and afraid of sleeping alone in my room until I was 12. Yes, I know that’s pretty old to still be wanting to crawl into bed with Mom and Dad. But that’s the way it was. And, if I’m honest, I’m still afraid of sleeping alone. In nearly 5 years of marriage, Michael and I have never slept apart from each other except for nights during this first year of Fox’s life where I would sleep in the nursery with him. During that time I was also dealing with some mild postpartum depression that would give me a feeling of ominous dread when the sun would begin to set.
2) I have historically had nasty nightmares. I have no idea where all these horrible dreams spring up from, but they have often made me lie awake for hours feeling frightened and uneasy and praying desperately to forget them. They were worse when I was pregnant (probably latent fears about Fox’s safety - and my own - juiced up by hormones), and they’ve eased up lately, but every once in awhile I still wake up from a doozy.
3) I used to love horror movies. I really have no idea what was wrong with me. Now the thought of watching something scary gives me the heebie jeebies, but I used to relish them. Unfortunately for me, while I typically forget most plot details after a year and can watch a movie again like it’s brand new, I have an eerily good memory for the disturbing images I’ve soaked up over the years. Which means sometimes they pop into my head unbidden when I am trying desperately to go to sleep. Which brings me to....
4) I have suffered from insomnia off and on as long as I can remember. I can’t seem to quiet my mind at night in order to relax and drift off to sleep, which gives me time to think about all sorts of unpleasant things. This problem is exacerbated by point number 3 above, and sometimes I find myself squeezing my eyes shut and begging God to give me comfort and peace and to keep evil thoughts at bay.
So, as you can see, I have issues. But my purpose in writing this really isn’t to highlight those issues. What I want to focus on is the only thing that can bring me relief. I mentioned several times above how I find myself praying desperately for God’s comfort during my fearful times. He is certainly faithful to calm my fears, though sometimes not immediately. And over the years He has provided me with tools to help me, which brings me to the thing that inspired me to write this post in the first place. Several years ago, Fernando Ortega came to perform at BGEA, and he sang a song off an upcoming album that was incredibly moving to me. I find myself singing this song to myself nearly every night as I go to sleep, and I also sing it to Fox each night as I’m giving him his bedtime bottle. The song just captures the essence of what my heart is crying out to God when I’m afraid, and it also comforts me by reminding me of His care for His children. Finally, it also serves as the perfect prayer. I wanted to share this song with you, so you might find comfort when you need it as well. Here are the lyrics, as well as a recording of the song (thanks, Youtube).
Jesus, King of Angels, Heaven’s light,
shine your face upon this house tonight.
Let no evil come into my dreams;
Light of Heaven, keep me in your peace.
Remind me how you made dark spirits flee,
and spoke your power to the raging sea,
and spoke your mercy to a sinful man -
remind me, Jesus, this is what I am.
The universe is vast beyond the stars,
but you are mindful when a sparrow falls
and mindful of the anxious thoughts
that find me, surround me, and bind me.
With all my heart I love you, Sovereign Lord.
Tomorrow let me love you even more,
and rise to speak the goodness of your name
until I close my eyes and sleep again.
The universe is vast beyond the stars,
but you are mindful when a sparrow falls,
and mindful of the anxious thoughts
that find me, surround me, and bind me.
Jesus, King of Angels, Heaven’s light,
hold my hand and keep me through this night.
obligatory Easter picture
at the park with Daddy on Easter SundayYesterday after we got back from the store, I decided it was crucial to wash the pollen off the car. So I strapped Fox into the mei tai and helped myself to my next-door neighbor’s hose. Since my neighbor clearly never uses his hose, I assumed this would be fine. And it would have been. Except I found out very quickly why my neighbor never uses his hose: it leaks (badly) and was so tangled that I could barely get enough length to reach the car. So here I was, with my wiggly and impatient son strapped to my chest, fighting to get this leaky, dirty hose out of its container and over to my car. I finally got the nozzle within reach of the van, and I found some innovative ways to get every side washed. I was horrified by how much green gunk washed off the car and down the road toward the storm drain. Yuck. That’s what I’m breathing in every time I step outside! Anyway, though, after washing the car (and inadvertently washing myself and Fox too), I had to lug the hose back to my porch and fight to reel it back into its container. The aforementioned leak only got worse, and every time I would turn the crank, the hose would spray water into my face. And the crank kept getting stuck. So I finally had to put Fox in his stroller and huff and puff and fight with the hose. I finally won, but I was soaking wet and covered in dirt and grime from the hose brushing against my legs as I reeled it in. Note to self: wait til Michael gets home before trying this again.
One last thing to note: This morning, while I was cooking breakfast, Fox was playing happily on the floor near the back door. Michael glanced down at him and asked, “What’s that in your hand, Fox?” He had to look closer, because he thought it looked like the object in his hand was wiggling. And it was. Somehow, Fox had picked up (IN MY KITCHEN!) a wiggly, slimy earthworm. I squealed something along the lines of “ohmygoshquickgetitoutofhishandNOWbeforeheeatsit!” and Michael swooped in with a paper towel to rescue Fox from the earthworm. Thankfully, he didn’t try to eat it, and he didn’t seem terribly sad to see it go. Unfortunately, this is not the first worm I have found in my house this spring. I found a dead earthworm near the pantry the other day, and I have found several dead milipedes in the downstairs bathroom. So now, on top of the tiny little beetle-things that have been invading my kitchen, we apparently have worms coming in. Remind me to move. Ick.
Dear Refuge of my weary soul, on Thee when sorrows rise,
On Thee when waves of trouble roll, my fainting hope relies.
To Thee I tell each rising fear, for Thou alone can heal.
Thy Word can bring a sweet relief for every pain I feel.
But, oh, when gloomy doubts prevail I fear to call Thee mine.
Thy streams of comfort seem to fail, and all my hopes decline.
But, Gracious God, where shall I flee? Thou art my only trust,
And still my soul would cleave to Thee, though prostrate in the dust.
Hast Thou not bid me seek Thy Face?
And shall I seek in vain?
And can the ear of Sovereign Grace be deaf when I complain?
No, still the ear of Sovereign Grace attends the mourner’s prayer.
Oh, may I ever find access to lay my sorrows there.
Thy mercy seat is open, still - here let my soul retreat,
With humble hope attend Thy will, and wait beneath Thy feet.
Thy mercy seat is open, still - here let my soul retreat,
With humble hope attend Thy will, and wait beneath Thy feet.
Why are you downcast, O my soul?
Why so disturbed within me?
Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise Him,
my Savior and my God.
-Psalm 42:11
Elector of Saints,
Save me from the false hope of the hypocrite:
May I never suppose I am in Christ unless I am a new creature,
never think I am born of the Spirit unless I mind the things of the Spirit,
never rest satisfied with professions of belief and outward forms and services,
while my heart is not right with thee.
May I judge my sincerity in religion by my fear to offend thee,
my concern to know thy will,
my willingness to deny myself.
May nothing render me forgetful of thy glory,
or turn me aside from thy commands,
or shake my confidence in thy promises, or offend thy children.
Let not my temporal occupations injure my spiritual concerns,
or the cares of life make me neglect the one thing needful.
May I not be inattentive to the design of thy dealings with me,
or insensible under thy rebukes,
or immobile at thy calls.
May I learn the holy art of abiding in thee,
of being in the world and not of it,
of making everything not only consistent with but conducive to my religion.
-from The Valley of Vision, page 316
I have zero interest in reading Pride and Prejudice and Zombies.
Just wanted to get that out there.
Things have been really challenging lately. Fox has been having a hard time for some reason. Of course, my first guess is that he’s teething, but it seems like I’ve blamed every challenge on teething from the time he was 3 months old and suddenly became a drool factory, and guess what? Here we are, 7.5 months later, and we still have no teeth. We started sleep training in December so that Fox would learn to sleep in his crib. That was hard, but it was starting to pay off, and for a few weeks we enjoyed regular naptimes, bedtimes, and sleeping through the night from about 6:30pm til 6:00am. Then things started deteriorating. In addition to the napping drama I described in an earlier post, he has started waking up at 4:00 EVERY morning, ready to go. I didn’t really think things could get worse, but the last few nights he has woken up crying 2 or 3 times during the night, and to top it off he still gets up between 4:00 and 5:00 for the day.
At church this Sunday, our pastor baptized a sweet three-month-old baby girl. He typically tells some personal information about the baby and family after the baptism, and he talked about how her parents had been blessed with another “easy” baby who only cries when she’s hungry and is already starting to sleep through the night. For a moment, I found myself feeling wistful and thinking, “Boy, wouldn’t that have been nice.” But I quickly chided myself for these thoughts and thanked God again that He gave Fox into our care exactly as he is. Mike apparently had similar thoughts during the service. Afterwards we were talking, and he observed that that baby’s parents were probably already godly, patient people who could handle being blessed with an easygoing baby (this is conjecture, of course, but work with me here). We, on the other hand, desperately needed Fox, difficulties and all, to expose our sins of selfishness and self-reliance and to help us grow into better, more godly people than we once were. This is a theme we’ve revisited many times over the past 10 months, and it constantly affirms God’s sovereign provision for us. God knew exactly what baby we, Mike and Laura, needed for our own sanctification, and He blessed us so richly by putting that child in our charge. I am so grateful for Fox.
And now for something completely different....
The census was a total bust. I thought there’d at least be more to it so I’d feel like I was filling out a survey or something. Nope. Just a few questions about who lives in my household and when they were born. That’s it. My income taxes were more interesting! Boo.
But, oh, how I miss the days when he would sleep for a blissful hour or two twice a day.
I mean, look at them - couldn’t you?
It turns out that, on top of English grammar and learning foreign languages, I’m also a sucker for administrative work. I actually had fun doing our taxes this year. I enjoy filling out forms at the doctor’s office. I like making lists and organizing information. Who knew?
I thought I’d put my cubicle days behind me, but apparently there’s still a remnant here somewhere. Could there be more administrative work in my future?
We’ll see. For now, I’ll just revel in little bureaucratic pleasures like the census and my grocery list.
I am daily inspired and deeply touched through other women who blog. Some of these women I know personally, and others I only know through the blogosphere (though many of them feel like good friends, even though we’ve never spoken and they probably do not know I exist). My interest in other blogs started during my pregnancy, when my friend Megan directed me to MckMama's blog to read about the incredible story of her sweet son Stellan, who, at the time, was fighting for his life due to a congenital heart defect. Stellan’s story is truly incredible, and I encourage you to read it here.
The blogosphere has really opened up the world to me and has brought me into a virtual community I never knew existed. I won’t list many of the blogs I follow, because not everyone has the public presence that MckMama does, and they may want to keep it that way. I will say that I’ve learned so much about being a mother, wife, and Christian through reading about the musings and the day-to-day stories of these women. I’ve learned that I’m not alone in the struggles I’ve had adjusting to motherhood. I’ve learned to put my own struggles into perspective after learning what so many of these women have dealt with or are still dealing with. I have learned how to have a joyful, grateful attitude in the face of hardship, and I’ve learned that it’s okay to openly admit my failings, sometimes with humor and sometimes with sorrow, but ultimately with the goal of accepting them and becoming a better person through it all.
I am grateful for women like MckMama who bare their souls and invite readers into their lives. The inspiration I’ve gained from these blogs is actually what motivated me to start blogging again, though I don’t have any illusions of grandeur as far as my readership or scope of influence go. I simply want to write about my life, using this in many ways as an outlet for my thoughts and a way to see myself more clearly. You will, no doubt, see references in future posts about other blogs that have made a particular impression on me. Maybe, if I’m lucky, something I say will inspire you the way these women have inspired me.
I've been really bad at organizing my thoughts lately, so I just wanted to post a few things that have been on my mind.
Short-term (as in a week or two) mission trips are amazing. I've heard certain objections, particularly that the short-termers (out of innocent ignorance) might come in and disrupt or set back the work of the long-term missionaries in an area, and I've even heard "Why fund someone's short-term mission trip? What can somebody really accomplish in one short week?" It's true that it is difficult to make a real, lasting impact on a new area in such a short time. But the more I think about it, I think this is not really the primary purpose of short-term missions. Short-term missions are a unique and powerful opportunity for people to broaden their view of the world, God, and His love for His people. More specifically, short-term mission trips often birth a love for the work of missions and pave the way for God's calling in the lives of long-term missionaries. This was the experience I had when I didn't even know I was seeking it.
My freshman year of college, a senior who had been a friend and mentor from my freshman orientation ran into me in the library and asked what I was doing on spring break that year. Spring break was just in a few weeks, but I hadn't even thought about it. He told me he was going with his church on a week-long mission trip to the Dominican Republic, and he asked me if I wanted to join them. I had never traveled out of the country, and I had no clue how I could raise the $1200 it would cost for the trip. I told him I didn't think it would work out since I didn't know where I would get the money in such a short time, and I didn't even have a passport. Thankfully he didn't give up on me, and after encouraging me that the money would come together, he even said, "Why don't you come with me now and I'll drive you to the passport office so you can get an expedited passport?" We did that, and I started asking people in my church if they would be interested in funding my trip. My church gave me $400 in the following days, and I was encouraged, but I still wondered where the other $800 would come from. The next day I went to a new dentist to have a filling done. We started chatting , and I told him about my upcoming trip. He asked me how much money I'd raised so far, and thinking he was just being conversational, I told him. He looked at me for a moment and then said, "I'd like to match the $400 you've already raised." I was astonished. My parents and I were able to afford the remaining $400, and before I knew it, I was on my first non-domestic flight on my way to the Dominican Republic. I would like to write in detail sometime about what I experienced there, but I will sum it up quickly by saying that it permanently changed something in me. All of a sudden I had a bigger understanding of God and His creation and my place in it, and He gave me a passion and excitement for missions I'd never had before. There's a fairly involved story about what has passed between then and now to stifle that in many ways, but I'll save that for another time as well. The point I'd like to focus on is that this one-week experience where I made little (if any) impact on the people of the DR irrevocably changed my life and my faith. If it had not been for my friend's encouragement and persistence, my church's and family's support, and the unexpected gift of my dentist, I would not have had this experience. In His providence and wisdom, the Holy Spirit worked in the hearts of these people to put me in a position to have my heart and life changed forever.
There is a Caedmon's Call (yes, them again) song called "Two Weeks in Africa" that ties in closely with these thoughts. This song says,"Two weeks, and we all can feel a calling (two weeks) to make the world a little smaller." Later in the song, they sing, "We put the walls up, but Jesus keeps them standing. He doesn't need us, but He lets us put our hand in, so we can see His love is bigger than you and me." I feel like this was my experience, and what it has done and is still doing in my life is tremendous (and the topic of yet another future post). But if you are a believer and have ever been asked for financial support toward a short-term mission trip, I hope you will think about what I have written here and realize the amazing opportunity you have to be involved in advancing God's kingdom through investing in someone to allow them the opportunity to discover things they never knew about their faith, God, and His calling on their life.
