May 2012 Recap

So much has happened this past month. We wanted to quick give you an update on some of the events that occured.

May 3-7: Alan spent a few days down in Mexico City with Josh and the team, you can read about it and see pics on our here.

May 19: Alan's family, and many of the people of NorthPointe Community Church held a yard sale to benefit our move. First, the fact that several families donated their items to benefit us instead of themselves was truly humbling. Second, the yard sale was held at Alan's parent's house, which is probably a mile or 2 off of any main road--it's literally in the woods. The amount of traffic we had was incredible! And finally, the amount of "man hours" that our dear family and friends put into this was so sacrificial and generous and we are really thankful. In total, we sold more than $1,000 worth of items, and were also given over $500 in donations!

May 19/20: We were officially announced as missionaries at Worship Center. It was an emotional weekend for us--sharing our story, Alan leading worship, and connecting with so many of our church family after the service and hearing their words of encouragement and support. If you didn't get a chance to be there, you can view the service online here.

In that weekend alone, God provided through our church family over $2,500 in one-time gifts, and 25% additional monthly support! It was such an overwhelming and humbling experience for us.

May 30: We had the opportunity to share at Drive 78 (7th & 8th graders) about our journey, and encourage them to be looking even now for the steps God is asking them to take, even at such a young age. We shared with them about The Well, and the girls there. We gave the students an opportunity to stay after the service and write a note to the girls at The Well. It was cool to walk back into the room and see several dozen students giving up their hang-out time to write a word of encouragement to the girls! One young man came up to Alan and said he felt God asking him to do something, but didn't know what to say in a letter. He then handed Alan $20 he had earned at his summer job and said, "I feel very blessed. I hope this will make a difference." It will--God is always just asking for our obedience, and when we obey, it surely makes a difference!

Loving the Unlovable

It all started around 3am. Clementine woke up calling for me, but because Alan doesn't actually ever fully wake up during the night, he is assigned nighttime duty for the girls. If I wake up, I can't get back to sleep, and will just lie awake for hours, and then have a pounding headache in the morning because my body is high maintanance and needs exactly 8 hours of sleep each night. It's better for everyone if Alan tends to the girls since he never really wakes up he can go right back to sleep. Well, maybe it's not the best case scenario for our kids, but they're resilient, remember? Alan went to Clementine's room and she was not satisfied with him. By "not satisfied" I mean she was screaming hysterically for me with no calming down. I went in because I just couldn't see the situation getting any better with a half-asleep husband and a fully hysterical toddler. She calmed down immediately, and I put her back to bed. I however, could not fall asleep. She woke up 2 more times, then Olive woke up once because she was cold. I finally went back to sleep around 5:30, but broken sleep just isn't the same.

I tried to tell myself it was going to be a great day. Well, it's NOT been a great day. Olive has been acting not like herself--quite clingy, demanding, crying. I woke up feeling very overwhelmed, almost discouraged, about all things Mexico. Turns out that when I feel overwhelmed or discouraged, writing is great therapy. It's really hard to write when I don't have time or space to think. That was this morning.

We came home from an exhausting playdate (not because I didn't enjoy the company, but because I was trying to hold myself together the entire time) and thank God my girls went right to bed. I was literally hanging on by a thread emotionally and I just needed some space.

It's really easy to love my kids when they are super loveable and compliant and pleasant. Anyone can do that. I believe somewhere in some book Jesus talks about loving those who are unloveable, and how THAT is real love. Ouch. Somehow I tell myself that it's okay to be short with my kids (and other people) or stressed or angry because of the way they are acting. It seems normal...and it is. But Jesus is asking me to be not-normal. He's asking me to love with His love--the kind that doesn't make any normal sense. But it's so hard (said in my whiny voice). Yeah, it is. It's mostly hard though because I'm trying to love like Christ without Christ's help. I can only pull from the "love reserves" for so long before I crack. I only have so much grace in me until someone has crossed a line. God has grace upon grace, which I can dwell in and pull from continually, if I choose. But there it is: if I choose. How many times do I choose something else to fill the void or to minimize the stress? I'm choosing mere distractions from the real issue: I need to experience God's grace and love fo' real.

And so today, it felt like I was gasping for breath--emotional and spiritual breath. It doesn't happen often where I am literally desperate to talk to God. But today, I was desperate to read His truth and talk to him and share my burdens with him and be silent so he could share with me. Isn't this where he wants to find me always? Isn't it in this place of desperation that I am most in communion with Him? And so I read the passage for today and I'm continually amazed how a text that was published almost 85 years ago seems like it was written for me today.

Alan and I are both reading My Utmost for His Highest and almost everyday I'm floored. In a good way. Today was no exception. O.C. (that's his street name) first distinguished between the burden-bearing that is right and the kind that is wrong. He then goes on to say that if God has put the burden on us, he is not expecting us to carry it alone. He wants to shoulder it with us. We are not to abandon the burden (or dream or vision or calling), but we are to continue to put it on him and ourselves. Trying to carry the burden without intimate fellowship with Christ produces weariness and feels "overwhelmingly crushing". Sounds a lot like motherhood. And like our plans to move to Mexico.

How I needed to hear this today. If God has given me the blessing of children, he wants to shoulder this calling. I don't have to do it alone. And if he has asked our family to pick up everything we know and move it to a faraway land, he wants to shoulder it, too. He's not going to give me a burden and expect me to carry it on my own. How amazingly refreshing to have that reminder.

Then I read a passage in Ephesians that talked about how Jesus sacrificed his life for me while I was still dead in my transgressions. He loved me when I was unloveable and still loves me as I am unloveable on a daily basis. This is the love that I too am called to give to my kids and others. To love the unloveable.

My prayer for today is to dwell in the grace of God and to continue to share the load with him.

- M

The Lone Star State

A few weeks ago we decided we would travel to Texas (all 4 of us) for Alan's Grandpa's 90th birthday celebration. The decision to go was pretty last minute, although we were given plenty of notice about this trip. Originally, it just seemed like too much money and the thought of leisure travel with two kids seemed void of leisure.

Then all of a sudden, we decided to go. Not sure why--maybe because finances changed and we had the money, or because we wanted to wear shorts and say things like "ya'll"--nonetheless, we were headed to the happiest place on earth. Wait. Wrong place.

There was a small part of me that wanted to go to Texas to see what I was made of. I wanted to travel with two kids on an airplane, live in cramped quarters for a few days to see if I could do it. I knew my kids could do it--they're resilient. I just wasn't sure how I would fare. And since we have plans to move our entire lives to another country, I thought taking a test run couldn't hurt. Turns out, I am resilient too!

Because I am trying to write this while the girls are napping and in reality, Olive has more of a "quiet time" in her room, which, in reality is not that quiet, I'll include just some highlights from the trip.

We had a lay-over on the way there, so each flight was no more than 2 1/2 hours. The girls did so well, thanks to a stash of lollipops and the iPad. We flew on regional planes, so they didn't handle turbulence as well. After our first flight, Olive and I were sick. Olive was really pale and saying her tummy hurt and I was quietly saying to myself "do not throw up, do NOT throw up". So at the Cincinnati airport, I found magic Chewable Dramamine and the second flight was quite dreamy.

The first night we stayed with some Dear Friends who live in Dallas. All four of us tried to share a room. Clementine was in a pack and play, Olive on a sofa-bed, and we were in a regular bed. We put the girls to bed first and through the monitor kept hearing this exchange:

Clementine: O-wiv

Olive: What?

Clementine: Chicken butt

After the 4th time of being called in by Olive, we moved Clementine to her own room so we could get some sleep. Olive did awesome sharing a room with us. It's amazing how kids just all of a sudden grow up. 6 months ago, we tried sharing a room and it was a disaster. I added that to the list of things we just don't do. This was a good reminder that everything is just a season.

The rest of the trip was filled with a lot of time spent at the hotel playground, in our hotel room, and getting together with family each night. Saturday night was the actual birthday celebration. Great Grandma (or "Meemaw" as Clementine calls her) bought special dresses for the girls to wear to the party. This is how much the girls liked them:

Seriously. The crying and death screams lasted for 15 minutes. Much bribing was done to get them to go to the party in these dresses. I think they get their diva-ness from Alan. He's high maintenance.

I'm so glad we decided to go, for many reasons. It was great for Alan to spend time with his extended family; it was so encouraging to see how well our girls do with traveling; and spending time with our Dear Friends in Dallas was refreshing.

I feel like we can accomplish anything; all I need is a stash of lollipops, Caillou episodes on the iPad, and some Dramamine.

- M

Ps. Find more pictures and musings from our trip on facebook.

Reading: My Anti-Drug

For some it's sports; for others it's music. Some are into theater, while others are even into cup-stacking. These are all "anti-drugs," according to the campaign that began several years ago to keep kids off drugs. If they have something that brings them meaning; value; brings them life; then they are less likely to try drugs, so the campaign goes. Reading is my anti-drug. If there ever comes a day when I can't read, I will need drugs. Probably just amoxicillin. Nothing too strong to start.

I really do love to read, mainly to learn, but sometimes for relaxation. As long as I can understand the vocabulary, I'll read it. The back of a shampoo bottle, signs posted in the YMCA bathroom, magazines, books, blogs. Anything. I've come to learn (not through reading) that I use reading as my anti-drug, or in reality, my anti-anxiety. At least that's the hope. If I have a problem, I read. If I have free time, I read. If I want to learn something, I read. If I want to feel moved, I read. If I'm bored, I read. If I need an idea for leftovers, I read. If I need to figure out what the rash is on my kid's back, I read.  Alan has, on at least one occasion, stated that reading is tearing our family apart. It seems like actual drugs also tear families apart. Interesting.

Not only do I like to read, but I like to read fast. Not to impress all my friends (which they are impressed), but because I can't handle being in limbo. I need to get to the end. I need closure. I need to know the bottom-line. This is not just the case for my reading-life, but also the case for my real-life. Not getting to the end as in dying, but getting to the end of a stage so I know I made it; having closure in conversations so I'm not left guessing what the other person meant; knowing the bottom line so I don't misunderstand. Some call this a control issue.

Living in limbo is really hard [for me]. When life is in limbo, I struggle with living. Really living. I'm not sure how to "thrive" in the in-betweens of life. Just like reading, I want to skip to the end – the end of the chapter, the end of the book, the end of the series – so that I can feel settled again. This presents a problem, as it is becoming more and more apparent that life with kids and life with an international move on the horizon has lots of in-betweens and limbo-ness. 

So what is one to do? What I have been doing is hunkering down, squeezing my eyes shut, waiting for this nothing-ness to pass. Nothing-ness freaks me out. I can handle being busy and on the go; I have a hard time handling the stillness. It's just.so.quiet. And I can't control what I can't hear. And if I can't control it, I am anxious. And if I'm anxious, I'm not living. I'm existing in a world of thoughts, mostly worries, but I'm not living. I'm missing out on real life. My beautiful life. 

I've been asking the question lately of how to live in the quiet. How does one like me (if you don't know me well, think Tina Fey meets Rachael Ray meets "Claire" from Modern Family) learn how to live in the in-between? In one of my first appointments, I shared my goals with my therapist for what I'd like to get out of our sessions. She looked at me with this smile, that I think means she is practicing silence as a way to meditate on what has been said, but I interpret it as an invitation to keep talking. So I proceeded to ask her for steps in achieving those goals. I explained that I'm a really good student and if she could just give me some exercises to complete, some practical tips, and most importantly, a projected timeframe that she thought I should start to see these goals accomplished, that would be great! She may have laughed out loud at this. She explained that inner healing and growth is a journey and it happens in its own way for everyone, on its own timetable for everyone, and it's not something one can control with a list of steps. Bummer.

Stillness and quiet freak me out because all the distractions and accomplishments are stripped away, and all that's left is me. And when my mind is programmed to think in checklists and accomplishments, if all that is left is me, then I am the checklist. So I start going through the inventory and decide what to work on, how to improve, how to be better, when really, the stillness and the quiet are invitations to just be. To allow God to move and breath and restore and heal. 

I want to stop squeezing my eyes shut and hunkering down through the transitions. I want to live through them and enjoy the journey with my eyes wide open and my heart filled. 

- M

Searching for God Knows What

I want to move from the place where my life in Christ is all about me to a place where it's all about him. A place where I'm more concerned about the way Christ views the world and not how the world views me. I say I want this, but doing something about it is a different story. Sometimes it feels as if I am stuck. Stuck on this side of the river. This side of the glass. Stuck in self.

A couple of weeks ago I ran into this passage in 2 Corinthians (3:18), where Paul talks about living behind the veil, and it got me thinking about fear and about destiny and about me holding myself back. As someone who's believed in God, and been a "Christian" for most of my life, I can honestly say it's only been within the past few years that I've really taken it seriously...or at least I am beginning to understand the importance of taking it seriously.

Go back a little over a year. I found myself very dissatisfied with life. I'd figured out that I could skirt by on my own efforts working at a church, leading worship, and other such things, and these appearances alone were enough to make people believe I was this wonderful Christian man. But inside I felt dead and exhausted from trying. So I started being cynical and bitter at organized religion...not at God...he was still cool. I was just tired of being a part of the institution of modern western church.

So I started searching. Searching for God knows what (*wink* Donald Miller), and having no idea what WHAT was. So I started reading. I read along this seemingly random, hap-hazard journey of literature that went from Donald Miller’s Searching for God Knows What, to Rob Bell’s Sex God, to David Platt’s Radical. Through this journey, God revealed to me that it was ok to be searching; to test the waters of the things I'd always believed in – come what may – and through this, I came to understand a little more the passionate pursuit of me that is God's love. This undying, never-wavering force of love, that is gentle and sweet and fierce and expansive. I came to realize that this same love that is only mine, is only everyone else’s too. Then came this desire from within to spread this love like a disease. And then came the veil.

Think back to Exodus 34, right after Moses got the Ten Commandments from God on Mt. Sinai. Moses' face was so radiant from being in the presence of God that it literally glowed. That freaked the people out, so his brother Aaron said to him, "Dude! your face is FREAKY-white! Go wash that stuff off 'cuz you're scaring people!...You can't? Then put a towel on it or something...fine, a veil will do." (You won’t find that dialogue in any translation in the Bible. I just made it up.) So Moses puts this veil over his face whenever he was around the Israelites, but took his veil off when he was alone with God. He essentially lived two lives.

Now a few years later, here comes Paul, totally tearing the cover off (pun intended)! In his 2nd letter to the church of Corinth, he says, "Since we have such a hope, we are very bold, not like Moses who would put a veil over his face...But when one turns to the Lord, the veil is removed...and where the Spirit of the Lord is there is freedom. And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another." (3:12-18ish) This excites me, because Paul is encouraging me to have no separation between my life in Christ, and the life I live out for the rest of the world to see; to be unveiled and transparent for all to see, not in a boastful way, but in a real, life-giving honest way.

So here I am, living and breathing, and capable of being unveiled and transformed for all to see, yet I think at times I intentionally still live behind the veil. This thin piece of fabric that allows me to see and move and live, precludes my existence from actually living. At times I am hesitant to remove the veil God sees, because I am not ready to really deal with my life – its past, present, and future. And I don’t want to remove the veil others see, because I am not ready to be honest, vulnerable, and broken in front of people. I like being behind the veil, because it is comfortable, and the veil is what I know. To take it off would be like going from black & white to color, and I don't know color. Even though the promise of color blows my mind with its endless possibilities and beauty, I'd still rather stick with my old black & white set. (It's a television analogy that depending on your age, you may not get. Also, there was a time when there was no Internet, and not everyone had a cell phone.)

But the uncomfortable, while dissatisfying, seems easier than the unknown, because it’s known. But note what Paul says in verse 18. I am being transformed "from one degree of glory to another." This means it doesn't have to be a snap-of-the-fingers magic reaction. This is fantastic because it means I only have to take one step at a time, allowing God to transform me into His image. So while I sit behind my veil trying to calculate every foreseeable change I will face upon removing the veil, all I need to worry about is just taking off that blasted veil! I don't have to have an answer to what others will think. Or what geographic location this will take me. Or what major changes are needed in my life. I need only to worry about the removing of the veil.

I thank God for only giving me one step at a time. A friend recently told me that if I were to be given the book that is my life’s journey, and I were to skip from Chapter 1 and looked at the end, it would freak the crap out of me, as I frantically searched for "how the heck did I get there?!?!?!?" Sometimes God only reveals the next step for a reason. Understanding this is necessary so I don't over think it, or try to control it. Most importantly, I think God only gives me the next step I am supposed to take, because he knows I only have the faith and courage to take one step. And once I take that step, we'll go from there.

Have the strength to remove the veil, and not worry about anything else.

"Let other things come and go as they may, let other people criticize as they will, but never allow anything to obscure the life that is hid with Christ in God." Oswald Chambers, January 23, My Utmost for His Highest

- A

The Whole Story

About a week ago Olive turned four. It seems like just yesterday I was googling “lasting effects of swaddling” because I was obsessively panicked nervous that we were doing some sort of lasting damage by swaddling our 5 month old baby. She really did seem so old at the time…I landed on an article about an 11 year old boy who wrapped himself in a bed sheet each night to mimic the soothing effects of swaddling. That falls in the category of unhelpful information.

I was really excited when I woke up on Wednesday morning because I just couldn’t wait to celebrate Olive. I had a birthday treat with pink candles, a present, a cute banana snowman made with love, ready for her when she woke up and came down the stairs.

She was so excited about all of it and so was I! After school, Gammy came over and showered her with some new frilly skirts and some long-sleeved shirts (Gammy will win this battle of dressing appropriately for the season) which she adored.

I should stop here—our day sounds perfect. You might be under the impression that our whole day was magical, full of unicorns and rainbows. You could begin to believe that because your day hadn’t gone like that, your day was subpar. And then you could go one step farther and believe that you and your life are subpar.

Photos and stories can be deceiving. They are often an edited version—the version I want others to see—of real life. There is nothing wrong with sharing good news, small victories, and fun outings with others. But when the highlights are all I am willing to share with others, it’s not the whole story, And some might call that a lie. Maybe a white lie. We are portraying a self, a life, that is not whole. I’m not saying to throw up your problems on everyone everytime you are asked “how’s it going?” please don’t mistake this for someone actually caring how you’re doing—it’s just a typical American greeting usually said by a speed walker. I am saying that being honest and sharing the whole story with those around us is liberating and life-giving.

Through personal experience and a slight obsession with psychology, I have learned that I don’t know the whole story. Pretty much ever. That is really important to recognize both when someone’s life looks awesome and when it doesn’t. It helps me have more grace, which I can ALWAYS use; it challenges me to be transparent in my own life; and it lessens the amount of times I compare my life to theirs.

Comparing my life to anyone else’s is a waste of time because I don’t know their story, but I definitely know mine. So I end up comparing all of my “worsts” with all of their “bests.” Instead of feeling inspired or encouraged by others' successes, I can feel discouraged because I believe I don’t measure up. Or, instead of feeling compassion or understanding in others’ failures, I am judgmental and boast of my successes.

The Bible talks about us all being a part of the body of Christ and that it takes each part to function properly. I’ve heard it plenty of times, but I’m not sure when I’m actually ever going to believe it. I just keep thinking that somehow I can morph the body part that I’ve been assigned. Like maybe if I try hard enough, I can change from a hand to an eye, metaphorically speaking of course. Any time I begin to compare my life to another, I will end up believing a lie. In one instance, an eye might look at a hand and say ‘I can see so much better than that hand! I’m amazing!’  Conversely, the eye might think ‘I can’t pick up anything like that hand can! I’m so lame!’ Neither comparison contains truth, because there is nothing to compare—they have completely different skill sets, functions, looks. 

The other day I read several stories of teenagers who had started their own non-profit organizations. I am pretty sure these stories were meant to be inspirational, but I felt less than inspired after reading them. I felt like a failure because I hadn't done anything like that and I am twice their age! But then I was reminded that we all make up the Body. I can try to force myself to be a different body part, but I will never succeed. Ever. I can do the best with the abilities I have, or I can do mediocre or maybe even awful work trying to be someone else. Truth be told, I have no desire to start my own non-profit. My chest is literally tightening just at the thought. However, I do have a desire to serve and support someone else who has started a non-profit. Even if they are half my age.

Accepting this--that we all have different roles--is new for me. For a long time I didn’t accept who I was or the life I was living. I grew up believing certain attributes, abilities, personalities were better than others. I wasted a lot of time trying to be someone I wasn’t. Lately, I have come to actually love some certain qualities about myself that I used to be ashamed of. This can be read as: FREEDOM. I feel compelled to tell the whole story, my whole story, to stop the comparison cycle that results in wasted time. When I know who I am and who I am not, I can be present in my life.

Let’s fast forward to the rest of the birthday evening. Olive had requested sushi for her dinner—we were not going to argue with that. In my mind, it was going to be so much fun. Here is how that was not true:

I had a feeling—motherly intuition if you will—that things were about to get hairy. My first clue was my hunger level. When I am hungry, my whole body triples in weight and I can’t move. My eyes glaze over and all of my conversation contributions become grunt-like sounds. My second clue was Alan’s hunger level. When he gets hungry, he is irrational and likes to pick fights. For example, if the girls were touching something they shouldn’t be, his response would be to swiftly remove them while telling them that they can never eat cheese again. It just makes no sense.

It took about 3 seconds after we were seated for the real fun to start. Olive decided that the best seat for her was under the table. Clementine followed of course and then became frantic because she couldn’t figure out how to crawl out. After performing no less than four under-the-table rescues on Clementine, who was screeching about being stuck, we declared that there would be no more “me, myself time” as the girls call it, under the table. Fine. Clementine’s next idea was to resemble an intoxicated person on the booth benches, and continue to fall and wail at the top of her lungs. Repeatedly. About the 3^rd time this happened, after she had been warned she might get hurt if she kept doing it, she did a flip of sorts and got herself stuck, with just one little arm sticking up, waving around for help. This happened at the same time the waitress was trying to take our order. When she saw the little arm flailing around, she peeked under the table and said in her sweetest, I don’t have any children of my own voice, “Aw, are you okay?” Alan and I just looked up at her with blank faces and muttered through gritted teeth, “she’s fine.” I may have even rolled my eyes. It wasn’t good.

The night may or may not have concluded with a lecture about how there are kids in the world who are thirsty and when they cry to their mommy for water, there isn’t any to give them, so waiting 3 minutes til we get to the car to get your water bottle isn’t really a big deal at all and the foot stomping can stop immediately. Happy 4^th Birthday, Olive.

Did a little piece of you just smile, knowing that someone else has experienced this? It’s okay, smile away. That’s what honesty does—it gets us out of our funks of perfectionism, shame, and apathy and builds unity and trust and hope. It allows us to stop wishing we were someone else and start living.

I hope you can begin to do this in your own life—this telling the whole story, your story, so that you can live fully in the moment, in the life God has given you.


- M

The First Step

A few months ago I decided to start swimming as my form of exercise. Though I had been taking classes at the gym for years, my knees and abs were no longer happy about it. Thank you, child birth aftermath. For months I just stopped going to the gym because I was paralyzed by the anxiety that a new routine might bring to someone who struggles with crazy anxiety at times. I realized that if I never did it a first time, I wouldn't do it a second and third time and couldn't therefore begin a new routine. It's deep. So I worked up the courage, dug out my old going-on-a-mission-trip-must-find-modest-unattractive-one-piece, and watched some YouTube videos to remind myself about swimming. Seriously. That happened. I found a swimming plan and was overly pretty confident that I could at least swim a half mile on the first day.

I survived the locker room, full of naked, super-chatty older ladies. I also didn't get too freaked out by the signs that reminded people to keep their underwear on when in the sauna and not to shave while in the sauna. Really? I finally got in the pool, clearly an amatuer because of the lack of a swimming cap, and started my first lap. Halfway through, I started freaking out because I was already winded and sure I was going to drown. The swimming plan I was following only required I swim 100 yds. before taking a break. I swam maybe 37 yds. before I decided that I was going to die this way. Good news: I didn't die. I survived my first day, bought a cap so I could look legit, and have been going back a couple times a week for the last few months. It's not scary any more--not even the naked ladies...that's not entirely true--and I finally swam 1 mile yesterday. I didn't reach that goal on the first, or the second or the third day. I just continued to work towards the goal, improving my endurance and growing my confidence.
Taking the first step is always the hardest. It requires courage to move toward the unknown, with no guarantee how things will turn out. But once that step is taken, it seems like each consecutive step gets easier and easier.

It was 2 years ago that the nudge to take the first step happened. It was 1 year ago that I finally obeyed. We were at a conference for young leaders, and all throughout the four days I just kept feeling like God was asking me to quit my job to be home with our girls. I had always said "Staying at home full-time with my kids is not for me! I NEED to work at least part-time." And if you've ever said things with finality before, you know what happens next. I just couldn't see how it would work financially or emotionally for me. So I kept putting the thought aside, maybe trying to believe that God didn't really speak to me. About 8 months later, I finally obeyed, and put in my 4-months notice. After taking that HUGE first step, it was easier to take the next step. And the next. And the next.

A scripture that comes to mind is Luke 16:10, "He who is faithful in a very little thing is faithful also in much; and he who is unrighteous in a very little thing is unrighteous also in much." Staying at home full-time wasn't an option in my mind, but I'm so glad that God spoke to me and I eventually listened. It's because of this step, that many other steps have been taken in this journey. For starters, being with my kids all day every day made me face a lot of ugliness inside me, which then sent me to therapy, WHICH has been one of the best things I've ever done for myself. Had I been distracted by the busyness of work, it would have been a lot easier for me to make excuses and not deal with my stuff. Second, quitting my weekday job allowed us to begin working with high school girls who have faced adversity (read: neglect, abuse, poverty, orphaned, etc.) in their life, which is similar to what we will be doing in Mexico. This job has challenged us in numerous ways, including learning that truly loving people--especially the seemingly unlovable ones--is really, really, hard. Finally, taking the first step to obey God gave us the courage to keep on asking him to direct our steps. And that has brought us to going to Mexico. Each time we are faithful in the very little thing, we are given the next step. Doors open, opportunities arise.

Friends, if you're finding yourself dissatisfied with life, unfulfilled, or confused, I pray that you find the courage to ask God what He'd like to do with your life...then listen to the answer. It seems scary, overwhelming, to relinquish that control, and it is! I'm not going to let you believe that all of these steps have been easy becauase they have ALL been hard. Staying home was hard; admitting that I needed therapy was hard; deciding to take our young family to another country was really hard. But the more I say "yes" to God and his plan, the more I am believing that it's the best way to live.

- M