Lent: rightly reckoned, redemption

We welcomed lent yesterday, a time of spiritual discipline, meditation and prayer which begins the season of Easter.  

A walk toward the cross: the event of our redemption.  

A journey to resurrection: the victory of a living and ruling King Jesus.

I'm thirsty.  Thirsty in places that only Jesus can fill and renew, redeem and reclaim.  Restore me, Lord.  Transform me.  

"Create in me a clean heart, O God,

And renew a right spirit within me."

Psalm 51:10

Ashes of repentance.  Marked to remind ourselves.  

Called to "active voice" humility.  To see ourselves rightly.    

Rightly reckoned.   

Sin seen not for shame's sake, but for true repentance and forgiveness.  Accurate rendering.  

No platitudes about "it was what it was".  Not excusing to ease pain or embarrassment.

"Restore unto me the joy of Thy salvation,

And upold me with Thy Holy Spirit."

-Psalm 51:12

Tiny tendrils of new life.  

Growth pulsing forth from the hand of God.  The One who calls us to newness, wholeness.  

Emma cradled in arm, Anna close side-by.  Our biggest in front, broad backed and young heart.  Enfolded, we walked to the front and received.  Received in order to...

And Emma beamed.  Heart turned outward in joy.  Worship from the inside out.

I have a littlest girl.  She knows her Father's voice.  She hears sweet in His call, honey in His name.  

The hands grasped together: His to hers.  They walk.  Redeemer and redeemed.  Beloved and be-loved.  

And I'm thirsty.  

This time only forty days.  Biblically speaking, a time of testing.  

Forty days until the morning comes.  It is not yet Friday when we are looking to Sunday.  

Forty days for the Lord to cultivate to growth from ash.  

To water my heart: the seeds of repentance sown.  

His time now.

"O good, gentle Jesus,

Have mercy on us,

Because you created us,

You have redeemed us

With your most precious blood"

- O Bone Jesu, Giovanni P. da Palestrina

To walk.  Old Testament code {take the land} for obedience.

Obeying hearts.  

My obeying heart.

I have a Maker, too. 

He knows my name.

{all images taken from Pottery Barn}

clinging...

to what?

I watched this yesterday on Livesay's blog, and as a clinger myself in many, many ways saw that in a whole new light.  Maybe safe isn't all I make it out to be.

spring: aslan

March!

  


March is here.  At last.


And now ends my post.


Because that's all that needs to be said.

For us north-folk, March is synonymous with hope.


For us Christian-folk, spring brings reminders of our true hope.  Our only hope. 


"Every moment the patches of green grew bigger and the patches of snow grew smaller. Every moment more and more of the trees shook off their robes of snow. Soon, wherever you looked, instead of white shapes you saw the dark green of firs or the black prickly branches of bare oaks and beeches and elms. Then the mist turned from white to gold and presently cleared away altogether. Shafts of delicious sunlight struck down onto the forest floor and overhead you could see a blue sky between the tree-tops."
                                                                           - The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe" C.S. Lewis

Spring is on its way.  And as one dear friend recently said, "if only Aslan would come bring spring".


Praying the spring of Aslan. Fresh breaths of air to brittle, dry winter hearts.  Aslan on the move on the inside. 


Melting, drawing out, pouring in, fresh, new, emerging, growing.


Hope.  Spring.  Inside.  

Aslan.  On the move.  


Soon we meet lent.  And I'm praying for more than a hunger and thirst to draw near.  I'm praying to actually draw near to Him who is already here. 


"And now a very curious thing happened. None of the children knew who Aslan was any more than you do; but the moment the Beaver had spoken [his name] everyone felt quite different.... At the name of Aslan each one of the children felt something jump in its inside. Edmund felt a sensation of mysterious horror. Peter felt suddenly brave and adventurous. Susan felt as if some delicious smell or some delightful strain of music had just floated by her. And Lucy got the feeling you have when you wake up in the morning and realize that it is the beginning of the holidays or the beginning of summer."
-The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe, C.S. Lewis


Aslan.  Jesus.  


The One who makes all things new.  Our kinsman redeemer.  The Only One worth enough.  Worthy, Righteous, True.  

The Lion of Judah, who became the Lamb of God.

Come, Lord Jesus.  


{beautiful images found here and here}

apples of gold: fledgling and hope

Growing into family.

Learning to trust love.

Experiencing faithfulness and finding it reliable.

Those are all hallmarks of a child attaching to a parent.

At least those are the markers of how it is meant to be when a child is learning that a parent's love is safe, secure and forever.

In the language of attachment in adoption there are labels that describe children who are having a longer or harder time learning to trust and love their family.  Anxious Attachment is one such label.

When I read a word like anxious, other words flood my mind.  Actually, my stomach does a bit of a jitter bug and tightens quite discernably.  Words like:  frightened, distressed, afraid, apprehensive, uneasy, scared, disquieted come to mind.

And these are apt descriptions of a child learning attachment in some ways.

But...

words have power, don't they?

When my boys were little babies, and they crawled after me all over the house and hated if I was out of sight for even a minute, I didn't call them anxious.  I called them babies.

When I first left the kids in Sunday School or with a new babysitter and they cried long and hard, I didn't think they were not attaching to me.  I knew we were growing and learning in our trust of each other and what it meant for "Mommy (me) always comes back".

Growing, fledgling, unfolding, maturing attachment.  Those are terms I ascribed to my children as they learned the tune and tenor of a Mom's love.

When children arrive home, and it is years after birth, there is time needed to grow and nurture the bonds of love and true, steady trust.  The trust that comes from experiencing.  The love that is borne of a heart that sees again and again what beloved and treasured mean.

What looks anxious, and has undertones of those words, also looks brand new.  Newly forged.  Early in budding.  Blossoms awaiting flowering.  The heart finding a steady beat and knowing it remains.

That is a corner turn in a mother's heart.  A turn of focus.  Instead of seeing the word anxious and watching that expand in a mind, shifting the word to another.  A term of what is also true and right.  A word fitly spoken like an apple of gold. 

Our family has walked "anxious attachment".  We found great help and counsel, and have experienced God's amazing healing and attachment.  We also learned the power of a label, and to take our minds captive to what is true and noble.

My sweet gazelle can be nothing but growing in the grace of God's love for her heart in our family.  She is a sweet fledgling nestling, and giving her the gentleness of my time as well as my words and labels does her great service.  As it does us all.

Fledgling, as defined by the dictionary, means young, new or inexperienced.  

And that is what I think when I need a description for my Emma in our family.  For her understanding of our love and how to trust us.

That word is lovely.  Fledgling.  It is winsome and hopeful.  It fills me, renews me and allows God to move my heart into the proper place.  From fear, worry, longing and hurry, to a quiet, restful place of hope and joy.

What she has lived, we also are privileged to learn.  I have grown the most in the growing of my children.  Walking the road to learn love, the warp and weft of trust, the fabric of faithfulness.

A mother's work is Kingdom business.  There is nothing small about it.  It is not insignificant.  It is a high call and a mighty job.  Nurturing the hearts of the young is nothing but holy.  Holding fledgling life in ones hands and diligently lifting to the Lord is courage and strength personified.

And that does include the list of endless dishes, folded clothes, dusty floors and bandaged knees, runny noses and hurt feelings, taxi services and yet another meal prepared and served.  Those are as much acts of service and love to God as are the "big events" we put value on.  Don't let us lie to ourselves about those being unimportant.

Hands to the plow and hearts to God.  Because He is in the plowing.

So this morning when upon awaking the day felt long already, I reminded myself of what is true.  And what is true is not the list I woke up with, it is the list the Lord gave me instead.

Do not grow weary in doing good.

What lists are you making today?  What words does God need to refine or re-define in your mind?

I'm finding fledgling so much more hopeful than anxious.

Perhaps I am fledgling myself in God's eyes.  Fancy that.  There's room for growth in that word.

smiling {tapestry}

Interwoven.

Connected in unseen ways.  Unobserved and unknown, the fibers overlap and weave together.

I have firm conviction and expectant hope that when the day comes that I step into eternity, and arrive Home, part of my seeing clearly not only will be beholding my Father for the first time face to face, but will also involve a tapestry.

God is the Master weaver.  Threads of myriad color and hue, pattern and design, stretched thin or left thick with weft and warp.  My life overlapping your life entangled with that one who meets the threads of this person and is blessed by an occurrence of grace missed by eyes but seen with the heart.

It's intricate.

There's a lot of us.

And one day, I just know that I know I will stand and behold in complete wonder and utter awe my Lord who beautifully wove a masterpiece.

Two last night's ago, Emma Kate pulled from a big plastic box in her closet, a photo album.  In China, when we received her, we were given a number of things.  A plate.  A book recounting the history of the orphanage past to present day.  Art and school work.

We brought it home, went to doctor's appointments and dried tears when siblings went to school, folded laundry and emptied dishwashers, drove ice-slicked roads and decorated the Christmas tree.  The information from the orphanage didn't get forgotten.  And it wasn't yet examined closely.  Okay, or really at all.

The photo album.  Inside were photos of our dear Emma, most we have seen.  But then.  Heart stopping.  Two photos.  The youngest we have.  Dear, little Emma.  Held in a foreigner's arms at about 18 months old.  Face tear-soaked.  Tiny and perfect.  Lovely and little.  Two pictures of our Emma Kate as a younger older baby girl child.  Oh, the gift.

Pages turning.

For a long time, we've prayed for a family.  It is a family, we imagined, although it could have just been a person, who changed Emma Kate's life.  They changed her life because once a month they gave about $40 for Emma.  They are Emma's sponsor family.  Without them, Emma Kate never would have attended Love Without Boundaries Believe in Me school in her orphanage.  Without them, she would not have moved from the 10th percentile to the 50th in height and weight in a mere year.  Without them...I try not to imagine.

God has connected our families.  We don't know one another, and in many ways are strangers.  Yet His connections are so different than what we imagine or know of connectedness.

Pages turning, and a letter.

"Dear Emma...


Your Sponsored Family,
                                      "


And I gasp in wonder.  Because I actually do know who they are.  As in, a name and some email correspondence.  And all the prayers whispered.  The prayers of thanksgiving and gratefulness become named.  The gift I've had to send to a sponsor I know not, a token of our regard and a remembrance in keepsake form of their and our Emma, knows who to go to.

God weaves so beautifully.

And oddly enough, morning dawns and with it an email.

You know who it was from, now, don't you?

Yes.  Emma's sponsors.

Heaven smiled as my heart recognized a thread overlapped, lives enjoined.  The Master Weaver's hands fashion beauty and untwist threads knotted and twisted, to make patterns of beauty and strength.

Yesterday we beheld such glory.  And our hearts sang at the seeing.

Grace and peace to you from God our Father

Bedtime finds me climbing into bed in the cold of January's chill, in not only my pajamas, but also my robe.  Last night Jim had a stocking cap on with his long underwear to sleep in.  Ma and Pa Ingalls.


I smiled a laugh and it felt so good.


I've been reading Colossians at bedtime for the last bit.  It soothes me these weeks to end the day as I begin it; in the Word.


Steeping in Scripture is something I not only love and long for, I also know it is essential.  Necessary.  Vital.  We are created to crave our Creator.

"The Bible was written not to be studied, but to change our lives."

- Dr. Howard Hendricks

I sat on that for a long time.  Chewed over it.  

I love studying God's Word.  Love it in a deep-seated hungry way.  I feel at loose ends when I'm not pouring into Scripture.  

And.

Studying isn't meant for gnosis (head knowledge) alone.  No, not at all.  The Lord give us His Word to illuminate our hearts and connect them to Him through our minds.  Epignosis.  The gathering of treasure in order to line up our heads and our hearts.  God's Word sealed in our lives.  

The Word never disappoints.  

"the word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart."  - Hebrews 4:12


Oh, how I need that.  To line myself up with Truth.  To let God sort and sift and order.  


Last night as I opened to Colossians again, I turned back to the beginning and reread the first chapter.  Okay, really all I got to was the second verse:


Grace and peace to you from God our Father


God's grace and peace.  The peace of Christ.  The grace of God.  


Grace and peace.


Peace and grace.


The peace of God: so different than the peace of the world.  Peace despite circumstances.  Peace that rules the heart and mind, even if life is bringing a sea of turmoil or confusion.  Knowing that you are held and God is with you even when.  


Strong's concordance describes biblical peace as this:
EIRENE- peace

5) of Christianity, the tranquil state of a soul assured of its salvation through Christ, and so fearing nothing from God and content with its earthly lot, of whatsoever sort that is

Grace: the unmerited favor of the Lord which gives us the ability to press on, keep on, persevere.  Grace to draw near and find comfort and hope.  Grace to lean on.   Grace to cover me and hold me in.  


Strong's concordance reckons it this way:
CHARIS

2) good will, loving-kindness, favour

a) of the merciful kindness by which God, exerting his holy influence upon souls, turns them to Christ, keeps, strengthens, increases them in Christian faith, knowledge, affection, and kindles them to the exercise of the Christian virtues

3) what is due to grace

a) the spiritual condition of one governed by the power of divine grace

My middle name, Ann, means grace.  And while I don't know that the name describes me well, it is apt.  I need God's grace.  Every day.  I've received God's grace in great measure.  More than I can count would I lie in bed and add it up for the rest of my days.


Peace and grace I longed for last night.  And God came.  His Word lit my heart aflame in the slow melt that satisfies as no other.


World weary and heavy laden by things I'd even piled on myself, I needed peace and grace.


Quietly my eyes stopped at Colossians 1:2.  A mere line.  Nine small words.


But the Lord.


I marinated in that Word from the Lord.  And it became truth for the moment.  Truth for my moment and my day. A light to my heart and my path.


God changes everything.  


Writing all this out is me preaching to myself.  This post is an exhortation to Sara.  Truth for the way.  


 Today I walked with these lyrics circling in my head, round and round.  What solace.


It Is Well With My Soul by Horatio G. Spafford, 1873

1. When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
   When sorrows like sea billows roll;
   Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,
   It is well, it is well, with my soul.
   •  
2.  

solace

Tonight, after a long and wearying day in my head, Anna walked into the kitchen where I sat with my few tears talking to Jim.

Truth be told, I cried enough that my eyes were red-rimmed, even if the tears were dry in that moment.

Anna looked at me and asked why I was crying.  And I answered honestly.

I told her I was sad and tired.

She just wrapped her arms around me and held on.

So nurturing and dear, that embrace.

Comfort


Daughter to mother.

I received that hug like a long, cold drink of water to a thirsty, parched throat.

I drank in her tenderness to me, and felt my heart melt right back to her.

This hard-won love.  The long journey of our mother-daughter dance, reminding me of what is because of what was.

And now I find myself again taming a gazelle.  Watching, waiting, patiently wooing.  Persevering.

Today my heart ached for the weariness of it all.  And God kept reminding me to keep on.  To not grow weary of doing right.  To press in and press on.  This is what He called me to.  This most precious of all journeys.

The walk to my daughter's heart.

In Anna's hug came a sustenance not just from her, but from the Lord.  He reminded me this hard way isn't just for Emma, it is for my sanctification, too.  It is my road also.   And he's entrusted a treasure to me, not because I'm not good enough to be her mom so it is so hard, but because it is so hard that He asked me.

It makes me cry to even type those words.  Because enough isn't how I've felt as of late.  I'm playing bad tapes in my head and they are not from the Lord.  They are laments that are not true.  And enough of that is enough of that.

Hard is fine, but spinning hard off into another place about ability and worth as a mother is not.

Her arms ministered love to me for Him.  I long to capture that moment and hold onto the feeling.  Somehow writing it here makes it an official record, doesn't it?

The love of a child.  What a beautiful thing.

{redemption} His story of grace and mercy

This is her birthday.  The day she was born.

Six years ago, God displayed himself in love as He ordained the day for Emma Kate.

Her first day.

Entry, and the first breath.  A head wet with birth and fresh from within.

And I think not only of Emma, but of her.  Emma's first mother.

We see His goodness in Emma's birth-family.  In a culture that sits under a government where forced abortions are normative and often compulsory (thus, the adverb forced), they made a way for Emma Kate to live.  In a place where babies that have physical differences are left to die, Emma Kate was lovingly placed somewhere she could live.

A bi-lateral cleft lip and palate can be a death sentence in other countries.  Especially impoverished ones.  With no means to nurse, Emma's mother would have needed special bottles and formula for her sweet baby.  And surgery.  Those don't exist for people without the means to secure them.  Means economic or social.  No money.  No government systems.  No help.

Emma Kate also is missing fingers and toes on her hands and feet, and has a calf that, well, looks different from mine and yours.  Those physical differences in China...they aren't just differences.  They are marks.  Marks against her.  Forever.  It is so different from here.  At least for now it is.  She would be considered cursed.

Emma's parents kept her for almost a week.  I imagine it was a week that left them reeling.  I know she was loved.  I will tell her that for the rest of my days.  Not only was she loved and cared for by her Heavenly Father, she was loved by her birth parents.

They could have made drastically different choices.  And each option would have ended in Emma's end.

Instead, they took their daughter to a place where she had a chance: a chance to survive, and maybe a chance for another family who could care for her needs to find her.

That fact cuts me to the quick.

Those realities break my heart.

And I'm so humbled and grateful that God chose us to be that other family.  That we have been called to carry-on and carry out the hopes of her first parents.  Forever we are part of the same story.

We share a daughter with people in China we will never know this side of eternity.


God's provision for Emma included all that.  He knew we were coming, even when we didn't.  He knew that out of brokenness, his mercy and love would shine.  His graciousness for her in choosing a first family that would keep her and give her up are His story.  His love story for His lovely daughter, Emma Katherine YuXiao.  She wasn't a mistake.  She was never unloved.  She was never forgotten.  She was never lost.

Some tell a story like hers in what wasn't.  What didn't happen.  What was lost.  They fix fast on lack.

We see it so differently.

One day I hope to stand reunited before the One who dries every tear.  I long to gaze into the eyes of the woman who gave our daughter her life, and share together the goodness of knowing it all face to face with Him.  The whole story from the Master's perspective: written from heaven for eternity.  His heart to ours.

There is another mother to my daughter, and today I lifted her to our Lord, yearning for her heart to know she'd done well, that her daughter is safe and thriving.  That her daughter is beloved of us, too.  Her mother sweat and tears and longing were not for naught.  I pray the Lord comforts her heart this day, and that in the comforting she feels his pleasure for her bravery.  I pray she knows Him who loved us all first.


We frame Emma's story not as one of loss and regret.  It is a tale woven by love, written in redemption, guarded by heaven and walked out with God's goodness, mercy and provision.

Our little gazelle is precious in the sight of many; none more than His.  We sing this good day a song of praise to our God.

The Maker of heaven and earth counted it joy to fashion and assemble His beloved treasure, Emma Katherine YuXiao.  A little one made in love and glory.  From before the very foundations of the world were laid was she in his mind.  Grafted in, just like us.  Adopted, just like us.  Called a daughter, just like me.  Now my daughter as well.

His first.  Theirs next.  Ours now and always.

This day, we celebrate the miracle of Emma.

From dawn's break to dusk's fall.

Thank you, our Jesus, for our Emma.

 .

"Marying" up

Not as in weddings and choosing the best mate.

Think chimney sweeps, nannies and carousels.

What?

One early summer as I sat bemoaning the household management of a home with four small active people, endless loads of laundry, a dishwasher running non-stop and sand and grass clippings mysteriously replicating themselves in every stairstep, corner and crevice of my home, my husband spoke a word of exhortation to me.

Conviction, it really became.

Something I already knew, and really and truly, a word about attitude of mouth and heart alignment.

Sometimes the heart needs to align with the mouth.  Others the mouth needs to echo the heart.  And then there are the times.

The times neither is right or true, and it is time to rewire.  Remodel the inner and outer workings.

What in the world did Jim say?

"Mary Poppins up, Sara".


Lest you think he was mean, disrespectful or degrading in any way, let me assure you, dear reader, he was not.

This was a smiling word from my husband to his helpmeet and wife.  The woman whom he knew needed to be moved from her complaining to rejoicing.  Maybe even just truthful acceptance.

Sometimes I use that very phrase to gird myself.  To "get on with it".

Christmas break, for example.

While I always have lovely expectations and even dreams of how it will look and how lovely it will be, and often those hopes come true, it is also just life that dishes are never-ending, the best laid plans go awry and things break, fall apart and sometimes just get crabby and cranky from too much.

For instance, when your 8th grader promises and works with your help for weeks to come home with no late or missing work for break, and his arrival home coincides with an email indicating...yep.  Missing work.

Grrrrr.

Or, insert whatever scenario here.  Because those scenarios are part of parenting, aren't they?

So here am I and the children the Lord has entrusted to me.  And all is well.  It is more than well.  The truth is that I do delight in them home.  I love Christmas break, summer break and spring break.  Having them here is the best.

And so I recite my exhortation to myself, "Mary Poppins up, Sara.  Mary Poppins up."

I'm a work in progress.  Thank goodness God is never done!

promises fulfilled

A visit from a dear friend marked, for me, a full circle moment.

The beginning of our adoption journey to Emma Kate had me on the phone in tears and a bit of a panic in the middle of a snowstorm (and I wasn't crying about the snow) with my trusted and beloved friend, Krisztina.

Krisztina and I have known each other for eight years (ish).  We met in a Kay Arthur bible study, and continued our friendship when she asked if I would like to join a prayer group with her.  And over all these years, we've prayed our way together to the Lord and through life.  These days, just Krisztina and I meet.  Unless of course our other friend, Kathleen, is in town.  Then we delight in the times she (and sometimes her husband, David) can join us.  Those are good days!  Krisztina's trust in the Lord and her unwavering faith that always turns to Him first and only are beautiful to behold.  She prayed Anna home with us.  We've stood alongside one another through thick and thin.  And with Krisztina it always comes back to Jesus.  Because Jesus is what it is all about.

Krisztina was one of the few people we asked to pray discernment for us when Luke was having his seizures and we were still unsure what that meant, and we also had this darling girl's file in front of us and felt the Lord asking us to be a part of her story.  Some of that time is chronicled here.  It was such the wrong time for the Lord to ask us to bring Emma Kate home, which really just makes it such the right time.  He did something beyond anything we could conceive or understand.

Krisztina helps me listen to God.  She holds me to Him in prayer and reminds me of His promises, of who He is, of what He has done and who He has been.  Krisztina is also incredibly wise, has the gift of discernment and of teaching, and a gentleness and heart filled with the Father's love.  I called her in an utter panic to share something.  I knew she would not just say something to make me feel better.  I knew she would tell me the truth, and help me hear God through my fear.  That is a friend.

Emma Kate has a special Auntie in Krisztina.  I knew He would have a special sweetness blossom between them, and last week marked the beginning of knowing each other in person, even as Krisztina has "known" and prayed for Emma Kate all these months.  The waiting to be home with her is finally fulfilled, and a celebration lunch was in order!

As you can see, we didn't have any fun. :)  Aren't they cute together!

EK sparked to Krisztina right away.  And the Barbie dress-up game that Krisztina brought has not left Emma's hands since Friday.  No kidding!  The little pink box is filled with the dress-up treasures, and also dental floss (don't ask!).  She totes it everywhere, including bed.

Lunch was so fun.  Having Auntie Krisztina here to celebrate God's faithfulness and goodness, and to marvel together that all he promised has come to pass did, for me, mark the finished work of bringing Emma Kate home.

There's a Watermark song that speaks to the joy of a friendship knit together by the Lord.  It is a song whose lyrics I love, and they remind me of my friendship with my dear friend and sister, Krisztina.


More Than You'll Ever Know  by Watermark

Something brought you to my mind today
I thought about the funny ways you make me laugh
And yet I feel like it's okay to cry with you
Something about just being with you
When I leave I feel like I've been near God
And that's the way it ought to be...

'Cause you've been more than a friend to me
You fight off my enemies
'Cause you've spoken the Truth over my life
And you'll never know what it means to me
Just to know you've been on your knees for me
Oh, you have blessed my life

More than you'll ever know, yeah, yeah, yeah
More than you'll ever know, yeah, yeah, yeah

You had faith, when I had none
You prayed God would bring me a brand new song
When I didn't think I could find the strength to sing
And all the while I'm hoping that I'll
Do the kind of praying for you that you've done for me
And that's the way it ought to be...

You have carried me
You have taken upon a burden that wasn't your own
And may the blessing return to you

A hundredfold, oh yeah...
A hundredfold, oh yeah...

Krisztina,  my dear friend.  Thank you!  There aren't words enough to tell you how precious you are to me.

paths of righteousness

We are preparing to launch a ministry at church, for its third year.  This women's group is so near and dear to my heart.  I really thought I would step away from it, and sadly so, as we focus fully this year on settling our precious Emma Kate in at home.  Instead, the Lord raised up a team of friends to help carry the ministry with me!  What a gift.  What a gracious Father.

Generations only meets once a month.  It is an evening to spend together, in fellowship with God at the center of our time. Each month a different woman shares a part of her life with us.  The thing that differentiates this sharing from simply telling a "story" about something, is that these stories are God's glory stories.  They are the recollections of our Lord as the Hero!  Because that is what He is: the Hero!

Paths of righteousness.  That is how the Lord leads us.  That is where the Lord leads us.  Why?  For His name's sake.

So often our paths grow dim.  They are dark and treacherous.  It is hard to see where the road lies ahead of us, and the way looks unpassable with thorns and thistles blocking the way forward.  The truth is that life does bring trouble.  It is often very hard.  Sometimes the road looks like it careens right to the edge of the cliff...and over.  These are scary places to journey.  Hard cliffs to climb.

And yet.

he restores my soul. 
       He guides me in paths of righteousness 
       for his name's sake.  - Psalm 23:3




What is our gaze fixed upon?  What are we looking at?  
More importantly, and this is of the utmost importance: who are we looking at?


Your word is a lamp to my feet
       and a light for my path.  - Psalm 119:105


My path might be impassable for me.  It never is for my Lord!  He is the God who makes a way.  He sees the whole road.  He knows what lies ahead and what came behind.  He girds me from ahead and protects me as I come and go.  Yahweh never tires, He never grows weary, He won't leave me alone and He is not just with me...He is for me.  And while I walk through life, it all matters to Him.  My joy and suffering both matter.  He doesn't turn a blind eye to either.  


This is true for you, too.  This is your God.  This is the heavenly Father who works the night shift on your behalf.  The One and Only who makes a way.


What's interesting, is that life isn't joy or sorrow at one time.  Often, it is an inter-mixing of both.  The celebrations alongside the agony.  Fear and hurt mixed right up with goodness and sweetness.  Our paths rarely look like only one thing.  God asks us to mourn with those who mourn and rejoice with those who rejoice.  I'm learning He is asking me to do that in my own life, because there are usually places for both.  And even in the mourning and the rejoicing, when God is the focus of my gaze, I find that I don't have to look at the path.  Instead all I see is my Lord.  And that?  That changes everything.  Everything.


This year, for my family, we have surely walked that double road.  The wide, beautiful highway of joy where we dance with the Lord at His unfolding goodness as we welcome Emma Kate home.  Her story is such a beautiful testament to our covenant-keeping God.  We also have traversed some of the most frightening ground I have ever trod upon as our sweet Luke suddenly started experiencing seizures.  Many seizures.  And a diagnosis of epilepsy that just keeps unfolding.  It has been, if I may be honest, brutal.


Jesus.  The name that saves.  The One who upholds, sustains and prevails.  There is no other name to call upon.  None.  And for that, I am so thankful.


 All these paths...they are to the believer, and to our Lord,  paths of righteousness.  


God uses it all.  It all, all of it, matters to Him.  Nothing is wasted with Him. 


For in the gospel a righteousness from God is revealed, a righteousness that is by faith from first to last, just as it is written: "The righteous will live by faith."
                                                                  - Romans 1:17


This righteousness from God comes through faith in Jesus Christ to all who believe. There is no difference, for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus. God presented him as a sacrifice of atonement, through faith in his blood.                                                     - Romans 3:22-25




Fix your eyes.  Don't look to the left or the right.  Fix your eyes on Jesus.


He makes the path walkable.  And He walks it with us and for us.  Our faithful, burden-bearing, covenant-keeping, heights-traversing, thistle-removing, mountain-moving God.


Grab His hand and take the road.

vast and majestic

The planetarium.  4th grade field trip.

It is a rather incredible thing to sit and watch the earth spin right in front of my eyes.  Wow.  So perfectly crafted.


He wraps himself in light as with a garment; 
       he stretches out the heavens like a tent
and lays the beams of his upper chambers on their waters. 
       He makes the clouds his chariot 
       and rides on the wings of the wind.
He makes winds his messengers, [a] 
       flames of fire his servants.
He set the earth on its foundations; 
       it can never be moved.
                                          - Psalm 104: 


Then have the perspective of earth's size shifted as I behold our galaxy.  Beautiful.  So beautiful.

But wait, look at all these galaxies.  And realize I can't even see ours anymore.

Vast.  I can't conceive of how big it is.


When I consider your heavens, 
       the work of your fingers, 
       the moon and the stars, 
       which you have set in place
                             - Psalm 8:3


Uncharted territory.  Beyond comprehension, really.

But not for the One who made them.


He determines the number of the stars 
       and calls them each by name.
                         - Psalm 147:4


Each star is named.  Counted.  It matters.
By a Creator who is Uncreated.  
The One who is and was and will be.



Before the mountains were born 
       or you brought forth the earth and the world, 
       from everlasting to everlasting you are God.
                               - Psalm 90:2


It takes my breath away.  Makes me feel so very small.  Tiny, and almost insignificant.


Except that thought is not the truth.
Because God says otherwise.  And that is why.


Why do I matter?  Why does Emma Kate matter?  What does God say about me?  More than that, what does the Lord of Lords say about my precious daughter?  About all my dear children?  



For you created my inmost being; 
       you knit me together in my mother's womb.


 I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; 
       your works are wonderful, 
       I know that full well.


 My frame was not hidden from you 
       when I was made in the secret place. 
       When I was woven together in the depths of the earth,


 your eyes saw my unformed body. 
       All the days ordained for me 
       were written in your book 
       before one of them came to be.

                                         - Psalm 139: 14-16


They matter.  They were created with intention and purpose.  For just this time and place.  For good works which were prepared in advance...for them.  They have a call, each one of them, on their lives.  They are the Lord's and He has plans that only they can do to advance His kingdom.  Their faithful response to Him matters.  And He adores them!
In Emma Kate's adoption, we see God's beautiful picture of adoption into His family for all of us. 
Walking through adoption has made these verses, these truths, so real to me.  I "get it" in a way I didn't before.


For he chose us in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight. 
In love he predestined us to be adopted as his sons through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure and will— 
to the praise of his glorious grace, which he has freely given us in the One he loves. 
In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God's grace that he lavished on us with all wisdom and understanding.
                                                                                    - Ephesians 1:4-6


Me.  Jim.  Cooper.  Jeb.  Luke.  Anna.  Emma.  
Adopted.
Chosen.
Grafted in.
Heirs to the covenant.
Children of God.
Belonging to the King.
Daughters and Sons.


In him we were also chosen, having been predestined according to the plan of him who works out everything in conformity with the purpose of his will, in order that we, who were the first to hope in Christ, 
might be for the praise of his glory.
                                                               - Ephesians 1:11




Oh, today, with eleven days left, I rejoice that Emma Kate belongs to the King.  That she is His beloved.  That in Him she is called, chosen, predestined to belong to the One, adopted into His family.  I rejoice that those same things hold true for me.  For all my children.  That they are meant for any of us who trust in Christ.


Vast and majestic. 
Yet, even the sparrow has a place before the throne.