One Year Ago...

I'm stressed out.  I'm worried sick.  I'm constantly doubting.  I keep myself awake at night concerned over making ends meet, paying off debt, putting food on the table, keeping my kids alive/well/healthy/happy, and maintaining a faithful front that believes above all else that my God is bigger than it all.  (Anyone relate?)

How far have I fallen?  How short is my memory?  How foolish is my soul?  How flimsy is my courage?  How flailing is my trust?

One year ago today, my family traveled 2,000 on hope, faith, and the prayers of many.  We left the home, friends, and work we knew to start a new life across the country.  We packed up all of our belongings, tearfully hugged goodbye the family that surrounded us, and made the big move from California to Tennessee.

One year ago.

Can you believe it's been a year?  I can't wrap my brain around it.

We didn't have a job.  Really, we didn't even have the prospect of a job.  But, I was enrolled to start grad school last August, so the clock was ticking for us to start planting new roots in a soil rich with mystery.  We had been called to a new life...and God provided.

After a few months of unemployment, living off prayers, credit, savings, and the gifts of many, our prayers changed from "God, provide a job" to "God, thank you for providing what we need, when we need it".   The words of Paul had never seemed so clear:

I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength.    Philippians 4:12-13

And, God was remarkably faithful, even through our trials of doubt and fear.  He did provide what we needed when we needed it, as He deemed fit, and we are so grateful.  Josh did get a wonderful job, after four months of unemployment, and it couldn't have been more perfect for him.  As we settled into our new state, we look around us and are amazed and bewildered at God's provision in our lives.  These are the moments I am reminded that I simply don't know how people live without Jesus.  I, for one, couldn't have survived it.

Yet, here I am, a stressed out sinner, roaming my own desert like a blasphemous Israelite too shortsighted with inconvenience to remember the Jehovah Jireh that has far from forgotten me.  SOMEONE HIT ME OVER THE HEAD ALREADY!  I'm a spoiled child that's scared of an unknown future, with no record of a past that gives me any evidence to support such fear.

So now, in my disbelief, I turn to the Scriptures of Paul once more:

Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:4-7

Do you have doubts? Fears? Insecurities?  I know I'm not alone in this.  There are some days that the need overwhelms the faith and I wonder how it could possibly work out.  And then, I remember back a year...just one of the many examples of God's pure, unchanging faithfulness in my life journey that shows me clearly how I am not forgotten, how I'm NOT in control, how this life is not mine for worrying.

Stress has a way of stealing from present joy.  It exacerbates all concerns and burdens me more than reality.  And, the reality is, the truth is that God is bigger.  God is present.  God is able.  GOD IS, so I don't have to be.

Peace and thanksgiving be with you today, friends.  Thank you for your incredible support over the last year as our family has transitioned through so much.  God has great things for His children, and I'm grateful for the vulnerability to share my journey with you - the gift of a growing faith is fragile and often ugly, but I'm blessed to show you an honest heart amidst the doubts, and the unchanging Word of God that proves beyond all reason that God cares.

Whatever your journey today...rejoice.

Finals Week: Hiatus

Stack of books, Jesus mug of coffee, fried brain cells, lack of sleep.  It can only mean one thing....FINALS WEEK!

PARDYMAMA is on hiatus until next week.  Pray for my sanity and my survival.  You know there'll be some epic tales to come from all this...

See you next week. zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Thank You: A Veteran's Day Post

Today is Veteran's Day, and I just got off the phone with my dad who served in Vietnam as a helicopter pilot in the Army.  He helped to change the world before I was ever a twinkle in his eye, and I'm forever grateful to him for his patriotism and sacrifices he made as an American willing to do the unthinkable for the next generation.


But, my dad is only one amazing example of the selfless acts that happen every day among military families around the world, fighting for our freedom and paving the way for liberties that we take for granted on a daily basis.

Veteran's Day is our chance as "regular folk" to not just stop and recognize how blessed we are to live in a free country, but for us to stop and recognize the individuals that make that possible.  In a way, it's just as vital as the Fourth of July:  it's not only acknowledging the history of what our country's been through, but the very present of how we are affected by it.

Thank you to all service men and women past and present and future...we are indebted to you, and may God be with you.

Yesterday, I got to witness an incredible act of kindness in the most unlikely of circumstances.  I've recently taken on a seasonal position at Pottery Barn Kids at a local mall.  If you've never been to PBK, it's a jolly shop full of overpriced, exquisite children's merchandise.  It's lovely, and while it attracts the most pretentious of clientele, it makes for a spectactularly-Christmassy place to work.  Merry and bright, indeed.

I had just started my shift, when a pregnant, well-to-do woman approached me and my co-worker at the cash register.  She had been shopping for a few minutes with her young child and husband, and she had a peculiar look on her face as she walked up to us.

"Do you see that family over there?" she quietly spoke and glanced behind her as my co-worker and I leaned in to hear what she was saying.  We both nodded, curious what she was about to say.  The family she pointed to was a young family as well: a very pregnant woman, her husband, their little boy, and grandmother.

The woman turned her back to the family and continued to speak quietly.  "Well," she said, "I overheard them speaking, and they are a military family.  I have a strange request, but I'd like to do a sort of random act of kindness.  Could I buy them a gift card and have you give it to them for me?  I don't know them at all and I'd like it to be anonymous.  But, hurry if you can, because I think it might change what they decide to purchase today."

My co-worker and I were stunned. Yes, of course we were happy to help.

"Great," she smiled and got out her wallet.  "Go ahead and make the gift card for five hundred dollars."

Five hundred dollars?!?!

My co-worker and I both audibly gasped.  I told her outright how inspiring I found her act, and she kind of shrugged and smiled.  She bought the card and left immediately.

I watched as my co-worker walked it over to the family and changed the course of their day (not to mention, their nursery) in a single moment.  They were shocked.  We were all shocked.  Never before had I seen such a spontaneous act of generosity in that magnitude.  I thought about the woman who bought the gift card and thought to myself, Wow, those are the kind of people you want to be wealthy! And I was instantly convicted of my tendency to judge the rich.

Maybe we don't all have $500 to gift to a veteran today...but, chances are good that we all know someone who has sacrificed for our country, and we can take time out to thank them in our own way.  It's no coincidence that I was there to witness that yesterday.  I instantly thought I've got to blog about this! and I couldn't wait to tell you all such a wonderful story.  We can all pay it forward in some way, and not just today.  Inspiration can come from the most unlikely of places, and you never know when the opportunity might fall in your lap for you to thank a stranger.

Thank you, Veterans. Your lives are filled with random acts of kindness that inspire generations of spontaneous generosity.  I pray we can all be humbled by your courage and have a chance to pay it forward.  Happy Veteran's Day.

Lady Bug

As my eldest daughter turned four on Friday, we went to the park to celebrate her love of nature, her rambunctious spirit, and the beauty of the post-Halloween-storm sunny and clear day!  It really was a perfect Fall day - crisp breeze in the air, leaves crunching under your sneakers, and the sound of children's laughter resonating in the wind.

Matilda loves the outdoors.  I think she would spend eternity out there if I let her, just exploring nature's jungle gym of trees and the unknown world of horticulture that awaits her every step.  But, even more than the outdoors...she loves to PLAY.  And, so, you can see why the playground is her absolute favorite thing in her limited four-year-old universe.

As she bounced from step to step, to slide, to ladder, to swing, to step, to ladder, to (okay, you get the picture, I'm raising a monkey)...whew!  She managed to make her way to the edge of the playground where there is a short, brick wall that you can climb up on.  As she climbed up, she spotted a few lady bugs dotting the top of the wall, taking in the afternoon sun.

"Ohhh, my LADIES!" she burst.  And suddenly she was down on their level, eager to see if one of them would climb upon her tiny hand.  A couple of them would get close, and she would squeal with delight at their touch.  I watched as she was fully engaged with them.  Nothing else existed in that moment for her.  These were her lady bugs and she was totally enraptured by them.

When's the last time I felt that way by accident? I thought to myself.  And, I didn't really have an answer.  Sure, there are times I purposefully throw myself into something to focus on how passionate I am...but, to just stumble upon that kind of passion by accident is very rare.

So many times I'm too distracted to truly absorb the beauty of the present.  I do my best to not miss a moment that involves my kids or some special moment.  But, when I'm in the midst of my everyday, mundane routine, I can easily gloss over the details.  Sometimes I even think this is necessary for my survival, so that I can just get things done!  But, I had to wonder - what am I missing out on when I do that?

Sure enough, the lady bug moment was over in a few short minutes.  She was up in a leap and quick to find the next wholeheartedly wondrous item to cast her devotion upon.  (I think it was a slug.)  But, it was so beautiful to watch my child just BE there, and commit herself to the present.

This is exactly why it's such a privilege to be a parent, to witness these haphazard blessings that sprout up in the middle of nowhere.  Maybe I'll notice a lady bug next time it lands on my shoulder...or, maybe I'll smile at that grumpy lady in the grocery store as she passes by because I took the extra second to notice her...or, maybe I'll take a deep breath the next time I feel like spitting words of fire that I can't take back...so many maybes are up for grabs.  

But each "maybe" starts with that extra moment; that second to think, to engage, to be present in what's happening in the here and now.

And each maybe can be turned into a miracle that can change so many moments to come.

When God Shows Up on the Way to Old Navy

I originally guest blogged this post for my friend Stephanie over at A Wide Mercy.

Here is the post in full...

When Stephanie asked me to write a blog about taking a leap of faith, I about fell out of my chair. If she had asked me even the week before, I would have had plenty to tell. Three months ago, my husband and I moved 2,000 miles with two toddlers and no job in sight. However, at this moment, I knew exactly what God was telling me to write, and that wasn’t it. 

I had two hours of free time. FREE time. Child-free time. And, this just about never ever happens for me. My husband had just that morning received an official offer of a job that we’d been praying about for months, so I was feeling on top of the world that afternoon. Our journey of unemployment had come to a sudden halt, and I was ready to celebrate. The relief of having a couple hours to myself brought on the most delicious of problems: What shall I do with my time?


It took me about two seconds to decide to go shopping. As any mother knows, the freedom to try on clothes at your leisure without someone griping at you and pulling on your arms is a gift unlike any other. This mama was SET on some seriously selfish time to go blow some cash on a new dress! Woohoo! Old Navy, here I come!

I walked out the door, confident and totally full of myself. I couldn’t remember the last time I had gone out by myself without an errand like “remember diapers” or “stop for milk” attached to it in some way. I was thrilled with the notion of escape and ready to appease my inner bargain hunter with some new duds.

As I took my exit, I saw her. A woman around my age, sweaty and in clothes much too small for her. She held a cardboard sign which read, “Please help. Need diapers. God bless.”  My heart sunk at the thought of who those diapers must be for, and I reached over and as I shuffled my hand around my purse, I realized I had no cash on me. Traffic progressed forward, and so did I. I turned and said a quick prayer for her. Poor thing. That must be rough. But, who knows, maybe she’s not even telling the truth. She probably just wants money. She probably doesn’t even have a kid.

I turned onto the road toward Old Navy and came to a stop sign. I could see the store in the distance, calling to me with the empty promises of consumerism that will fulfill my every insecurity. And then – GOD SPOKE. (How do I know it was God? Because I know myself pretty well, and I would never tell myself this. I wanted a new dress, after all).  God said, “Are you sure you want to go buy a new dress you don’t need when you live in a world where someone is asking you for diapers?” 

I rolled my eyes. I sat at the stop sign a full minute. I sighed and made a deal. Ok, God. I will go all the way back around. But, if she’s not there, then I’m coming back for that dress. Okay? I’m pretty sure this is when God rolled His eyes at me too.

I didn’t just turn around. Remember, she was at an EXIT. So, I had to literally drive another mile, do a u-turn, and then flip my hazards on and pull up to the corner where the exit let out. The whole way I was making excuses. God, seriously? Look how much trouble this is! I’m holding up traffic! I’m taking so long, she probably won’t even be there anymore! She was.She ran up, and I rolled down my window. And all of a sudden she was a real human, staring me in the face. She had a name. And a daughter. And a need.

I told her I would run to Target, that I had some things to get anyway, and could she meet me over at that parking lot by the bank in about an hour? She could.

I went into Target with a weird nervousness. I was on a mission, and it had nothing to do with me. God spoke, I listened, and now He was providing. You’d think this would have hit me in the face earlier in the day when we had been given the gift of a new job after three months of unemployment. Indeed, we were struck with gratitude for God’s provision…and there I was, ready to go blow it at Old Navy. Instead, I was blessed with the new opportunity to pass it on, pay it forward, and spread the love that had been shown to me just as readily. What’s more? When God tells you to do something and you do it, He makes it easy on you. The diapers that she needed were on clearance that day – go figure. So, I got her the BIG box, and I didn’t stop there.

I don’t just serve the God who meets needs. I serve the God that goes above and beyond…and that’s who I needed to reflect. I picked up a little stuffed animal for her daughter, and a small book of bedtime prayers with real verses inside.  I got some water and healthy snacks for them, and some nutritious toddler food as well. I didn’t know what to get, and it really didn’t matter. I just prayed, and purchased, and packed my trunk in the name of Jesus.She found me in the parking lot where I met her daughter and two male friends. I have no idea who these people are…but, I know God, and I know He doesn’t make mistakes when He creates life. 

I handed them the Target bags and they were incredible grateful.  And then, I told them my  story. I told them all how God had just blessed my family with a new job and that’s exactly why I’m able to be used to bless them now. I told them God cares, and it’s not easy out there.  I’m so sorry that you’re going through this rough time, but this is not the end of your story. And, then, I prayed for them. OUT LOUD and in the name of Jesus Christ. I prayed for their protection, their provision, and that they would be encouraged and dependent on Jesus alone to provide a way for them to be able to bless someone in return very soon.

I reached out, I looked them all in the eyes, I hugged the little girl and put my hands on the shoulders of the mother. I was human with them. WITH them.

And then, I got in my car and drove home to my girls and my shelter and my belongings I don’t deserve. I repented from my selfishness and thanked God for the opportunity to be part of something that made a tangible difference and reminded me of my ongoing need for Him alone. I thanked Him not only for His provision, but also His graciousness in overlooking my doubt and utilizing my stubbornness and turning it into ACTION.

Opportunities are everywhere. I’m amazed at what God places in front of us when we just start to ask Him to show us. Sometimes it is scary. It almost NEVER makes any sense at the time. We can almost ALWAYS justify a way out of it. But, when I put myself out there and make myself available to His work, taking action becomes the easy part.

A leap of faith doesn’t have to look like abandoning security and traveling 2,000 miles with two toddlers.Sometimes it looks like a trip to Target where you find diapers on clearance. Look out. Look around. 

You’re right in the middle of your next chance to act.

More

Since moving to Nashville just a couple months ago, our time of "settling in" hasn't been the easiest.  We knew it would come with challenges, but we could never have anticipated some of the craziness we've encountered.  While my husband's job search continues (prayers appreciated as always!) we have started to hit a stride of "normalcy" in settling into our new home.  It's a great feeling!

As I was laying in bed a few nights ago, I did what I usually do when I can't fall asleep:  I counted my blessings.  This has become an effective "default" for me to turn to in the wee hours of the morning, always helping me focus on the goodness and faithfulness of God instead of the worries that too often plague my thoughts at such a vulnerable hour.

Just as I was telling God how especially thankful I was for my daughters, that they are both healthy, and sound asleep in their beds, my heart began to swell with gratitude.  Indeed, we do have much.

Then, I began to pray for a job for Josh.  Again.  I mean, I can't tell you how many times I have to surrender this request to God throughout the day. 

 

Please, please, please Lord, please use his talents in work that would bring you honor and please let someone call him soon with an interview, and please let it be the perfect job for him!  Please!  

Right then, right in the middle of my appeal, a voice of doubt interrupted with, "Who are YOU, to be asking for MORE?  How can you list all that you've been given and then ask for MORE?"  

I paused for a moment.  

Then, in what I can only describe as a "Holy Ghost moment" a new thought, armed with the truth of Christ, refuted with authoritative clarity:  How? How can I ask for more?  Because I worship the GOD OF EVERYTHING.

Whoa.

I was stopped in my tracks right then and there.  Peace rushed over me as I continued my prayer to ask God for a job for Josh.  And then, I just laid in bed and pondered the truth that was spoken through me.  

I worship the God of everything.  He isn't just the God of things that go well.  He isn't just the God of healthy babies, sleeping husbands, and safe apartments.  He isn't just the God of my school work and good weather.  He isn't just the God of my gratitude.  HE is the God of MORE.

When you worship the God of everything - it's okay to never run out of requests.  It's not only okay - it's awesome!  He wants you to come to HIM for everything.  

My doubts and frustrations and worries can interrupt my focus so many times.  There's plenty to distract me from the truth that God is in control and hasn't forgotten about our needs.  But, the reminder that I worship the God of everything is, indeed, ALL I need.  It certainly helped me that night as I drifted off to sleep.  Turns out, the armor of God makes for pretty comfortable pajamas.

Ephesians 6:10-18New International Reader's Version (NIRV)God’s Armor10 Finally, let the Lord make you strong. Depend on his mighty power. 11 Put on all of God’s armor. Then you can stand firm against the devil’s evil plans. 12 Our fight is not against human beings. It is against the rulers, the authorities and the powers of this dark world. It is against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly world.
13 So put on all of God’s armor. Evil days will come. But you will be able to stand up to anything. And after you have done everything you can, you will still be standing.
14 So stand firm. Put the belt of truth around your waist. Put the armor of godliness on your chest. 15 Wear on your feet what will prepare you to tell the good news of peace. 16 Also, pick up the shield of faith. With it you can put out all of the flaming arrows of the evil one. 17 Put on the helmet of salvation. And take the sword of the Holy Spirit. The sword is God’s word.
18 At all times, pray by the power of the Spirit. Pray all kinds of prayers. Be watchful, so that you can pray. Always keep on praying for all of God’s people.

Numbskull (Jobless & Hopeful) pt. 3

Throughout this process of waiting on a job, I have wanted to kill my husband many times.  It’s fine, really, because he’s wanted to kill me too, and usually this ends with us taking a giant sigh and sending one of us out the door to relax a bit.  It’s amazing what even a drive alone can do for one’s patience.

The Village Chapel, our new church home

Unemployment is like the unplanned vacation to nowhere that you never wanted to take.  In your mind, you think "Hey, maybe a little time off would be nice" and you have visions of utilizing time in between job applications to read or bake or start one of those many Pinterest projects you've been pondering.  But, it's not like that at all.  

While my husband is the one actually filling out the applications (since I'll be a full-time student in less than a month, I've only applied to part-time work), never-you-mind that this is fully a TEAM Pardy effort.  We scrutinize his resume together, we pray over emails and cover letters that are sent, and we strategize as much as possible to get his foot in the door somewhere.  It's been said that looking for a full-time job is a full-time job, and that's no joke.

But, the reality is, that we’re just not used to living in each others’ presence all the time and so, the precious moments that make up “alone time” become imperative to our survival (and happiness).  We also want to continue actually liking each other – something we both consider rather high on the list of priorities in our marriage.  ;)

So, while there have been waves of tension ebbing and flowing as the job search continues, humor and honesty have become even more essential ingredients to our sustainability than ever before.

A few times over the last couple months, we’ve been frustrated and dumbstruck at our own lack of faith.  Yes, we are here – having obediently trusted God as He has moved us across the country.  Yes, we are here with food on our table and a roof over our head.  And yet, we take turns (well, sometimes at the same time) getting angry at our situation – at how could God possibly be making us STILL wait on a job to come through!?  How, God, how?  Argh!!

You gotta love a good Jesus meme

And, then, in a moment of refreshment or humor, we laugh at our ridiculousness.  One night, we just shook our heads at ourselves saying, “We are JUST like the Israelites.  We are so dumb.  Like, gee, God, I know you’ve given us food to eat up out of the GROUND and all, and you’ve provided for our every need up until now – but, what about tomorrow???? We are grumpy and annoying, and very, very forgetful.”  It’s strange how relieving the reminder of our stupidity is to me, but it calms me in realizing just how OUT of control of the situation I am.  And there is much freedom in not being the one in charge.

Never did this feeling hit home more than last Sunday when we were sitting in church.  We are so grateful for having a church to sink our teeth into immediately upon our arrival to a new home – one of the many benefits of having family in town (who also attend there).  I’ll cut to the chase and just give you part of the Scripture that Pastor Jim Thomas at The Village Chapel spoke on that day:

Mark 8: 16 – 2116. They [the disciples] began to discuss with one another the fact that they had no bread.  17. And Jesus, aware of this, said to them, “Why do you discuss the fact that you have no bread? Do you not yet see or understand? Do you have a hardened heart?  18. Having eyes, do you not see?  Having ears, do you not hear?  And do you not remember, 19. when I broke the five loaves for the five thousand, how many baskets full of broken pieces you picked up?”  They said to Him, “Twelve.” 20. “When I broke the seven for the four thousand, how many large baskets full of broken pieces did you pick up?”  And they said to Him, “Seven.” 21. And He was saying to them, “Do you not yet understand?”

Josh and I looked at each other as the Scripture was being read.  We gazed at the words again and slowly I leaned over, shaking my head and whispered, “We are so dumb.”  He just pursed his lips and nodded, knowing exactly what I was thinking.

We read this passage in times of “security” and goff at the stupidity and forgetfulness of the disciples.  Um, hellloooo? You guys JUST witnessed Jesus feeding thousands of mouths from practically nothing.  Do you seriously think He won’t provide for you numbskulls?

How many times do I need to be hit over the head with this one, God?  Well, apparently many, many times.  My humanity gets the best of me far too many times than I would like to admit.  I bitterly find myself praying for urgent provision as I climb into my comfortable bed at night.  Um, what an idiot.  Like my prayers are a little post-it note for Jesus to not forget us on His busy schedule up in heaven or something.  Good grief.

I have had less money before.  I have had plenty of money before.  I have been given incredibly generous gifts before.  I have been able to give incredible gifts before.  I have suffered.  I have celebrated.  And yet…I will still sit and worry and become frustrated with God whether He is really going to come through on this promise.  Reeeeally?  I’m no better than those numbskull disciples with short-term memory loss.

My own life history is a clear reflection of God’s faithfulness.  But, when that’s not enough, there are plenty of examples God has provided for us in His Word to knock us upside the head when we need it.  I’ll leave you with a classic Scripture, one that is probably familiar to many of you, yet never truer to my heart than now.

Philippians 4: 11b-13 [Important to note that Paul wrote this while he was in PRISON, nonetheless…]
“…for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. 12. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty.  I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. 13. I can do all this through him [Jesus] who gives me strength.

Rx: Humility

Take a dose of humility and call me in the morning

The next two weeks after my klutzy-yet-dramatic fall down the stairs were sheer misery.  Evidently, I had been taking things such as sitting, standing, laying down, walking, and bending down completely for granted.  I had bruised my lower back/hip so deeply that the ugly colors of a usual bruise didn't even surface until about 9 days after my fall.  Crazy!  I didn't even know you could bruise yourself like that?!


It didn't help that I have this weird quirk in my physiological make-up that renders pain killers nearly useless.  I don't know what makes me that way, but my mother is the same way, so there must be something in our gene pool (I'm guessing X-Men related) that makes it so the usual dose has no effect on my pain.  I tried to explain this to multiple ER doctors in between my screams, but (as I've encountered in the past) most physicians think I am just faking it or overly dramatic, or wanting extra drugs.  Whatever, it's real.  Just ask the OB-GYN who nearly started in on my c-section before I objected with an "UM, I CAN FEEL THAT!" yelp to his very surprised "Really?!"expression.  True story.

All that to say, the pain killers helped me sleep, but that's about it.  My nerves were having to relearn how to function in my back muscles, so a constant Charley-horse contraction of muscle spasms kept me shrieking throughout the day and night.  It was so frustrating for me and completely annoying to everyone else, I know.  I understand it's no fun being around someone who is repeatedly wincing and grimacing and needing to have you please get her another blanket or drink or remote or pillow or whatever.  I hated being incapacitated.  Hated.

As brutal as my pain was, though, my husband was suffering as well (my words, not his).  He took on full-time super-Dad duty, as well as waiting on me hand and foot.  He is not a complainer by nature, but I could tell it was all taking its toll on him.  How couldn't it?  We were both beyond frustrated.  Here we were, new home, new city, new everything...and I'm couch-ridden for two weeks (and for how long, we didn't know at the time.)

A cozy companion while I was couch-ridden

The thing with healing a muscle is (as I learned) that you can't heal a muscle by sitting still.  After a few days, the only way the muscle will start to heal is if you use it.  This meant a whole lot of pain and determination on my part, and I was grateful that my stubborn streak could finally be used for good and not evil!  Slowly, slowly, after a couple weeks of wincing at nearly any movement, I started to be able to move without pain.  It was such a weird sensation to feel changes day-to-day in my healing.

It's been almost 4 weeks now, and I'm practically fully recovered.  I still have a bruise and stiffness, and it will be a while before I touch my toes again...but, I can walk and drive and even pick my girls up. Hallelujah!  If you met me today, you'd never know I was completely debilitated a matter of weeks ago.  GOD HEALS.  Also, God made our bodies HEALABLE.  That's crazy.

I'm learning a LOT of things through these challenging first weeks of our move here.  In the wee hours of the morning, when I was weary from the frustrations of the day and propped up by pillows to sleep sitting up (which I did for over two weeks) I would just pray and nag God with my discontent and desires.  These are the moments I'm not trying at all.  I'm not trying to be kind or cool or even myself.  I'm just there, whispering gratitude that's mottled with complaints.  No apprehension or pretense.  Just Emily and Jesus, in the stillness.

I do stupid things ALL THE TIME with no intention or effort behind them at all.  I had no reason for falling down the stairs - it was just one of those freak accidents that suddenly changed the course of our lives for a short while.  My actions have repercussions.  Sometimes I see them and they effect me deeply.  Sometimes they go completely unnoticed.  But, they matter, and I matter, and Jesus sees them and uses them and no matter what - we are healable beings in His eyes, regardless of our stupid actions.

I don't need to DO anything for Him to heal me or use me.  I want to control life so badly - which is ironic, because when I do try and take the reigns, I'm so bad at it!  I'm not in control here.  I can't be. I don't truly even want to be.  And when I'm stopped (albeit, against my will) and literally left helpless in order to regain perspective on who exactly has the reigns in this here life of mine, I can't deny the experience.

Needing help is humbling.  It's uncomfortable for most of us, and that's just ridiculous, because when I pause for a minute and take a step back, I realize that I constantly live in a state of needing help.  How can something be so uncomfortable if I'm in a constant state of it?  Constant.  I'm never going to not need Jesus.  Do you hear that?  Do you feel that?

Pain killers come and go.  Nerves reattach.  Muscles regrow.  Miraculous healing is present in my very being, my actual person, and yet - this world offers my soul no hope for completion.  Only Jesus fills the constant void I have for trying.  Trying anything.  Trying at all.  

Only.  Jesus.

So, if there's a few morals to this story at the end of it all (or is this just the beginning, sometimes I lose track?) I'd say this:  We all have wounds that need healing.  Sometimes these wounds are ugly right away, and sometimes they take a long time to surface.  Sometimes no one even sees them.  But, they can be healed.  We are healable beings, inside and out.

Watch your step, you might be closer to healing than you ever thought possible.

Threes

You've probably heard the old adage about how "things come in threes".  I don't know how legitimate that statement is, but sometimes truth is stranger than fiction.  Today, in the midst of a very tiring, very icky, very staying-all-day-in-my-jammies kind of day, I had three surprising and delightful things come my way.  It wasn't much, but it was unexpected and beneficial.  I'm not purposefully trying to be vague, it's just that the specifics of what happened aren't what's important to this story.

To sum it up, it basically amounts to an encouraging email, a phone call of hope, and a potential opportunity.  Okay, I'll admit that's rather vague...but, trust me, I'm sparing you semantics.  The important thing here, is that I woke up to a groggy disaster, and God continually got in my face with a blessing until I was ready to rejoice in the day that He had made.

Two nights ago, I spent a very crowded and sleepless night in bed with both my girls.  Last night, as one of them was reeling from the stomach flu, I took the other to bed with me again, only to be jabbed in the ribs throughout the night (again).  This morning, my three-year-old still had a fever and so we all tried to make the best of it by hunkering down in front of a Disney movie marathon...which really got old by the second round of watching Toy Story.  The girls were cranky, antsy, and I was busy either washing dishes or pillow cases.  You get the picture...not exactly a dream day at home.

But, nearing the end of the day, while I was scrubbing the last sippy cup and putting away the bleach and folding up towels and cracking my knuckles for the millionth time...I got to thinking about those three very intentional moments of the day that God had put in my face to remind me of His presence.  I felt blessed!  I didn't feel the stress of what even a usual day brings me, let alone one where I'm shut up inside the house allllll day and unable to get a breath of fresh air...and yet, here I was, feeling rather refreshed!

It was just what my heart needed - that feeling of fullness that God is in control and I'm not.  That, He knows what I need before I even know I want it.  That, He is working behind the scenes and in my favor for efforts I'm not yet even aware of.  And, it occurred to me, plain as day, that there are three simple lessons for my life that brought me this awareness.  Three sort of "commandments" that, when I keep my sights set on how Jesus would connect with others and strive for what is Holy (and attain, in His case) that I can feel this inner sense of assurance to trust and obey more and more.

Those might sound like some major concepts, but it breaks down into these three, very simple understandings:

1. Build Bridges
2. Burn Idols
3. Don't get the first two mixed up.

Go ahead, read it again.  Let it resonate for a moment.  I've had to let it marinate in my soul all day and I'm still soaking this new revelation in.  

Make and keep connections that are valuable to your life - and don't burn bridges.  Keep Christ first, above all other measurements of love or successes - don't build up false goals to replace The Utmost.  

I needed this today.  In the middle of crazy, disgusting chaos at one end of the spectrum and then, grace, faith, hope, and love all being shoved into my face at the other end of the spectrum, I was forced to sit in the middle and be reminded to lift my head to Jesus, cast my burdens on Him, and stay focused on the truth that He is good.

Maybe it is true that good things come in threes.  But, I'm not going to limit God to any number.  I'm just going to keep trying to build bridges, burn idols, and count my blessings as I set my sights on His faithfulness.

Go!

Crossroads

It's EASTER! And what better time to reflect on the sacred cross, our Savior, and all the wonder, confusion, and gratitude it provides each and every day in my life.  If ever there were three emotional days to examine how we grieve, feel lost, and then rejoice in the surprise of our redemption - this is it.  The resurrection means so much more than just one day a year we slap on white patent leather shoes and fill baskets with eggs...it even means more than providing a way towards our everlasting hope (in which case, is there even anything beyond that?).  It means that while the days might seem long and worrisome, and the years fly by like a blink, I can rest NO MATTER WHAT in the knowledge that my Jesus has already conquered my fears, defeated my guilt, and paved the way for my best life.  That's not just HUGE in the grand scheme of my time here on earth...it's sometimes how I make it minute to minute through the mundane, chaotic days of this present time.

Matilda made this in nursery this week.  Seemed fitting.

I'm going to share a story from my past with you today.  I was recently reminded of this story, and I've told it many times over the years as circumstances in others lives (or even my own, again and again) called to the relevance of its lesson.  In hindsight, it is a great crossroads in my life, and the gratitude I have towards learning this lesson early on in my life continues to grow as the years go by.

Allow me to set the scene.  I was 17 and in high school.  To say I hated school was probably an understatement.  I had a hard time grappling with who I was, who others were, and why I felt like a square peg in a round hole all the time.  What I didn't know was that this was called "typical" for my age, and so my completely normal situation continued to feel more and more depressing as my emotionally immature self struggled to make sense of my awkward surroundings.  I wanted out.

Through a difficult process of working hard and wearing my parents down enough to help me, I managed to take on extra homeschool classes along with my regular public school work.  This made me haughty and very unpopular at school, only motivating me beyond belief to work harder and leave sooner.  My parents were sympathetic and probably my only cheerleaders at the time when I decided to take on this extra load in the goal to graduate a full year early from high school.  I say this to let you know that I didn't "skip a grade" as some people who graduated from high school at 17.  Instead, I did the entirely same amount of work - I just did it in three years.  This made me wildly unpopular among my peers, but again, this only fueled my passion for getting the heck outta Dodge.

This isn't to say I wasn't smart.  I'll lay it right out there - in a tiny school (did I mention there were 16 students in my class?) it wasn't difficult to remain at the top of the class.  I managed to keep a perfect GPA, and as I entered my final semester of high school I felt like the world was my oyster as I began to look at my choices for college.  (There's really no way to state that without it sounding like bragging.  So - sorry - but, this is important for you to know as the story moves ahead.)

Choosing a college is certainly a crossroads in many people's lives.  It can steer you in entirely new situations and locations.  It feels daunting and exciting and I was feeling all these things as I began to dream about my new world, far away from my present surroundings.  My parents, however, were more cautious with their recommendations.  My older brother had gone out of state for college, while my sister had stayed closer to home.  As I was the baby of the family, it quickly became evident that my apron strings had a tighter radius than I would have liked, and the battle over college applications began.

Compromise was found at Moody Bible Institute in Chicago, Illinois.  While it was out of state, it was a drivable distance.  Not only that, but it was my mother's alma mater, and there was a loyal familiarity that came with sending her daughter that far away to a "known" situation.  Great amounts of prayer and thought went into this process, and I proudly applied to Moody in the spring of my Junior/Senior year.  I had the grades, a decent ACT score, a killer essay, family connections (my uncle went to Moody as well) and the passion of a stallion to take on the Windy City.  I was a shoe-in.  I bought a parka, winter boots, and by February I was already telling all my friends and family that I was moving to Chicago over the summer.  I dreamt about meeting my roommate, taking walks by the lake, going to a Cubs game, and hanging out with a new clique around one of those famous pizza parlors.

It was a chilly day in April when I got a letter in the mail from Moody.  My parents were so excited, my dad drove all the way out to my high school to meet me right after class.  I still remember the shock of seeing him as I walked out the doors, seeing him waving that envelope in his hand with a proud smile already spread across his face.  This was it!  This was the letter I'd been waiting for to come and rescue me and take me on the path to my new life!

I ripped open the letter, my best friend and my dad standing right next to me.  It was so exciting, I was shaking and getting goose bumps all at once.  I read it so quickly I had to read it again.  I read it again.  Again.  And then I stopped.  We regret to inform you... Again.  ...regret...  I kept reading it as if the words would change as I blinked back the tears that inevitably started to form in the corners of my eyes.    And it sunk in, slowly:  Rejection.

I sat in shock as my dad and best friend comforted me.  It was so confusing.  It was so painful.  It didn't make any sense!?  How could this be?  What was I supposed to do now?  I had so many questions and so many emotions, my future suddenly felt like I was being sucked into a giant black hole.  It was the first time in my life I felt entirely helpless.  I had done everything right, God, why is this happening?

Now, I know this might not seem like the end of the world to you.  But, as a 17 year-old, this was my entire world.  And there it was, printed out on a crumpled, tear-stained rejection letter, just as cold as the breeze that hit my damp cheeks that day so long ago.  I felt sick with confusion.

A few days after the shock wore off, I received a call from the Admissions Department of Moody.  [Now, having worked at a Christian college for a few years, and being married to a guy who worked in an admissions department of a Christian college for years...let me just say that what happened next NEVER happens.  I've never heard of it happening before or since, so take that for what it's worth.]  I took the call, nervous that they were going to give me a long list of reasons why I wasn't qualified to attend their school.

"Emily?" the girl admissions counselor sounded nice enough.
"Yes." I tried not to let my voice shake.
"I wanted to call you and talk to you about your rejection letter from Moody Bible Institute.  I wanted to let you know that you are more than qualified to attend our school."
"I am?" I was even more confused now.
"Yes, you are.  But, as our staff reviewed your application, we got the feeling that you might be called somewhere else.  We gathered as a staff and prayed over your application, and we all determined that you need to look elsewhere first, to be sure you're not supposed to go somewhere else.  We'd like to encourage you to keep searching, and if, in another month or so, you feel like you are still supposed to come to Moody, then we'll be happy to accept your application."
"Oh.  Um, okay.  Thank you."  I had no idea how to respond to this.

And that was pretty much it.  I had been rejected out of consideration for my best life.  Now, at the time, it just felt mean.  It seemed like a cruel joke to play on a hopeful teenager.  But, it changed the entire course of my life.  Not only that, but it flipped the hearts of my parents inside out, and they allowed to let me continue my search to find the perfect school God had for me.

Three weeks later, by myself, with a video camera and a backpack, I found myself on a plane to California.  I had never been to California before and it already felt like home.  I spent two days touring Biola's campus, recording as much evidence as possible to convince my parents that this was where I belonged.  As soon as they watched the video upon my return, there was no question about it:  that was the school for me.

Biola has been the setting for multiple milestones in my life since.  I've met incredible influencers of my life there, I worked there, I met my husband there, and we even got married there (yep, at the chapel right on campus!)  But, those times would have never happened if I hadn't opened that harsh, confusing letter on that cold day in April so long ago.  Shortly after I began my time at Biola, I looked back on that bitter day with new appreciation.  I was struck by how God so evidently directed my path.  I was so grateful for the temporary pain He put me through in order to distinctly make me aware of His calling on my life.  I was (and am) so astounded at how God loves me enough to let me throw a fit and hurt and not get my way - only to reserve the ultimate for my better future to come.  What a good Father we serve!

Hindsight is such a lovely, comforting thing.  It's also a reminder that God's faithfulness has times of looking cloudy and unwarranted, undeserved and completely unfair.  Yet, His faithfulness remains, despite our circumstances.

I'm so grateful to serve a God who saves the best for us (even when it doesn't look like we may have thought).  Who teaches us to pray for His will and not our own (don't worry, He already knows what we want anyway).  Who reminds us that second best is not enough for His children or His glory.  He is good, and He can't not extend that goodness to His beloved.

When Jesus' friends and family saw Him on that cross, bloodied and burdened and dripping with the angst of generations yet to come, they must have questioned God's plan.  How could they not?  How could goodness possibly come from that?  What a horrific three days that must have been, mourning for Jesus, seeking and asking God to please, please, please make sense of such utter confusion and injustice.

And then came Easter morning.  Bursting forth with hope and joy...and clarity.  Instant hindsight of God's perfect plan rose that day.  Hallelujah!

We all have some kind of crossroads story in our life.  Most of us can remember a distinct time when one path would have altered our future significantly, for better or for worse.  But no matter which road I take in life, no matter how rocky or confusing, there is no path I'd rather choose than the road to the cross.  Laying my burdens and sin and guilt and shame and worries all at the perfect feet of Jesus.

No matter what chaos surrounds us.  No matter what status updates or twitters come.  No matter what storms we endure.  No matter what laundry mountain I climb.  No matter what devastating news I receive.  No matter how small, how massive, how heavy or light...the cross is my compass, and Christ my guide.  It's already all been considered, it's been conquered, it's been consistent.  And when we serve a God who already knows what's best for us, we can rest assured that the road ahead will bring new stories of hope, of goodness, and gratitude.

Praise be!  Jesus is Alive!  Happy Easter.

At the cross, at the cross, where I first saw the light

And the burden of my heart rolled away

It was there by faith I received my sight

And now I am happy all the day 

-Isaac Watts (1707)

Prayer

It's been a weird week.  I've pretty much swapped, juggled, postponed, or cancelled all scheduled events of the week due to my daughters both fighting some weird bug.  They seem fine one minute, the next they are fighting fever, and they have been consistently clingy and whiney beyond all measure of sanity.  Still, they are going to be fine and as long as we can survive a few more viewings of Cinderella without losing our minds, we'll all come out of it soon enough, I'm sure.  Nevertheless, it has been a challenging several days and always rough to see a little one looking pitiful instead of her sprite-young-self.  There's been much opportunity for complaining, and even greater opportunity for prayer - both of which I have been compelled to partake (hopefully the latter outweighing the former).

Indeed, not feeling well has given Matilda (3) new perspective and insight for what all she can turn to God for, and it has opened up the chance for her to witness me asking (again and again) for God to heal her and help her feel better and sleep well.  I keep it simple, of course, but often.  This seemed practical and logical to me more than anything, but it struck me how it was having an impact on her when she started asking for me to pray for her and Daphne to feel better.  Better yet, after a couple days, she turned to me and said "I think I feel a little bit better, mommy.  A little bit.  Cause God is in my belly and He healing me."  Oh my!  Close enough - I'll take it!  Attributing her good health to our Creator, YES! that is awesome, true, and a powerful little reminder to myself!

Amazing what simple little prayers can do.  Amazing how they impact little hearts.  Amazing how they reveal new things about yourself you never even intended on learning.  Prayer itself doesn't just change things...praying does as well.  That is, the actual action, the routine of it, the habit-building-act of turning to Jesus first and depending on Him to answer...it changes me.

This week, as I've sat at home and indulged in far too many children's movies than I'd like to admit (before you judge me, we did take walks when we could and read stories and did play-doh, okay?) I found myself scoping out social media more than usual (okay, now you can judge me).  Don't get me wrong, I'm an avid social media groupie, no doubt, but this week it seemed to be just about my only touch to the outside world, so I checked it often just to get a glimpse of what was going on "out there".

There were lots of usual updates - so-n-so is traveling, what's-her-name ate a great cinnamon roll, that-one-guy posted another political cartoon that wasn't very funny, and so on.  Whatever.  But, some other stories really struck me.  True stories happening to real people, just a hop-skip-and-a-jump from people I am actual friends with.  I'm compelled to share a few that captivated my attention this week.

One guy, named Saeed, is in prison in Iran because he will not deny Christ.  He went there about 9 months ago to help set up an orphanage, and now is in prison...in IRAN...for his belief in Christ.  And his wife and children are separated from him and clinging to the promise of God's protection, strength, and goodness.  Saeed is a real dad, a guy not all that different from our own husbands, brothers, or dads.  But he doesn't get to tuck his kids in bed tonight because he is standing strong in his faith and choosing Jesus over everything.  (You can make a difference by signing the petition on the link here!)

Another story is for baby Wyatt. He was born with a very rare neurological disorder called Ohtahara Syndrome. It's very serious and causes seizures.  He ultimately needs prayers for a miracle.  He's someone's real, tiny little baby, fighting for his life.  A baby that other people bought onesies for.  Who's parents were nervous and excited, and who were probably still picking out his name only a few months ago.  He's not just a status update - he's a little, squishy, cutie-faced fella who is unfairly battling uphill for normalcy.  You can see his Facebook page here if you are interested in updates or just want to encourage the family.

**Finally, I saw an update just the other day, about a mom named Kristina.  Kristina gave birth to her 5th daughter (can we just give her a standing ovation right there?  wow.) and during delivery she suffered a heart attack and brain aneurism.  She is fighting for her life, and her little girls need her.  She doesn't have a webpage that I know of, so I'm just telling you here - please pray for her, her husband Jeremy, and their 5 daughters (the baby, also named Kristina, got to go home from the hospital, praise God).  I can't fathom this kind of trauma happening in real life, but it feels like such a privilege to get to pray for someone I don't even know at such an incredibly intimate time for their family.  Please join me.

You all know stories like these.  You all have either posted or reposted or know someone who has posted some kind of story when they didn't know what else to do but to ask others to drop to their knees on their behalf and place it at the feet of God.  Sometimes, I'll admit, I see these kinds of updates and scroll right past them.  Sometimes I let them get lost in the shuffle of cute-kid-pics, Instagrams, foodie photos, and sarcastic comments that so often fill up the white screen on my iPhone.  

But, sometimes, I stop and notice that there are people (just like ME) who need real, legit prayers...not "prayers" but PRAY-ERS (as in, you and me pray-ing) asking God to answer our pleas and have mercy day by day.  These are modern day miracles happening in our midst.  They might be sliding past ads for Warby Parker glasses on the sideline.  They might be right under an update from your aunt about how fat her dog is.  They might be next to your friend's millionth spotify update of the day.  But, they are there.

Prayer is crazy.  As pray-ers...we can get a little crazy too.  It's okay.  God loves crazy (if you don't believe me, just start reading the New Testament and stop when you think the Pharisees no longer thought Jesus was a crazy person...Spoiler alert: You'll read the whole thing.)  So, get crazy for a minute and pray for some unknown people who need it!  Throw it out there, you never know what difference it might truly make, but I guarantee you will feel change within yourself just simply within the act of praying.

I could go on and on about prayer.  I love it.  I need it.  I don't know how people get through the day without it.  I think I could never do it enough because frankly, I think we ALL think none of us do it enough, and to take it one step further - I think we're all pretty much right about that.  I also think most people don't consider themselves "good" at prayer.  Which is silly and sad, and a total lie.  Maybe we grew up in a generation where prayer was withheld exclusively for times of formality, with reverence and practical regard, or perhaps only left for occasions that required you dress up (church, weddings, funerals, etc.)  But, the truth is, if I have learned anything from hearing my weak, naughty, whiney, sick little child pray in all honesty, it's that when she prays it sounds like the sweetest, loveliest thing I could ever imagine.  How much more beautiful must it sound to Jesus?  

Jesus takes us right where we are, anyway He can get us.  Broken and ugly, arrogant and beautiful, well-intentioned or completely confused.  We don't have to have it all together.  We don't have to know what we're talking about.  We don't even have to know who we're praying for.

As I sat tonight and rocked my feverish child, I found myself praying over her yet again.  Not only was I praying for her to feel better, as usual, but I was/am so grateful that I'm dealing with mundane problems like fevers and whininess.  Though these seem to pale in comparison to those heart-wrenching stories I saw online, I am reminded that God cares JUST AS MUCH about hearing about them.  I'm not "bothering Him" or "annoying Him" or "taking up His time" in any way.  I'm humbled to worship a God who can care just as much about me and my prayers for sleep and patience, and equally extend His attention when in my next breath I'm asking for the life of Kristina to be spared, for baby Wyatt to be healed, and for Saeed to see his family soon.

We worship a God of miracles.  Sometimes that comes in the form of extra grace as I watch yet-another-Disney-movie with my sick kids (see how pathetic that sounds as a "problem" now?) and sometimes that comes in grand and marvelous occurrences that alter the lives of the people around us forever.  Sometimes the miracle comes later, possibly unseen or unknown by us, and we trust in the goodness of God being revealed in another way.  Sometimes we just don't know.

And until we know...we pray.

**UPDATE**
Kristina passed away last night.  Please read this update (via a friend of my on Facebook directly from Jeremy, Kristina's husband.)
Friends,

As many of you know my best friend passed late last night. While this has been the most difficult time in my life, I am thankful for the presence of the Lord and your thoughts and prayers that have carried me through this valley. My brother has established "Kristina's Girls Fund" where all funds raised will go directly to the girls and their education. Please take a moment and read his beautiful tribute to her and if you feel led, please give. Thank you from the bottom of my heart to those who have already given.
This story is far from over. I see God's hand at work in a mighty way. I pray that he continutes to use our story to reach those who do not know Him. I will continue to post, as it in many ways helps me cope during this difficult time. Please remain friends and continue to send your posts, they are an encouragement to my heart.
In Christ,
Jeremy Adkins

Christmas Chaos

 What in the world is going on with the holidays this year?  Am I the only one who feels like everything is starting to spin out of control right before the big day is even here?  Am I going to lose my mind just in time for Christmas morning?  Or do the Mayans have it right after all?

Goodness gracious, this has been an insane season.  This last week alone has felt more chaotic in every way than memories of many Christmases past.  Personally, it is just a crazy-busy time.  (I know I'm not alone in feeling that!)  My hours at working seasonal help at Williams-Sonoma have picked up significantly as Christmas approaches, so much so that I was happy to pawn off some of my work time on another girl who was really trying to earn as many hours as possible (yay - win/win!).

Josh has also been working late a lot, maxing out his days before deadlines and new semesters arrive (he is an administrator at a local Christian high school).  And, for some ridiculous reason, I took it upon myself to primarily try and craft the majority of Christmas gifts for the family this year.

She may not have my same affinity for crafting

Side-note here on Christmas crafting - WHAT was I thinking?  I absolutely got suckered into amazing photographs off Pinterest and talked myself into the affordability that people will appreciate the effort of my endeavors and thoughtfulness over an alternatively less personal gift.  Oh me, oh my.  Well, I truly am counting on my family seeing the heart behind much of my production.  All in all, much has turned out fine or even better-than-I-expected-in-the-end.  But, let me tell you, it was not without much trial and many errors!  (I realize I can't expand yet on what I actually have worked on, so as not to reveal any gift secrets, but trust me, many a mess was made in the name of Pinteresting!)  Looks like everyone might be getting gift cards next Christmas.  Haha.

Back to the chaos.  So, you take all those obligations, and you throw in a couple toddlers.  Okay!  On top of all the time I don't have to do the laundry or dishes, I will cram two little bodies into that schedule and do my darndest to offer them attention or at least the promise of food, water, shelter, and hugs.  We've done our best to make intentional time for seeing Santa, having friends over, and keeping our home merry and bright (even if it does mean the tree has fallen over a grand total of SIX times now...seriously?)  We've watched many a Christmas movie (Matilda now loudly announces "Did you hear that?" after she burps, thanks to watching Elf) and indulged in holiday treats that let us know that, without-a-doubt, Jolly Old St. Nick is on his way (if none of that gave it away, then listening to Matilda sing "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" every single night as she goes to sleep really seals the deal).  Indeed, this Christmas-a-go-go is in full swing.  And as the checklist only seems to be getting longer and longer, I know that somehow, someway, everything will manage to get done before this next week is up.

And then, the world stopped last Friday.  You already know what I'm talking about.  You can't turn on the TV or Internet for two seconds without seeing a new update or story about the horrific events of Newtown, Connecticut and all that occurred there on December 14th.  We see the news, we read our friend's status updates about how we all feel just sick and sad and grateful and confused about it all.

And just like that, I'm stopped in my tracks and holding back sobs as I cling to my babies and thank God for what He has given me.  I'm at a total loss for words in my prayers for the families and parents and everyone even remotely tied to that event in any way.  And then my mind wanders for a second and I consider all the horrors of the world that I don't even know about.  All the children that only God can see hurting.  All the names that go unread.  All the pain that feels unknown.  And I'm angry and just so so sad and confused.

And I'm supposed to go Christmas shopping and bake cookies in the middle of all this?  I'm supposed to fold laundry and stuff stockings and carry on like it doesn't matter?

God, what in the world?

Yes and no.  Yes, we must carry on.  No, not as if it doesn't matter.  It matters.  It all matters.  In fact, it's for these reasons and many more that Christmas even exists at all.  Right?  There wouldn't be a Christmas, after all, if we didn't need a Savior.  And, just when we think we are going to go crazy from watching Christmas commercials on TV, something unimaginable like the Sandy Hook tragedy happens and we are reminded in an instant of what truly matters and how we are so, so desperately in need of a Savior.  All of us.

A sweet moment not taken for granted.

I have more questions than answers in this life.  But, I don't need a lot of answers.  I only need the one answer that matters most, that conquers death, that diffuses confusion, and creates new mercies with every act of love - I only need Jesus.  We all only need Jesus.  I don't mean to diminish anyone's questions or doubts, in fact, I encourage us all to take this time and ask God the hard questions and keep looking for how we can strengthen our faith, especially at times of amplified emotion (which the holidays already are, regardless of what's on the news).

This frantic state of hustle and bustle that the holidays throw at all of us also got me thinking about the first Nativity and what it must have been like.  I look at my neatly sculpted Nativities that sit about my home and I see the Christmas cards flooding in that have serene pictures depicting the birth of Christ and I get this warm and fuzzy feeling about how calm and beautiful it must have been.  It seems so precious, so perfect, as if I can only imagine it with Silent Night playing the background and the warm glow of the Christmas Star shining overhead to perfectly light the scene.

And then, I really start to think about it.  Slowly I'm imagining the stench of barnyard animals and afterbirth.  I imagine (no matter how sweetly) the cries of baby Jesus and the sweat beaded up on Mary's brow.  I imagine the anxiety and fears of Joseph.  I think of the shepherds, stunned and skeptical with joy.  And I can't even fathom the chaos of the time - a forced census crowding the tiny town of Bethlehem, the scary authority of the cruel and controlling King Herod and how "political turmoil" is the lightest term I can think of for the state of Israel.

New International Version Matthew 2:16 "When Herod realized that he had been outwitted by the Magi, he was furious, and he gave orders to kill all the boys in Bethlehem and its vicinity who were two years old and under, in accordance with the time he had learned from the Magi."

This was not a pretty time, people.  The world was in CHAOS!  And there wasn't the refuge of shopping malls or Charlie Brown Christmas Specials or making fudge or wrapping gifts to take their minds off the fact that the world needed a Messiah.  I can not fathom the horrors that rocked the planet at that time...much like I can't imagine the horrors that exist today - this week - right here.

I don't bring this up to send us spiraling down a holiday road of depression.  No, no - not at all.  It feels as if the world has never been as bad as it is now...but, that's not true.  In fact, since the fall of man, we have always been lost.  Enter this:  the good news of Christmas!  One tiny, perfect, miracle baby was born to bring us the only hope we'd ever need.  Jesus could have chosen any entrance into the world, but he came at a time of great horror and chaos to deliver us and provide a path to eternal joy.  It sounds kooky, it sounds unbelievable, it sounds unfathomable, and yet, it's all true.

It's been an emotional roller coaster for most of us this month.  I don't know anyone who hasn't been exhausted lately.  It seems everywhere we turn someone is either sick or sad or just frustrated with this manic season.  And I catch myself daily being confronted with choosing gratitude and peace over anxiety and worry.  Because I have to be intentional in choosing it, it's not natural for me to default to a calm state of thankfulness in the middle of such a crazy, unfair world.  I can so easily find myself hung up on things like "I wish I had more money to buy this or that for my girls for Christmas" and now choosing to intentionally change that thought to "Thank you, God, for my [living, breathing, healthy, ornery] girls that I get to spend Christmas with."

Merry Christmas from the Pardys

If this last week has taught me anything, it's that the world isn't going to get less crazy until Jesus returns.  Our need for Him will never lessen.  And, with each step towards the chaos, I grow in my capacity to be grateful.  That is, because we hurt more, we recognize our need more, and can deepen in our gratitude for what we have been given.  Jesus isn't just the reason for the season...He's the only answer for peace on earth.

I pray love and peace to you and yours this Christmas.  I hope you can hug someone you love and laugh as you assemble ridiculous toys for your kids on Christmas Eve.  And, above all, I pray you find Jesus amidst whatever Christmas chaos you are experiencing.  This time of year is full of highs and lows of all kinds.  Emotions and anxieties and electric bills all run high, and it can be very easy to forget why we're all running around like maniacs.  This world might not get any quieter while we're in it, but we're all in it together.  Let's take a deep breath, thank our Savior, and spread the good news that we are not without hope.

Merry Christmas!