god's story

You may have seen the picture I posted the other day of my family's heads individually cut out and sitting atop cupcakes. Just the cutest, most fun and hilarious thing. Our dear friends threw us a send-off party over the weekend and those screenshot cupcake toppers were just a little glimpse of the thought that was put into it. We felt so loved by them - by their intentionality and selflessness and kindness. And we also felt so loved by our friends who stopped in to say hi and bye and drop cards with sweet notes and generous gifts.

The next day we were reading through cards - which, by the way, is a lot less sentimental with a preschooler thrashing open envelopes - and in one of them was written Psalm 78:4. We will tell the next generation the praiseworthy deeds of the Lord, his power, and the wonders he has done. In their note, our friends assured us that God is trying to tell his story in each of our lives and that in our family's we are reminded of His redemptive power and great love for us. 

That same day, I got a few minutes of time alone while Knox napped (!!!) and Jeremiah and Surrey went to the grocery store. Unlike most of my free time nowadays that is spent packing and stressing, I decided during this time that I'd go ahead and give Jesus a shot. I opened up my new devotional (Savor by Shauna Niequist) and as I always say - guys, you can't make this stuff up. I read the previous day's (the day of the party) page just out of curiosity and here's what I saw:

TELL THE STORY OF WHO GOD IS

We will tell the next generation the praiseworthy deeds of the Lord, his power, and the wonders he has done.

- Psalm 78:4

There are two myths that we tend to believe about our stories: the first is that they're about us, and the second is that because they're about us, they don't matter. But they're not only about us, and they matter more than ever right now. When we, any of us who have been transformed by Christ, tell our own stories, we're telling the story of who God is.

I bet God has done something in your life that would make our hair stand on end if you told us about it. I bet the story of God has written in your life and your home gives voice and breath and arms and legs to the gospel every bit as much as a church sermon ever did. Preaching is important, certainly. But it can't be the only way we allow God's story to be told in our midst.

There's nothing small or inconsequential about our stories. There is, in fact, nothing bigger. And when we tell the truth about our lives - the broken parts, the secret parts, the beautiful parts - then the gospel comes to life, an actual story about redemption, instead of abstraction and theory and things you learn in Sunday school.

I mean, hello. The whole thing is just so cool and recently I've caught myself telling God that over and over. Of course it's sovereign and ordained and praiseworthy - all of these "coincidental" things that keep happening. But mostly, it's so cool how He's bringing things full circle for me during what seems like a pivotal time in my life.

Several years ago when I decided to actually contribute to social life in Richmond I met a group of girls that became my people for a season. Initially, the premise of our time together was writing a better story. And they had me pretty much literally bushwhack across water and up a mountain while pregnant in an effort to start practically choosing a better story. Who did they think they were?! Who did they think I was?! We practically just met. I don't do this. I do, however, succumb to peer pressure quite easily and I trekked on. 

It's cool that this story concept has come full circle. I didn't know then what life was going to look like for the next bunch of years. If I were writing it myself, it would've been boring as crap though - easy, light, no conflict. But that's not how this bad boy is playing out. The better story for me has become one based on what God is doing and who God is, instead of it being all about me and my comfort. 

So when I was at the send-off party, I caught myself looking around the room at all the different faces and reflecting a little. This was after I spent the first hour being barfed on repeatedly by my baby child. Anyway, reflecting. My story is full of different people who have come and gone during circumstances and trials that have also come and gone. I've carried a lot of guilt as things have changed. I have friend issues. What's my problem. I can't keep up, can't do anything well. I'm pretty much the worst at this whole relational thing. 

But God's been reminding me it's not all about me. He has graciously brought people into my life as was necessary to learn more about myself and who He has created me to be. And he's ultimately brought people into my life to show me - and not just me but witnesses of my life, too - himself and His love more fully. What I've loved about our time at the party and our final days here in Virginia is so many people reminding me that this next step is just part of the story. Life is not over, we are not doomed or alone. We are not losing faith or giving up or phoning in. God has us and loves us and is simply carrying on the plot of our story so that it continues to teach us and others about the gospel. About brokenness and sin - but love and grace and redemption. 

It was a joy to have so many people there to celebrate. It was emotional and lovely and sad and fun. I'm taking the feelings as they come, trying not to be too dramatic but knowing that this is a big thing - that God has done some deep story-writing while I've been in Richmond - and so it's all good. 

I can't thank all you party-goers enough. You've loved me and cared for me so well. You've helped me take risks and know my worth. You've taught me truth while showing me grace. You've thrown baby showers. You've sent care packages during my time in the trenches. You've walked through motherhood with me. You've provided. You've been a friend when I've been the worst friend back and I've noticed. I'm so thankful. Is there a much much deeper word for thankful? If there is, than I'm that. 

I hope we all can start living out our story unashamedly, trusting that it's not about us, but what God wants to share through us.

thirty three and thirty four weeks

It finally happened. I missed a week and can never get it back. Moment of silence and a couple bucks in Knox's future therapy fund (I actually hate this parental cliche, but I mean, how true it is). Last Friday, week 33, the cards were stacked against us and I never got things in order. I was battling an awful stomach virus, the kids were going to my in-laws' for the weekend and I still had to pack them up, and we had no fabric. Typically, if I miss Friday and I at least try to get it in by the following Monday; however, this Monday I was meeting my in-laws to pick up the kids and brought back a baby child with a fever, congestion, and his own growing stomach virus. I'm not a fan of taking the week picture like a day before the next week, so I decided to scrap it. A story for the ages. 

But here we are, 34 weeks, just back from a trip to the pediatrician. Confirmed: Knox's second stomach virus of the season. For the love. Our morning routine now consists of stripping the crib and we've also added another load of wash to the day's events. Gross. So now I'm just sitting, staring, waiting for Surrey to go down in flames. 

joy instead of mourning

Baptism Sob Fest update. 

My emotions may or may not have been hyped up. I may or may not have gone out less than 24 hours beforehand to get a potentially trashy hoop put in my nose to cope with the stress. Speaking of stress, you guys, I have freaking shingles. What in the WORLD?! It's like the bubonic plague or something that should only happen to adults over 50. Thumbs up for early detection. Have no fear, I have not contaminated you nor will I - this is not Ebola - you will not contract my freakish shingles.

But moving on from nose rings and skin issues.

After a huge outfit malfunction and the star of the show not taking a legit morning nap I was on the verge of losing hope in this morning running smoothly. I could almost physically feel myself teetering on a line of being calm and being chaotic. I pressed on, my family liked the breakfast casserole that took my anxiety all night (why for the love do I always make things I've never made before when people are over??), and we got out the door on time. Felt a little sick to my stomach, pepped talk Jeremiah into holding his emotions together on stage.

The service started and I am telling you there is no way to make this stuff up - they read aloud the verse Knox's middle name is derived from. The verse that I wrote a whole post about over the summer. Isaiah 61:1-3. Our church doesn't consistently read scripture. In fact, my parents have visited several times and this is the first time they've heard scripture read. But today not only did they read it, it was the freaking verses that my baby child who is being baptized moments later was named from. They had no idea, this was not at all a planned thing. Unreal. That's when the emotion hit me, hit several of us. A few tears, but mostly shock.

Worship started and what song did we sing? How about song that I haven't heard in church for months. How about that song that got me through those darkest days after the marriage news bomb hit my life. It's called Not For A Moment. I could have barfed right there. I'm telling you this song was my jam. Not in those moments during the lies and secrets, not during those moments of healing and questions and ugliness, not during these moments today when things seem a little bit lighter - not during any of these has God forsaken me. I am not forgotten. Ever. Whether I like it or not, it's really the truth.

Just like the other night, this morning was one of those times where I'm telling you if I had any doubt God was as near as the air I breathe or had any doubt that He knows and cares for me fully - it vanished. These coincidences are not coincidences. This is God being so kind to me to show me in a real way more about His love for me and my people.

So we got up on stage and instead of mourning, there was joy. In fact, my child was the the happiest I may have ever seen him. This is a happy time, a time to seriously rejoice. Knox is a symbol of redemption in our marriage and in our life and God was fully there with us through it all.

And then our pastor prayed against him chasing after girls in his teen years. The best.

thirty one and thirty two weeks

This is what it's come to - two weeks per post. Maybe once we settled in Pennsylvania I'll be on top of the weekly updates since I'll have absolutely nothing better to do. 

Perhaps I'll have a better memory too. Have I said he has two teeth in every post? If not, he has two teeth! A couple days ago he start making a new "dadada" sound which is big fun as you can imagine. He ate chicken and continues to eat chicken like every dinner. I don't even know, those two weeks flew.

coincidence?

Freaking Jesus is more like it.

I had to grab my computer (MacBook circa 2007 for anyone who may be wondering) immediately to share this with you. Right before I grabbed my dinosaur computer I was crying and thanking God and praying out loud. Because right before that I opened an invite to a going away party dear dear friends are throwing us that had a thoughtful, generous surprise on it. And right before that I just finished up the section on God's illogical love and living life in that love in Judah Smith's new book Life Is ___. IT ALL CAME TOGETHER IN A MATTER OF MOMENTS. By that I mean, God taught me and then showed me what it all meant right away because He loves me (all of us) that much.

Seriously guys we cannot make this kind of stuff up in life. 

I've been trying to self-talk myself out of focusing on the negative or shameful aspects of our move north with an excruciatingly low success rate. I have a very good feeling it's probably because I'm so focused on myself. So focused on how hard things continue to be or how my expectations for life at nearly 30 aren't nearly true.

But just now I was thanking God so hard for this time, that I had to share with you. What was different?

I was considering God's love for me, reading about the truth of His love. As Judah puts it, "so let us take our eyes off ourselves and focus on the God who loves us and is for us and is with us." And then God proved his point to me about His kind of love right then and there in the form of an online invitation (via the kindest friends). Happy tears and sad tears all came at the same time as I said God, we don't deserve this. These people who love us way more than they should. This is why it's so hard and sad to leave - these friends and this place where we've found belonging. But I didn't think I'd ever find this here and You've given it to us and we can trust You that you will be with us still. I'm thankful that I have something to be so deeply thankful for.

I am the worst at living life in God's love. Absolutely the worst. So I'm so grateful for this moment to practice clinging to things like this and to speak them out like this so that even little by little I may start intentionally trying to get that I'm loved.

so many feelings

We've got a big month ahead of us. This is my last month here with the kids before we move up north and because of our fast approaching bon voyage, the calendar is booked. All good things, but all sentimental, feelings-y things. Although, I guess maybe all the things are emotional due to the fact that we're moving.

The first big thing in March's lineup is Knox's baptism. Surrey was baptized when she was seven months so we figured we'd consider it for Knox once he was around the same age, which crept up ultra fast (meaning, we just acknowledged it a few weeks ago). Thing is, we thought of it right around the time we decided we were shipping out - so what should we do? Is it ultra pointless to have a baby baptized at a church we'd be leaving a month later? Are we rushing it if we squeeze it in before we go amidst the moving chaos? Should we just wait a few months or years until we find another church and get involved there?

But I kept coming back to it. These are our people. These are the people who know this baby boy (who doesn't nap). This is the pastor and the congregation who have walked through some deep life stuff with us. This is the community of people who have cheered us on and lifted us up. 

While of course this is so much about our hope and expectation for Knox and his relationship with Jesus, this is also so much a story of redemption in our family. Us standing up there together with this new baby is significant. Who would have thought that after all that happened we'd stand up there before God with a second child together. I'll tell you, during those dark days I wasn't sure we'd see this day. So many days I grieved what I thought could be the loss of a growing family, a sibling (or siblings) for Surrey. Would our marriage make it? If it did, do we dare have more kids? Lots of questions, lots of uncertainty. (More about that from this post).

But here we are. Here this kid is. And while the credit goes to God Almighty in heaven, I 100% believe that God used these people of this church - the freaking BODY - to bring us into a story of redemption and restoration. A pastor who counseled us and was a sounding board for the deepest, rawest things. A staff who cared for us and loved us in spite of our scarlet letter. A community of friends who bolstered us and sustained us in every sense of the word. This is the place and these are the people that we want as witnesses of this baptism - the symbolism of the work God continues to do in our family. 

That being said, I'll probably be bawling like a crazy person this weekend up there in front of Jesus and these people while Knox is baptized. Since we decided I'd be moving with the kids early, I've cried if anyone even looks at me funny. So this could be brutal. The recommitment of marriage vows, the raising of hands in congregational support, the praying over this boy. Sob fest. My defense mechanism may typically be laughter and sarcasm, but the real me is an unstable sap and with only a month left in this place we call home there's no way I keep it together. But then again, maybe Knox will stay true to himself and barf all over the pastor, in which case I will immediately run off stage in a state of complete humiliation.

Avoid the 11:30 service if you want to avoid the crazy.