Starting Early for Next Christmas

Yup. It's only been two days since Christmas 2011 and we've already hit the stores for next year. I dragged Michael and the kids out for the sales at Target, Hobby Lobby and the Red Door (a cute little shop in Allendale). We were in search of name tags, a tree skirt and a new stocking for Caleb. (We decided that since he is one month shy of 11 it is indeed time to set the Tigger stocking aside and move on to something more age appropriate.)

There were a few other secret items on my list that the rest of the family didn't know about. I was searching for four little journals, two with pretty flowers and two with not a single hint of pink or flower anywhere. The past few days I'd been contemplating once again the true meaning of Christmas and how to avoid the trap of materialism and encourage my children to think a little deeper.

As I was praying through my daily list of  young souls I'm entrusted with I was reminded that one of the best gifts I can give them is my prayers. My mom has been encouraging me for years to keep a written record of the spiritual comments the kids make.  I haven't gotten around to that yet but her suggestion was the foundation of the idea that came so strongly to me yesterday. What if I kept a prayer journal for each of the kids from now until next Christmas,  keeping that written record of what I see in them, how I'm praying for them and how God is answering those prayers? And what if I wrapped them up and gave them to the kids next year at Christmas?

"But would you really follow through and do that?" I questioned myself. Well, I've learned a bit from my Monday circle of fellow BSF leaders. This year my friends Siglende, Fran and Becca have taken the step of telling us what God had put on their hearts and invited us to be their accountability lovelies and make sure they followed through on His promptings. So...following their example I'm writing on my blog what I feel God is impressing me to do. Now I'm accountable to you to actually keep those prayer journals. Feel free to ask me a year from now how it went!

I found just the right journals that I was looking for. Grace even helped me pick out the ones for her and Abby thinking they were, "for your ladies". I just told her I needed them for a project. The one I had in mind for Grace has, "This is the day the LORD has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it" written on it. How sweet it was to hear Grace read the verse and then start singing the song. As I type this the four journals are lying next to me on the couch and yes, they have each been written in.

It is my hope and prayer that as I write in these journals God will use this to encourage me to be faithful in prayer and expectantly look for answers. And that He will use these prayers in amazing ways in the lives of Caleb, Grace, Micah and Abby for years to come. That would truly be a wonderful Christmas gift.

This Safe Christmas Eve

Christmas is in many ways such a contradiction. It is one of the most special times of the year, full of blessings, fellowship, thankfulness and joy. On the other hand, it is very busy, elements of the season are stressful and it's a battle against the draw of materialism.

This Christmas Eve, like so many others, found our family gathered with my brother Greg, sister-in-law Jeni and their five kids at my parent's house. Out of all the activities that go along with the season, this is our favorite.

I am so blessed to have this brother who challenges my thinking spiritually and makes me laugh until my face hurts with his dry-witted comments. I am blessed to have this sister-in-law who is always just herself; no pretenses or duplicity and who loves us just as we are. And my parents, well there are no words to describe how blessed we are to have them.

Whenever we all get together, it is a special time. I love the fact that we can be completely comfortable with each other. I can share what I may be struggling with or the latest encouragement God's given me. It is a safe place to gather with safe, trustworthy people. I can cry (exercise my spiritual gift as my kids say) and know that I am cared for. Although Greg has on occasion reminded me that he can understand his wife's blubbering speech but not mine, so could I please repeat my sentence. Sometimes I just have Jeni translate it for him.

I love how comfortable Michael and Jeni are with each other. She tends to be a little gullible sometimes and he loves to try to set her up. This year he told her we weren't arriving to the party until the Broncos game was over. They also have such friendly give and take banter; for example he kept insisting he was going to place the annual pizza order and ask for thin crust. Jeni told him just what he could do with the thin crust pizza if he didn't order her the pan crust.

We also love the fact that our kids don't fight at these gatherings. There are nine kids running around, bandaging themselves up, playing dress-up in grandma's clothes and drinking red pop in the basement where grandma doesn't freak out about spills. It never ceases to amaze us that we don't have to get after the kids at all. It's a brief respite in parenting when they all just seem to get along, allowing us to visit with each other more.

I think the thing that we love and appreciate most about getting together is that there is a constant element of our faith ebbing and flowing, surfacing and under girding our conversations. We laugh and joke and get a little competitive playing games like "Apples to Apples" or "Spot It" and then somehow, in a very natural way, the conversation becomes a discussion about whether or not Satan knows our individual thoughts and if we need to rebuke him out loud or just in our mind. That leads to whether it was best to rebuke Satan by addressing him or if prayer to God for help, causing Him to dispatch angels was more beneficial. (By the way, Greg had a great line..."Satan does not know our thoughts but he knows how we think.") These discussions are always safe places to ask questions and stretch our spiritual understanding. Then, somehow the conversation naturally moves on to the great pizza debate once again.

Through the entire time we are together, the words that describe it are "safe" and "comfortable". We can be our real selves, listened to, respected, accepted, valued and loved...flaws and all. Christmas Eve with these dear ones is truly a blessed, refreshing, enjoyable time. It is a little oasis in the season, a wonderful gift from God.

Unlatched Doors

Studying the dull sky, I let my mind wander as I waited for our dog Max to finish his "outdoor business". Suddenly a quick movement to the right caught my eye. I glanced over to see our new little dog hopping around eagerly. "How in the world did she get out?" I wondered. "The back storm door is closed. I looked at it as I walked away to be sure she couldn't get out!" No sooner had this thought crossed my mind then, "How in the world am I going to get her back in the house?" frantically followed. Indeed, Misty had greeted Max and was already happily exploring the yard next door, taunting him with the fact that she wasn't on a leash and he was.

I called her but she just glanced at me over her shoulder as she sashayed into the yard two houses away. No longer the timid, terrified puppy she had been on her arrival to our home; she now felt confident enough to take on the neighborhood on her own.

I gave poor Max a yank on the leash, stopping him mid-stream. We hurried to the house where I quickly let him in, took the leash off him and set off after the little one. In the flurry I noticed just how Misty had escaped. When I had taken Max out, the storm door had indeed closed behind us but it had not latched tightly. To the quick glance it appeared secure, but there was actually an open space about an inch wide. Little Miss has pushed into it with her nose and then wiggled her body through.

Misty led me on a merry chase for about ten minutes. Back and forth across the street she doged. I ventured into places in my neighbor's yards I had never gone before, trying to catch the little fawn colored fluff ball. Finally, Misty dashed into a neighbor's garage through an open side door. Micah and I stood at the ready just outside the door while our helpful neighbor herded her toward us. We caught her as she tried to dodge past, depriving her of her new-found independence.

Back in the house, as I went about folding the waiting laundry my mind replayed the adventure. I pictured Misty pushing her squished up black nose into the tiny space between the door and the frame, then wiggling through up to her soft fluffy neck, then edging her shoulders through, then her hips and finally zipping her curled tail through before the door caught it. Then...freedom in the great wide open. I told myself and the children that we HAD to check the door and make sure it was latched. Be vigilant! I contemplated putting a sign on the door to remind us.

Then God put a quiet truth in my mind. "That's like how sin gets control." When I cease being vigilant and watchful; when I become careless in guarding against it; sin wiggles in. Just a whisper of it, then a bit more, it stealthily but quickly invades. When I allow a whisper of unthankfulness to nose its way in, it is quickly followed by greed for more than what He has blessed me with. Then envy of what He has in His good wisdom given to others begins to run free. As quickly as my little dog snuck out the back door and ran wild, sin can run wild in my mind and heart.

The only way to make sure the door of my heart is latched tightly against sin is to be latched onto my Savior. By studying His word, basking in His promises, communing with Him through prayer I stay more grounded in Him and protected from the sins that want to run wild in my soul. Of course sin does sneak in (and in all honesty, sometimes I leave the door wide open in invitation). But the more I rely on and enjoy God, the quicker I recognize its presence and confess it. Then the sooner it is that He reins in the sin and restores my peace.

Isn't that just like God, to bring good out of what is not good? He uses escaped dogs to bring to mind truths that will help me live closer to Him. Who knew that puppies could be a tool in sanctification?

Junk Man's Daughter

Every year at the annual Christmas party for the extended Lubbers family, my Aunt Mary gives each of her great-nieces and great-nephews a gift. She spends hours perusing the book stores for just the right copy of a Caldacott Award winning book or a unique game or puzzle. She keeps lists from year to year to remind herself what she has given to each child. (There are twenty of them after all.) We always look forward to seeing what she has lovingly and painstakingly chosen.

A few years ago, Aunt Mary gave Grace a book we weren't familiar with before. It's a beautiful picture book about an immigrant family who comes to America and does not find the expected streets of gold. As times get even more difficult for them, the father contemplates returning to the old country. But one day the family makes an unexpected discovery on the way to school. In the snow they find glass bottles that they bring home and resell. Each day thereafter, they gather things that others have discarded, bring them home, sort them and resell them. The title of the book is, "Junk Man's Daughter".

This book has taken on a rather personal meaning for me. I have come to recognize that my dad is a junk man and I am indeed his daughter. I find myself stopping along the side of the road to retrieve discarded refundable cans just as he did years ago. (One Sunday morning on the way to church we pulled over so Micah, dressed in his Sunday finest, could hop out and pick up three empty beer bottles.) Another of dad's hobbies is to recycle any steel, copper and aluminum that he can find. For a while after his accident a couple years ago dad did several "clean-outs" for a property manager. These quickly became a family affair. Dad and mom would load up his truck with stuff left behind at the property and bring it home to sort, much like the family in the picture book. I loved getting calls that they had another clean-out and I was invited over to search through the piles for hidden treasures. The kids loved these calls too because it meant they could usually find some "new-to-them" treasure toy at Grandma's Jolly Junk Store as they called her garage. They were always as thrilled with these left-behind treasures as they were with brand new Christmas gifts.

As we sorted through the piles of discarded items we made piles of clothes to wash and donate, metal dad could recycle for a bit of extra gas money and items I could list on CraigsList to resell. We loved the challenge of fixing and cleaning neglected, forsaken items and turning them into just the thing someone else was searching for. Anything we could keep out of the landfill was good. And if we could earn a little bit in the process to set aside for something special, even better.

Well, the clean-out stage is behind us with dad's physical limitations now. However, the thrill of the hunt hasn't completely disappeared. Just last week I got a call that dad had found some folding chairs discarded on the side of the road. Would I like to list them on CraigsList? You bet! I remembered the lady who was so excited about the extremely vintage dresser that would go perfectly in the old farmhouse she had just purchased. I knew there would be someone else thrilled to find cheap folding chairs for their upcoming Christmas party or college apartment. (Living so close to much of GVSU's student housing has its definate advantage. College kids are always looking for a good deal.)

So, I am the junk man's daughter. We're too Dutch to waste things that may serve a purpose. And since my hard-working husband hasn't had a raise in four years we love setting aside the little extra that God sends our way in unique measures, be it returnable bottles along the roadside or discarded folding chairs. This is how we have been able to fund family vacations the past few years. So maybe I do have a hobby after all. Taking other peoples trash and trying to turn it into treasure while having some family fun along the way.

Misty Mae Maartense- Therapy Dog

Big changes took place in our home over the weekend. Late Saturday morning we tossed some bannanas, apples, animal crackers and juice boxes in the tote and piled into the van. It was a gorgeous day for a little drive in December. No snow to speak of and actual sun shining through the windows as we began our own rescue mission.

Up in Reed City waited a cute little pug dog who had been surrendered to the animal shelter by her owner. For an afternoon drive and a little bit from our "entertainment" fund she could join our family. We're hoping it will be a very beneficial arrangement for all parties involved.

We'd been considering another dog off and on for several months. Caleb had requested over a year ago that our next dog be a pug. I liked the idea of having a littler dog to keep our bigger dog company when we aren't home. When I was a teenager, whenever we came home from church, Dad would always ask our indoor dog, Tessie, how puppy church was. I was thinking that Max needed a little communion of the puppy saints during his puppy church time when we're gone on Sundays.

Then there's the fact that Grace's bunny is ailing. We're coming to terms with that and Grace said it would be easier to accept Oreo's passing if she had another pet to love. She said she thought a little pug would help.

I also have to admit that I am discovering just how much I love dogs. Whenever a stray roams through the neighborhood, I try to convince Michael to go catch it so we can take it in and give it a home. Reminds me of the many stray dogs we took in at the farm in my growing up years.

The scales leaned more heavily toward getting another dog as winter approached and dad can't get outside like he does in the summer. Dad too is a dog person. Sometimes he'll spend an hour or so just lying outside on the ground next to Ruby, their black lab. But Ruby is an outdoor dog and won't come in the house. Mom suggested to dad that maybe they get a little indoor dog. However, with his physical limitations, they decided house-training a dog would be a challenge for him when mom isn't home. We liked the idea of having a little dog that we could bring over to dad during the winter for play dates as part of his "therapy".

So, given all these factors, we decided to keep our eyes open for a pug that would be cheap and a good fit for our family. (No expensive, papered puppies for us...we go the way of adopting unwanted dogs.) We found a listing on Craigslist from the animal shelter in Reed City where five pugs had been surrendered by their owner. They were about a year and a half old, un-named, unloved, and used to being locked in a crate together.

So, we figured one of those little pugs needed us and we drove off to discover which one it was. As we drove along the excitement ran high among the kids. Possible names flew back and forth as they munched their animal crackers and watched the GPS to see how many more miles we needed to travel. We knew we wanted a name that began with an "M" to go along with Max, our other dog. Mia, Maya, Muff, Minnie, Maura, Moppet, Minty...all were quickly rejected by one or more members of the family. Grace in her wisdom said, "Let's wait until we see her and look at her and then maybe we'll know what to name her." This seemed like a very wise idea.

As we arrived at the shelter and followed Michelle to the back where the pugs were, another dog caught Michael's eye. "No Michael, we're not going to get another big dog." He had seen a sweetie that looked a lot like our Max. He had wanted to get another big dog like Max and name it "Junior". But the kids and I led him on to the pugs. I was wondering how we were going to decide which of the dogs we would get. It would be the kid's choice, not mine; but getting four kids to agree could be rather tricky.

I had been praying over the two weeks that we were seriously considering the pugs that if we weren't supposed to get one of them that God would make it clear. As we looked at the little dogs, I listened as one by one our kids chose the same dog. All four kids were in agreement about which dog should come home with us. They wanted the timid one who was trying to hide behind her sister. According to the kids, "She needed the most love" and they thought our family could give that to her.

Having decided that she was the one, we piled back into the van with our Christmas pug. Micah said, "The pug got her Christmas present early. She got a new family...US." As we drove back home I brought up the name question. Out of the blue Grace suggested the name Misty. Right away the other kids agreed. Another little miracle of all four kids agreeing on something. So, Misty Mae Maartense snuggled up to enjoy her van ride home.

Since having Misty here, we've gotten to watch our kids excercise patience and foster nurturing attitudes toward her. Misty's previous owner was a breeder who just kept the dogs in a cage. They were never trained on a leash or given much loving attention. When we first picked her up, her whole body just trembled and shook. Now, when the kids creep toward her, she wags her tail and doesn't run away. It's sweet to hear the kids praying about Misty; thanking God for her, asking Him to help her be comfortable in our home and that all the other dogs at the shelter will get loving homes.

Misty never had any reservations about Max. She loves him already, wanting to play and lick him. He's not so keen on playing, but is willing to share his food and water bowls. He lets her steal his chewing bone without batting an eye at her.

So, Misty is going to be our therapy dog and we are going to be her therapy family.

Our Story's Beginning

Michael and I have been married for over fourteen years now. I recently had someone ask me how we met. As I retold the story, I enjoyed seeing the evidence of God at work from the very beginning. So, since Michael has once again requested a blog entry, he'll play a big role in this one.

Long, long ago (well a couple decades ago) there were two friends named Marvin and Pieter. They were nice little old men in their seventies who were equally passionately devoted to their God. These two friends loved to visit back and forth with their wives at the white house on Brandon and the brick house on Kinney.

Now, Pieter had a grandson named Michael who lived in Colorado and Marvin had a grand-daughter named Pam who lived in Hudsonville. God was working in Michael, calling him back to his extended family in Michigan and most importantly, to Himself. So Michael moved from Colorado and found a job, housing and a church family in Grand Rapids. He wasn't looking for a girlfriend but he hadn't counted on two old matchmakers.

When Michael arrived in Michigan he spend many blessed hours with his grandparents talking about who God is and how He works in the hearts and lives His people. On several Sunday evenings, he would join his grandparents visiting with his Opa's friends Marve and Margie. It was on one of these occasions, as he sat in the living room chair, that Marve "casually" commented, "You know, I have a grand-daughter who isn't seeing anyone right now." Michael was mildly intrigued and looked over the pictures on the shelf next to him wondering which one was the mystery grand-daughter. He didn't say much but a seed of a thought had been planted. The next couple weeks he was peeking over to the chapel in church, trying to figure out who Marve had been referring to. Glasses? No glasses? He was quite confused.

So, for reasons that make no sense except to say that it was a God-thing, Michael decided to call me up and chat. Being a real phone person, he found it pretty easy to carry on a conversation. In the course of the conversation he commented to me that he didn't even really know what I looked like. Well, how was I to answer that observation?! "My mom thinks I'm pretty?" So, what popped out of my mouth was, "Well, I'm 5'3" and weigh 200 lbs." Now, I know my brother, the minister, will tell me there is no lie of necessity. I'm not so sure. Anyway, Michael knew I was kidding and we just laughed and let that go. But, maybe a bit wary because of that, he didn't ask me out on a date during that phone conversation.

However, a few days later, in the height of haying season, our phone rang again. Dad happened to be in the house getting something before we were going to unload the next wagon load of hay. Imagine our amazement when he came running, YES, RUNNING, (so hard to imagine now) from the house back to the barn. "Michael Maartense is on the phone for you," he told me. I like to think that it was because he was so eager for anyone else to be blessed by my conversation and presence that he was in such a hurry. Not that he saw a faint glimmer of possibility that some young man might take his daughter off his hands.

Well, another phone conversation led to that first date. Mom knew Michael was the one when I came home and said, "Mom, I think I kind of like this guy." She had been mentally preparing herself for my list of things that deemed this fellow, "Not Mr. Right". More dates led to hockey Saturdays when Michael and I would hang out with his brother John and watch three hockey games with food mixed in there somewhere. Those were good times that we still talk about.

So the weeks turned into months under the watchful eyes of these two little grandpas. Imagine their excitement when our engagement was announced. As the wedding grew closer, I imagine them giving themselves pats on the back. Their matchmaking had been a success. But I know that on our wedding day, they both were thanking God for the way He had worked and allowed them to play a tiny little role in His big plan for our lives.

But yes, it is true, our grandpas set us up.

Laundry or Lives

Want to know a secret? My laundry isn't all folded. I have a pile of towels on the kitchen counter and a pile of sheets and socks on the couch. Want to know something else? I might not fold them until tomorrow morning. Shhh. That's just between us, though. I thought maybe you could use some encouragement that it's okay not to have everything checked off the to-do list. Actually, I'm trying to encourage myself of that fact.

What did I do today that kept me from getting the clothes folded? I got to spend the morning at BSF and eat lunch with my friend Bonny and twelve lovely kids during our fellowship time. Just spending that time with her blessed me. She made me smile with her enthusiastic reading of "Old MacDonald Had a Farm" and I saw Christ's love for children shining through her. I always say that I can't quit BSF until I get to lead with my friend Judy. (There's a story there for another day...she's my "almost" co-leader.) Well, I guess I have to have at least two years yet because I want to lead with  Bonny too! Oh, and Becca and Sally and Bekah and Conni and Becki and...all of them! And no new leaders should join because then I'll get to enjoy them so much I'll want to lead with them too...and I'll never be done! I got to have little Oliver and Owen's smiles wash over me as they talked about seeing me in class on Wednesday. What a sweet bond grows with these ones that we get to pray over.

After Bible Study it was time for a stop for groceries. I really don't enjoy this task. But God gave me another blessing as I walked in the store and met one of our new-this-year Children's Leaders. She has some of the cutest kids I have ever seen and I've been able to just look in their eyes and enjoy them over the past two Mondays. What a wonderful surprise to connect with her and find out she lives in Allendale too! With the busyness of the mornings I hadn't gotten to talk to her; but God gave a little time to connect at Save-A-Lot.

Then a fun trip on the library and a return home where the kids sank into their books. I found a lovely email from my friend Vicki with another encouragement for me. Then it was time to check in and see how dad's surgery was going. Well, I could have folded a load of laundry after that, but instead I chose to sit in the recliner, rocking Abby and singing to her. Then I managed to snag Micah for a little cuddle time and a couple songs. He pretends he doesn't like it, but he really does. As the older kids arrived home I sang to them too. Grace had been helping push the recliner back and forth as I sang to Micah. She looked straight in my eyes when I finished his song. She was waiting, sweetly confident that her mom wouldn't leave her out. That expectancy was a gift to me. I held her gaze and sang to her, "You are my big girl, my only big girl, you make me happy, when skies are gray. You'll never know dear, how much I love you, please don't take my big girl away." She's nine, and rarely rocks in the chair with me. But I wasn't going to pass up this opportunity to pour sincere affirmation into her. I even sang to Caleb, the almost eleven-year old who plugged his ears, but was grinning the whole time.

After this sweet interlude, we couldn't escape the clock any longer. It was time to hop up and help review spelling, oversee math, sign the planners, make some supper, greet dad, eat the supper, clean up after the supper, send dad and two kids out the door to BSF and straighten the kitchen some more, help Micah with his Explode the Code pages and listen to him read. Then the two little ones loaded their library books into backpacks and headed into the basement to play school. The phone rang, giving me an opportunity to connect with someone else who I want to get to know better. It was neat to be able to share some things from our BSF training time this morning with her. I think God had my supervisor express some insights, knowing they would be helpful to myself and this other one. I enjoyed the short little conversation and hung up feeling blessed again and encouraged. God had been so good to me all throughout the day; going ahead of me, meeting me and blessing me through time with others.

Then, what to do with the next hour before bedtime for the little ones? Well, I could get to those towels. Instead I chose to curl up with a book I'd picked up from the library; "The Hiding Place". It's not all the time that the kids play so nicely they don't need my attention. I can fold towels while talking to them. I can't read while talking to them. So I chose to grab this time for myself; to read and pause over certain lines, letting them sink in and challenge and encourage me. Time well spent, I believe.

It's always a battle for me; that balance between mundane but necessary work and spending time investing in relationships. Today, I'm comfortable with where I've landed. Tomorrow will be a new day with new events and challenges. I feel just a bit better prepared to greet the day having been shored up by the sweet connects God gave me throughout today.

His Preparation is as Unique as His Child

The question on the Bible Study lesson was, "How has God shown you His goodness in preparing you to know and receive the Messiah?"

I thought back over the years of my life with great thanksgiving. God had positioned me in infancy in a family that was available to what He had to teach them. My parents taught me about God, who He is and what He does, in our home. They prayed countless prayers on behalf of each of their children. Godly grandparents prayed alongside them and testified of God's goodness and grace. My dad taught me to see God revealing Himself in nature. By observing my mom's journey with depression, she taught me to see God's hand in the very hard things in life. My parents brought us up in a church where we were well catechised and taught the truths of God. They sacrificed financially to send my brothers and I to a Christian School. I wrote these things down on my lesson and added how thankful I was that He had set a hedge of protection around me in many ways. He prepared the soil of my soul for His saving work by the Holy Spirit, through His Word and life's circumstances.

I looked at the word, "protection" that I written and the question hit me. What about the ones who had not been granted the same provisions and protection. Why hadn't one been spared from addiction? Why had another been raised in a home ruled by achoholism? Why had this one been hurt so by sinful choices of parents? Why had I been raised in a church while another never entered a church building until adulthood?

The answer God gave me is that He has a plan of redemption that is as unique as each of His children are. When He draws one to Himself from the pit of addiction, He displays His power and care in a different way than when He fosters one of His little lamb's from infancy. Consider how He calls one for years through an inner sense of longing with no words to convey it. Then  He answers that longing with the presentation of His gospel in adulthood. In doing so, He shows the purpose of our lives; we were created to know Him and nothing else will ever fill that void. The child who has never known a time when she has not loved God does not testify to this aspect of God's character to the same depth as the one who has known the empty, longing years. The one who has suffered great verbal abuse from an earthly father is equipped by that experience to testify of the tenderness of her heavenly Father in a different way than the one who has been raised by a godly earthly father.

God's way of salvation is perfect for each of His own. He is such an immense God, all the salvation stories won't fully reveal the aspects of His character. But, like a beautiful gem catches light and displays radiance when moved in different directions, the direction He takes to bring each of His children to Himself illuminate a bit of who He is. Each of our stories has been planned out personally by our Heavenly Father to best fashion us for heaven and glorify Him. Never compare your story to another's and wish you had their story. Your salvation story is yours and yours alone, prepared uniquely for you out of God's great love for you.

Positive Vs. Negative

Well, this blog entry is for my husband. He commented the other day that I hadn't written anything for a while. Now, my positive nature took that to mean that he enjoys reading what I write. (And I guarantee that he's laughing after reading that line because he knows my nature too well.) I'm actually more of a "glass-half-empty" type of person. We discussed that during the baseball series between the Tigers and the Rangers. I was of the opinion that the Tigers were going to lose. Michael was much more optimistic. I tried to make him understand that by expecting the worst, I would not be as disappointed when it actually occurred. I would get to be pleasantly surprised if the worst did not happen. It was actually in my own best interest to have negative expectations. Michael did not buy my explanation.

Anyway, because I am not naturally a positive thinker, I am working on training my mind differently. I'm asking God to give me His eyes to see the good things and anticipate His power to amaze me in the hard things. To expect God to "show up" instead of expecting the worst. It's slow going to retrain a brain, but the more one practices, it does come easier. I'm still not positive instinctively, but I am getting quicker at grabbing those negative thoughts and refocusing them. That's only possible by the transforming power of the Holy Spirit.

My negative nature was trying to take over this past week. The enemy was trying to plant seeds of discouragement, dissatisfaction, loneliness and envy. I needed to consciously choose to think with a godly perspective and replace negative thoughts with positive ones.

I was looking at the mint green living room carpet with its worn spot at the base of the steps.  We've lived with this carpet since we bought the house almost twelve years ago and it has been here a great many years longer than we have. We had planned to replace it. But then we had four blessed children and God called us to send them to a Christian School. I was also kind of wishing I could be getting my kitchen redone so the drawers wouldn't slide out of their slots and hang sideways and the cupboard doors would all line up. But then God reminded me that there is not one single thing that I am lacking. There are multitudes who couldn't imagine living with the luxury of mint green carpet. And to actually have stuff that one needs cupboards and drawers for! Millions of people have next to nothing. I was reminded that I am abundantly rich and have absolutely no excuse for anything apart from a spirit of thankfulness and gratitude.

I was missing some dear spiritual sisters whom God has moved on to other things. These lovelies are no longer part of my life each week and I was wishing they were. But then God whispered to me, "Treasure what was and cherish it, but don't focus on what used to be. Look to what I'm going to do in providing new spiritual sisters for you. Don't miss out on the blessings I have for you in new relationships because you are focused on old ones."

The enemy was telling me, "You aren't appreciated in what you do. Why don't you just go ahead and feel sorry for yourself." But God reminded me that my life really isn't about me. It's about Him. So I chose to look for opportunities to encourage others and show my appreciation for what they do and who they are. This brought me so much joy! When I looked for ways I could bless others, I was blessed. My attitude picked up and God was so gracious; He even sent three extra special encouragements my way yesterday. My BSF co-leader from last year popped into the room to tell me that God had put me on her heart and she had been praying for me over the past week. A sweet note from a friend and a conversation with another one brought such encouragement to me.

I also found myself wishing that my husband would plan on weekend away for just the two of us. I'm so special and deserve lavish care, right? (Oh so many problems with that self-centered thinking!) We haven't been away from our kids for a night in the past seven years and I was a bit envious of  one who was soaking up the sun that week. But Michael was right in reminding me that weekend trips aren't in our budget right now. I was tempted to feel sorry for myself. "Poor  you," the enemy coaxed. "You never get to go anywhere." (Never mind we've been able to take family vacations every year and I really don't like to be away from my kids anyway.)

But instead, I reminded myself of the main reason Michael didn't want to go away for a weekend. He doesn't want to miss his BSF leader's meeting. Not that he enjoys getting out of bed at 5:00 a.m. every Saturday. He feels his call to service there that strongly. I thought back a a couple weeks. Michael's brother called and invited him to go to the opening play-off game for the Tigers. Michael's response was, "If it's on Friday, absolutely! If it's on Monday night, I can't go. I can't miss BSF

I can look back at last week and see so much of God in it. The mental work of fighting the tempting thoughts and feelings the enemy led me toward only resulted in revealing more of God to me. His patience, His redirecting, His great tenderness and love, His lavish blessings. He is turning each of His children into new creatures with new ways of thinking. And one day, in glory, I will be truly, instinctively positive every minute.

Home is the Best Place

It was our special time of the evening. The lights were turned off, her teeth brushed, little legs tucked up as she sat sideways on my lap in the rocking chair. Abby wrapped her arms around my neck and snuggled her head into my shoulder. "Home is the best place, Mom," she said.

I really have no idea what prompted her observation. We hadn't gone anywhere that day and weren't talking about our home in that sweet little snuggle time. But I soaked up her words and enjoyed them. She was content, secure in her four-year old realm of drowsiness. As we continued to rock quietly, I thought about that phrase. "Home is the best place to be."

I thought of the two families from our church whose loved ones had been called to their heavenly home this week. What a sweet comfort these friends can experience in the middle of their pain and loss.

Just five months ago, Mr. Westrate stood beside the casket of his dear friend, my Grandpa VandenToorn. I remember the tears on his face as he expressed his own longing to be walking the streets of gold. That desire to be with Christ, in heaven, grows stronger as each year goes by. And just a short time after he stood beside grandpa's casket the desire of his heart was granted. The Lord called His faithful servant to his eternal heavenly home. I imagine grandpa and Mr. Westrate looking at each other and saying, "All those talks we had in the Banner Room; we never dreamed it would be this good, did we?"

Grandpa and Mr. Westrate spent many years working alongside each other in the church basement. They would organize and send out tracts and every other Thursday they would sneak snacks from the Esther Guild ladies. I know that heaven doesn't have a "Banner Room" like the church basement. But I wonder if those two close friends are serving the Lord together in some other way today. Service to the Lord is a part of our worship; bringing God glory and filling our hearts with joy. It makes sense to me that there will be some sort of service to God in heaven and I'm imagining these two having a truly amazing friendship that their earthly friendship was only a shadow of. Their focus not on each other, but on serving their Lord together with the multitudes of the saints.

Mrs. Baas was another tiny, sweet child of God. At 95 years of age, she was also longing to be with Jesus. Nothing the world had to offer could compare to what she was eagerly anticipating; her eternal homegoing. God called her home this week also and what a joy we can feel for her as we mourn alongside her children and grandchildren.

As wonderful as certain aspects of this worldy life are, I often find myself singing a song from one of parent's old records. "This world is not my home, I'm just a-traveling through. My treasures are laid up somewhere beyond the blue. The angels beckon me from heaven's open door, and I don't feel at home in this world anymore. Oh Lord, you know, I have no friend like You, If heaven's not my home, then Lord what will I do? The angels beckon me from heaven's open door. And I don't feel at home in this world anymore."

Then, how right my four-year old is. Home is the best place to be. And for every child of God, heaven is his or her true home. We are simply putting in time here on earth, working to complete the tasks God has set before us. But looking forward more and more to the moment that last work for Christ is completed. For at that second, God will bring us home to Himself and we will be able to experience the very best place to be. And it will never, ever end.

Perspectives on "He Gives and Takes Away"

Our pastor's sermon on Job a few weeks ago whetted my appetite for more teaching from that book of the Bible. I think there is so much more truth and blessing hidden in there than the over-used lesson on the "patience of Job". Evidently God has whetted Pastor's appetite to preach from the book as well and I'm very much looking forward to his new series. I so loved the way he pointed out the book is not so much about Job, but about Job's great God. He said God was working in Job's life as a prototype of how God works in the lives of each of His own. What a wonderful truth. There was nothing so special about Job that earned him his reputation of great patience and praise in adversity. It is Job's God that is so special. And God has not changed in the thousands of years since He worked in Job's life. God delights to work in His people today.

For many of us, when we hear about Job, we immediately think of his proclamation, "The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away, blessed be the name of the Lord." I've been thinking about that statement and I believe there is another way of looking at it. I'm telling myself not to stop at, "the Lord taketh away." Maybe I just don't like the negatives. For years I grew up with the kind of mental picture of God taking things from people and that was it. When God took your loved one, that was the end of that chapter. He was indeed to be praised and blessed for His perfect timing and goodness in all things even when we can't understand it all. But that was it. There was nothing but an empty spot in that part of your life.

I'm wondering now if it goes a step beyond that. Now, I have come to think that God takes things away from His people only so that He can give them something better. He never takes something and leaves a complete void. He desires to fill the space of whatever He took with something deeper and richer, growing and blessing us. Whether we accept the gift He offers us is often up to us. We can keep our eyes focused on what is no longer there, missing and hurting. Or we can choose to turn our eyes to what God wants to give instead. Still hurting, but looking for blessing at the same time.

I think back to the two little babies that Michael and I never got to hold. It hurt to lose them and we will always wonder about what they might have been like. What would their laughs have sounded like? Would they have had blonde hair like Caleb and Grace or brown hair like Micah and Abby. It was part of God's good plan to take those little ones from us before they were born. But then He replaced the dreams we had with His promises. We have the comfort that these little ones never had to experience life in a sinful world. They have known nothing but glory. Wow! That is an amazingly good gift for a parent to have. We know that one day we will join those little ones in heaven and will get to praise God with them and the multitude of the redeemed. We can choose to focus on the hope and promises He has given us.

I'm reminded of when Michael lost full time work. God took away work hours and income. But He didn't stop there. He took that away so that He would be able to give us His provision in absolutely amazing, unimaginable ways. He took finances away to give us the gift of greater dependence on Him and the closeness that comes with that dependence. Of course it was hard, and we had worries and I cried! But God's plan was always to bless us.

I hadn't come to this understanding when we received Caleb's diagnosis of mild cerebral palsey when he was just over 18 months old. I struggled more with that than almost anything else. Looking back, I see God taking away our expectations of what Caleb's future would be like to give us the gift of His sustaining grace. I think I would have been more richly blessed if I'd realized it more fully and been looking more intently for evidences of it. God did give us the gift of thankfulness in that time. Everytime I took Caleb for therapy or to be fitted for a new brace for his leg I was thankful for what he WAS able to do. And after two years of therapy and treatment, God gave us the miracle of healing. I remember the specialist saying, "I know we didn't mis-diagnose, but his symptoms are no longer evident." I  know God doesn't give that gift of healing to everyone. But I do believe His hand is extended, holding out a different gift. Trust. Joy. The gift of the impossible in the awful stuff of life.

I'm thinking about dad, going on week two of recovery at home. I.V. drips for three hours out of the day for another five weeks. I have a choice. I can either focus on the knee replacement that God took away. Or I can look for God's hand offering the gift of acceptance. I could say, "God, you took away dad's ability to walk again." Instead, I'm going to choose to say, "You are giving us the gift of being able to proclaim to the hospital staff once again how good You are and how perfect is Your plan."

It was part of God's good plan to take away Grandpa VandenToorn's mind in the last months of his life. It was so painful to watch. But as God took that away, He gave grandpa the opportunity to show his love for his Lord. What a sweet blessing to hear that people at the nursing home wondered if grandpa had been a pastor, his love for God and God's Word was still evident, even when he didn't know anyone around him.

When God took grandpa's physical presence from us through death, I don't think He was so much taking grandpa away from us, but bringing grandpa to Himself. And while the pain of death is searing, God does not take away without giving something even better. When God brought grandpa home He gave us an example of the fulfullment of His promise, "I will never leave you nor forsake you." He proved the scripture, "He who began a good work in you is faithful to complete it." As we saw these fulfilled in the lives of one of God's children, we received the gift of the assurance that God will fulfill it in the lives of every one of His children, including us.

I recently heard someone say that God's "No's" in our lives are only to bring us to a bigger "Yes". How true! When God takes something from us, it is only to give us something better. It doesn't always seem better as we go through the painful experiences. But we can remind ourselves that it is true. And the more we remind ourselves of truth, the more deeply we can believe it. Then, the more deeply we believe it, the more fully we can live it. And I sure do want to live life fully for God!

And yes, the next time God, in His good plan, takes something away from me, I'll hurt and cry. Then I'll go and reread this and pray to get my focus back.

An Exercise in Thankfulness

Some people greet each new morning by bounding out of bed eager to take on whatever challenge the day holds. I am not one of them. Sometimes the morning itself seems like a huge challenge and I'd just rather not take it on. But, being a mom whose kids need to get on the school bus, I get up and get everyone going.

My morning today provided some interesting opportunities to excercise joy and thankfulness. I'm learning that thankfulness is often a deliberate choice of mindset and it takes work. Exercise is defined as "any activity designed to hone a skill or ablity" and I got to EXERCISE thankfulness today.

Reaching for the butter to prepare Micah's waffles, I accidentally knocked over a half-empty glass of milk one of my urchins had placed in the fridge yesterday. Milk flowed over the top shelf, trickled down to the second shelf, dripped into the bins and splatted on the floor and surrounding cupboards. I think the amount of milk multiplied as it spilled because I'm quite sure I mopped up a lot more than was in the little cup to begin with. As the waffles sat cooling and the lunches weren't quite finished, I resisted the urge to focus on the negative. Instead I chose to thank God that my family has milk to spare and for the many conveniences I've been blessed with. What if I had no washing machine or no refrigerator in the first place? The spill happened on a Tuesday morning when I did not have to be out the door by a certain time.

The next opportunity to exercise thankfulness came as I started up the load of towels. Sweet Abby came to tell me that she hadn't quite made it to the toilet, but that she had put a towel on the puddle on the bathroom floor. I chose to be thankful that lunches were at least done, older kids almost on their way out the door and Micah was enjoying his slightly cool waffles. I chose to be thankful that Abby told me about the problem and that I hadn't discovered it as a result of someone slipping in it and getting hurt. I chose to be thankful she hadn't made the mess because she was sick and I wouldn't have to clean it up all day long. I couldn't quite smile as I cleaned the bathroom floor at 7:30 a.m. but I was working to be thankful for little things.

This giving thanks in all things is hard work though. It requires great effort and does not come naturally. It seemed like a mental tug-of-war this morning to mentally shift gears from the temptation to complain and turn to an opportunity to give thanks. It is tiring to do mental battle for joy. But I do believe that as we conciously choose to be thankful and look for things to rejoice over, it does become easier. It also makes me more eager for that glorious day in the future when thankfulness will come naturally. In heaven there will be no alarms waking us before we're ready, no spilled milk and no bathroom accidents. There will be unending, unspeakable joy with our Savior, the One who teaches us true thankfulness.

My God is So Big

"My God is so big, so strong and so mighty, there's nothing my God cannot do."
"My God is so big, so strong and so mighty, there's nothing my God cannot do...FOR YOU!"

Our four year old Abby has been singing this song so often over the past few weeks. I hear her as she's in the bathroom, or when she's playing with her polly pockets in the family room, or as she rides along in the van. This is the catchy type of song that gets imprinted in your brain and plays over and over all day.

I know that there is nothing that God is incapable of doing for His dear ones. But the question niggles, "What if He chooses not to?"

I believe whole-heartedly that He has the power to make cancer completely disappear from the body of a young mom. But what if He chooses not to?

I believe that He is able to guard against infection in knee replacement surgery. But what if He chooses not to?

I believe that He has the power to anwer the prayer of my kids and completely heal the hearing loss and tinnitus I've had for eight years. But what if He chooses not to?

I believe He has the power to bring my loved ones who have no interest in Him to a saving relationship with Him. But what if He chooses not to?

The enemy whispers, "Is He still strong and mighty?"

Oh, a thousand times, YES! Sometimes I think He proves His power more strongly by continuing to uphold His people through His loving, "No's". How many opportunities are given to glorify Him through the daily, hourly, moment-by-moment dependence on Him.

Dad is in the hospital again. I'm tempted to say, "Lord, don't You think this is enough now? Four surgeries on this leg?" Instead, I'm choosing to say, "Lord, this is hard, but You must have someone in that hospital staff that you want dad to witness to. You must have more You want to teach us about dependence on You. You are only good. So this must be for good also." The more I repeat this to myself, the more convinced of it's truth I am. And how that strengthens and even cheers one.

The thought comes, "Mom has stayed with her parents for a week, admitted her father to the nursing home, cared for her husband through knee-replacement surgery, experienced the death and burial of her father, cared for her husband through additional surgery for infection, taken care of her step-mother when she fractured her back, taken her step-mother into her home as they packed for a move out of state, and now she has to care for dad as he goes through another surgery for infection all within seven months? She struggles with depression, God, did You remember that?"

But instead, I'm going to choose to take hold of those thoughts and say instead, "Your servant Sue GETS TO show Your faithfulness. You know her verse is 'I can do all things through Him who strengthens me'. What a powerful God You are to continue to be her strength through all this that You have entrusted to her." For even these trials are opportunities He entrusts to us, His children, out of His deep love.

When God chooses not to prove how mighty He is by changing our situation, He promises to prove how mighty He is by carrying us through the situation.

So, I've made up my own little version of the children's song...

"My God is so big, so strong and so mighty, there's nothing my God cannot do."
"My God is so big, so strong and so mighty, He's promised to see me through...AND YOU."

And that dear mom of two little sweeties...He is going to prove how strong and mighty He is through her no matter what the days ahead hold.

He Who Holds A Mother's Heart

"We're so sorry, but the tests show your baby will be born with Spina Bifida." This was news that broke my friend's heart.

Another friend watches her  young son with ADHD struggle with social issues. Her heart breaks for him every time his peers pull away.

There is a dear one whose heart was shattered when her daughter and unborn grandbaby were killed in a car accident.

Achohol addiction consumes the life of a son as a mother grieves.

Another's heart breaks once more as her daughter disappears for days into the inner city on a drug binge.

A mother's heart is torn as her adult son rejects his family and his Maker.

Yet another experiences the late-term death of her unborn child and endures labor and delivery knowing she will never hear her little one's cry.

The tears flow so readily from the friend whose teenage daughter married against her parent's wishes and moved across the country, suddenly and painfully altering their close relationship.

A mother's heart, I think, is one of the most fragile things. The sustaining power of God also makes that same mother's heart one of the most resiliant, trusting things. These women I know each have such a unique hurt. It could seem that no one else can fully understand their pain. But I have seen each of these women powerfully testify of a confidence that her loving, heavenly Father understands. These women praise God through their tears as they proclaim, "I don't understand why and the pain is so deep. But I know You, O Lord, and You are only good. You do not waste our suffering. I will choose to trust You and wait to see Your good plan in all this aching." These hurting ones have also turned their pain into an empathy. They have not given in to the temptation to get so lost in their pain that they don't see the pain of others. They listen to the Holy Spirit's prompting to reach out to other mothers who face sorrows. These women allow themselves to be tools in God's hand to offer comfort, hope and encouragement. They allow God to use their brokenness.

There is a Tinkerbell movie I have watched with my girls that reminds me of the beauty of a broken heart. Tink is in charge of making a sceptor to display a large, beautiful jewel for the festival. However, the  jewel gets broken in an accident. She desperately tries to repair it, but cannot. Finally, she designs a sceptor that displays all the broken parts of the jewel. This sceptor catches the moonlight and reflects the light in all different directions in a much different way than a single jewel could. I'm reminded that God holds the pieces of the broken heart who trusts in Him. As He looks at the pieces of a broken heart, each piece shines and reflects His glory in a way that an unbroken heart could not. His trustworthiness, His sustaining grace, His tender care, His comfort, His peace that passes all understanding shine brilliantly through the one who trusts Him through great pain. If these dear ones did not experience the pain, they would not shine so brightly for Him. They would never choose the hurts, but they do choose to trust Him through the hurting. And in so doing, they become His powerful witnesses.

I haven't had my mother's heart broken as deeply as these dear ones. At times, the Evil One tries to whisper fears to me. "How are your children going to hurt you? Are you going to be strong enough to endure the pain that may lie ahead?" I am learning to face these whispered fears with what I do know. God promises never to leave me and never to forsake me. He promises His grace and strength. His word never fails. I am learning to expect neither complete bliss nor deep disaster in my parenting years ahead. I can expect that God will be there through it all and I can anticipate His sustaining power through anything.

Closer to the Rescuer

I have this dog named Max. Max technically belongs to the whole family, but everyone knows he is my dog. Max follows me everywhere I go. I often find myself turning around in the kitchen and tripping over him. When I sit down to read, he lays on my feet. (Yup, he's right next to me as I type this.) If I go upstairs for something, he sits at the bottom of the steps looking up until I return. We're not really sure why he has attached so closely to me. We rescued him when he was a couple years old. Our theory is that he had not always been treated well before coming to our family. Since I was the one who picked him up, brought him to our home, sat on the floor with him, reassured him, fed him and basically loved him before anyone else came home, we think he bonded most strongly with me.

I had to take my Max to the vet yesterday because he is sick. Abby went with me and said to me, "Make sure the vet knows he's your dog." So now I'm giving him antiobiotic pills (tucked into bites of hot dog) and monitering him carefully. My mind started thinking about his attachement to me yesterday and a spiritual comparison struck me. It might be a bit of a stretch...so get ready to leap with me.

Jesus Christ is my Rescuer. He has rescued me from the condemnation of sin and the power of Satan (who we know seeks only to hurt and destroy). I should stick as close to the side of my Great Rescuer as my dog sticks close to his rescuer. My Great Rescuer watches over me and treats my ailments. Sometimes He treats me with soothing balms of Scripture, sweet words from songs or friends. But sometimes the medication is hard and unpleasant and it's not tucked into tasty circumstances. But it's always for my good and His glory. He wants me to stay close to Him because that is the safest place for me. So my prayer yesterday and today has been, "Lord, keep me so close to You that I don't take a step unless You are next to me, leading me."

Wisdom from the Off-Road

Funny how things your kids are internalizing evidence themselves in everyday conversations. Take our family outing to the Off-Road Races at the Hudsonville Fair this week. I was sitting between Caleb and Micah on the top row of the lower set of bleachers with a view of the first dirt ramp in front of us. On the other side of the track, a car had gotten hung up on the bank and the others were taking the opportunity to gain ground and speed past it. Caleb leaned over to me and said, "If I were driving, and someone got their car stuck on the side, I would slow down and bump them with my car to help them get loose. Because helping other people is more important than winning. Having compassion makes you a real champion, not winning a race." Well, it seems my son does not have much of a future as an off-road racer...but it's one life lesson I hope he keeps believing. That showing care for others is more important than material things or social status.

We had a wonderful family evening that night. Lots of laughter and simply enjoying each other. It brought back such memories of when my parents took us to the same fairgrounds thirty years ago. As we were leaving, walking hand-in-hand through the crowd I remembered walking hand-in-hand with my dad leaving those grandstands. I remembered how I tried to match my steps to his; the length of stride, the pace, the little bounce he had in each step. I had forgotten about that brief pause and bounce preceeding each new step. Dad hasn't walked like that for over two years now. Now I see him walking with a limp; some days rather slight, other days resembling a stagger. But God is showing me things about Dad's spiritual walk. As his physical strides struggle at times, his spiritual walk grows only closer to the God he is leaning on for daily strength and delight. The thought crossed my mind that I want to have my spiritual steps match my father's steps. I want to be wholly committed to serving God and to trust in Him no matter what touches my life. Who would have anticipated that the races would have challenged and blessed me so?

Fancy Grandma

One of the blessings I've enjoyed for the past thirty years is my Grandma Vanden Toorn. Margie married my grandpa when I was eight and moved here from the golden cornfields of Iowa. Perhaps in another post I'll write about my first grandma, Marie, but this is about Grandma "Van". She has always been my "fancy" grandma. When we would go to their house for Sunday dinner after church, she always served lunch with nice place settings, seasonal themed napkins and a covered butter dish with a butter knife. At home we just plunked the plastic tub of butter on the table. (These days, I take after my mom, not grandma.) Grandma always looked put together and regal. She seemed to glide down the center aisle in church wearing her big hats.

I have many special memories of time with grandma. She and grandpa had us stay overnight at their house and we would watch slides on the living room wall as she wrapped my hair in rag curlers. There was also the time we got a trampoline and she tried it out with us kids. She makes my favorite sugar cookies. Her secret is to use a potato masher to put the print on the cookies and then add sprinkles. (Fancy ones of course.) She is very creative with a crochet hook and made dolls for me to play with and starched fans to hang on my bedroom wall.

Grandma has one of the most engaging laughs I've ever heard. Watching her over the years, she has a great sense of humor and knows how to be a little bit silly, even at 80 years old. I have appreciated the godly model of confidentiality and loving commitment she has demonstrated. She cared for grandpa through years of heart trouble and surgeries. The past year has found her taking care of him at home for as long as she could before his dementia necessitated his moving into a care facility before his eternal home-going in May.

Yesterday, grandma set out with a U-Haul and her children, retracing her path to Iowa. Her health and age have made it time for her to return to her home state for whatever years God grants her. Spending the past week helping pack up her life here has been bittersweet. I will miss my fancy grandma very much. But I am so thankful for how God has blessed our lives with her. I'm also rejoicing in the knowledge that while trips to Iowa won't be frequent, in the blink of an eye, we'll be together forever and ever, praising our wonderful Lord who brought her to our family for a time.

Blog Title

A more joyful response to all of life has been my prayer for some time now. This blog is a way for me to proclaim how God is answering that prayer.